☆

“You’re overjoyed I’m always here!” Your body leans over the railing of the stairs, calling out to your best friend in an unnecessarily booming voice and a light giggle at the end of your sentence.

Mark doesn’t respond and you’re deep in the hallway in search for the bathroom that is shared between four college men. Although you’re solely Mark’s best friend, the other three guys have welcomed you into their house as they would their own. Honestly speaking, you’re only rambunctiously annoying when you’re just around Mark. His housemates know you as his shy and sweet friend. 

It’s hard for you to open up to others, despite these people being equally as close to Mark as you are. There is just not enough common ground for you to relate to them, as nice as they are when you’re at their house.

Jeno is probably the most similar to you, a man of few words and a smile that resembles a kind puppy. He doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, but he is always laughing at their shared jokes and silly antics. Haechan is the most different from you, playful and Mark’s nightmare at times. Lastly, there’s Jaemin, a man who you’ve found yourself stealing glimpses of whenever he is near. 

Your heart leaps and twirls at any mention of his name, his whereabouts, him. Though, your crush on Jaemin will never come to light. You only let yourself admire from afar, a man as hot and charming as he is already has an entourage waiting on him. And Mark would never let you live it down that you’re practically drooling over his housemate. 

So as you find yourself in front of the bathroom door, you don’t hear the shuffling on the other side. You mindlessly turn the knob and open to reveal Jaemin, shirtless with a towel low around his waist.  

He doesn’t even flinch at the sudden exposure, clearly engulfed in taking a mirror picture. Both of his arms hold up his soft pink phone, his biceps flexing at the simple position. His broad, wide shoulders are on display and all you see is his bare silky skin. You’re gawking, anyone can see at a mile away, hungry eyes tracing the outline of his toned chest and chiseled abs. 

When he finally acknowledges your presence, a big toothy grin appears on his face. Your name rolls off his tongue excitedly, “you’re right. I am overjoyed you’re here.” His lower register catches you off guard and something inside of you spikes at its rumble.

Jaemin watches as you try to find your words, tripping over your own tongue. He drinks up how your eyes bounce between his face and his bare upper body, lost in his canvas. 

“Sorry!” You quickly shut the door, odd that you’re the one embarrassed when he is the one who got walked in on. Running down the stairs, you slam right into Mark, causing him to fall back onto the couch.

“Whoa! Are you in a rush or something?” Mark groans. His eyes fixate on your flustered expression. “What happened?”

You’re deciding whether or not you should lie to him, committed to not exposing and embarrassing yourself even further. “Just bumped into Jaemin. Does he normally not lock the bathroom door?”

There is a small quiver in your voice, but you try your best to remain nonchalant and calm. Mark raises a curious eyebrow, a shaky grin grows on his lips. You can’t even imagine all the wild and inappropriate thoughts spinning in this college boy’s head.

“That’s weird. He’s usually good about that stuff.” He snickers, “What did you see?”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” You lightly slap the back of his head, but feel heat spread across the tips of your ears and run its way down to your cheeks. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Bummer, bet you wanted to.” Mark jokes, a fit of giggles erupting from his stomach. 

You roll your eyes and proclaim loudly, “I have no interest in Jaemin.” Liar. The image of his hot body still hasn’t left your mind. It’s catastrophic. Crossing your arms, you plop onto the sofa next to your best friend. 

Right on cue, another voice chimes in. Coming down the stairs, Jaemin dances his hand on the railing. His muscular arms catches your immediate attention as he flaunts around in a tight white tank, his other hand in the pocket of his gray sweats. “Damn, that really hurts my ego, (y/n), especially after you’ve seen me naked just now.” 

Nonetheless, he doesn’t look offended. Instead, a sweet smirk curves upward on his perfect face. You swallow hard, bashful and ashamed yet again that Jaemin continues to ruin you. 

Mark is laughing his hardest, but you don’t hear him. Your heart pounds in your ears, rapidly and loudly. “You weren’t naked, Jaem. Don’t give Mark any ideas.”

Jaemin chuckles, tucking in his chin shyly. His charming smile is subtle, but dazzling. You’re absolutely positive you have tiny stars swimming in your eyes just looking at him. He makes his way past you two, toward the kitchen to grab a Diet Pepsi out of the fridge.

“I’m sorry, I’ll remember to lock the door next time.” He apologizes, taking a sip of his drink and grimacing at the taste.

“What were you even doing in there?” Leave it to Mark to be such a curious cat. You nudge him in the rib and he winces noisily. “I want to know what you saw! You guys are acting so suspicious.” He sends a glare at you.

Jaemin comes up behind the couch. He leans over, handing Mark his phone. On display is the picture you witnessed Jaemin take a few minutes ago and the frontal view is even better than what you saw from the side. Your sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaemin, but he doesn’t call it out. 

The picture could be considered a nude, even if it cuts right at his waistline. It’s so scandalous and he doesn’t seem the slightest sheepish about it. If anything, he and Mark are grinning together at Jaemin’s godly body, like two bros appreciating each other’s muscles. 

“Yo, Na Jaemin! This is so crazy, look at that chest work.” Mark giddily hits at Jaemin’s chest, displaying a weird manly affection for his housemate. “All those hours at the gym are paying off. Are you posting this?” 

Jaemin shakes his head. “It’s only meant for special eyes.” He glimpses briefly over at you, but you avert contact quickly. You think about all the people the boys talk about during their drunk kickbacks, but Jaemin is incredibly secretive. I don’t kiss and tell, is what he always says when the guys try to probe him with investigative questions.

You normally try to pretend like it doesn’t bother you, always helping him by telling the boys to mind their own business. Nonetheless, you’re probably the only person in the room who wants to know the most about his endeavors. 

“This is a nude?!” Mark jumps up and throws the phone back at Jaemin, rubbing his eyes in hopes to rid the picture out of his memory. “I love you dude, but I’m not sure if I want to know you’re posing for nudes in our bathroom.”

Jaemin laughs, “C’mon, Mark. You don’t have to have such a big reaction, just say you want me to send it to you too.” Mark shakes his head aggressively and you’re suffocating at the thought that you walked in on Jaemin taking a nude. A swirl of nasty thoughts circle your mind and you gulp at the desires that fill your lungs.

You get up so suddenly that Jaemin and Mark fall silent and wait for your next move. “I’m going home.” You announce, gaze stuck to the ground and fists balled at your side. “I’ll see you later, Mark.” 

“Alright, do you need a ride–”

“No, I’ll just walk. I need to take a breather.” Your legs are moving before anyone can follow after you. You didn’t know what came over you, but spending another second in that room with them meant increasing your chances of saying something regrettable.

The cold breeze of the night cools your hot skin and fresh air clears your mind. It is still early in the evening when you check the time, but it is realistically going to take you 30 minutes to walk back home. You didn’t think it through, frankly, but at least your head is clear from all the dirty thoughts about Jaemin.

Though, you wonder how whoever receives his photo would react. Would they combust the same way you did? Would they be left speechless at such a glorious man? Special eyes. It must be nice to have Jaemin interested in you. 

When you’re left with your own reflection and about a quarter into your walk, a car pulls up slowly next to you on the curb. Initially, you’re cautious as to the random vehicle approaching you so intently. 

However, the driver’s window rolls down and Jaemin calls your name. “It’s dangerous for you to walk. I’ll take you home.”

That annoying, rhythmic sound of your heart starts up again. Normally, Mark is the one who drives you to and back, but even you didn’t think you could stand being in the car with him as he would endlessly tease you about Jaemin. 

“That’s alright. I’m almost there-”

Jaemin gets out of the car and walks around to open the passenger door for you, “it wasn’t a polite offer. I’m taking you home.” His stern tone causes you to comply and enter his car without another attempt to protest.

When he enters the car, the tension in the atmosphere is heavy and thick. He turns off the engine and you can hear the quietness of the night again. You swallow the spit pooling at the back of your throat, unsure how to talk to him. This is the first time you two have been alone together, just you and him in one confined space. You’re usually with Mark when you’re with the other guys.

“I’m actually really sorry, again. I hope you don’t feel weird about seeing me like that.” Your heart crumbles at the genuinity in his apology. Your abrupt leave probably had him thinking he made you feel uncomfortable.

“Jaemin, it’s fine. I already forgot what you looked like and it’s your house. You should feel comfortable doing what you want there.” You’re downplaying all the emotions rising in your throat, but you can’t help feeling guilty at the pout on his glossy lips.

“Mark said that you’re not used to stuff like that. Is that true? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?” Jaemin looks over at you, a hand resting over the wheel. 

You look away, his sultry stare being too much for you to handle. “Mark doesn’t know anything about what I’m used to. I don’t talk about that stuff with him.” 

It’s the truth. You’ve had your fair share of hook ups, drunk makeout sessions at the club, and a previous relationship. So, you wouldn’t say you’re as innocent as Mark always tries to make you out to be to others. However, you’re not throwing yourself at just anyone and aren’t as open to sharing your experiences to people, Mark being one. 

Jaemin nods, acknowledging everything you’re saying. “I noticed you’re usually quiet when all of us talk about our sexual experiences.” 

“You are too, though.” You mumble under your breath, twiddling your thumbs.

“I’m too distracted watching how shy you get at the mention of Haechan getting head.” This statement, paired with his deep voice, is glass shattering. Something drops in your stomach, your feelings and thoughts colliding together into something unidentifiable.

Jaemin looks so good under the streetlamp. Even in the darkness, you can still see the twinkle in his alluring gaze and how much charm he exudes with a simple toothy smile. The desire to kiss him is so magnetic, you can feel yourself breaking at any moment.

“You notice me?” Your brain has lost control over the words that spill from your lips. Your lustful and romantic feelings go into overdrive, saying things you’ve never dared to say.

It is his turn to send you a confused look, as if it is the most ridiculous question you could have asked. “Of course I do. It’s hard not to. You… have such an effect on me. I talk about it all the time to Jeno and Haechan.” 

This is shocking news to you. You’ve always been under the impression that the other three had no interest or a second thought about you, let alone Jaemin of all people. At the end of the day, you’re just Mark’s best friend and you’re only really there because of him. His housemates are respectful and don’t linger for too long when you’re around, so it never occurred to you that would be a topic in their conversations.

You stutter and approach slowly, “what do you talk about?” 

Jaemin chuckles, shaking his head and starts the car. “Can’t tell you. Just know that I like it when you’re around.” He starts driving you home and you can feel the conversation fleeting. But you don’t want to stop, you want to peel him layer by layer until he is at his core. 

You two drive for some time in silence. When he approaches your neighborhood, he hits you with one sudden question. “Do you have feelings for Mark?” This is the one of many times he has surprised you tonight.

“No!” You refute excessively. “We’re strictly friends. He is nowhere near my type.” It is a question you get pretty often, given that you two are attached at the hip. Nonetheless, the thought of you and Mark together romantically makes you gag. He is nearly your brother at this point. 

Jaemin raises a curious brow, “what is your type?” 

He pulls into your driveway and you’re presented with a window of opportunity. You dance with the possibility that Jaemin could actually be yours. After tonight, he definitely confirmed that he notices you. 

Jaemin peers over with innocent eyes and a soft smile. His elbow rests on the middle console and his large hands hold the bottom of the steering wheel. And you can’t believe that after all this time, he has been looking at you with such an endearing gaze. Gathering all the courage you have left, you clear your throat. 

“Guys like you.” You say, rather breathlessly. You see his pupils dilate and his lips part at the sudden flirtatious confidence. It’s like a lightbulb switches on inside his head. For once, you have left him speechless. “Goodnight, Jaemin. Thank you for bringing me home.” 

You exit his car, but he is quick to follow. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door.” You almost make out the slight shakiness in his voice and you’re giggling at how dazed you’ve gotten him.

Approaching your door, Jaemin turns your cheek to face him. His hand remains hot against your jaw and you think in any second, he might lean down and kiss you. He’d kiss you to the point where you’d turn to goo right at his feet. 

Your knees grow weak under his hooded stare, “goodnight (y/n). I’ll let Mark know that I got you back safe and sound.” With that, his hand drops and he starts taking a few steps backwards toward his car. Disappointment is evident in your reaction.

Your shaky hands unlock the front door and you look back to see Jaemin leaning against his car waiting patiently for you to enter. When you get inside, your back slides down against the door, heart beating fast, and you wallow in the emptiness that Jaemin has left you with. 

The only noise filling the air is the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway. Then, your phone buzzes in your pocket and the notification causes your jaw to drop. 

Na Jaemin (Mark’s Housemate): 1 Attachment

“Holy shit.” Jaemin’s nude flashes back at you and you’re taking everything in. The events earlier today come flooding back into your memory. Lustful desires cause your stomach to stir, tracing the lines of his collarbones and following the protruding vein on his shoulder.  

Na Jaemin (Mark’s Housemate): for your special eyes xx

Na Jaemin (Mark’s Housemate): still have no interest in me?

Blinking at the thread of texts, your head is empty and a lump forms in your throat. Na Jaemin, the man that you are. 

mark lee-ave me alone: Party tonight, you coming????

mark lee-ave me alone: It’s been like almost two weeks since we hung out, do i need to file a missing person’s report? 

you: i’ve got finals 

mark lee-ave me alone: you finished finals we literally share calendar schedules… why u avoiding me

you: why are you guys alcoholics 

mark lee-ave me alone: sounds good ! see u tn hehe

Tossing your phone onto your bed, you groan into your pillow. It has been a while since you went over, let alone seen Mark. After the moment you had with Jaemin, you aren’t entirely sure if you’re ready to face him again. You had nearly fainted from all the emotions he put you through that day. 

He also didn’t reply to your text, but then again, you didn’t give him much to work with. This is Na Jaemin you’re talking to and the last thing you want to do is to scare him away. So, the best response you came up with was the blushing emoji and embarrassment hit you all over again.

Nonetheless, you went back to that photo every night since and its effects remain the same every time. Widened eyes, hot cheeks, butterflies in your lower abdomen, wild thoughts. It has gotten to the point where your phone suggested making it his contact picture, causing the bashfulness to catch up to you.

Your phone buzzes again and you’re rolling over to expect another text from Mark. Instead, your heart rubs at your chest at the appearance of Jaemin’s name on your screen.

Na Jaemin (Mark’s Housemate): can’t wait to see you tn

Mark must’ve told them about you coming to the party. All it takes is one simple text and your feet are kicking in the air. Excitement replaces the dread that you were feeling before and you’re jumping out of bed to find a cute outfit.

When you finally get to the house, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation bubbles inside of you. While you’ve looked forward to seeing Jaemin before, this time is completely different. He unlocked something that you can no longer control. 

Mark lets you in, slightly buzzed, and the house is already packed with drunk people. Haechan is on aux as per usual with his perfectly curated party playlist. Jeno has a large bottle in his hand, pouring a line of shots on the kitchen island like a skilled bartender. 

You’re unconsciously scanning the room for Jaemin, Mark’s words going in one ear and out the other. “It’s quite a turnout. We didn’t expect so many people would show!”

When you take a quick look around, many are unfamiliar faces. Most of these had to be friends of his housemates, knowing how small Mark keeps his circle. 

“What is this party even for?” Yelling over the loud music, you swear there will be ringing in your ears tomorrow morning.

“We’re celebrating the end of the semester!” Mark cheers, excitedly with a big goofy grin. “The guys mostly wanted an excuse to get their friends together and have some fun.”

“That’s surprisingly more wholesome than I thought.” You nod, noting the pretty girls moving their hips in the dark and crowds of guys surrounding the keg. “Very fun.” You say sarcastically and follow Mark through the maze of hot bodies.

The kitchen is unrecognizable. Half empty glass pitchers and plastic cups line the sticky marble counters, they were definitely not getting their rent deposit back with all the tarnish.

It wasn’t your first time at one of their parties, but it had been a long time since they’ve thrown something of this scale. It surprised you, mostly because everyone who lived here seemed so laid back that you didn’t expect the large magnitude that they could draw in.

“Did you want something to drink?” Mark grabs a beer from the fridge, politely squeezing his way through those leaning against the appliances. 

You shake your head, “not right now.” He lifts a curious brow at your bottom lip between your teeth. Could he tell you were anxiously waiting for someone? 

“So, where have you been lately?” Your mind is extremely overstimulated with everything happening around you, and of course, Mark decides to have an open conversation in the middle of his densely packed kitchen area.

Shrugging, you play it off like everything is normal. “Needed a break from you. You bitched about me coming over all the time, so I chilled out.”

Mark takes a swig, clearly not believing you. “That’s the real reason why? There isn’t anything else regarding someone who lives here?”

He is prying, digging, scheming. You can see it in his smug face when he knows he hit a soft spot. “Do you want to tell me? Because it seems like there’s something going on that you won’t tell me.”

“It’s just interesting.” He shrugs, “Jaemin insisted on going after you the night you walked out. Care to tell me what happened?” Mark giggles to himself like a high school girl sharing secrets. Rolling your eyes, the twitch of your lips curve into a small grin. 

“Is that so out of his character?” You cross your arms, “Jaemin has always been a gentleman unlike you, who let me walk home in the dark when you know it takes me 30 minutes.” 

Your best friend throws his hands up in defense, “I was going to go! Like I said, Jaemin beat me to it. He just grabbed his keys off the hook and told me he got it.” 

“After you told him I felt uncomfortable?” Anger rises in your voice. Quite surely, you sound more offended than you actually are. Nonetheless, that explanation from Mark did irk you a bit when Jaemin had told you.

Mark looks sheepishly at you and takes a timid sip. “Well, didn’t you? Isn’t that why you stormed off?! When have you ever talked about nudes, or having sex for that matter?” 

Scoffing, you couldn’t believe him. Your face gets warm from the spotlight he has you under. It’s complete disbelief that fuels your next line and you shout over the music, “That doesn’t mean I don’t have sex. I have sex!” 

“Who is having sex?” The baritone voice sneaks up from behind you and a hot hand touches the small of your lower back. You seize up at the physical intimacy, turning around to see Jaemin looking as charming as ever. The pure visual of him has hearts in your eyes.

Mark laughs, not noticing how Jaemin snakes his hand around and rests it on your hip. He pulls you a bit closer so that your body leans against his strong arm. “We were just talking about what happened between you two a couple of weeks ago.”

Jaemin nods, as if he understands the situation completely without much context. He looks down at you and smiles sweetly, “did something happen between us?”

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, barely paying attention to Mark, who you’ve also tuned out of this conversation. The quiver in your voice is obvious and Jaemin’s eyes gleam upon hearing your sudden shyness. “No. You just drove me home.” 

“Yeah, you heard it here first.” Jaemin switches to an excited and peppy demeanor, as if all is well and you two aren’t acting extremely suspicious.

Though, Mark is incredibly oblivious so he isn’t hard to fool. He doesn’t press on and gets pulled off to the side by Haechan to fix one of the speakers, leaving you and Jaemin alone among the drunken party goers. Your throat feels like it's closing in on itself, nervousness building your stomach yet again.

Jaemin swiftly turns you to face him fully, both hands holding your arms as he admires how you’ve dressed up tonight. “I’ve always liked this shirt on you. How have you been? I noticed you haven’t come around lately.”

“I’ve been busy.” You’re as quiet as a mouse, but Jaemin hears you loud and clear. You’re extremely conscious of the two of you openly together for everyone to watch or listen in, but Jaemin’s attention is solely on you.

“Busy avoiding me?” The way he asks is lighthearted. He isn’t trying to instigate the way Mark was, it's playful and unserious, even if the question did hold some genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know.” It’s easier for you to be truthful with Jaemin compared to Mark. After that brief chat in his car, you felt like you could be honest with him as he was with you. As if somehow, that one pivotal night changed the dynamic of your nonexistent friendship completely. 

You feel connected to him. Seen by him. “If I did something wrong to make you want to avoid me, you gotta tell me.” Jaemin begins, sincerity heavy in his round eyes and tone. 

However, you stop him from continuing. “There is nothing wrong with what you did. I liked it, alot. I avoided coming because you make me feel nervous and shy.” Perhaps you are revealing too much too soon, but you can’t help it with the way Jaemin looks at you. 

He grins, “you’ve always been nervous and shy around me. Those feelings never stopped you from coming around before.” 

You’re stunned at how observant he actually is. All this time, you thought you did a good job at keeping those feelings internal. Jaemin and you never shared an extensive conversation before that night, but you didn’t completely ignore him whenever he was in the room.

Whenever you two would be physically near each other, you’d strike up small talk about classes and ask how he’s been – even if you had to build up the courage to say something.

You would always greet him back when he would arrive home or if he appeared from upstairs. There would’ve been no way he could’ve seen how your hands fidgeted or hear your voice shake or when you’d avert your gaze. Right?

But he did. He saw through it all. And it hit you that Jaemin had really been observing you this entire time, beyond a simple notice. “Sure, they didn’t before. This time, things feel different between us.”  “I like when you talk about there being an us.” Jaemin beams, “it’s cute. We never got to have that all this time.” He resembles a happy kid on Christmas day, opening a present that he had been good for all year. It’s hopeful and quite touching that he thought about growing closer to you. 

“Do you feel like it’s different between us?” You ask timidly. The feeling of possible rejection lingers in the back of your heart. This could all be a misunderstanding and you read it all wrong. 

He ponders for a bit, eyes darting to the ceiling and then back at you. “Yes, but not entirely. I think you’ve gotten more comfortable opening up to me, but my feelings toward you haven’t changed.”

Hadn’t Jaemin brought it up, you really didn’t know that your heart opened up as much as it did for him. It was all natural, seamless. He didn’t have to speedrun questions like an investigator to get you to talk, everything just flowed. The second part of his answer did prompt more curiosity rather than something definitive.

How does he feel about you?

As you debated a follow up question, the two of you get interrupted by a small group of people pulling at Jaemin’s shoulder. He is brought back to the swarm of a party and you’re retreating into the background. “Na Jaemin! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

Before he could excuse himself, they whisk him away deep into the dark sea of dancing individuals. Sighing, you’re left with the same emptiness you felt two weeks ago. Mark comes stumbling back, the beer in his hand now nearly finished.

“Are you drunk off of a Bud Light?” You snicker at your friend’s wobbly entrance. Your heart is heavy in your chest, but you let these emotions subside. 

He takes a final drink, “I’m just feeling a little loose. I think it’s finally time you get some.” 

You give in, especially now that Jaemin has reeled you in and left you without any clarity. You need a drink to calm all the nerves that he lit up, ease all the pent up tension he created. 

“Only if it’s not what you’re having.” Mark’s head swishes heavily on his shoulders, peering around to find the man with the alcohol supply. He gestures to Jeno from the opposite side of the room for two shots and you laugh at their silly roleplay.

Jeno walks over and greets you with a smile, realizing he didn’t see you come in this whole time. He pours a dangerous amount of Vodka that overflows out of the small glass. 

“Dude! You suck as a bartender, you’re fired!” Mark giggles drunkenly at Jeno’s heavy hand and clinks the shot glasses. “Best friend shots!” He squeals happily at you.

You oblige, holding your breath for the intake of alcohol. Wincing at the taste, you down the shot as best as you can. It’s dreadful, but somehow your muscles relax and your mind clears from the running thoughts of Jaemin. 

“Another one!” Jeno cheers. This time, he prepares three shots and joins in on the random celebratory atmosphere that Mark established. 

The responsible side is signaling alarm bells to slow down, but the side intoxicated with disruptive feelings of Jaemin is silencing them all. So you think, one more shot won’t hurt.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed. Twenty minutes? An hour? Maybe even two hours. It feels late and early all at the same time. At this point, you’re experiencing a good buzz after the last few rounds of shots with Jeno and Mark.

The liquid courage has you asking for Jaemin’s whereabouts. 

“I think he’s upstairs in the bathroom with someone.” Mark slurs his words, clearly not knowing the magnitude of this information. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, a ton of bricks hitting you. You’ve tuned out the booming music and Mark’s words play on a loop.

“When did you see him go up with someone?” You ask again, not wanting to believe Mark’s words. Could it have been one of the people from the group that stole him away? An old fling. A friend with benefits. An ex-lover. An admirer. The list unravels itself like a never ending scroll. 

He shrugs, it’s obvious this man has no actual idea what is going on or how much it's affecting you. “Check for yourself.” The edge of sass in his tone has you feeling challenged. Mark always gets a bit snarky and direct whenever he’s intoxicated.

You’re going back and forth with yourself – stay or find him. If you see him making out with someone else, then what? It would actually hurt you and you only have your own blossoming feelings to blame. If he is alone, then what? Will he finally tell you how he feels about you? Will he finally kiss you? The desire for that is enough drive for you.

And so you go. 

Heading up the stairs, the mess of the party downstairs fades into the background. Your palms grow sweaty as you walk down the long hallway toward the looming bathroom. Light flows through the bottom crack of the door. Not knowing what to expect, you’re just hoping what Mark said isn’t true. 

Your hand holds onto the shiny knob, hesitant to get your ego bruised at the sight of Jaemin with another person. Taking a deep breath, you open the door.

Jaemin is in the midst of zipping up his jeans, the belt around his waist unbuckled. However, he is alone and oddly enough, the sound of the running toilet brings an ounce of reassurance for you. He looks up and your grip relaxes on the knob. 

Upon seeing your figure, Jaemin shakes his head with a sneaky smirk. He goes about washing his hands as normal and says, “we really need to stop meeting like this.”

“Maybe you should try locking the door for once.” 

“I do. Somehow, it’s always unlocked when you’re around.” He sounds so innocent lying through his teeth. Jaemin wipes his hands on the hand towel and leans against the door frame, “now are you actually going to use the bathroom or did you know I’d be here waiting for you?”

Your mouth opens to speak, but no words form. Jaemin’s gaze eats you up again, taking in your attire and dolled up look once more. His playful smile disappears and is replaced with a thin line, his jaw tightening. “So pretty.” His low voice whispers, eyes never leaving your lips. 

Right then and there, the want to kiss him surges throughout your body. There is nothing stopping you from diving into Jaemin, letting him have you utterly and completely. No consequences filter through your head, no other thoughts besides what his lips taste like. It could be the alcohol, but you’re fully drunk off his sultry stare and his feathering touches on your wrist. 

He leans in toward you, head tilting as he inches closer to your face. Closing your eyes, you await the kiss you’ve longed for. Blood pumping in your veins and heart doing somersaults in your chest. 

“Did you drink?” You quickly open your eyes at his question and see Jaemin pulling back. The familiar feeling of disappointment floods your body too well. 

“I took a few shots.” You’re biting the inside of your cheek, trying to not look embarrassed at how badly you wanted him to kiss you. The smell of alcohol is still hot on your breath and you’re even surprised at how composed you’ve managed to be. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to kiss you like this.” Jaemin’s tone is sweet, but firm. Although you were nowhere near black out drunk, you understood his sentiments. He wanted to kiss you without any chance of regret. He wants to do it right. 

“I blame Mark for this.” A heavy sigh falls at the end of your sentence. You roll your eyes at the sound of Mark’s voice from downstairs. Regardless of your disappointment, your heart is still burning at how he called you sweetheart. You didn’t know how good it would sound until it left his mouth. 

In a blink of an eye, he quickly kisses your cheek. “That will have to do for now.” Jaemin smiles, wide and toothy.

You don’t have enough time to process, still stuck at the small pet name, as he whisks you back down to join everyone at the party. Your eyes widen, cheeks grow hot, butterflies grow in your lower abdomen, and wild thoughts swirl in your head. All of which didn’t need Jaemin’s nude for these effects to arise. 

“You know, Jaemin has started asking about you a lot.” Mark looks up from his laptop, taking a break from his strenuous essay. It had been a week after the party and everything fell right back into routine. You’d show up to their house as if you never stopped coming around. 

The only difference is that you’re not here to see Mark anymore. You’re here for Jaemin. As clingy and corny as that seemed, you left every day happy that you got to talk to him. The two of you had been texting since the night of the party, mostly brief conversations about your day, but he never forgets to wish you a good morning. 

Whenever you’re at the house, Jaemin would join you and Mark when he’d come home. Initially, Mark didn’t seem to notice that his housemate would linger for as long as you’d be here or that Jaemin would purposefully sit close to you, or those longing stares you two would share across the table. 

It wasn’t until you were drinking water and Jaemin had casually asked for a sip. Then, it clicked. Mark jumped, he pointed fingers, he accused. All of which, you two blinked innocently at him in confusion, Jaemin’s bottom lip touching the rim of your bottle. 

Jaemin and you denied everything Mark tried to throw at you two, given that in all actuality, you two are only getting to know each other. He still hasn’t kissed you on the lips. He still hasn’t really spent time with you alone again, though you are incredibly nervous at that potential idea coming to fruition. 

After the night of the party, you’ve been wondering and waiting for his move. It did bother you the first few days, but his sweet texts always had a grin growing on your face. Jaemin played a very long game. 

“Really? Like what?” You try to hide your undying curiosity. Not looking up from your screen, you pretend to browse through empty tabs to seem like you are too busy to care. But deep down, it has been eating away at you wondering how Jaemin feels.

Mark smirks, “tell me what has been going on between you two and then I’ll tell you.” 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes at his deal. “That just sounds like you’re making shit up.” 

“So there is something going on between you two!” His voice grows louder, a bit more accusatorial. His eyes narrow, “you know I expected secrets from him, but not from you! You’re my best friend.” Mark’s sad pout tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips and you give him your full attention. It didn’t feel good having to keep things from him, but you thought to wait until something actually happened before saying anything. Nonetheless, since you can’t stand seeing your best friend sad, you decide to just come clean from the beginning. 

“He sent you that nude!?” Mark gasps as you reveal the night Jaemin drove you home. The more you talk about your encounters with Jaemin and your thought process, the more you realize how much you like him. Beyond attraction, beyond his chivalry. A flower has grown from the seed he watered.  

“No wonder why there is this weird tension whenever we’re all together. It’s because you two are literally eye fucking each other across the room.” Mark grumbles, but he lets you finish telling your piece. From the nude to the conversation in the kitchen to the kiss on the cheek. He now knows everything you’ve experienced and how you’re wrapped around Jaemin’s finger.

A part of you prepares for the teasing and the gross kissing noises, but your best friend just nods silently. His stare is blank, like he is trying to process the everything and nothing you’ve been through. Growing nervous, you shift uncomfortably on the couch. 

“Jaemin asked me about your favorite things. He told me that it’s something that would come in handy one day.” Mark clears his throat and can barely look you in the eye, almost embarrassed to share such an intimate question his friend asked about you. “He also asked if I had feelings for you.”

Your jaw drops, heart falling to the pit of your stomach. This is unexplored terrain – the two of you never touched on the topic of potentially becoming romantic. It had always just felt mutually platonic. Sitting up quickly, you lean closer toward him.

He sends a weird stare at your sudden attentive figure. “I don’t, first of all, don’t get too excited here.” 

The anticipation leaves your system, falling back against the cushion and going back to your homework. “I thought you were going to reveal some crazy backstory with the way you’re acting.”

Mark laughs, mockingly. “We’re nearly siblings. I’ve seen every bad part of you, your charm doesn’t work on me.” 

“Well, the feeling is mutual!” You ruffle his hair, messing it up between your fingers as he tries to push you off. A fit of giggles fill the room that the two of you don’t hear the front door open.

When the door shuts, you glance over to see Jaemin stripping his shirt. Cursing under your breath, your eyes remain stuck on all his bare skin. His whole chest and abs glisten with droplets of sweat, veins popping from whatever pump he got from the gym. His track pants hang low, the waistband of his briefs peeking through. 

Mark laughs at how you’re practically frozen over Jaemin. Jaemin looks your way and his familiar, sweet smile greets you. “Hey cutie, did you finish your project?” 

He walks over, his shirt thrown over his broad shoulders. Heat travels across your cheeks, you swear the temperature in the room went up several degrees. You’re batting your eyelashes, but averting any attention from his defined figure as he closes the space between you two. 

Jaemin’s heart swells at the sight of your shy antics. He can’t imagine anyone as cute as you, so reactive to every little thing he does. He doesn’t even see Mark in the room, all he wants to pay attention to is you. 

“Almost. Mark has been distracting.” Maybe your voice naturally gets airy around him, Jaemin just makes you want to twirl your hair and smile all the time. He takes a seat on the armrest next to you. As he crosses his arms, his biceps make their appearance once again – all voluptuous and strong. 

“Oh? How so?” He cocks a curious brow, finally taking a glance over at his housemate. Mark snickers at how differently you react to Jaemin’s casual demeanor. For all he has known, this is how Jaemin is. He’ll walk around shirtless, even pants less, as if it is any normal day. But since Mark kindly warns him that you’re going to be coming around, he complies. 

Now, Jaemin just wants to drive you into delirium.

Your mind is absolutely wiped, there is nothing more distracting than a half naked Jaemin – this you knew too well. As you tremble over your words, Mark saves the day by falsely admitting how he’s been trying to chat with you so he didn’t have to do his essay. 

“Ah, chatterbox. I’m jealous.” Jaemin gets up and spins on his heel, heading toward the stairs. Your body unknowingly leans toward his fleeting figure, a pout tugging at the corner of your lips.

Jaemin’s finger taps along the railing, drawing a trail as he walks up each step. “I wish I got to distract you from your project, talk to you for hours.” 

You’re freaking out internally, trying to decipher if he had just spit out an innuendo or if he genuinely meant it. You fight the urge to completely yell at the top of your lungs how much you’d love him to. Mark also bites back the scream that threatens to escape, not believing what he is a witness to. 

“You can!” Your chirpy, forced tone nearly cracks from your nervousness. “Join us after your shower.” Even if you wanted him alone, you’re willing to settle for moments with Mark in them.

“I’ll come, don’t worry.” No flirtation, no smug smirks, Jaemin gently reassures you that he’ll come back for you. And while the heavy tension in the air dissipates, you’re finding your heart to throb at his thoughtfulness. 

“Dude, you’re so whipped for him.” Mark giggles and you’re throwing a decorative pillow at his chest, very much embarrassed. “I should let you guys be alone, would you want that?”

The second Mark proposes his question, your heart shakes at the possibility of Jaemin and you finally alone again for an extended period of time. It is a nerve wrecking thought, you can feel your pulse racing. Not that you had avoided such a potential situation, but you didn’t really think you would get the chance to. Now that your good friend knows everything, he has the power to help you out. 

“I do.” You’re admitting so much of your vulnerability that Mark actually softens at your tiny request. He nods and packs up his things without any hesitation. “But where are you going to go?” You didn’t want to seem like you were kicking out your friend from his own house.

He brushes off your guilty tone, “don’t worry. There’s a study session happening in 15 minutes for one of my classes.” With that, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and takes a moment to look at you. His facial expression is hard to decipher. 

You stand and he holds your shoulders, “no more secrets.” Mark says with glossy eyes and a small smile. “And use protection.” He laughs, breaking the almost sweet and serious moment you two rarely share. You push him off and roll your eyes, though secretly grateful that you have Mark in your life.

It’s agonizing as you wait for Jaemin to come out of the shower, being completely alone with your hypotheticals and expectations eating away at you. There’s no way you have the capacity right now to focus on your project and homework. Jaemin just consumed every bit of you.

When he finally walks down the stairs, fully clothed and hair freshly blow dried, you pretend again that you’re too busy to notice. He heads toward the kitchen to open a can of Diet Pepsi and makes his way back. Jaemin snuggles up next to you, arm draped around the back of your side of the couch and you’re drowning in the scent of his body wash.

“Mark left?” He sips, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his jaw tightening with each gulp. You’re lost in his seeping aura, wondering how the fuck he looks so good doing something so simple. 

Clearing your throat, you place your laptop on the coffee table and face up at him. He meets your starry eyes and it takes so much in you to not break away. “Study session.” 

Jaemin nods knowingly, leaning forward to also neatly set down his can. Almost immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifts from light hearted to heavy sensual tension. Not that either one of you expected anything to happen, but just being in each other’s presence is suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

Now that you’re finally alone with him, you can’t help all the nerves and flips in your stomach from happening. “I kept you waiting then.” His voice is raspy, causing it to sound deeper than normal. 

Shaking your head, you say the first thing your heart thinks of. “I’m always willing to wait for you.” Jaemin lifts an eyebrow at your statement, noting the shock in your face as soon as it filled the air. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you onto his lap and you’re maneuvering your legs to straddle him. 

This intimate position has your heart springing out of your chest, thumping so aggressively that you swear he can feel it against his own. His hands are politely placed on your back and he peers up at you with a sultry stare. You’re holding your breath and unsure where to place your hands, losing your wits already at how things have escalated. 

“Is this alright with you? Am I doing too much?” He cautiously asks, ready to set you back down to where he had selfishly pulled you from. 

“This,” Scrambling, tripping, cat’s got your tongue! Jaemin doesn’t realize how your mind has been lit with flames all from this one swift movement. “This is fine. I like this.”

He smirks, “you like being on top of me?” When he asks such a nasty question, you’re too bashful to play along. Jaemin chuckles, “you’re driving me crazy right now.” 

You are? It’s quite unbelievable that any of this has an effect on him. Perhaps he is better at holding back his reactive facial expressions, but Jaemin seems so laid back and unphased. “Me? I’ve barely said more than a few sentences.” 

“It’s not about the quantity, you can say anything to me and I’d be smitten for you.” Jaemin taps your nose, in a loving and endearing way. You’re getting a side of him you’ve never really seen before – this head over heels, heart eyed fool. A part of you craves more of this, feeling special at how he only has eyes for you.

The other part is shocked that you’re even experiencing any of this, how did you get so lucky?

“Jaem, are you going to finally tell me how you feel about me?” When you say his name, his nonchalant attitude almost falters. His ears perk up, eyes alert and a tighter grip on the hem of your shirt. “How did we get here?” 

He purses his lips, contemplating long and hard about how he should go about explaining himself. Your voice is more stern, he can tell you’ve been wanting to get an answer to this for a while.

“I like you.” Jaemin says it so easily, those words roll off of his tongue effortlessly that it surprises himself.

“Since when?” You don’t mean to sound so interrogative, but all this time, this didn’t make any sense to you. Maybe your own lovey eyes blinded you from seeing his feelings or that your own self esteem halted you from believing someone like him could like you back. Nevertheless, this all came about so suddenly for you.

A small smile grows on his face as he thinks back to the first time he saw you. Your timid introduction and you glued to Mark’s side, but none of that could take away from how pretty you looked.

And when he first heard you laugh, like really laugh, he swore he needed to hear it again, and again, and again. Sooner or later, he found your shyness irresistibly adorable and he only wanted to interact with you more, but was unsure about your relationship with Mark.

Ultimately, Jaemin decided to keep his distance because you and Mark seemed more than close. However, the more he pulled away, the more you filled his empty thoughts and daydreams.

Whenever you came around, he found himself happier just upon seeing you for a brief second and hearing your silly anecdotes to Mark all the way from his room. If all you two had exchanged was a small greeting, Jaemin would be satisfied. 

Until the night you stayed for one of their drunk kickbacks, and something inside of him unlocked. A new sense of desire? The introduction of lust and curiosity.

Jaemin noted the way you’d squirm, dig yourself deeper into the cushions, hide your face in your shirt. Your reactions to his friends’ sexual adventures were typical, full of gasps and slight embarrassment, but your eyes were more than telling of your piqued interest. The one thing that he hated was that you never openly shared a single thing, even when asked. 

So, that meant he didn’t either. In a more respectful sense, he normally doesn’t dive into the nitty details as much as his housemates do, but you were such a mysterious person. He wanted to keep himself that way as well, making him as alluring as you were. The art of not knowing, just makes you want to know more. 

And when you would stand up for him against the other boys, that boldness only made you more attractive. Maybe you didn’t want to know about his personal endeavors, regardless, you respected his privacy and were willing to break out of your shell for him.

What other layers of you has he not seen? That caused him to wonder how much he could push you, what other reactions he could draw out of you, and gauge if you had any interest in him. 

In between your nervous stammers and long stares, Jaemin had some inkling that you might be into him. However, he couldn’t tell if that was just his ego deluding his judgment or if it was the actual truth. 

He had something less drastic in mind than you walking in on him in the bathroom. But, he thought if he waited and hesitated as much as he did before, there would never really be another chance. If you were disinterested, it would’ve been a lighthearted mistake and brief awkwardness. If you were interested, then it opens the door metaphorically as well. 

So in the spur of the moment, as he heard your voice and footsteps down the hallway, he quickly unlocked the door. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest as he tried to keep his phone steady.

Act natural. Be cool. Be confident.

He just hoped you couldn’t see right through his desperate act. And when you opened the door and everything that followed after, it was enough to wash away any doubt he had before. 

After dropping you off, he decided right then and there that he was going to pursue you. 

“Would you believe me if I told you it was since the day I met you?” His voice is soft and quiet. Jaemin brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, gently tucking it behind your ear. “I was looking forward to your presence without realizing it. I’d tell Haechan and Jeno how I was excited to hear your voice, even if it wasn’t speaking to me.” 

He could be such a romantic, though this didn’t come too much of a shock to you. You couldn’t believe that you’d be the recipient of it one day.  “Since the day we met. That feels like ages ago.” Your eyes wander off, trying to regain the distant memory. 

You could barely remember the day Mark introduced you to his housemates. It was such a blurry scene, mostly because you were so painstakingly nervous so you tried to bury it in the depths of your mind. The only thing you remember was the tight grip you had on Mark’s sleeve and Jaemin’s gorgeous smile. 

“Why didn’t you try approaching me? Be my friend, get to know me back then?” You ask, a small edge in your tone. Instead of months of googly, heart eyed stares, you two could’ve been acquainted much earlier. Your relationship would’ve been so far along, milestones would’ve already been hit. A thousand kisses would’ve already been exchanged.

Jaemin is well aware of his lack of action, “I wasn’t sure about you and Mark. I didn’t want to overstep and initially, I couldn’t tell if you even wanted to be around anyone besides him.” Now his questions to both you and Mark made sense.

He wanted to be absolutely certain that there would be no conflict. No room for anyone else. No blurred lines. Jaemin wanted to do it right.

“So, me walking in on you in the bathroom… was that an honest mistake?” As all the dots connected and all the lines matched up, you’re replaying all the moments that led up to this point.

He can see the gears turning in your beautiful head and laughs, “like I said, somehow, it’s always unlocked when you’re around.” 

Rolling your eyes, you settle with your own conclusion that perhaps it was in his plans all along to fluster the fuck out of you. As much as you hate to admit it, it worked. Hook, line and sinker. 

“How do you feel?” Jaemin asks, as his knuckles rub lovingly against your cheek. His big hand slides toward your jawline and he firmly cups your face, a quick flicker from your eyes to your lips. 

Intense. That is how you feel. At any second, you are a volcano ready to erupt. All these pent up emotions – lust, fondness, frustration – burst at your seams. All of which is unbeknownst to Jaemin, despite being the very spark of it.

“I feel like you should kiss me now.” Spoken confidently, Jaemin is shocked at your response. You didn’t have to ask him twice though, as he pulled you into him without missing a beat. 

The kiss is slow and cautious, like he is holding back from doing too much, taking too much. He guides your hands onto his collarbones and across his toned chest. Underneath his thin shirt, you feel how strong and defined he is. You’re hesitant at first, unaware of how much you could feel.

Jaemin could sense it, pausing in between your small kisses to take off his shirt. You’re wide eyed, fully shocked at his chiseled body right in front of you. It’s just like how you remembered from his photo, except now it’s not through a tiny phone screen. All on display, Jaemin takes your shaky hands and places them delicately on his broad shoulders.

“Touch me.” It’s all he has to say until your lips are connected again. His hot skin against your fingertips as you’re dragging them down his biceps, moving along all of his exposed terrain. 

Adrenaline fills your system and you can’t even begin to stop all the lustful and romantic feelings that bubble across your chest. So, you fervently kiss him back to signal just how much you want it, how much you wish to be kissed by him.

Jaemin loses it between your sweet touches and your eagerness, both hands now holding your face steady for him to deepen the kiss. The feverish glide of his lips on yours is something unforgettable. It’s inimitable, a passion that solely exists for the two of you. Kissing Jaemin is blissful, like nothing matters more than being here lips locked and hands on his bare chest.

Kissing Jaemin also ruined you. Moving forward, you’ll crave this feeling forever. How are you supposed to kiss anyone else in this world now? How will you ever want to kiss anyone else knowing you’ve experienced this?

You two make out until condensation forms on the outside of his Diet Pepsi can. There is a lingering taste of the soda on his tongue; a taste you once hated so much is now something you can’t get enough of. 

When you’re both finally pulling away, your lips are puffy and Jaemin is catching his breath. He could feel his heart bursting at the sight of your disheveled hair and pouty lips. You’re the prettiest baby he’s ever seen.

He’s staring at you with tiny stars in his eyes, ones that reflect your own. And he breaks the silence, “now we can finally tell Mark we kissed.” A sweet, kind smile appears at the end of his sentence. 

You’re laughing, and Jaemin’s heart flutters knowing he is the reason behind that melodic sound he loves hearing so much. 

⟢ his blushing cheeks, shy, but uncontrollable smile, and never failing kindness have you eagerly coming back for more

⟢ plus his spiced chai lattes are some of the best you’ve had, both iced and hot

⟢ that alone could have you hooked as a regular, but you suppose it doesn’t excuse the way that you pay close attention to when san is on shift

⟢ he’s glad you’re there almost every day he has the mid morning shift, but he gets a bit jealous when wooyoung tells him you were there hours after his normal shift one day

⟢ of course, that all goes away the next day when you show up during his shift explaining to him that you had an unexpected appointment

⟢ that fact that you tell him without him even asking gets his hopes up, so when you say that you were sad to miss him, his heart is sent into a frenzy

⟢ all flustered, he puts the wrong drink into the tablet and neither of you realize until the drink is made and you’re taking a sip of it

⟢ you don’t notice because the price isn’t any different than what you expected, and he was on autopilot, too busy thinking about the fact that you wanted to see him yesterday and the way that you look stunning in your outfit today

⟢ but when you do sip it, it’s clear it’s not what you ordered. afterall, chai lattes don’t really taste like the matcha latte you wanted today

⟢ “oh, san, this is a chai!” you say, goodnatured and not upset one bit

⟢ “yep!” he’s a bit confused why you pointed that out for a split second, then his face falls. “oh my god, is that not what you ordered?”

⟢ you have to resist the urge to laugh out loud because of how mortified you look. “no, i ordered a matcha latte, but it’s no problem! i can’t help it if fate’s decided that i need two treats today. my bank account may not like it, but i do!”

⟢ he looks a bit more relieved that you’re not upset about it, but he’s still quick to apologize.

⟢ “and your bank account will not suffer in the slightest, the matcha’s on the house! thank you for telling me, i’d hate for you to walk out without the drink you really wanted.”

⟢ “thank you,” you grin. “and seriously, it’s no big deal! you know how much i love your chai’s.”

⟢ “it’s a big deal to me!” he says, impassioned as he begins preparing the right drink. he’s glad there’s no one else waiting to order

⟢ “it’s important for me to get everyone’s order right, especially yours! getting the drink you’re in the mood for is a satisfaction i need to give all my customers.”

⟢ even though he’s included all of his customers, you can’t help but love the idea that he’s still said “especially you”

⟢ “especially me?” you echo back at him

⟢ he stumbles over his words a bit as he tries to explain. “well, i mean, yeah! i mean, you’re the one we’re talking about right now aren’t we! but– but also yes. yeah. especially you.” by the end he’s definitive, sure in his words and tone

⟢ “because you’re my favortie customer.”

⟢ you grin. “thanks. you’re my favorite barista.”

⟢ he’s really blushing now, with a wide smile to match yours

⟢ “well, if the feeling’s mutual, do you think i could get your number?” the way he says it is just a bit bashful, in the way that makes him so irresistably adorable

⟢ “i think that’s a great idea, my favorite barista.”

⟢ you’re going to have to stop calling him that, or his heart might burst

⟢ a few moments later, you’re handing him a napkin with your number on it in exchange for your matcha latte

⟢ “i also think it would be a great idea if you let me know when you get off work, so long as you’re not busy afterwards?”

⟢ you love making him smile like the way he is now, though you also think it may give you a heart attack with how lovely he looks

⟢ “i’m off at one, and i’m definitely not busy.”

⟢ “perfect. i’ll see you at one!” and with that, you’re out the door, two warm drinks in hand to brave the chilly air and a grinning glance back at him before you’re out of sight

“why are you always lurking here?”

you snort at his choice of words but he doesn’t bat an eye. while you keep packing your things into a bag, the guy sits beside you, folding his legs and awaiting your answer, so you conclude it’s not going to be over soon.

“i’m not lurking,” you answer with a smile. once you are done, you turn your head his way to find him and his crooked smirk, eyes devoted to you completely. “what is it to you?”

he shrugs. “i just noticed you come often with yeonjun but never dance. thought it’s a shame, a pretty one like you would look good on the dance floor.”

he is blatantly real, you don’t notice and mischievous deceit in his eyes, and this is why for a moment, just for a tiny little part of the second that passes you get flustered. 

you’ve never officially met him, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed him. he is good-looking, especially when he smiles, self-assured, while dancing. his style is similar to yeonjun’s, which is why you’re not surprised they often get to be filmed in the same group. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t expect to see him, after all, today is the first dance class that yeonjun hosted all by himself. it was a given that this guy would appear, which is convenient because a sketch of him that’s been sitting in your notebook turned out really well, the only thing missing are the moles on his face.

and now you have the perfect opportunity to memorize them. all you need is to look back at him before he notices his effect on you. in addition you may try to save your dignity.

you’re probably too late. his laughs a bit, showing off his canines, but you still fall for this dangerous, almost arrogant smile. suddenly, he’s back to earth once he gets an idea.

“want to try?” “try what?” “dancing.” you don’t answer, still taken aback, but he reassures you, “promise, i’ll go easy on you.”

this is way out of your comfort zone. whenever you attempted to do something as simple as a beginner move or a silly tiktok dance, yeonjun would laugh at how stiff you are. so, even though you are wearing a comfortable fit, are done with work, are attracted to this guy who is going out of his way to flirtingly ask you to dance with him, you are preparing yourself to politely decline the offer. at least you won’t get sweaty near someone you find attractive.

until he gets up and hands you his open palm in invitation.

“i’m a good teacher.” “i’ve never seen you teach a dance class, how would i know?” “but you’ve seen me dance. i’m pretty good, right?” “that doesn’t prove anything.” “yeas, but you don’t deny it either.”

a sly fox, he smiles at you and glances at his impatient hand. you hold yourself back, trying not to smile or to roll your eyes, wondering how this one exchange can be both fun and annoying. but you put your hand into his and get up.

“but don’t make fun of me,” you ask. whatever it is that he finds in your plea, sincerity or insecurity, makes him put a serious, but still soft expression on.

“never,” he promises.

he leaves your side and put some hip melody on, showing you simple moves and guiding you through steps to the desired result. he fixes your limbs and compliments your efforts. maybe he is a good teacher after all.

minutes after minutes, you get lost in ups and downs, you laugh at his jokes or chase him around the class when he decides that you grew close enough for him to finally mock you. the fun of this additional dance class is addicting. you don’t know where he got more energy, but you love it. so much that you don’t notice yeonjun appear in the doorframe with an adoring smile until he makes his presence known.

“wooyoung!” he yells, attracting your attention. you realise that you didn’t even ask for the name of the guy, so at least now you know what to call him when you gush about him to your other friends. “leave my best friend alone, they are probably tired of seeing your smug face for hours today. and you,” he points at your frozen form, “don’t you have to meet some teaching assistant in like twenty minutes?”

you curse and run up to your phone to check the time. yeonjun is right, you should rush to the meeting. with a slight panic you look at wooyoung. “sorry, i gotta go.”

the soft smile adornes his features. “it’s okay.” but you’re still frozen on the spot, so he laughs and rushes you, “go!”

you awkwardly laugh with him, – and yeonjun, but you kinda forgot he’s in the room – grab your bag and run to the door, screaming “bye” to both of the guys. 

unbeknownst to you, wooyoung squeals in joy and runs up to hug yeonjun against the latter’s will. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants, jumping around his friend. “they’re so cute, oh god.”

with a small smile, yeonjun hands wooyoung a mop, reminding that there’s work to accompany the fun part of meeting you.

“you promised to help,” he reminds wooyoung.

“way to be a party pooper,” woo grumbles but still obliges, remembering the deal: yeonjun leaves wooyoung and you in the room alone, wooyoung helps him clean said room afterwards.

yeonjun cleans the mirrors when he hears the annoyed voice behind him, “i didn’t have time to ask for their number.”

a sly fox enters once again, but yeonjun sees right through it. he turns blind to this indirect request and shrugs, “well, find them later.”

“but the campus is huge, and we all have classes, and the weekend is ahead so i probably won’t see them…”

yeonjun senses that mere seconds separate this peaceful moment and wooyoung’s childish tantrum. so he gives up, not without an annoyed sigh.

“i’ll ask them later if i can give you their number.”

his eyes are so far in his head in the roll that he doesn’t notice in reflection that wooyoung creeps up at him from the back to place the wettest, the loudest kiss on the cheek possible. 

“thank you, man. i owe you.”

Warnings: weed mention, grinding, dirty talk, big dick!mingi, oral f. rec., fingering, possessive!mingi, restraining but not really, unprotected sex, creampie

Reader Notes: wap, gets carried by mingi, hands are smaller than mingi's 

You sit heavily on your bed, your skin still shiny with lotion and a damp towel holding all of your hair. It’s been a week since that day in the car, and you haven’t seen Mingi since. It’s no one’s fault - you’ve been insanely busy with school and work and he picked up a new apprenticeship so your respective free time has been limited.

But you just finished up at the cafe and you’re pretty sure Mingi mentioned keeping his Friday’s clear, so you’re hoping you’ve caught him at a good time. You miss him, like you never thought you could, and it doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about what happened last week.

Nobody’s ever kissed you like that, so thoroughly, so passionately, so carefully, like getting to be close to you at all is a privilege, and you want more. You want to see him and touch him and kiss him and you want to do it now, so when your phone lights up with a text, you open it and bring it to your face immediately.

You squeal, dropping back to rest on your bed and holding your phone to your chest as if it’s something precious. Twenty minutes means he’s dropping whatever he was doing to come to your place, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest as you picture him zipping around his apartment, getting ready to come see you.

Twenty minutes also doesn’t give you a lot of time to get dressed and tidy up, but you keep your flat relatively clean so there isn’t too much to do. A quick sweep over your bedroom, living room, and kitchen confirms this. The real dilemma is in what to wear.

Do you go for full comfort, like you know he will? Do you wear something cute but casual, something that makes you look like you’re trying but not too hard? Should you risk going for sexy? You do have that little satin pajama set…

In the end, you decide on a pair of lounge pants that make your ass look amazing and a tank top that’s just low cut enough. You’re comfortable, but you still feel and look hot and you hope Mingi will think so as well.

You miss a time where you didn’t agonize over your clothing choices, but you suppose this is who you are now. Someone who goes through five different outfits before landing on the right one, someone who sits on their couch and waits for a knock, someone who all but runs to the door when it finally comes.

Mingi seems as relieved to see you as you are to see him, thankfully. As soon as you get the door open, he breathes a greeting and pulls you into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck and his wrapping around your waist. He smells so good, fresh and clean and manly, and when he pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead, you feel yourself melt.

It’s a good thing he’s holding you up, and you only become more grateful as his eyes travel from head to toe, roving lovingly over every clothed inch of you. Your agonizing was not in vain, it seems, his gaze filling with heat before he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. He apparently forgot he’d pulled a beanie on because he knocks it right off his head, making his cheeks tint in a blush as he leans down and swipes it off the ground.

Mingi wrings the knitted hat in his hands and shifts on his feet, looking at you through his eyelashes. You grin affectionately, reaching up to fix his hair with your fingers before cupping his cheek and tilting your chin. He takes the hint, leaning in and softly pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss is just as good as the rest, just as sweet and right and perfect, and when he pulls away, you can’t swallow the sigh. You wish he was still kissing you, but he opens his mouth to speak instead.

“So, did you wanna buy today? Or…,” he trails off, looking nervous for your answer.

“No, I just wanted to see you,” you respond with a shy smile, holding a hand out with raised eyebrows.

“Oh,” he exhales, tension you hadn’t noticed in his shoulders fading away as he beams back at you and takes your hand in his bigger one. You lead him to your couch, sitting down first and patting the cushion next to you. Usually, you go to his place, and you can tell he’s feeling a bit out of sorts here.

You don’t know how to soothe him beyond behaving normally, so that’s what you do. You turn the TV to the show you both watch on repeat and chat at him until he loosens up enough to let his thigh touch yours. His warmth radiates into you, drawing you into his gravity and making you lean closer and closer until you’re all but pressed against his side.

He shifts next to you, his arm raising and staying aloft until you snuggle in and get comfortable. His arm feels heavy when he drapes it over your shoulders, but it’s a welcome weight, one that makes you feel safe and content and, honestly, a little sleepy.

You could easily doze off like this, nestled into his side with his heart thumping under your cheek and your breathing synced with his. When his fingers start to play with the ends of your hair, you know it’s not only a possibility, but an inevitability. You can feel every blink growing longer, every breath growing deeper, and as his fingers climb their way up your hair and to your scalp, you let your eyes fall completely shut.

Hopefully, Mingi won’t mind you having a little nap.

When you blink awake, your flat is dark but for the flashing light of the TV. Mingi is breathing slowly under you, and you look up at him to find his eyes closed and his lips gently parted. You don’t know when you became horizontal, but you can’t say you mind, with Mingi’s chest beneath your cheek and his thick thigh pressed between yours.

You can feel something else pressing against you, but there’s no way. Sure, Mingi could be having a very good dream, but the, for lack of a better word, pipe that lays against your inner thigh is just too fucking big to be real. But he is 6 foot, and his hands and feet are massive, so is it really that hard to believe his cock would be huge too?

“Mmmm,” Mingi rumbles under you, his chest vibrating with the depth of his voice. You can feel him start to wake up, his fingers twitching in your hair and his belly raising as he takes a deep breath in.

His eyes open slowly, his head angling in different directions as he looks around your dark flat. Grinning down at you sleepily, he tugs your hair and murmurs something you can’t make quite out, something about warmth and being happy. You can tell the exact moment he realizes how hard he is, his body tensing under yours and a sharp gasp leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he shifts under you and tries to pull his hips away. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you attempt to smile reassuringly, petting his abs over his t-shirt and attempting to keep potential awkwardness at bay.

“You’re right,” he deadpans, “It’s your fault.”

“It is?” you freeze, your smile falling and your hand stilling on his stomach. He smirks down at you, obviously proud of his little turn around and almost obnoxiously attractive as a result. You don’t know what else to say, and you’re sure he can tell, probably even likes having stunned you.

“What do you think I was dreaming about?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, letting his eyes fall to your lips.

“My sparkling personality?”

“Nah, babe. But if you don’t want to hear it, I won’t tell you.”

You know he’s teasing you, but you rush to say, “No no no no, I wanna hear it!”

You can tell he’s biting back a smirk at your enthusiasm, making you shift on top of him and inadvertently grind against his hard on. He clenches his jaw, the hand not tangled in your hair finding its way to your hip for a sharp squeeze.

“I was dreaming about you, laying in your bed in the dark, just like the photo you sent me.”

“You couldn’t even see me in that,” you remind him, but he shakes his head and breathes, “Maybe not but I knew you were there, and because I couldn’t see you, I had to fill in the blanks for myself. What you were wearing, what you were doing, who you were thinking about…”

He pulls your hips into his, the thickness of his thigh spreading your legs further and making you press harder against him.

“And in my dream, you weren’t wearing anything. You were naked, fresh out of the shower like you were when you answered the door, and you were touching yourself, thinking about me. Do you ever do that? Touch yourself and think about me?”

You gasp at his bold words, your mind going back to what exactly you did that night after you sent him that picture. How does he know?

“I know because I do the same thing, babe. I lay in my bed and I think about you, and I get so fucking hard, I can’t stand it.” His voice is deep now, his eyes half lidded and his cock throbbing beneath you as he works both you and himself up.

“Tell me, please. What do you think about?” he begs, grinding you over his thigh and gasping when he feels how your wetness has soaked through both of the layers on your bottom half.

“I think about you, how you would touch me and what you’d want to do to me and how big you probably definitely are and-”

And before you can finish exposing yourself, his mouth covers yours in a needy kiss, his groan so low pitched, you feel the vibrations in your pussy. He grows harder against you with each grind, the front of his sweats getting progressively darker from both his leaking cock and your weeping cunt.

“Fuck, can I touch you? I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for fucking years.”

“Years?!” You choke, bucking in his hold and struggling to sit up. You straddle him, your hands planted on his chest, and nearly shout, “Explain!”

Mingi grimaces, removing his hands from your hips to press his palms to his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you as he responds. You won’t allow that, pulling his hands back and returning them to their rightful place while he gathers his courage.

“When I went up to you at San and Yeosang’s party, I wanted to ask you to dance. I saw you in my classes but you only seemed interested in learning so I didn’t want to bother you, and when I saw you at the party, I thought it was time to shoot my shot. But I chickened out and talked to you about class instead and you looked kinda… disinterested, until you saw the joints.”

All your breath rushes out of you, leaving you lightheaded and swaying on top of Mingi as you process his words. He’s been into you… this whole time? No wonder he was so upset after your first kiss, he’d been envisioning it for three years.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you, I know that would be a lot and that we don’t actually know each other that well, but I want to get to know you that well. I want to be able to say I’m in love with you and I want to know that you’ll say it back.”

You’re a little relieved to hear that he’s not in love with you, and over the moon to hear that he wants to be. You’re also slightly scared because admitting your feelings has never been your forte, and you know it’s your turn now.

“Mingi, I- I could see myself falling in love with you. You’re so thoughtful and sweet, you know my favorite snacks and what to do when I’m stressed - you’ve always taken care of me. And it helps that you’re ridiculously hot.”

He flexes beneath you, grinning so brightly you’re nearly blinded with it. He’s also still hard, still throbbing and pressed between your legs, and your hips move before you can even think about why they shouldn’t. Nevermind that you’re having a conversation three years in the making, you have a need that’s been brewing just as long.

His head tips back at the friction, his jawline so sharp, you want to cut your tongue on it and his neck so tantalizing, your teeth ache with the desire to sink in. There’s nothing stopping you, so you lean down and drag your canines over his jugular, nipping your way to his ear to whisper, “And yes, you can touch me.”

His whole body trembles in a shiver, his cock twitching under you and his hands so tight on your hips, you know you’ll bear his fingerprints later. He gives you one last squeeze before smoothing his hands up your back, pulling you flush to him and sitting up in a movement so sudden, it steals your breath and sends your heart galloping.

You don’t have time to reorient yourself before he tips you backwards and gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands hovering over your body like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. You’d think after so many years spent yearning for you, he’d have a plan but-

“Can I take this off?” he breathes, his palms already sliding up your stomach and taking your tank with them. The fabric obscures your vision as soon as you nod, your arms automatically raising to allow him to pull it all the way off. You’re left in a bralette and your lounge pants, and before you can ask him to, Mingi hauls his shirt over his head, leaving you speechless and far too distracted to assist him in taking your bra off.

He glows in the natural light flowing into your living room, his muscles defined and his hair messy. He looks like a dream, literally, he looks like he did in the dream you had last night, except now you can really see him, touch him, feel him. You can feel his fingers fumbling behind your back to undo the clasp, you can feel his strong arms bracketing your waist, you can feel his warm thighs spreading yours apart.

You can also feel how wet you are, especially now that air is coming into contact with the damp gusset of your pants. You’d be embarrassed if Mingi wasn’t hard enough to cut a diamond, if he wasn’t wide eyed and slack jawed at seeing your top half bare, if he wasn’t currently ducking toward your chest with an obvious mission in his eyes.

He cups your breasts with his hands, testing their weight and holding them up for his seeking lips, his mouth wrapping around one nipple and his fingertips rolling the other. Your back arches at the wet heat that engulfs you, a sharp gasp escaping when he sets his teeth into the soft flesh and gives it a tug.

Pulling away to admire his handiwork, he brushes a thumb over the mark he just left and leans back, curling his fingers in the waistband of your pants and beginning to tug. You lift your ass just enough to help, letting Mingi fold your legs up and yank the pants off of them like he’s personally offended by the article of clothing.

You’re left in just your panties, and thank God you chose a cute pair because he’s looking so closely at you, you want to squirm. His eyes feel like physical weights on you, his hands shaking where he carefully places them on your stomach and drags them down. As he tucks his fingers into the waist of your underwear, you expect him to start taking them off but instead, he pulls them up, putting pressure on your clit and outlining your wet folds.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, one hand flying down to curl around his fingers and the other clawing at the arm of the couch.

“Having some fun.” His focus is still stuck between your legs, his voice gravelly and low, “I waited three years, babe, I have a lot of ideas.” That’s all you need to hear, the reminder of how long he’s wanted you.

“Play away,” you release his hand, letting yours join its twin above your head, and he groans at the picture you make.

“So fucking pretty, baby. Keep your hands there, yeah?”

You nod and do your best to stay still as he hikes your stretched underwear up high on your hips and spreads his knees, splaying your legs even further apart. You’re almost completely exposed like this but it’s hot, you feel hot, like maybe Mingi is the lucky one here, not you.

He’s definitely acting like that’s the case, muttering little compliments under his breath and touching you so reverently you’re shocked he’s not on his knees worshiping you. When he tucks your knees up and slides down the couch so he can shoulder your thighs apart and stare right at your clothed cunt, you wonder if that’s his next step.

You wouldn’t mind, don’t mind this, bar the fact that you wouldn’t miss your underwear. You mind it even less when he tentatively places his palms on your thigh and starts to glide them up, his calluses from lifting dragging against your sensitive skin and making you shiver.

His thumbs trace the edge of the dampened fabric, threatening to slip under and touch you bare, and you could cry at how much of a tease he’s being. You’re aching for it, your pussy so empty and wet, you won’t be surprised if he has you begging before he even takes his pants off. You’re almost ready to beg now, and just as you open your mouth to let out a, “Please,” he slides his fingers into your panties.

“Fuck,” you say in unison, your utterance sounding more like a sigh than a swear as he glides his thick fingers through your folds and over your clit. It throbs under his touch, desperate for attention, but he bypasses it to dip into your entrance and gather more of your wetness on his fingers.

He uses his other hand to pull your underwear to the side as he brings his fingers up into the light of the TV, spreading them and smirking at the strings of arousal that bridge the gap. You whine and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed at how wet you are and at the fact that he’s practically gloating over it.

“Don’t hide,” he chastises you, sucking at his fingers before peeling your hands away from your face and returning them to their place above your head. “I love how wet you are, it makes me feel good and it’ll be easier for you to take my dick later.”

He returns his focus to your cunt, licking at his lips like he’s chasing the taste of you he’d just gotten and asking, “Can I eat you out? Need you in my mouth.”

“Please!” you gasp, watching him stare at your pussy like you’re a ten course meal and he’s famished. He dives in as soon as you finish speaking, his lips finding your clit so fast you don’t even have time to take in another breath before you’re gasping again and digging your nails into the couch to keep your fingers from disappearing into his hair.

The sounds he makes as he feasts on you are obscene, his whimpers and groans and grunts sending pulses of want through your body that all end where he begins. Shaking his head, he buries his tongue deeper within your folds, curling it around your clit and sliding it as deep inside you as he can reach. No one has ever eaten you out like this before, like they’ll die if they don’t taste every drop of you, like your cunt is air and they’ve been suffocating, like they’re on death row and you’re their last meal.

It’s incredible, and it only gets better when he pulls just far enough back to rasp, “Fingers?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Mingi.” Those may be the only words you know now, all others erased from existence by his appetite. One finger prods at your entrance before sinking in with ease thanks to how drenched you are, and you clench down around it without even thinking, your body so needy for something to fill you up that just one of his thick fingers is enough.

A second joins the first, the stretch making you sigh and his lips around your clit making you keen. He curls them, rooting around for your g-spot and finding it before you can take another breath. Digging in, he rubs his calloused fingertips over the sensitive patch of nerves, your back arching and your walls fluttering as he fucks you with his fingers.

He sucks at your clit, worrying it between his lips and laving at it with his tongue, and already, you’re starting to get close. “Harder, Mingi, please,” you whine, needing just a bit more to get there and more than willing to tell him.

His fingers pound into you, hooking into your g-spot on every thrust in and spreading on every stroke out. It’s a tight fit but he works another finger in beside the first two, his digits so much longer and thicker and better than yours. The stretch adds another layer of pleasure to what you already feel, your cunt so full with his fingers, you almost can’t believe you’re going to take his cock.

But, by God, you will, or you’ll die trying. First, though, you’ll cum.

It was really only a matter of time, and when he curls his fingers into your g-spot and leaves them there with a harsh suck of his mouth on your clit, you’re done. The wave that overcomes you is inescapable, pulls you under and into a state of rapture so blinding, you almost don’t even notice his eyes on you.

But, there they are, watching you tumble through the orgasm he pushed you into with a heat and headiness you’ve never seen before. Knowing that he’s watching you makes everything better, heightens every sensation and draws out every burst of bliss, and when he finally pulls away, he’s still watching you.

His lips are swollen, the whole lower half of his face soaked with your arousal, and he’s looking at you like he could go for seconds, thirds, and fourths. You’d let him, would let him drown in you all day if he asked, but right now, you need him to split you open.

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you half sigh, half plead, your face crumpling in impatience when he takes his time pulling his fingers out of you before licking off every single trace. He grins up at you from between your spread legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and exhaling, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fu-”

He pushes your legs apart and slides up your body, resting his hands on either side of your head and connecting your mouth with his in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you love it, love tasting the physical evidence of your desire for him and his hunger for you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his sweats and he mumbles, “Off,” into your mouth, taking over when you take too long. He pushes them and his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and leaving his massive cock hanging between your bodies and brushing against your stomach.

It’s hot to the touch and leaking precum onto your skin, and it’s also the biggest you’ve ever seen, as thick as a can of soda and long enough to reach the end of you. Any trepidation you feel vanishes when you look back up to Mingi and find him examining you with a worried expression.

“Do you think it’ll fit?” he gently asks, looking back and forth between his body and yours with doubt.

“Make it fit,” you tell him, widening your legs as one of his hands reaches down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both watch him enter you, watch his cock split you open and spread you apart, watch it carve a path inside you that’s for him and him alone.

He shudders out a long breath as your cunt stretches to welcome him, his hips getting closer and closer to yours until they’re pressed together, his cock fully seated inside you and filling you to the brim.

You can’t breathe and it seems he can’t either, his elbows buckling and his upper body dropping to rest on yours. He’s mumbling something into your shoulder, a litany of words you can’t make out and one phrase you can, “Fucking tight and wet and perfect, never felt this good, never.”

You preen beneath him, your pussy fluttering and your hips wiggling, making him groan deep in his chest, press his teeth into your skin, and give you a sharp thrust. You buck back, following him when he recedes, and he starts moving his hips in an unhurried, smooth rhythm, his movements eased by your overflowing arousal and the three fingers he’d opened you up with.

He fucks you like that, slow and deep and dirty, until you feel like you could scream. It feels amazing, and you love being this close to him, but you need him to go harder, faster, need him to fuck you like he means it.

“Mingi,” you begin, your voice more ragged than you expect, and he lifts his head up with a smirk, grinds his hips against yours, and pulls back, sitting up on his heels and hoisting you into his lap.

You can’t hold in your gasp at the new angle, nor your moan at the way he fills you again, and again, and again. You clench down at the picture he makes, his abs flexing with every thrust and his hands huge on your hips, while he bullies through your tightness to tap your g-spot with the head of his cock. Your back arches, a wounded cry leaving your open mouth as he starts fucking you in earnest, just like you wanted.

It’s perfect, he’s perfect, everything you could ever need or ever want, and suddenly, you feel the urge to tell him.

“Mingi, you’re so fucking good, you fill me up so well,” you whimper, and you can feel him get harder in you, feel him twitch and leak and throb.

“Like nobody else, right?” he questions breathlessly, his hands tight on your hips and his brow furrowed.

“Like nobody else,” you confirm with a squeeze of your insides and a sigh of his name.

“And there won’t be anybody else, right?” he punctuates his question with a rough thrust, his cock reaching a depth that makes stars swim in your vision.

“No, baby, nobody else.”

Grinning savagely, he pounds into you, the sound of his movements inside you pornographic and nigh embarrassing. You’re so ridiculously wet, there’s a squelch every time he pushes in and a gush of arousal every time he pulls out, and both your thighs and his shine with it. Thankfully, you don’t have any thoughts to spare on being embarrassed, your hazy mind too occupied with Mingi and retaining the capacity to breathe.

“There’s no one else for me, too, you know that?” he speeds up, his hips slapping against yours and his head tipping back even as he keeps talking. “I tried, but I just keep coming back to you. Haven’t even dated in- in a year, because your pickups were enough for me, fuck, I’m close.”

A year?!

You didn’t even realize you were nearing that peak but when he shifts one hand down to rub your clit, you’re suddenly right there, teetering on the edge and waiting for him to fall over with you. He battles through the clenching of your walls to hit your g-spot, his aim so precise it’s like he’s got a lock on it, and it’s enough to break you.

“Are you cumming, baby?” he asks desperately, and you find it in yourself to nod even as your orgasm steals your breath, your voice, your ability to think. He wheezes, “Thank fucking God,” and you can feel his cock start jerking and jumping inside you as he fills you up with white, hot cum. The sensation draws out your release, makes each wave hit harder and longer, makes your cunt clench and ripple and undulate around him until he’s shaking and near tears.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling a hand from your hip to wipe at the sweat coating his forehead before letting himself slowly fall down and cover your body with his. You catch your breath while he rests, your pussy still pulsing around his softening dick as a combination of your cum starts to seep out.

“Can we take a shower?” you inquire in a small voice, your fingertips digging into his toned shoulders and your legs starting to ache.

“Course, baby,” he breathes, snaking his arms under you and pulling you up into his chest as he gets off of the couch. You didn’t expect him to carry you, scrambling to wrap your legs around his waist, though you know he’d never let you fall. He stops at the entrance of the hallway, unsure of where to go.

Soon enough, he’ll know your apartment as well as you know his, but until then, you direct him, “First on the left,” and hide a grin in his shoulder when he stubs his toe on the doorframe.

AN: posting part two a bit early in honor of mingi’s birthday!! im overjoyed with all the feedback i got on part one and i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on the conclusion!

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading and thank you to @bbychocolat for the original commission 💖

Even though you had forgiven San and understood it was an accident he still felt guilty and kept trying to make it up to you. This is what led to your friendship and two years later you are both still stuck together.

Once a week or sometimes more after soccer practice you will meet San to study or hangout. Right now you are waiting for him to text you that he is finished with practice and is all cleaned up. It has only been a day since you last saw him but you still miss him and cannot wait to see him again. Before he texts, you decide to head over to your meeting spot and wait for him there.

you: im waiting at our spot

sannie: eager are we?

sannie: ill be out in ten :)

you: shush

The meeting spot is the same place where you got hit in the face and where you and San first met. When San first suggested this be the meeting spot you did not find it amusing but agreed because it was a meaningful spot to you both.

Distracted by your phone you are startled by a loud yell a few feet from you. Mingi and Yunho are giggling as they get closer to you.

“Hey that wasn’t funny! I could’ve had a heart attack from that” you scold them, feeling glad it was just them and San wasn’t with them.

“The most that would’ve happened is you peeing your pants” Mingi teases you and Yunho giggles agreeing with him.

“Yeah whatever, wheres San?”

“Pretty boy is still getting dolled up for you” Yunho winks and you flush but before you could make a comment back, a familiar voice yells out to the three of you.

San comes jogging over with dripping wet hair and wearing grey sweatpants and a black tank that makes your heart flutter. He drapes his arm over your shoulder saying a small hey before accusing Mingi and Yunho of harassing you.

Yunho instantly defends themselves, “they were waiting all by themselves and asked us where you were thats it!”

“Maybe you should spend less time on looking good to impress them!” Mingi snickers and starts walking away with Yunho, leaving San annoyed and you flustered.

“Well how was practice tonight?” you ask to break the tension and slight awkwardness from the comments made by the two boys.

“It was alright, coach is training us hard because we made finals”, a big sigh escapes him and you put your hand on his back to softly rub, “but its okay cause now i get to hangout with you”

You light up and smile at him, “can we please go to the night market, i am so craving that one stands food!”

San playfully disagrees and you plead him all the way to his car when he eventually says that you guys can go only if you buy.

“Yes, of course i’ll buy you anything you want” you agree with no hesitation. This makes San laugh at how determined you are to go to the night market.

An hour later the both of you are sitting by the river with full tummies. You were laying down on the grass staring up at the pink and orange sky while San was sitting next to you. The satisfaction of good food and peaceful atmosphere was almost enough to make you fall asleep.

The silence was broken by San softly speaking your name.

“mhm?”

“I was wondering…if you would want to or if you would like to…” he nervously breathed out, making you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, “come to my finals game this weekend?”

You were confused by his nervous demeanor, “of course i will–”

He cut you off, “I mean coming to the game as my date”

This made you stop and look at him wide eyed as you comprehend fully what he jus asked you. For two years you have been waiting for this moment and now that it is here you don’t know what to do. In the romance books the girl always knows what to say so why are the words stuck in your throat right now?

“Obviously you don’t have to it’s up to you and like if you said no, our friendship wouldn’t change at all i promise” San starts to ramble as you continue to sit there staring at him.

“San” you whisper so lightly that he doesn’t even hear you, you speak louder saying “San i’ll go to your game”

This makes him stop rambling and look at you, “really? are you sure?”

Sitting all the way up now you say, “I would really like to go… as your date” feeling shy and not able to look at him your fingers nervously play with the grass by your legs.

“Okay great! That’s really great…” there’s a bashful smile on his face that makes you smile and feel very excited for this weekend.

On Saturday the entire day is spent getting ready and making sure you look perfect for the game later. Since all of San’s friends that you know are also on the team and playing, Kazuha is going with you so you aren’t alone. You are happy to have her by your side to calm you down because you have been a nervous mess since San asked you.

The bleachers are almost full when you arrive but still manage to find seats in the front row. When the game starts and the teams come out you make eye contact with San and he smiles big at you. Feeling embarrassed you wave shyly at him and are thankful that his coach calls for the teams attention. It was Kazuhas idea to write San’s name on one cheek and his number on the other. It was embarrassing but did it because you know he would like it and a part of you likes it too.

The entire game you were on the edge of your seat in anticipation, with the other team leading by only a couple points. It was within the last 15 minutes that they were able to score and get ahead of the other team. On the field you could see San and his friends sweaty and breathing hard from how hard they are working. It made you feel worried knowing how exhausted San was going to be after this.

Both you and Kazuha were bouncing from nervous as the game was coming to an end and the team was still in the lead. The entire team and everyone watching cheered as the game ended and San’s team had won. Including you and Kazuha as you were standing up cheering and giggling at eachother excitedly.

The moment had you distracted that you did not notice a sweaty boy running towards you. It was not until he was right in front of you with the brightest smile and his chest moving fast from his breathing that you saw him.

“San?!”

“I like you, a lot, and I am so happy that you are here and I want to kiss you so bad” he blurted coming so close to you there was barely a breath of air between you, “please can i kiss you?”

This time you knew exactly what to say and there was no pause to stare at him, “kiss me San”

His hands grabbed your face and his lips were instantly on yours, bringing you into the softest but passionate kiss. There were tingles and shivers all over your body and you never wanted the kiss to end. It seems San never wanted it to end either because he didn’t pull away until both of you were almost going to pass out from not breathing.

He rested his forehead on yours and you started giggling at how happy you were.

“What are you giggling about hm?”

it always starts out very innocently

you're both genuinely comfortable like this

but he can't help but to get distracted, yk? i mean. it would be so easy for him to just...slide his hand under your shirt and start playing with you

so he does, at least 9 times out of 10

he starts by tracing little shapes on your tummy at first. he likes to take it slow, but you know where it leads and it makes you impatient

he can feel you getting tense beneath him and luckily for you, he's kinda obsessed with your nipples- so his fingers always find their way to them quickly and his mouth isn't too far behind, but he'll tease you a bit first <3

likes to position himself so he's hovering over you then kissing your hip bone (sometimes leaving a few hickeys there, too), before licking a line along your torso til he finally reaches your chest

into biting, so he'll take your nipples gently between his teeth before sucking them for a bit, his tongue lapping against them at the most dizzying pace

but again, he likes to take it slow

so even though you're already at a point where you're thinking about him inside of you, he pulls away entirely so he can kiss you instead

just looks at you and smiles before coming closer, a hand loosely around your neck as he plants his lips on yours and teases your mouth open with his tongue

but that only lasts for a few minutes before he's lightening up again, the kiss suddenly becoming chaste as his hands find yours to hold them before he sits next to you and nonchalantly smiles

you know his favorite thing is making you happy, but his guilty pleasure? teasing you so that you'll want to take control :)

he wants nothing more than for you to climb on top of him and pin him in place while you kiss him like your life depends on it before giving him the best head of his life

the sexiest thing in the world to him is you showing him exactly what you want. like, yes, he lives to please.

feel free to tell him what you want, too, if you wanna make him blush

as soon as he's had time to process, he'll give you exactly what you ask for and more

loves fucking you more than anything tbh. like he can't shut up about how good you feel around him and lets out the prettiest, deepest moans

he's not ashamed or embarrassed about it at all, such a harsh contrast to his usually hesitant approach

"you feel so good, baby. gonna fill you up with my cum if you keep going like this. so pretty, you know that?"

always makes you finish first, though <3

and the only time he falls completely silent is when you're riding him as he's about to finish

his eyes are wide & his mouth is open and he looks so cute and helpless

never forgets to say thank you afterwards 😭

runs you a shower while he cleans the mess the two of you made

purposely waits to go and pour you a glass of water & grab you a snack til you get out so you can have privacy while you get dressed like he didn't just have you completely naked and spread out in front him with his dick inside you 😭😭😭

always asks if you're alright once he gets back and makes sure that you're comfortable before he does anything to take care of himself :(

kisses your forehead then holds you til you fall asleep

whispers that he loves you once you're out for the night bc he knows he's already told you ten million times that day and doesn't want to be annoying by saying it again, but he's gotta get it off his chest one last time before he sleeps

bc he really just loves you so much that he doesn't know what to do about it except to tell you

Notes/Warnings: plug!mingi, weed use, food mention, kissing, stress/anxiety

Grad school is hard. Really hard, you’ve discovered.

You knew it would be, of course, but it’s difficult in ways you didn’t expect. First of all, you have no money. You can afford groceries and rent, thankfully, but luxuries are scarce. You’re also stressed nearly all the time, with your thesis looming over your shoulder and begging you to work on it even when you’re in class. You have friends, but you don’t really get to see them between your work and their own, so you return to an empty apartment most of the time.

You do have a lot of bright spots in your life too, though. You get to study what you love, you have friends to miss, and you can still afford little things that make your life better.

Your phone dings, a tone that means one of those bright spots is especially vibrant today. You just got off work at the coffee shop, a double from 6 AM to 4 PM, and your hair still smells of roasted espresso beans and turmoil but you’re beaming as you throw your uniform off and pull on clean clothes.

Mingi is free for you to come pick up, and after you complained of having trouble last time, he promised to roll your joints for you. He’s an expert and they always burn perfectly, and it also makes you feel a little special. Mingi doesn’t roll for just anybody, and considering that you’re quite literally terrible at it, you really appreciate that you’re somebody to him.

You and Mingi met in junior year of college. You were majoring in Psychology and Mingi was getting his degree in Hospitality, and somehow, you managed to have a shared class nearly every semester. He was cute but your eye was already focused on grad school and you didn’t think you had time for distractions. Then he approached you at San and Yeosang’s party nearly begging for help on the next exam and you decided maybe you did.

You also happened to spot the joints in his t-shirt pocket. You’d been looking for a plug for a while but hadn’t found anyone reliable, and having Mingi in your class would make it incredibly easy to arrange pickups.

Thus, you became Mingi’s tutor and Mingi became your plug, and you kind of sort of became each other’s friends too.

Three years later, you’ve both graduated and moved on; you to a Master’s program in Applied Psychology and Mingi to cooking school. He still deals on the side, but only to a select few as his reputation in the kitchen steadily grows.

The commute to his flat is easy, just a couple stops on the bus and a short walk to his building, and he buzzes you up as soon as you press the intercom button, meaning you only have the elevator ride to the third floor to prepare yourself to interact with him. It’s not that Mingi is intimidating or annoying or hard to deal with, it’s just that he’s so fucking hot you have trouble concentrating sometimes.

He’s always been tall but he’s gotten bigger and bigger over the years, and now the way he fills out his shirts and sweatpants makes you breathless. And, ugh, his smile. It’s so sincere, and kind, and sometimes playful, and sometimes knowing.

He doesn’t know everything though.

He doesn’t know you bought from Wooyoung two weeks ago, and that he smoked you out first.

Mingi always offers; he even offers to pick you up so you can try it before you buy it, but you hardly ever take him up on it because you just can’t get close to him now like you used to. In college, he didn’t affect you this way. He was just the cute guy you bought weed from that could make you laugh, and now, he’s the incredibly hot and caring guy you buy weed from that frequently makes you dizzy.

You needed a break from that, and Wooyoung was available. You can never let Mingi know though, he’ll get too jealous and you won’t be able to handle it.

You arrive at his flat before you’re ready, and you’ve barely knocked when the door unlocks and Mingi and his crooked smile appear in the frame.

“Hey, come in,” he grabs your hand and tugs you inside, your legs working overtime to keep up with his large steps. He leads you to his living room, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion next to him. You settle a safe distance away, far enough that your thighs don’t touch, and bite back a smile at the way he eyes the space between you.

He leans over to the table next to the couch and pulls a tin from the drawer before opening it and passing it to you. It’s filled with neatly rolled joints, at least ten, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when he tells you the price.

“That’s way too little, isn’t it?” You respond incredulously, looking between him and the tin.

Mingi just shrugs, plopping a small jar of ground weed on the couch cushion between you and replying, “Includes that, too.”

“Mingi,” you try to hold back the whine that wants to sneak out in your voice, only pouting further when he holds up his hands and says, “It’s competitive pricing.”

Competitive pricing. So he does know.

Wooyoung must have bragged to Mingi about it, knowing his meddlesome nature and proclivity for playing with his friends. He’s harmless at his core but likes to cause trouble sometimes, and this is one of those times.

“I can’t believe you let him smoke you out,” Mingi crosses his arms and leans back against the arm of the couch to turn the full force of his guilt trip on you.

You groan pitifully, folding over to bury your face in your knees so you don’t have to look at him any longer. You don’t really have an excuse to give him, one that doesn’t give you away at least, and you definitely can’t explain yourself.

“Ahhh, it’s okay, babe, I’m just teasing,” Mingi rubs your shoulder with a big hand, pulling you up out of your shame bend. He seems sincere, but his eyes still look a bit dim and you vow to yourself that you won’t pick up from anyone else again.

You squeeze the hand on your shoulder before grabbing your phone and sending him the money he’d requested, plus a little extra. It went straight into his account so he can’t do anything about it, and you know he won’t send you the money back because cooking school is so expensive. He glowers halfheartedly at you when he sees the notification but as you thought, does nothing beyond putting his phone away and scrunching his mouth at you again.

Grinning triumphantly, you close the tin and tuck it in your purse along with the little jar he’d prepared for you. It seems you win this round, and you can only hope you win the next too.

Keyboard clicks and taps of a slipper on hardwood fill your room, the silhouette of your hunched, exhausted form illuminated by the bright light of your computer. You have a meeting with your thesis advisor tomorrow, and there’s still so many changes to make. You procrastinated in making use of her comments, leaving your editing to the last minute as usual, and now you’re paying the price.

You’ve been working for hours now, proofreading and crying and proofreading again, and you’re starting to feel like you’re losing your mind. You need a break, desperately, and your phone pings just as you push away from your desk to go lay on your bed.

You could cry (again).

Texting him back with what you think is an appropriate amount of waterfall-eyed emojis, you hop in the shower and go through your routine quickly.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you feel like a person again, and you’ve just slipped into your clothes when Mingi texts you back.

He’s… outside? You rush to your street-facing window and look down, finding Mingi leaning against his car with a beanie covering his hair and a smile big enough to power the stars covering his face. He spots you easily, waving and cupping his hands around his mouth. You fumble with the lock of the window, pushing it up and poking your head out to hear him yell, “Come on, the food’s getting cold.”

Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now, you swear as you check your watch, eight pm. You’re starving and your brain is still making dial up noises and your back hurts from your terrible posture but none of that matters, because Mingi is outside, waiting for you. With food.

You fly down the stairs, bursting out of your building with tears in your eyes and your arms already open for a hug. He pulls you into the cradle of his chest immediately, smoothing a hand over your hair and rubbing your sore back. “Everything okay?” He asks, pulling away to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowing when he spots the bags under your eyes and your stress-bitten lips.

“Let’s get you over to mine, yeah?”

After opening the door with a flourish, he ushers you in with gentle hands and watches as you click in your seatbelt. He jogs around the front of the car, jumping in and checking his surroundings before pulling away from the curb and starting on the way to his place.

“Here, eat something.”

A searing hot bag gets dropped in your lap, smelling of fresh fries and salvation, and you dig in without a second thought. You catch Mingi’s cheeks curving in a smile out of the corner of your eye and fight back a grin of your own, always charmed by the way your happiness becomes his.

Mingi rolls into his parking space with ease, shutting the car off and turning to you to say, “I think you’ll love this new one, I tried it with Woo last night and it knocked us off our asses.”

That sounds like exactly what you need, and you follow closely at his heels as you traverse the hall to his flat. His body blocks your entire view but you stop at the right door anyway, so used to this walk that you could do it with your eyes closed. He unlocks the door quickly and beckons you in first, a wall of scent hitting you and making your eyes tear up.

They’re not watering out of disgust (as they have in the past in other men’s apartments), they’re watering because you can smell spam fried rice, and you know he’s made it for you.

Mingi speeds past you to the kitchen and you go straight to the living room. He said in the beginning to make yourself at home, so you do. You settle into your preferred corner of the couch, noting with something like dragonflies in your belly that he’s already prepared a coaster, blanket, and the remote for you.

You wonder if all his other clients get this kind of luxury treatment, but find yourself not wanting to think of him having other clients at all. You know he does, obviously, but prefer to think he likes you the best and never need to know otherwise.

When you turn the TV on, it’s set to soccer. You’d love to change the channel but recognize the team as Mingi’s favorite, so you leave it on and bump the volume up. Just as they score a goal, he returns from the kitchen carrying two steaming bowls, a pair of water bottles, and utensils. You bounce in your seat as he carefully sets them down on the coffee table in front of you before leaning over to retrieve his bong and lighter from the end table. He’s already packed it, the angel, and he passes it straight to you.

Mingi raises his hand to light it for you as you bring it up to your mouth, and you look up through your lashes at him while you inhale. He holds your gaze, biting his lip and watching you take the hit with darkened eyes.

The taste is sharp in your mouth, the smoke sitting heavily in your lungs for a second or two before you blow it out with pursed lips. You angle away from Mingi, too polite to blow it straight in his face though you have a sneaking suspicion he just might enjoy it. You can still feel his eyes on you, but you need a second to yourself to let the effects roll in.

When you turn back to Mingi, it’s like everything around you has slowed down. He’s grinning proudly, and you’re not sure whether he’s proud of you or his own weed, but you don’t really care either way. You’re just happy that he’s happy, and you hand him the bong with a smile of your own.

Mingi takes his hit quickly and skillfully, and you let your focus fall to the hot rice waiting for you on the coffee table.

It’s delicious, as his food always is, and the comforting flavor shrinks your stress with each bite. Just the one hit was enough to melt you into the couch and with your free hand, you reach for the blanket. It’s hard to spread it over your legs while holding the bowl, and Mingi sets the bong down to help you.

His hands brush your thighs in the process, and you thank yourself for putting yoga pants on after your shower. You already feel floaty, you don’t need the feeling of Mingi’s hands on your skin adding to that.

You hum, taking another bite and snuggling into your blanket before looking up at Mingi. His eyes are already on you and you can see the tips of his ears turn red as a sheepish smile rises to his face.

Catching him looking at you is one of your favorite things in the world, and it happens oh so often. You’re not sure why you’re so fascinating to him, but you won’t complain about it, especially when it means you often get all of his attention.

It’s something you noticed in uni when you started hanging out with him after picking up at parties instead of just leaving like you used to. He would usually be surrounded by a mix of people when you arrived, and as soon as he set eyes on you, it’s like they’d all disappear.

Mingi grabs the bong and offers it to you, exchanging it for your rice. He sets it on the table next to his and lights the bowl for you, tucking into his own rice as soon as it’s burning enough. You take in more this time, feeling the smoke sear down your throat and into your lungs and letting it stay there before pushing it out away from Mingi again.

You breathe for a while, swallowing down a cough with a mouthful of water before turning to Mingi and saying, “Thank you for this, and for the rice. It’s fucking delicious.”

“Course, babe,” he nudges you affectionately with his elbow. “I know it’s your favorite. How’s your thesis going?”

You grimace thinking of the work waiting for you at home, and Mingi rushes to assure you, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s okay. I just have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow and I left accommodating her comments until the last minute, like a dummy. So I’ve been working on it all day and I’m like, three quarters of the way done but before you texted, I was seriously on my way to losing it.”

Your head falls to rest on Mingi’s bicep, the muscle surprisingly cushy and his smooth skin warm under your cheek.

“You’re not a dummy, you’re a genius. You just procrastinate because you know in your heart that you work best under pressure.”

“No, I just didn’t want to do it,” you reply with a shrug, tilting your head to look up at Mingi.

“Shhhh, my way sounds better,” he places his index finger against your lips and you take a quick breath in, freezing in place. Mingi freezes too, his half-lidded eyes locked on your mouth for one, two, three heartbeats before he pulls away with a forced laugh. He pulls off his beanie to run his fingers through his hair, his attention briefly pulled to the game as his team scores again.

He cheers and bounces in place, flashing a grin at you that turns small, secretive, when he sees the look on your face. You’re still reeling from the moment you just shared, and it’s frustrating that he seems to have completely recovered. Maybe touching you just isn’t that big of a deal to him, maybe he doesn’t feel the distance like you do, or maybe you’re much further gone than he is.

You can believe the first two, but the last one would hurt.

Mingi picks you up this time, takes you for a drive. You think he can tell that you’re not doing the best mentally, because he grins at you softly and squeezes your hand when you get in the car.

You don’t know where you’re going and you don’t care, all you care about is that you’re not staring at your thesis in the quiet dark of your room anymore. It was starting to mock you, the work left undone, and you desperately needed a break.

Mingi texted at the perfect time, just when you were about to officially call it quits. He could somehow tell that you were at the end of your rope, and told you he’d be there in fifteen with something to relax you and a new playlist for you to enjoy.

He arrived in twelve, and your heart fluttered the whole way down the stairs.

Now you’re on the way to a place you don’t know, the street names unfamiliar and the distance growing between your flat and his sedan. You don’t mind it, having needed a getaway for a while, and you settle into your seat with a sigh as the car travels down unrecognizable roads.

An undetermined amount of time passes, your mind going into a soft, relaxed state the further you go. Eventually, you pull up to a deserted park and Mingi turns off the car, looking at you with warm eyes and a charming smile.

“So, I’ve got some blunts for us, and I also went to the convenience store and grabbed your favorite snacks.”

“You sweet, sweet boy,” you breathe, dangerously close to leaning over and kissing him right on those plump lips.

He grins shyly, passing you a blunt and holding up the lighter as you bring it to your mouth. You take in a deep hit, holding the smoke in your lungs for as long as you can take before exhaling away from his face. You feel the haze set in immediately, your combined stress and exhaustion making you that much more susceptible to the high coming over you.

Mingi’s eyes stay on you, feeling like physical weights holding you down as you stifle the rising coughs. You pass him the blunt, watching as he takes in a pull of smoke and blows it out into the vacant backseat.

He holds it out for you, letting go just before you take hold and nearly dropping it in the place of no return that is the gap between the seat and the console. He gasps, fumbling to catch it before it can burn the leather or fall in between the seats.

He grins sheepishly before grabbing your hand in his and wrapping your fingers around the blunt to be sure you’ve got it. You bring it to your lips and take in a breath, feeling the smoke settle in all the crevices of your lungs before you exhale it toward the roof of the car.

Mingi’s eyes are still on you but they feel different, heavier, and when you turn to him to pass the blunt back, his gaze is on your lips.

The hazy air buzzes with electricity, the cab of his sedan suddenly feeling two sizes too small. The blunt burns away where you hold it aloft, just waiting for Mingi to take it. He doesn’t move, seemingly frozen in place as wasted smoke fills the space between you. He finally raises his hand, but instead of the blunt, he reaches for your face, his big palm spanning your whole cheek.

“Y/n, can I kiss you?” he breathes, his voice so full of longing that it takes yours away, leaving you to nod as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter down, your lips just barely puckered and your heart galloping in your chest. It flips when his mouth touches yours, skips when he lets out a wounded noise and presses harder, soars when his fingers slide to the back of your neck and tilt your head to the angle he deems best for kissing you out of your mind.

You sigh into him, melting closer and closer until you’re all but draped over the middle console with just his hand holding you up. He laughs against your mouth, his teeth digging into the plush of your bottom lip just enough to sting. You feel calmer than you ever have kissing someone but you also feel like you could vibrate out of your skin, and it can only be the potent combination of good weed and Mingi.

It’s a cocktail you’ve tried before but never like this, and it only takes a few minutes of his lips pressed to yours for you to know that you can’t go back. You can’t go back to not knowing what it’s like to kiss him, to feel his fingers in your hair, to get this close to him and then have him pull you even closer.

You can’t go back to just being a friend/client, someone who only sees him when they need something.

You want to be more than that to him, and see him all the time, and kiss him all the time, and-

And he’s pulling away. Why is he pulling away?

“Y/n?”

“Hm?” You force your eyes open and lean back far enough to take in his expression. He looks… sad? Regretful? Not exactly what you expected or what you’d like to see after he’s just kissed you for the first time, but you try not to let your feelings get hurt and wait for him to speak.

Except… he doesn’t. He swipes a thumb over your cheekbone and pulls away, reaching into the backseat before setting the bag of treats on your thigh and putting the car in reverse. You’re unsure of what just happened and what to do about it, but you are hungry and you could really use some sugar right now, so you glumly open the bag and start eating.

You chew absentmindedly, your eyes wandering over to Mingi’s face. You can tell he’s focused on driving but he looks stressed, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. You wish you could make him feel better but you don’t actually know what’s wrong, and with your mind still buzzing from weed and the kiss, you think talking may not be the best idea.

You ride in silence for a few minutes, watching the buildings whiz past and bopping along to his playlist. When Mingi’s favorite song comes on and he neglects to sing the opening line, you decide you’ve had enough.

“Mingi, what’s wrong?” You plead, your eyes tracing his side profile and your fingers itching to intertwine with his. He sighs, chewing on his lip and nervously darting his eyes from mirror to windshield to mirror.

“I just… I didn’t want it to happen that way. I know I asked, and that’s my fault, this whole thing is, but I- fuck. I’m doing this all wrong.”

Shaking his head, he clicks the blinker on and pulls carefully into a dimly lit parking lot. He turns the car off and undoes his seat belt, turning to you and fighting to tuck one knee up on the seat.

You’re sure your confusion is clear on your face, as is the small amount of hurt you can’t will away, and Mingi takes both of your hands in his, looking at them instead of you.

“I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that. I mean, we were high, you’re stressed, and you’re buying. I guess I just wanted it to be more… romantic, but I got impatient and ruined everything.”

He wanted your first kiss to be romantic. He’s thought about your first kiss before, and about how he wanted it to be.

You could scream, but you figure you should reassure him first.

“Mingi, that’s so sweet I want to cry, but don’t be so dramatic. We can always kiss again.”

“We can?” He pouts, finally looking up and meeting your eyes, his own swimming with what you fear are unshed tears.

“Yes!” you squeeze his hands emphatically, “Literally any time you want.”

“Like… right now?” His eyes dart down to your lips, lingering there as they stretch in a grin. You nod, still smiling, still freaking out inside that he’s envisioned your first kiss, and still desperately hoping for a second.

He leans in closer, his lashes brushing his cheeks and his lips parting before he presses them softly against yours. You can’t help but hold your breath, somehow more nervous about this kiss than the first. It doesn’t take long for Mingi to relax you though, his fingers sinking into your hair and his air mixing with yours.

You sink into the kiss, sighing out the rest of your worries and cupping his jaw to hold him to you. He makes a soft sound as his whole body tips closer, his fingers tightening in your hair and his teeth digging into your bottom lip again. You can’t help but wonder where else he’d bite if given the chance, and can only hope the answer is all over.

When he pulls away this time, you’re dizzy, the sun has gone down, and you’re inches from launching yourself over the center console to climb in his lap. There’s nothing you want to do more than keep kissing him, but it seems he has other plans.

“I should get you home, you need to rest,” he breathes, his voice ragged and his thumb tracing the darkness under your eye.

“No, you should kiss me some more,” you exhale back, sliding your fingers into his hair and using your hold to tug him back to you. His chuckle sounds more like a sigh but he gives in anyway, pressing his plush lips to yours and letting a big hand cover your thigh. You were feeling warm before but with his calloused fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you feel hot, like you could melt or burst into flames or combust.

Any one of the three is a possibility so long as Mingi keeps his hands on you, which is why you’re part relieved and part devastated when he pulls away. You lick your lips, chasing his taste but letting him settle back into his seat. Your hand falls from his hair and he catches it, smooching the back with a loud smack and brightly grinning at you.

You giggle freely, feeling lighter than you have in days and barely even dreading returning to your flat. “Can I take you home now?” He asks, squeezing at the flesh of your thigh just because he can.

“Yeah, you can take me home now,” you whisper back with a small, fond smile, covering his hand with yours to keep it there as he turns the headlights on and exits the parking lot. You drift for most of the ride back, Mingi’s soft, low voice lulling you slowly to sleep.

You blink awake as he pulls up to your flat, rubbing at your eyes and at the numb spot on your face where you were resting against the window. You look over with a drowsy smile and lean forward to kiss him goodbye, clumsily unbuckling your seatbelt as you do.

“I would walk you up, but I got towed last time,” he pouts apologetically, making you let out a sleepy laugh and respond, “I know, baby, you called me crying after.”

“I wasn’t crying!” he swears as you climb out of the car and gently shut the door.

What you don’t see as you walk away is him slowly tipping forward to rest his head against the steering wheel and whispering gleefully to himself, “She called me baby.”

AN: written as a commission for a diff idol and reworked to fit mingi!! beta’d by @petrichor-mingi thank you!!

part two will have smut :-)))

pls reblog if you enjoyed! i would love to hear your thoughts 💖

Hand hugs. One of the many, many inside jokes and mini traditions that you had crafted together with Hongjoong over the course of your friendship. Or relationship. Or whatever pining for your friend for ages was supposed to be called. You did not mind. At least you got your Hongjoong by your side. Or could you even say that?

While you watched Hongjoong rush down the aisle of the convenience store after he had exclaimed that he had forgotten something ‘essential’, the thought plagued your mind, gnawing on it like a persistent little devil. Just like it had done the last time you two hung out, and the one before that. How would you react if he were to ever date anyone? Get in a relationship? Get married? Would you be okay with being the best friend at his wedding, quietly seething in the corner and wishing that it was you standing next to him? You shrugged to yourself and clutched the basket tighter in your hands.

It was always you and Joong. You knew him like the back of your hand, and he knew you like the back of his. Maybe that was why the hand hugs were so symbolic, transcending their original intent, which was to find a compromise between your desire for oxytocin surges and his aversion to all things physical touch. A simple palm to palm, digits to digits, thumb around the other’s hand. A hand hug. Simple. Sweet. A reminder for both of you that you knew each other, and were living a beautiful life together.

While you were caught up in your musings you noticed your load lightening a little too late - Hongjoong was already on his way to pay, again. With a yelp you started for the self checkout, but he softly nudged you with his hip, a cheeky smile adorning his face while he scanned the items. You pondered if this deserved a joking purchase of something abominably spicy, but decided against it. After all, you would not be able to force him to eat it even if you tried. So you simply held a resting gaze on the methodical swiping and the way in which the items disappeared into Hongjoong’s trusty canvas bag, one after the other. 

It was tattered, showed some darkening at the edges, a couple of loose threads here and there, but Hongjoong would fight you if you were to even dare suggest throwing it away. But you would never even think to do it - after all, the design that it bore was one you two had painted together, a few years ago in the midst of one change after another. It was a depiction of the Earth surrounded by the random favourite things that made the two of you who you were. Pleasant and heart-warming memories. This canvas bag had carried things equally as pivotal to the both of you. It had carried your items when you moved out to begin life as an independent adult (only to have Hongjoong visit you, or you visit Hongjoong so often that you knew no solitude), it had held the equipment and disks owned by none other than your closest and dearest friend as he marched to the studio, dreams stronger than ever, passion and eagerness to achieve in every step. The handles remembered the way in which you would share the weight, one for each person, swinging ever so slightly as you would walk in stride down the city streets wherever your hearts desired. Just like you were doing now, with the snacks and quick meals protected by the sturdy material. In your free hands, you had your ‘cost effective coffees’, as Hongjoong had called them once and the title stuck. This was your favourite kind of two in the morning.

There was only one place where your feet would take you at this hour, and it was the rooftop. Not any kind of rooftop, but the one on Hongjoong’s apartment building, located in a scenic and quiet residential district, a little ways off from the centre of the city, but giving the best landscapes and skyline view of glimmering lights. The walk to his building was silent - there was no need to fill the atmosphere with aimless chatter that would, either way, turn to a hazy, noisy static. You knew what the other was thinking, at least you wanted to pretend you did. You smiled to yourself. If only he was thinking the same as you were in this moment. About the closeness of your hands, about how your heart was pounding in your chest, about how you caught the scent of his cologne that suited him so well when he playfully pushed you. You focused on the dimly lit street ahead, trying to keep your breathing level as you trekked higher and higher up the hill, to your one true paradise.

Thankfully the building was only a few stories high, and did not need too intense of an effort to conquer. At least this was what you told yourself every time before starting on the journey up the spiralling flights of stairs, one step after the other until you were almost out of breath and your legs were just starting to ache - there was your cardio for the next day or so until you would decide to do this all over again. Because this was a small price to pay for the timelessness that you would experience once you got to the top. A click of the key, a turn of the doorknob, and the infinite expanse of the night was surrounding you, and the breeze gently tousled your locks as you stepped out onto the roof, following Hongjoong closely. 

You were not sure how exactly he had managed to convince his landlord to give him the keys to the roof, since it was normally off limits and a mystery even for the permanent residents. Maybe Hongjoong promised to clean and re-vamp the place a bit - which he most definitely did, considering that it now looked like the ultimate relaxation spot, with outdoor fairy lights, plants that did not mind waiting until the next rainfall to be watered, lounge chairs, an antique table that he had picked up at the secondhand market and reinforced to live through the tests of the great outdoors, and some little trinkets that were simply so him that it made you want to burst into tears. He had an eye for design, an eye for expression, and whether he would have liked for you to say this or not, had an eye for love. It was all around you. In everything he had done to the place, in how he treated it, in how he pulled out the chair for you, in how the two of you took a moment to look out into the distance, marking out the local attractions and main highlights of the city before launching into a scavenger hunt through the canvas bag, keeping quiet and feigning obliviousness when your hands brushed once, twice, another time. No, you could never give up this feeling. 

Clinking plastic cups, the lids preventing the drink that was the colour of deep mahogany and the taste of bitter remnants of a campfire, you reclined on your seat and nodded to yourself absent-mindedly, taking a sip. Nothing could be sweeter than this after all. You stole another glance at Hongjoong, who was still wistfully staring off into the distance, caught up in his thoughts. You and him decided to wear your ‘accidentally matching’ hoodies today, in the true free and young spirit of the late night, or early morning, raid on the convenience store. You said ‘accidental’, but was it really when the hoodie was one that he had gifted you for your birthday, and ‘just so happened’ to have a similar one, obviously new? Regarding the piece with a soft smile, you had taken note of how the sleeves of the hoodie spilled just a little bit over his frail, yet elegant wrists, practically transforming into warmers or mittens. Only thanks to the drink which he was cradling in his perfectly manicured hands - with one finger sporting a new coat of nail polish, could you even see his digits in the lulling semi-darkness.

Nothing was being said, and yet a whole universe was passing with every second. In every sigh, twist, tilt of the head, in how Hongjoong flicked through his phone only to put it down and let soft instrumentals twirl from the speakers - a track he was working on, no doubt, in everything that the two of you shared was something you did not wish to even begin to define, out of fear that it would crumble before you. A fragile creature, a precious little bird that cautiously shared its song with the two of you, perched on the echoes of years behind you. Hopping from branch to branch of dialogue and dreaming. The acoustic piece ended, and with it, the birdsong. A trembling flutter of the wings carried it away into your ribcage, and you waited with bated breath for the next moment. Hongjoong set his coffee aside, clumsily pausing the track which had already returned to the intro and was beginning to repeat the first few strums of the guitar chords, and with a timid smile, gazed at you. Expectant. You looked away, trying to find comfort in the glints of distant stars, the hum of traffic miles away and howling of ghostly sirens reflecting off the blanket of deep navy, an onyx-coated purple, and right at the horizon, of stubborn, yet dazed and tired ashen reds and yellows of the urban nocturne. 

“Thoughts?” not liking the sound of his own voice, he cleared his throat after letting the whisper escape him. You paid it no mind, every syllable turning into a stunning creation in your mind. The best the sonorous world could offer. He leaned closer, you could feel it, but you remained how you were, pretending to be transfixed by the starry masterpiece.

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled back, ambiguous. You knew better than to hope that Hongjoong would end the discussion there. Ever since the early days, he would ask you for your reviews, opinions, critiques, input… During nights like these, the most casual get-together could turn into a listening party, with him playing song after song only to stop one midway and start another, worried, wanting to impress you. All the more exciting for you - you could listen forever.

“What is?” he tried again, perching his elbows on the armrest of his chair, to the point where you could sense his presence next to you.

“The tune.”

“There wasn’t one though?” you could imagine his eyes narrowing as he asked.

“I can hear it. And I know you already have one in mind so,” you let your sentence trail off as you took another sip of the cooling coffee.

“Got you. Incomplete, right?” he picked up on your cues better than anyone could. You nodded, humming in agreement with his conclusion.

“Yeah. But I know you considered it.”

“Sure did. What are you piecing together?” he continued, running a hand through his hair, to adjust some invisible strand. A nervous habit. So he could feel it too after all. Unless you were misreading in your recent state of hoping. You chuckled, deciding to not delve further into whether it was at yourself or the evident tension, lifting the cup to eye level to inspect how it caught the fairy lights, revealing various shades of brown, copper, silvery white from the plastic. 

“That one melody from last week. Tuesday, I think it was. The one where you had the synth riff and the humming. And then the lyrical refrain you told me you wrote while waiting for me by the bakery,” he gleamed, soul growing warmer from your recollection. You fiddled with the cardboard holder, Hongjoong’s burning look proving to be too much to handle.

“I swear, you can read my mind,” you could not help but exhale sharply, bemused at the suggestion. If anything, you were convinced of the opposite. There were few times when you were certain of what was going on in Hongjoong’s beautiful mind. Be it a new project or creative adventure that he was embarking on, or an entirely different experiment, or a surprise that you could not even begin to conjure ideas about. He was a mystery, but that was one of the many things you loved about him. Your reaction earned you a raise of the eyebrow and a light tap on your shoulder, making you finally turn towards your friend, only for the intensity of his eyes to be almost breathtaking, “what was that?”

“Nothing,”

“Am I wrong?”

“I mean… you do keep whole albums a secret for… goodness knows how long so…”

“I bet you know what I am thinking now,” his boldness took you off-guard, and you paused. Blinking a couple of times to adjust to the sudden shift in what was between you, so laden with an unspeakable force that you could barely formulate your own response, you regarded his outstretched arm, palm facing you, fingers together, all except the thumb. You squinted in suspicion, but failed to conceal the grin that was creeping onto your features as you moved to complete the hand hug. 

“Kim Hongjoong… what are you plotting?” words failed to leave an impact, it seemed, since your friend merely picked the cup from your hands to leave it beside his at the table. 

Pressing his palm to yours, he concentrated. You could not look away, not when you were going progressively more haywire with each passing second. He was not letting go, thumb beginning to dig into the back of your hand, and his gaze remained trained on you, only you. Right through you and into your heart. He was reading you and seeing your every thought about him - that was how the exchange felt. Hongjoong was picking apart your infatuation, inspecting it, living it. You felt exposed in front of him, and yet he would not allow you to let go. That much you were sure of. Unlike whatever he was mulling over. 

But you did not need to wait much longer for your answer, as, in a split second, your fingers were intertwined and he was pulling you closer and closer to him, his other hand flying to your shoulder to support you and prevent any falls. When you were only a couple of centimetres away, he stopped, as though all bravery had left him temporarily, and his eyes darted from yours, to your lips, back again, anywhere except your face and back to you, now staying. In this eternity of being in one space, sharing the same breath, searching for a future in the decision that was to come, you finally clear that no, you could not see anyone like this. Anyone except your Hongjoong.

“I'd say you can guess… maybe?”

“I don’t think I can,” coy, you responded, much to Hongjoong’s relief. You were you, the one he loved, and nothing was going to change that. This, just like any of the traditions, habits, memories you had made together, was the most natural, and most precious thing in the universe.

“Let me give you a hint,” a whisper, sultry, low was the last thing you heard before your worlds collided, and his lips were moving in a perfect rhythm with yours.

It was like puzzle pieces falling into place. Long lost soulmates finding each other. The sun rising after a thunderstorm. It felt like all the times that had made you and Hongjoong who you were, and who you were going to be. Your hand found purchase on the side of his face, his sharp jawline and soft skin in a stunning harmony against your fingertips. In every sense, it was him, and him alone, and you were blessed by the stars themselves.

Only when you heard the creaking of a chair did you pull away, and glimpsed Hongjoong cursing under his breath and muttering that he ‘hated this thing’ before he stood up, sweeping you away with him. You obliged, longing for his closeness. This was unprecedented, but so, so very welcome. A strong arm around your waist, and a quick push under the chin focusing you back on him, and you were back in bliss, in an entrancing tandem. The kiss was a revival, just like it was a revisitation. It was right. It tasted like the coffee and the late nights, it reminded you of the deep talks and the walks to nowhere and everywhere, it made you yearn for more and yet in the marvellous dance of your lips against his, you found it.

“What am I thinking?” Hongjoong asked as you broke apart, inhales pronounced by the chill of the early hour.

“You are thinking… ‘wow, this is way too close for comfort’,” you jested, chuckling when he scrunched his nose in mock frustration.

“Okay no you definitely cannot read my mind,” he answered, finding your hand once more, and lifting it to his own. Palm to palm. Digits to digits. Thumbs around to complete the miniature embrace. You watched, beaming. 

Hongjoong was closer than ever before, for you and with you, and your heart was about to burst. You regarded him, the love in his eyes and his every gesture as he rocked side to side, just how he knew you liked. Soothing, and always yours. He knew you and you knew him, and at the same time, never failed to find new beauty in one another and details to learn. Masterpieces, forever evolving, you were in this moment together, in this city, on this rooftop, in each other’s arms. Alive and in love. Through the silence, your voice travelled.

“So we are now hand huggers who kiss each other sometimes,” he laughed, breaking into your favourite grin, and leaned forwards until his forehead was against yours.

“Mhm. Sounds good to me.”

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Wonwoo has a routine. And while he doesn't consider himself to be a particularly rigid person, he doesn't often like to stray from it.

He isn't opposed to trying new things– the occasional night out with Seungcheol, karaoke at a bar downtown with Seungkwan, a new game with Chan; but he does find comfort in having a set schedule. Especially during weekdays. Wake up around nine. Go to classes until one. Grab lunch. Work out. And the most important part, be settled down with his laptop, textbooks, and notes by three, locked away in his favorite coffee shop with a subpar dark caramel cold brew in hand. Sure, it's not an award-winning cup-of-Joe by any means, but Wonwoo's always been a tad sentimental and considers the small shop his own little haven.

So, understandably, he's a bit irked when Seokmin flat-out refuses to negotiate on a study spot. Suggesting his own favorite shop a bit further from campus to work on their project. No matter how much Wonwoo vouches for his regular shop, Seokmin won't be deterred, insisting it's the only place he can actually focus at.

Ultimately, Wonwoo decides a little disruption to his routine is worth it if it'll provoke his normally restless partner into being studious for an hour or two.

"I promise, you're gonna love it!" He boasts. Wonwoo just hums in response.

It's no wonder he's never tried Seokmin's favorite spot, much less heard of it. The shop, known as "Local Brew," is tucked away in one of the many alleys in the maze that is the outskirts of campus. Unnoticeable unless you're already looking for it.

The outside is... definitely charming. Chipped brick overrun by moss and the occasional piece of chewed gum frame the glass entrance. The windows of which are scribbled over in neat, pretty writing. Vibrant pinks and yellows showcasing low prices, catchy promotions, and flowery doodles. Seokmin plows right through, sounding the ring of a bell.

A honeyed voice greets him immediately. "Seokmin! It's nice to see you again. Should I get the usual started?"

Wonwoo knows that voice. And subsequently, Wonwoo knows this is the point in which he is, for lack of a better word, absolutely and irrevocably fucked.

Seokmin however, marches on, blissfully unaware of how his friend's heart is in desperate need of some jumper cables. "Yes please, oh, and extra sweet!"

"You're gonna rot your teeth out one of these days, but you got it."

"You're the best," he sings.

"I see you brought a friend this time. What can I– Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo knows it's his turn to speak. But his lips can only form shapes of empty words, like a fish out of water gasping for air. He tries shaking his head, hoping the action will knock a brain cell or two together so he can form a sentence that isn't wholly embarrassing. Though the effects are like that of an Etch A Sketch and he turns up empty-headed again.

He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more of a nervous habit than an adjustment, and wings it. "Hi, Y/N, it's um, been a while."

It has in fact been two hours. Probably less.

Wonwoo's internally punching the walls right now. It's been a while? Is he serious? He literally saw you in class earlier. Honesty, could he sound more idiotic?

Your brow furrows and Wonwoo's just about to make a mad dash for the exit until your features soften and a grin tugs at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. Dr. Kang's class sure makes it feel that way, huh?"

Wonwoo forgets he's supposed to respond again, and the awkward stretch of silence that results is insufferable at best. He rushes out his next sentence. "I didn't know you worked here."

You happily nod. "Every Tuesday and Thursday. Sometimes weekends."

"I only come when Y/N's working," Seokmin reminds everyone of his presence. "They make the best coffee."

You visibly blush at that, "Ah, stop that. Seokmins easy to please, as long as it's sweet he's not too picky. I'd take his word with a grain of salt." Another pause. It's truly a wonder how Wonwoo manages to stay at the top of his class yet struggles to uphold a perfectly mundane conversation. He's stuck just marveling at you, cute and clad in your brown barista apron.

"So," you drawl out. "Were you looking to order anything?"

Right. He's at a coffee shop. He should order coffee. Wonwoo's eyes dart to the menu above your head, relieved he has an excuse to do something other than stand there like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry, it's his first time here." Seokmin whispers. Wonwoo is pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, but his friend has never been great with subtlety.

"No worries, if you have any questions feel free to ask."

Why do you have to be so... radiant? Sweet. Patient. Kind. You. Geez, Wonwoo is down. Bad. Has been since the first day of class when you asked to borrow a pen. Even more so the second day when you took the empty seat next to him to return the utensil and never bothered getting up.

He nearly died when you asked for his number the following week. Claiming you'd need at least one friend in class to get through an entire semester of high-level calculus. Wonwoo isn't used to receiving the amount of attention you've invested in him. Usually, he finds a seat on the aisle and keeps to himself for the few classes he doesn't share with a friend. But you seemed to have no problem claiming him as your "calculus buddy" as you liked to call it, despite the multitude of empty seats you had to choose from.

And as much as Wonwoo doesn't want to be the fool that falls in love with the first person to show the slightest interest in him, he can't help but get a little giddy on the days he has calculus. The odds are stacked against him when it comes to his feelings for you. It's been two months since you asked for that pen, yet he still finds your presence warmer than the sun itself.

Though, at least he knows when he'll see you for class and can mentally prepare himself to not say something completely and utterly embarrassing for the hour you're next to him. But he's never considered the possibility of running into you beyond the walls of the mathematics building. So you can imagine the inner turmoil in his brain as he tries to formulate a way to get through this interaction with his ego unscathed.

"Uh, Wonwoo, you're holding up the line, buddy." Seokmin nudges him.

The line in question is just an elderly couple who seem like they couldn't care less about the wait. Rather caught up in surveying the pastry selection.

"Just get whatever you do at that other place," Seokmin suggests. Which is a genius idea, except another quick scan of the menu reveals you don't offer it.

Wonwoo looks to his friend pleadingly, "What did you get?"

Luckily, Seokmin is as perceptive today as he is sociable and extends Wonwoo a lifeline. "Why don't you just surprise him?" He says, which seems to pique your interest. "You can trust Y/N, that's how I found my favorite drink here!"

"I can do that!" Wonwoo isn't one for surprises. Though the excitement that’s radiating from your person at the proposition has Wonwoo agreeing instantly. "Any allergies or preferences?" 

"No, just nothing too sweet, iced if you can."

You nod and scribble something down on a clear cup.

Seokmin pays, and Wonwoo couldn't be happier to hide away in a booth in the furthest corner of the room. He lets his head fall into his hands, propped up on the table by his elbows. That couldn't have gone any worse. Wonwoo groans as someone shuffles into the seat across from him. He peeks through his fingers at who it is.

Seokmin's chin is rested in his palms, elbows propping him up all the way across the table to lean in way too close to Wonwoo. Judging by the wide, knowing grin on Seokmin's face, there's no escaping his friend's inevitable prying curiosity.

"Sooo... how do you know, Y/N?"

"We have calculus together," Wonwoo says shortly, hoping to curve Seokmin off the topic. It doesn't work, of course.

"I see, I see," his friend nods, pauses, then says, "And how long have you had a crush on them?"

The blunt question sends Wonwoo sputtering, drawing the attention of nearby patrons as he slaps his chest, trying to regain his composure and lung capacity. He mutters out apologies with pink-tinged cheeks to the surrounding tables. Clearing his throat once more, Wonwoo glares back at his instigator, who's wiggling his eyebrows, a little too happy with himself.

"That long, huh?"

"I'm never coming back here with you."

"Oh come on," Seokmin whines. "It wasn't that bad."

"I'm writing my Will tonight. You'll never see or hear from me again. I'm going to live in the woods far, far, away from any life on earth. Become a hermit and– what?" Wonwoo deadpans, giving his friend an incredulous look upon noticing his expression of wild bewilderment.

"Nothing," Seokmin put up his hands in surrender. "It's just weird seeing you like this. I mean, I've never seen your brain actually malfunction like that before. Like, you really—"

"I'm leaving."

"—Okay, okay, sorry." He grins sheepishly. "You're really worked up over them, huh? It's endearing. I feel like I've seen a new side to you Wonny!"

Wonwoo just sighs, giving up completely on trying to stop his friend's teasing. It's better if he just endures it until he eventually moves on to another topic.

"So, how do you plan on asking them out?"

"I'm not."

"What!?" Seokmin loudly exclaims, and Wonwoo shushes him as all attention falls on their table once more. He speaks again, though this time in a whisper. "Why not?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I dunno, they're just so lively and outgoing and confident. I doubt I'm even their type." It's not that Wonwoo lacks any or all confidence in his character. Contrary to what others may think, he's quite content with himself. Hasn't ever felt a need to alter his personality or conform to those around him for the sake of making friends.

But people like you should really be with... well... people like you. Like Seokmin or Mingyu or hell, even Joshua.

It's Seokmin's turn to glare at Wonwoo now. "Wonwoo, my friend, my buddy, my pal. I say this to you with unwavering, trustworthy, unbiased—" Wonwoo doubts that "—factual, one hundred percent, certainty. You are like, the perfect boyfriend."

Wonwoo scrunches his face up at that.

"I'm serious!" Seokmin slaps his hands down on the wooden table, making it rattle, and starts listing off traits with his fingers. "Wonwoo, listen, your boyfriend-ability potential is through the roof. You're smart, built, super attentive, have great bone structure, and you've got that shy, quiet, mysterious, gamer-guy charm to you. People really dig that nowadays."

Wonwoo chews at his lip. As over-the-top and exaggerated as his friend's dazzling reviews of his supposed "boyfriend-ability" may be, it really does wonders to boost the morale. It has Wonwoo's confidence soaring, a newfound determination burning in his chest. Maybe he will ask you out.

Until the air around their table shifts and a fluttering presence eclipses any short-lived ambition.

"Sorry for the wait," You're smiling down at Wonwoo, two plastic cups in hand. "It took a while to figure out what you might like. But then I remembered you usually have something with caramel every time you come to class. Though if you hate it I'm more than happy to remake something for you!"

You're blushing madly, but all Wonwoo can focus on is the fact you pay him enough attention from day to day to know the contents of his coffee order.

You set the cup down in front of him, then hand Seokmin his. "I hope you enjoy!"

Wonwoo's useless brain fails him once more. "You too."

You're off and back behind the counter before Wonwoo registers his mistake. That's like strike twelve for him at this point.

"Ah, young love." Seokmin interrupts Wonwoo's sulking, biting down on his straw with the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up."

Wonwoo picks up his cup and examines its contents. It's noticeably darker and thinner than Seokmin's, but he still can't really tell what exactly it is. However, you'd think the coffee was brewed with holy water and magic fairytale beans by the way Seokmins already sucked down half of his.

Wonwoo rotates the cup, squinting at the scribbles of black sharpie on the side. Dark roast, spiced caramel, rosemary, oat milk.

"Rosemary?" He reads, shooting a look at his friend who stops slurping on his own to shrug. "That's an odd flavor."

"I've learned not to question Y/N's expertise long ago, they know what you like even if you don't. It's sort of creepy." He visibly shudders.

"What's yours?"

"Dark chocolate, cherry, vanilla, and whole milk, extra sweet."

"Fruit? In coffee? That doesn't sound like it'd be good." Wonwoo frowns, suddenly doubting the efficacy of his own beverage.

"Shall I go tell Y/N you think they're a terrible barista then?"

"No!" Wonwoo answers a little too quickly and a little too loud. He clears his throat. "—I mean, no, no it's fine. I'm merely saying it's unique, is all."

Seokmin places his hand over Wonwoo's wrist and physically shoves the cup toward his lips, causing the straw to jab into his skin. "Ow!" He complains, swatting at his arm.

"Oh my God, just drink it. I promise it'll be better than whatever boring, run-of-the-mill, bean-water, you get from that other place."

Wonwoo frowns and grumbles, "It's not boring." But he knows that's far true.

Hesitantly, he takes a sip. The spiced caramel hits his tongue first. It's a warm flavor, a pleasant contrast to the drink itself being cold. Then the rosemary edges in with a strong, yet not too overpowering taste. The oat milk blends everything together smoothly and leaves a nice aftertaste.

"Wow," the word slips out. Wonwoo pulls the drink back to examine it again, eyes wide. It's easily the best thing he's ever tasted, far better than, as Seokmin put it, his usual run-of-the-mill order. Wonwoo can't even fathom how your mind came up with a drink so addicting. If God is real, then Wonwoo's positive they have a dazzling smile and work at Seokmin's favorite coffee shop.

"Good, right?" Seokmin grins.

"Amazing."

"You know, if you asked Y/N out they'd probably make your coffee any time you asked~"

That's a pretty convincing argument.

Wonwoo likes his routine. And he's quite fond of his regular coffee shop, so he still frequents there to study.

Except for Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And sometimes weekends.

"Hi, Wonwoo," you greet with your usual bright smile. "Same as usual?"

"Yes, please." He matches your smile, having finally recovered from the catastrophe that was his first visit. Ever since Seokmin let it slip how you'd been gushing about Wonwoo to him ever since you discovered they were friends, he's been feeling a little more confident.

"You know, if you ever want to try something new, I won't be offended." You narrow your eyes at him. But Wonwoo just shakes his head at you, chuckling.

"Eh, I try not to stray from what I already know too much."

"Oh, so that's why you haven't gotten rid of me as your calculus buddy yet." You quip.

"Among other reasons." He shrugs, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. Wonwoo fishes into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to thumb through his cards.

"It's okay, it's on the house today."

Wonwoo looks up, brows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I always give my favorite customers free coffee on Sundays." By the way your eyes quickly dart back at your other coworkers, Wonwoo doubts the validity of that.

"Well, I'll have to pay you back somehow."

"Next week's homework would be great!" You grin cheekily.

"Hmm," Wonwoo thinks for a moment, readjusting his glasses. "I would, but I haven't started it yet. Could I offer to take you out instead?"

"I would like that very much."

"I am so sorry!" a man's voice exclaimed from a few feet away. You spun on your heel, ready to unleash your anger, but instead you found yourself speechless as you gazed at the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The sunlight was shimmering all around him. 

Wait, no, the sunlight was reflecting off the sheen of sweat covering his bare arms and legs, visible beyond his loose tank and rather short shorts. He pushed his longish hair back from where it had covered his eyes. Your eyes tracked his hand as it moved.

You felt yourself start to lick your lips but you caught yourself. That's right, you were mad at this man! How dare he come to a public park and ruin a perfectly good day with an errant kick! Doesn't he know how to handle the ball?

"I'm really sorry," he apologized again.

You glared at him. For some reason your brain was having trouble forming a response. "Just try not to do that again," you said coldly before turning away to pick up your things.

…

"What did you end up doing yesterday?" your best friend Hani asked, taking a big sip of lemonade. She was craving a lot of lemonade these days.

"I went to the park," you replied, "but this annoying guy kicked a soccer ball right at me and totally ruined my vibe."

"That's so rude!"

"Thank you! That's what I thought!"

"Did he say anything?"

"He apologized. I think he was trying to say more but I just left."

Your friend laughed. "When we were seven years old you would have thrown a rock at him even if he apologized."

"You know what this is? Growth."

As you both giggled, you scanned the room with your eyes. Hani and her husband were hosting their baby shower, and all the friends and family crowding their house looked nearly as happy as the parents to be. You turned to look in the other direction and your jaw dropped.

"What is he doing here?!" you asked in shock.

Hani turned to look and a huge grin spread across her face. "Oh, it's Mingyu!" She waved enthusiastically and the man smiled as he walked toward them. Then he seemed to take in the person beside Hani… and he did a double take. You could only stare.

"That's right! You two haven't met!" Hani realized as she gave Mingyu as much of a hug as she could, given her belly. "Y/N, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is Y/N, my best friend who you have heard so many good things about!" 

She turned to look at you. "Mingyu is a professional soccer player, but he's been playing overseas for a few years. He just got traded to the team here in the city though! We're so excited to have him here," Hani added, giving him another hug. Who on earth was this man, and why was Hani so obsessed with him?! She was supposed to hate him in solidarity with you!

Fortunately, all that came out was "Professional soccer player?" in quite possibly the most skeptical voice you had used in your entire life. 

Mingyu at least had the decency to look sheepish. "It's true, you can look me up online!" he said defensively. Then he switched back to that infuriatingly warm smile. Two little canines popped out as he grinned. Ugh.

…

[Unknown Number] Y/N are you on the way to the hospital? [Y/N] who is this? [Unknown Number] Kim Mingyu [Unknown Number] Hani gave me your number in case of an emergency [Unknown Number] I guess that's what this is!

You scrunched your nose in annoyance. What was Hani doing giving your number to strange men?

You sighed and looked out the window of the taxi. You had to admit he wasn't a random man. He had really stepped up and helped out Hani and her husband over the last few months, even taking Hani to a few unexpected doctors appointments that her husband and you couldn't help with. You and her husband both worked on the other side of a bridge that was currently under construction, and traffic was getting crazier every day on the way back to the neighborhood where you all lived. Eventually he had started working from home because it was getting too close to Hani's due date. 

(By then, she was complaining to you every day that she felt like her baby might actually be a baby elephant. You didn't really think that part was a problem because baby elephants are super cute.)

Your phone buzzed again.

[Unknown Number] I'm waiting for you in the main lobby [Unknown Number] We can go up together when you arrive

You never even said if you were on your way to the hospital! You sighed. Ok, fine, he knew you were probably on the way to the hospital. Hani had texted you that they were on their way, and that she was turning her phone on do not disturb because she didn't want it to distract her. As soon as you saw the message, you got in a cab.

[Y/N] ok

Mingyu found you as soon as you walked in the hospital, just as he promised. He led you to the waiting room. You set down your things and stared at the chairs as if waiting for them to tell you what to do.

Mingyu interrupted your racing thoughts. "Should we sit down? Do you want a bottle of water? I have a couple here." He unzipped a gym bag, and you registered that he must have come directly from the gym because he was in loose sweatpants and a plain tee with a sheen of sweat giving him what could only be described as a beautiful natural glow. How unfair. When you went to the gym you did not look glowy.

He handed you a bottle of water and sat down opposite you, motioning with his hand that you should sit too. You did, opening the water and taking a sip for something to do.

For the next while, Mingyu kept up a mostly one sided conversation about a variety of topics you didn't follow at all. Your mind was on your friend.

"Are you okay?" Mingyu asked with concern.

You looked over at him. You didn't have any fight left in you. "I'm really nervous."

"I understand." He came to sit beside you. "My sister had a baby a few years ago. I was a nervous wreck. My mom had to hold my hand and calm me down!" He laughed a little, then he became serious again. "Is it okay if I hold your hand? It really helped me."

You gave him a small nod and he took your hand. Against all odds, his grip really was comforting. Then again, you had gotten to know him better over the last few months, and he seemed like a genuinely good guy who cared a lot for Hani and her husband and the baby.

He felt you leaning towards him, and he released your hand so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you against him. He moved his other hand to yours and squeezed. You felt yourself tearing up and closed your eyes. Suddenly you were relieved this man you barely heard about until recently was sitting next to you.

…

"Finally, we can have some adult time!" Hani whispered loudly as she shut the bedroom door and tiptoed towards you.

You and Mingyu shared a look on the couch. Hani had always been dramatic and theatrical, even as a kid, but she seemed sillier than ever to you now that she was supposedly a mature mother to an infant. Her husband finished washing dishes and joined her on the other couch.

The four of you agreed to put on a reality dating show with a ridiculous premise that kept going viral on social media. Might as well find out what the fuss was about! It was definitely entertaining, but before the second episode ended you drifted off and fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were lying down on the couch with your head on one of the fluffy pillows and a blanket draped across your body. You twisted to get comfortable and fall asleep again… and that's when you realized the pillow was in Mingyu's lap, and he was fast asleep with his head leaning back on the couch.

Doing your best not to wake him, you flew off the couch and grabbed your phone from the table. There was no way you could show your face in the morning knowing where you had just been. It was better not to think about it too much.

"Y/N!!" came a frantic whisper from behind you. You stopped and turned as Hani approached.

"Why are you up? Are you okay?" you asked, trying to change the subject before it was even broached.

"I was up to feed the baby. Every two hours, remember? Anyway, that's not the point. What is going on between you and Mingyu?!" she asked excitedly.

"Nothing! We just fell asleep. It was a long week."

"Fine. I believe you. But things seem different between you."

You couldn't help yourself. "How so?" you asked. The truth was, you felt like things were a little different, too. You and Mingyu had started texting after the baby was born, and sometimes you carpooled to hang out with Hani and her husband for a bit before they got tired. (Luckily you didn't carpool today.) 

The four of you had developed a special dynamic, but you would be lying if you said you didn't look forward to those car rides with Mingyu. Sometimes the two of you picked up takeout before going to see your friends, which meant spending twice as much time together as he picked you up from work or home before driving to a restaurant and Hani's place, then he drove you home afterwards. And sometimes you sat in the car chatting with him for quite a while instead of saying a simple goodbye and leaving.

"You and Mingyu seem like a good match for each other. I'm just saying… think about it. He's a great guy."

"I'll think about it," you replied, as if you weren't already going out of your mind wondering what he thought of you and if he thought things were different between you two and if he maybe just maybe was interested in spending some time with you on purpose instead of under the guise of hanging out with your friends during the precious 45 min after the baby falls asleep before the parents fell asleep too.

…

A few weeks after that conversation, you found yourself on the couch with Mingyu again as Hani and her husband checked on the baby. When Hani came out she spoke to the two of you. 

"Do you two want to use the guest room tonight? It's so rainy and I don't want you to drive in this weather. There's clean sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom closet, and it's a king size bed so you won't even notice each other!"

It would be a miracle if you were in bed with Kim Mingyu and didn't notice him. That was simply impossible.

Before you had a chance to say anything, Mingyu spoke up. "Sure. Thanks, Hani."

"Excellent! We'll make you a big birthday breakfast, Mingyu!" Hani disappeared, claiming she was getting clothes for you and Mingyu to sleep in.

You looked at Mingyu in surprise, barely able to process the exchange. "It's your birthday tomorrow?"

"Yes," Mingyu admitted. "I've always been overseas so I didn't get to celebrate with anyone besides the team."

"We'll do something special for you," you said without thinking. Mingyu locked eyes with you, and his gaze felt heavy. It occurred to you that the two of you were about to share a not nearly large enough bed.

"Here you go!" Hani interrupted, dumping a pile of clothes into your arms. "Goodnight!" 

"Goodnight, Hani!" Mingyu said to her as she spun away with a mischievous glint in her eye. It was a good thing he had all his faculties available because you definitely did not. He led the way to the guest room, a room you had both clearly used many times, separately, but this was definitely going to be so different. You both knew where the spare toothbrushes were, and he offered the bathroom to you first. 

After you switched places between the bathroom and the bedroom, you slid into the side of the bed that didn't have his water bottle beside it. This was unreal. Now you know which side of the bed he preferred. It was the opposite of the side you liked. You prayed that the king size bed really was big enough not to notice him.

"Can I turn off the light?" Mingyu asked a few minutes later. He was in just a pair of gym shorts. You nodded in response. Your mouth had gone dry after seeing his bare chest, and arms, and stomach, and neck, and…

Mingyu slipped into the bed quietly and you heard him put his phone on the bedside table. You had turned on your side to face away from him. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully that strategy worked on his body. You thought of something else that could be on his body. (You.)

"Do you remember that day in the park?" Mingyu asked suddenly. 

You were so surprised to hear this that you turned toward him and opened your eyes in the dark. The two of you had never acknowledged the fact that you actually met one day before Hani introduced you to him.

"Of course I do," you replied. "Why?"

"I actually kicked my ball toward you on purpose," he admitted.

"WHAT!?" you exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mingyu whispered, and you felt his hand cover your mouth for a moment. Your breath caught in your throat until you were recovered enough to speak 

"I was so annoyed that day," you said, but more quietly. "That's why I was so stunned to learn you played professionally!"

"I meant to kick it to land near you, so I could strike up a conversation. A butterfly flew in front of my face while I was running up to the ball and it threw me off."

You giggled. You could picture his focused face converting to his excited face after he saw the butterfly, then it probably transformed to a look of fear after he realized the ball was not going to facilitate a meet cute.

Before you could comment, he went on. "You were so pretty that day, and I really wanted to know what you were reading that made you look so happy." He paused and you replayed his words in your mind.

"I think you're pretty every time I see you," he added. "And when I don't see you."

"Oh," you responded quietly. Even though this was a conversation you had been hoping for, it still caught you completely by surprise. Your mind was reeling.

"Could you tell me what you're thinking?" he asked. He sounded very close to you all of a sudden, but you didn't realize he had moved. He was speaking more softly than you had ever heard him.

"Me too," you said, which technically didn't make any sense at all given what he had revealed and what he just asked. He seemed to understand your meaning because he gathered you in his arms and gave you the sweetest, softest kiss. Then he turned to face away from you and drew your arm around him. You automatically tucked in close, against his back.

"Happy birthday," you whispered.

“is that too weird to ask? i just kinda realized i wasn’t really sure… and well… you’ve dated people before, so i thought,” you trail off, suddenly growing a bit shy.

“no! no, it’s not weird,” he jumps to assure you, thinking about the way that, just a little bit, he lives for the way your expression becomes relieved, a small smile finding its way to your lips. his heart lurches again at the utter trust in your eyes, the trust he knows is reserved just for him. somehow, that trust is his saving grace, what makes him yours, while also feeling like everything that damns him to the hell of “friend-zoned.” he wonders who’s on your mind. san, maybe? the two of you have grown close since he introduced you, he recalls.

the soft whisper of a breath leaving your lips, a sound imperceptible to anyone but him, pulls him back to you, to the way he hasn’t actually answered your question.

“well,” he begins, carefully choosing the words for you, “you can’t stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they’re around, and then you want to– why are you looking at me like that?” 

you tilt your head to the side. “like what?”

like i’m the one you can’t stop thinking about, he thinks. “nevermind.”

“well?” you urge him on. “‘then you want to’ what?”

hongjoong clears his throat, trying not to think about what he really wants. about kissing you. “then you want to… well, hold their hand... kiss them.” he stares straight into your eyes as he says this, not even trying to hide it. looking at you like you were looking at him. like he can’t stop thinking about you, like he feels strange when you’re around, like he wants to kiss you.

you’re silent for a moment, taking in his gaze and all of the weight behind it. “why are you looking at me like that?” you echo his words from moments ago.

“because i want to.”

“want to what?”

he almost says it. i want to kiss you, like a mantra, said over and over again in his head. but he can’t do that because what if you didn’t mean that look. what if it isn’t meant for him. what if your gaze of pure want is for someone else.

“yknow, joong, that sounded like you were flirting with me.” and at that he almost bursts, because yes! that’s exactly it. he was flirting with you, but he can’t admit to that. 

and yet, your look continues to say otherwise, and he knows you so well. he knows that your face tells him the truth every single time. he knows that, if that look weren’t for him, it wouldn’t be on your face, not as you gaze into his eyes, not when you added a hint of “tell me you love me” to your voice when you said those words.

he calls your name, soft and firm, as if something is pulling at his voice, something like desperation. “…i have been trying to do that for three years now.”

“flirt with me?”

“yes,” the passion, the pleading in his voice surprises you, but only for a moment, because he is passion and you know that all too well.

“that’s good. because i think i have a crush on you,” you’re breathless as you confess. he almost laughs at that; you’re so goddamn adorable.