taemins-dolphin's fic recs

"Mongryong," you call out, stifling a yawn. "C'mere, baby, I wasn't done yet."

The dog yips, sounding as though he's coming from the front door. There must be someone walking by in the hallway outside that caught the dog's attention, and you're about to call out to him again when you hear the click of a keycard against the apartment's card reader.

Mongryong yips again as your eyes fly open. Baekhyun's voice floats down the hallway, gentle and soft in a way that makes your heart melt. "Hi, buddy! Did you miss me? I missed you soooo much."

You get off the couch and follow the sound, peeking around the corner of the entryway and smiling to yourself at the sight. Baekhyun crouches on the ground, rubbing his beloved dog's belly, a giant bouquet of flowers balanced in his free hand. His eyes are lit up with excitement, but none of that compares to the way his gaze changes when he glances up and sees you standing there.

"You're home earl— oh!" Your sentence is cut off when he wraps you up in his arms, peppering your face with kisses. You breathe in his scent greedily, immediately feeling tension that you didn't even know you had in your shoulders bleeding away.

"I missed you so much," he murmurs in between each peck, finally landing on your lips. "Two weeks is too long. Next time you're coming with me."

"I wouldn't be opposed." You smile in his arms, tenderly dragging the tips of your nails across the back of his head. "I wish I knew you were coming."

He frowns slightly. "You don't like the surprise?"

"No, I do, I'm just so..." You gesture down at your clothes: one of Baekhyun's old t-shirts with some holes in the shoulders, your well-loved sweatpants. You're sure that your hair is a mess from the nap, and you're still blinking sleep away from your eyes. "I just like to look nice for you when you come back is all."

Baekhyun blinks. "You do look nice, sweetheart." He kisses the corner of your lips. "You're beautiful. You always are."

You put the flowers in some water while Baekhyun goes to unpack in the bedroom. It hasn't been even a few minutes before he's calling your name again.

"What's all this?" Baekhyun asks when you walk in, amused.

You wince when you see what he's gesturing at: the mountain of shopping bags stacked in the corner of the room, each bag in various states of disarray. "Sorry, I was gonna clean it up before you came back," you pout, embarrassed. "Why, is it too much?"

"You know that's not it." He quirks up an eyebrow. "How come you didn't model any of it for me?"

"I wanted to show you in person," you say, drifting closer towards him. "Aren't you tired, though? Hungry? We can always do it after dinner."

Baekhyun kisses your temple, hands wrapping around your waist. The way that his hands want so badly to dip even lower doesn't go unnoticed. "I have everything I need right here. Why don't you show me what you bought, hm?"

It starts off innocently enough. He helps you carry all of your bags to the en suite and waits patiently seated on the bed while you put on each item behind the closed door. His commentary ranges from purely complimentary to thoughtful, thinking out loud that this dress would go great with this pair of heels, or you should pair this sweater with one of your purses that you haven’t found a good excuse to wear out yet. No matter what he says, he sends you off with a big smile, stars in his eyes like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

When you reach the last bag, your heart starts to thump a little in your chest. While showing off all the things you’ve bought is fun no matter what, this part is what really makes your blood thrum with anticipation. You adjust the brand new lingerie set over and over again, making sure every little detail is perfect before you step out into the bedroom. 

Baekhyun’s breath hitches in his throat, and you see him swallow as you take the few short steps towards him until you’re standing directly within his reach. His gaze drags down your body shamelessly, taking in the way the scant fabric hugs your body perfectly. He reaches out to touch you, but you intercept him, lacing your fingers with his instead. 

“You didn’t tell me what you think yet,” you say with faux innocence. “Do you like it?”

He laughs, looking up at you through his lashes. “I love it,” he says quietly. “You’re so stunning.” 

You settle into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. You can tell that he doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know whether to look up at your face or down at your body, struggling to remain composed. It’s a valiant effort. Cute. But luckily for you, you know just how to make his control unravel in an instant. 

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his, a barely-there, ghost of a touch. His eyes flutter shut, lashes fanning out onto his cheekbones. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, tone oh so silky sweet. “For buying me everything.”

Baekhyun groans, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips. His movement drags you forward slightly, pressing you against the hard tent of his cock. “Oh, you know just how to get me where you want me, don’t you?”

You laugh, sliding your hands up his shirt. “Maybe.” You undo the top button, a shiver spreading down your spine when his eyes reopen, dark and full of desire. “But you know where I want to be, don’t you?”

“Where’s that, sweetheart?” He moves your hair to one side and leans in, pressing a firm kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

“Under you,” you whisper, your breath warm against his ear. “Or on top of you. Whatever you like.”

You let out a yelp when he suddenly stands, holding you fast against him while he spins around, dropping you gently onto the bed. He begins to finish unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and you swallow, eyes greedily watching as each sliver of skin is uncovered. 

“I have a lot of ideas,” he says, eyes glinting with need. “And I’m planning on getting through all of them tonight. That alright with you, angel?”

You cock your head at him playfully. “I expect nothing less. You have two weeks to make up for.” 

"That was crazy," you say, turning towards Baekhyun as the lights go up. "I was maybe expecting it to be a little scarier the way everyone was talking about it, but it was still really good."

Baekhyun's eyes are still locked straight ahead at the screen, hands gripping the armrests for dear life. "Yup," he says through gritted teeth. "Not scary. Not scary at all." 

Although it takes a couple of minutes for him to unglue himself from the seat, he bounces back to his cheerful self in no time, driving back home with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh. In fact, any of the lingering scares from the movie are long gone by the time the two of you get ready for bed. You turn out the light of your bedroom and suddenly, a wicked idea starts to form in your head.

“Baby?” Baekhyun asks, sitting up in bed. “Is something wrong?”

You know that any residual light from outside your open bedroom is to your back, casting the front half of your body in complete shadow. “Go back to sleep,” you whisper, in your best impression of Nikki from the movie. “You’re so cute when you sleep.” 

Baekhyun yelps. “Why?” he whines. “I was just starting to forget about it too.” 

You don’t answer. You merely stand there, still and silent. 

“Are you coming to bed?” he squeaks, voice trembling slightly. 

“No,” you say slowly.

“Well, what are you—?”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Your voice rises in volume, repeating the iconic line.

“AH!” Baekhyun stands up abruptly and turns on the bedside lamp, bringing your face back into the light. “I’m sleeping on the couch,” he declares.

“Aw, c’mon, Baek, I’m sorry. You were the one that wanted to watch it anyways.”

He huffs, lower lip sticking out childishly. “I picked it because I know you like horror movies,” he says. “I didn’t know you were going to torture me.”

“Baekhyunnie…” You cross the bedroom to wrap him in your arms. He remains stiff as a board, pettily not returning any of your affection. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Don’t sleep on the couch.” 

You give him a peck on the cheek, then another, then another, and that’s all it takes for him to deflate. “Y’know, you did a pretty good impression,” he mumbles. “Maybe there’s a hidden career for you in horror acting.”

“Mm, don’t encourage me,” you reply. “I’ll have to make you my practice scene partner. You’ll be hearing all of that and worse.”

Baekhyun shudders. “Okay, bad idea. Forget I said anything.”

Minutes later, the two of you lie in bed together, the little spat all but forgotten. Right before Baekhyun drifts off to sleep, you say, “Hey, you know something?” 

“Hm?”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “You know you are cute when you sleep, right?”

Baekhyun groans. His hand darts out to press against your side, attacking your most ticklish spot in a brief, devastating way that makes you choke out a startled laugh. “You demon,” he moans. “I never know peace with you.”

“You like it.”

He hums. “Never said I didn’t.”

The watch on his wrist read almost 2 a.m. Normally, Chanyeol wouldn’t mind standing guard through the night while the others slept, patrolling the quiet perimeter of the barracks in a stiff uniform and carrying a weapon he’d only ever handled in training drills.

But tonight, the routine felt like a cage. Not even the biting, bitter cold of the night air could lower Chanyeol’s body temperature; a frantic, restless heat burned beneath his skin, fueled entirely by a growing sense of yearning.

It had been almost two weeks since he last heard your voice, and the silence was finally driving him crazy. Every second without you felt like a physical weight crushing his chest, a slow-burning madness that made it impossible to breathe. 

Chanyeol glanced down at the cell phone in his pocket. The urge to leave his post was becoming a physical ache. He knew the risks, but the desperation outweighed the consequences. He needed to hear your voice. He needed it like air. The only way to get even a sliver of a connection was to sacrifice a few dangerous minutes to climb to the highest, most exposed point on the grounds—a steep, frozen ridge where he could finally trap a few fleeting bars of signal against the sky.

Spurred by a sudden wave of impatience, Chanyeol started to move again, his boots making no sound against the floor. The rest of his teammates were fast asleep, their heavy, even breathing filling the quiet barracks. As he crept past the mess hall, he caught a glimpse of his superior through the kitchen doorway. Chanyeol froze, shrinking back into the shadows to stay silent, but a quick glance inside revealed the older officer slumped over, fast asleep in his seat.

Then, like a divine signal cutting through the dark, his phone began to buzz against his thigh. His heart leaped into his throat. He finally had connection.

Without wasting a single second, Chanyeol slipped rapidly back to his post in the shadows, praying to the universe that the fragile bars of service wouldn’t vanish. His eyes catched your unread messages at full speed. One of them had arrived only moments ago. Desperate, he hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear, his mind repeating a frantic prayer that you were still awake.

One ring. Two. Three.

The line connected, and the soft, sleepy sound of your voice from the other side made his skin crawl with an intense, electric shiver.

“Baby…” The word came out raspy and thick with a sudden rush of raw emotion. Trembling, his fingers slid through his hair, knocking his military cap completely off his head. It hit the ground, but he couldn’t care less.

“Yeol?” There was a brief silence on the line, instantly filled by a shaky, frustrated sigh that escaped from deep within his chest. “Oh my god... Chanyeol?”

“I’m here, love,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Just... let me hear your voice. Fuck... I miss you so much. I-I’m going crazy.”

The air suddenly thick and suffocating with everything they had been forced to suppress for two weeks. Hearing your voice, so soft and still heavy with sleep, completely stripped away whatever discipline Chanyeol had left. The distance wasn’t just frustrating anymore; it was a physical agony, a starvation that clawed at his chest.

He pressed the phone so hard against his ear it hurt, his eyes closed tight as he leaned his forehead against his cold hand. Every breath he took was ragged, a desperate attempt to ground himself when all he wanted to do was unravel.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, the words ragged, practically bleeding with a raw, demanding craving. “Hearing you like this, knowing how far away you are... it’s fucking killing me. I wanna touch you so bad it hurts, baby. I… I need to make love to you… to be inside of you right now.”

On the other end of the line, a sharp, caught breath gasped through the speaker, followed by a low shift of sheets that made Chanyeol’s stomach completely bottom out. The sweet, sleepy tone of your voice vanished, replaced by a sudden, heated urgency that matched his own.

“Yeol…” you murmured, your voice dropping an octave, instantly responding to the sudden shift in his tone. “You have no idea what it’s like here. My bed feels so empty without you. I was just dreaming about your hands on me… your lips, your tongue.”

A dark, desperate sound escaped the back of his throat—halfway between a groan and a sob. The sheer vulnerability of his longing twisted into something much more primal, something intoxicatingly filthy born from pure deprivation. Chanyeol didn’t care about the risk anymore. He just needed to consume you through the static.

“My beautiful girl,” he growled softly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register that vibrated through the receiver. His free hand gripped his hip, his knuckles turning white. “God… just tell me what you dreamt. Was it good? Did I treat you right?”

“So good—I was feeling your mouth all over my body,” you gasped out, the sound of your quickening breath hitting the microphone, sending a jolt of pure fire straight down his spine. “You were ruining me, Yeol. And—shit… I’m already wet just thinking about it…”

Hearing the sudden, slick shift of sheets on your end—and the unmistakable, heavy hitch in your breathing—sent a violent jolt straight to Chanyeol’s groin. His cock hardened instantly, straining painfully against the thick, unforgiving fabric of his military uniform.

“Fuck, you’re doing it already, hmm?” Chanyeol growled, his voice dropping into a filthy, gravelly rasp that vibrated with pure hunger. “I can hear it in your voice, baby. Where are your fingers?”

“Inside,” you gasped out, a soft, breathless whimper escaping your lips that nearly made his knees buckle. “But it’s not enough. I need your tongue. I need your fucking fingers stretching me open. I-I need your cock, Yeolie.”

A dark, predatory groan cut through his throat. Panic and desire collided in his chest; Chanyeol was completely exposed out here. Eyes dark and wild, he looked around quickly, his heart hammering against his ribs as he slunk deeper into a pitch-black corner outside the cabin, shielded by the shadows.

Chanyeol didn’t even have the time or the freedom to take his uniform off; the sheer desperation was too fast, too consuming. With trembling, impatient fingers, he just unbuttoned his pants and slid his hand inside his boxers. The cold of his own skin made him let out a sharp, ragged sigh. His knuckles dragged against the rigid, leaking length of his dick, and the sheer relief of it made his head roll back against the wall.

“God, you’re a bad girl, opening up for me while I’m stuck here,” he whispered into the receiver, his tone dripping with the wicked, dominant filth he usually reserved for the privacy of your bedroom. Chanyeol started to jerk himself off under his clothes, his grip tight and unyielding, his fist moving in a frantic, packed rhythm that threatened to break his composure entirely. “If I was there, I’d make you choke on my cock. I’d stretch you out until you were crying and begging me to stop, and then… I’d just push deeper.”

You let out a loud, undone whine on the other end, the sound of skin friction hitting the microphone. “Yes—please. Keep going. I’m rubbing my clit so hard thinking about it... I’m so close, Yeolie, please…”

“That’s it, baby. Ride your fingers for me,” he commanded, his breath hitching as his own pace quickened, his thumb smearing the pre-cum over his head. The fear of getting caught only made the friction hotter, the adrenaline driving him insane. “Fuck—baby, I’m so hard right now. Hear how fucking ruined I am? I’m imagining your tight little mouth wrapped around my dick—shit—taking it all.”

“God—Chanyeol!”

The sound of your wet, undone moans coming through the speaker completely wrecked him. Chanyeol’s legs felt weak, his knees threatening to give out beneath the sheer weight of a pleasure that felt more like torture. He was struggling to breathe, his chest heaving against the tight fabric of his military jacket as he leaned heavily against the freezing exterior wall of the barracks. 

He was trembling violently from the freezing night air, but his hand didn’t stop, rubbing himself hard and fast through his pants in a brutal, friction-heavy rhythm that was rapidly bringing him to the point of no return.

“Fuck, baby... those sounds,” he whimpered into the phone, his voice a broken, filthy whisper that shook with pure desperation as he kept a frantic eye on the dark grounds around him. “You’re killing me. You’re fucking ruining me out here. I can’t handle it... I’m so close.”

“Give it to me,” you cried out softly, a breathless, wet sob of completion building in your throat. “I need to hear you come. Do it for me, Yeol. Cum for me.”

“God—I’m coming right in my pants for you, baby,” he choked out, his hips giving a helpless, involuntary twitch against his own hand as he rubbed himself at a punishing speed through the fabric. He was completely blind to the danger now, entirely consumed by the filthy heat of your voice. “Listen to me, baby. Will your sweet mouth take every single drop—fuck… I’m gonna cover your pretty face with my cum.”

“Yes—I want it all,” you gasped, the sound of your frantic breathing hitching as your own climax finally hit, a soft, broken wail escaping your lips.

Hearing you unravel was the final blow. Chanyeol let out a muffled, strangled groan, his teeth biting down hard on his own lip to keep from making a sound into the open night air. His entire body went rigid, his knuckles turning stark white as his hand delivered a few final, crushing strokes against his pants. A heavy, violent wave of release took over, his cum spilling thick and hot, ruining the inside of his uniform as he collapsed back against the cold wall, utterly spent and shivering in the dark.

“Shit…”

The static on the line was filled only with the sound of their synchronized, trembling breaths. Chanyeol’s legs finally gave out completely, and he slid down the freezing exterior wall until he was sitting flat on the cold ground, his head resting back against the concrete.

“You did it too, didn’t you?” he breathed into the phone, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping his throat.

On the other end, your faint, matching laugh was just as exhausted, just as undone.

“As you wanted, Yeolie.”

Chanyeol looked down at himself in the dim moonlight, a sudden wave of reality crashing over him. He was covered in a cold sweat despite the freezing night air, his chest still heaving as he tried to compose his erratic breathing. Looking down at his lap, he stared at the giant, unmistakable wet circle darkening the thick fabric of his uniform trousers. With trembling, clumsy fingers, he awkwardly pulled at the heavy material, trying to zip and button his pants properly, the reality of his situation setting back in with every clumsy movement.

The heat of the moment was fading fast, replaced by the sudden, aching weight of the distance between them. Sitting alone in the dark, ruined and shivering in his uniform, the contrast of the empty military grounds hit him like a physical blow.

“God, you were the one who ruined me,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a quiet, incredibly vulnerable register. The dirty talk was entirely gone, replaced by a raw, aching honesty. He pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing the phone tighter against his ear as if he could force you closer. “I miss you so much, baby. It’s... frustrating. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get up and finish this shift without you here.”

“Hey… it’s okay,” you whispered softly, your voice a gentle contrast to the biting wind on his end of the line. “We only have a few more days to get through, Yeol. Just a few more days, and then you’re coming home. I’m counting down every single hour.”

Chanyeol let out a shaky, fragile breath, the promise of seeing you acting like a lifeline. But as the heavy silence stretched between you, he caught the faint, heavy drag in your breathing. The fog of lust was completely gone now, leaving behind a sharp stab of protectiveness.

“You sound so exhausted, baby,” he murmured, his brow furrowing with sudden guilt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask about your day before I... I completely dragged you into this.”

A soft, tired laugh rumbled on your end of the line, a sound that instantly warmed his chest. “Don’t be silly. I’m just tired because of work, that’s all. It was a long day, but hearing you was exactly what I needed.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth. “Go to rest, baby.”

But neither of you hung up. The line stayed wide open, filled only with the soft static of the connection and the rhythm of your breathing. It was like you were both just waiting for the fragile signal to cut out on its own, a silent agreement to let the universe take blame for ending the call. Deep down, you were both desperately praying for those signal bars to hold on for just a little bit longer.

“I love you so much,” you whispered suddenly, the words laced with an aching tenderness. “I’ll wait for you.”

“I know, baby. I love you more. I promise I’ll count every second—”

“Sargent Park!”

The sharp, echoing shout tore through the quiet night air, causing Chanyeol’s heart to violently leap into his throat. He was completely startled. On the other end, you heard the sudden intrusion and instantly understood the danger.

“Shit. I have to go. I love you,” he hissed into the receiver at lightning speed. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back just as fast.

The line clicked dead. Chanyeol shoved his phone into his pocket with trembling hands and scrambled to his feet. He had to use the wall for leverage, his legs still weak, his movements clumsy as he tried to adjust his uniform jacket to hide the prominent wet circle staining his pants.

He had barely managed to stand up straight when his superior appeared around the corner, stepping directly into the dim light in front of him. The older officer was holding Chanyeol’s discarded military hat in one hand, looking at him with a deep frown. His gaze swept over Chanyeol, taking in his red cheeks, the heavy sweat glistening on his forehead, and the way his chest was still heaving for air.

“Sargent Park… you look terrible,” his superior said, his voice carrying a mix of authority and genuine worry. “Go to bed. You should rest.”

Chanyeol swallowed hard, forcing his posture into a stiff, trembling salute, praying the darkness hid the front of his pants.

“Yes, sir!”

It had been almost two weeks since he last heard your voice, and the silence was finally driving him crazy. Every second without you felt like a physical weight crushing his chest, a slow-burning madness that made it impossible to breathe. 

just at the start im- the yearning!!! yes!!!! lord pls give me a chanyeol just like this one who cant breathe without meee

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, the words ragged, practically bleeding with a raw, demanding craving. “Hearing you like this, knowing how far away you are... it’s fucking killing me. I wanna touch you so bad it hurts, baby. I… I need to make love to you… to be inside of you right now.”

oh baby i was SQUEAAAALINGGGG!!!! KICKING MY FEET!!!!!

“Sargent Park… you look terrible,” his superior said, his voice carrying a mix of authority and genuine worry. “Go to bed. You should rest.” Chanyeol swallowed hard, forcing his posture into a stiff, trembling salute, praying the darkness hid the front of his pants. “Yes, sir!”

“Good morning! Hope you slept well. Picking you up at 1pm, no excuses TT”, reads the text that buzzes you awake.

“1pm on the dot. I’ll be waiting!” You reply through glassy eyes, a cheek still pressed against the pillow.

You roll over and burry your face in your pillow. Fine. Alright. Attempt #2 at spending time together. Yesterday’s cancellation wasn’t how you were expecting your day to end. But then he called and said it was supposed to be date?

“Ugh.” You groan into your pillow.

You weren’t supposed to overthinking Chanyeol’s intentions. But the mixed signals were confusing. Sure, he had said the word date on the phone yesterday, and you wouldn’t mind of it was one. Sure, it would be nice to get to know him better. And, sure, somehow, he hasn’t left your brain since he dropped you off from the festival.

You roll on your back, already exasperated first thing in the morning. Rubbing  the sleep off your eyes, “My god… what’s gotten into me,” you mumble to yourself while begrudgingly pulling the sheets away from you.

Enough ruminating. Chanyeol will be here at 1pm. It’s been confirmed. It’s just a hang out. Maybe a date? Shoot…

•··································································•···································································•

Your phone was ringing at 12:58pm, as if your constant thinking of him alone materialized his name on the screen.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Hey! I’m here. I don’t know how to get into the building.”

“Oh, don’t worry about coming up! I’ll be right down.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, be right there.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

“See ya.” You push yourself off the couch, where you’ve buried yourself patiently impatiently waiting for this moment.

Right past the entrance was Chanyeol, leaning against his car in the same spot where you last saw him. The midday sun shining against his polished car, also bringing out the dark brown undertones of his hair. His lips spread into an eye-crinkling smile when you enter his field of vision.

“Hi there.” He says, peeling away from the passenger door.

“Hi there.” You reply. Once close enough, he politely opens the door for you to enter, inviting you in with a hand. “So kind of you.” You say while ducking in.

“I need to overcompensate and repent for cancelling yesterday.” He jokes as he closes the door. A small chuckle forms as you see him half jog to his side of the car.

“Okay so, bad news.” He says, taking his position as driver and opening his phone’s navigation app. “The place we wanted to go yesterday doesn’t open until dinner time.”

You kiss your teeth, “You keep disappointment me.” You say with a sarcastic head shake.

“So!” He rapidly cuts you off, “An alternative is my favorite Japanese restaurant. I think you may like it.”

“Sure! However, you’ll only be fully repented if you order in Japanese for us.” You joke.

A stressed-out hand begins to rub the back of his neck, “I’ve never spoken Japanese there.”

“So?”

He stares you down for a few seconds, testing to see how far you’ll take the bravado, but to no avail. “Fine. If that will clear my karma from yesterday, I’ll do it.”

“Hibi encore stage, ladies and gentlemen!”

“Hey, good remembering my stage name!” He says while pulling away from the spot and beginning the drive.

A sudden feeling of bravery took over you, helping you to not over think your next words. “You’ve been easy to remember.”

“You’ve been hard to forget.” He flirts right back. Your eyes freeze on his face trying to remember every hint of that mischievous smirk that crosses his face when he gives you a compliment. “I was really looking forward to seeing you yesterday.” He continues as his knuckles crack when he extends his fingers on the steering wheel. “I truly am embarrassed for cancelling so last minute.” The heavy remorseful tone was so genuine, you instinctively reach over and place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey, it’s okay. Work happens.” You let go, wondering if he was okay at the sudden touch. “How was the client’s project?”

His shoulders roll back, shaking off tension from his body. He did this a couple of times as he shares all the details about his day. The client had skipped a week in their contracted time and asked for extended hours to make up for the missed time at his studio. He spoke with so much emotion it was clear that despite the annoying bits, Chanyeol truly loved his job and making music was his passion. While he rambled on, you took the opportunity to slow down on all the small details of his face. The small freckle that rested on his nose, his soft upper lip, the slight hint of facial hair growing on his chin. Your eyes only darting back to his when he would turn to look at you.

“So, whatever, we did as much as we could. I told him he’ll need to schedule a couple more sessions at my usual times. It’s hard to balance all my contracts, I can’t be staying late without proper notice.” He said while turning into a quieter neighborhood.

“Sounds like pain. I’m sorry”

“Yes, and I’m also sorry. I hope I’m forgiven.”

“Hey,” you gently push him, “stop apologizing. You’re forgiven and soon to be repented.”

“Yes, that’s right. Can’t believe you’re forcing me to speak Japenese.”

“You already sing in it! This can’t be harder than that.”

“Uh-uh! My lyrics are practiced, rehearsed, and overly thought of. Conversations are different.”

“You will do just fine. Plus, I won’t know if you make any mistakes.”

He teasingly pushes away your left knee, “I should teach you a few words.”

“Maybe you should.” You say.

“We’re almost there.” He says, bringing his car to a slow stop.

This was an area of town a bit unfamiliar to you. Just small shops and office spaces.

“I’ve never been to this part of town.” You say while looking out the window.

“Oh, only the best of the best is over here. Nothing like a hidden gem in the middle of an office complex.” He parks his car on a street spot. “We need to walk a bit up. It’s right past that ally”. He says pointing at a quaint row of shops that lined a pedestrian only strip. You reach for your door handle, and he instantly launches himself over and covers your hand in his, preventing you from opening it any further. “Nope! Let me.”

“You’re being silly.” You chuckle as he scoots out of his seat and speedies to your side.

“After you.” He says opening the door in a light bow, a hand extended in front of you.

“You’re being really silly.” You laugh, yet take his hand as you exit his car.

He doesn’t let go of your hand until the door is fully closed and your bodies are now walking side by side.

He tells you about all the shops in the area in great detail. For the most part, they were private businesses with store fronts all adorned in an individual fashion to best display their product. There was a wedding and party rental store, a courier service, a framing shop, a photography studio. Tucked within all of them was the sushi restaurant. However, restaurant is a big word to describe the establishment that fit 2 tables and 4 stools along the sushi counter.

A bell chimed as he opened the door for you. The weight of your feet causing the old wooden floor to crack underneath you. It was a small place that felt alive and well loved by its owners and patrons.

“Irasshaimase!” Says the older gentleman behind the sushi counter.

“Hell-… Irasshaimase!” Chanyeol replies now remembering his earlier promise.

You laugh quietly by his side.

“Oh! Hi, Chanyeol! Please sit anywhere.” Says the gentleman in a much warmer tone after seeing who has entered.

He guides you to the table closest to the door, pulling out a chair for you to sit before sitting across from you. “They know you by name?” You ask inquisitively as you keep taking inventory of your surroundings.

“Yes. I come here too often.”

“All the way out here for sushi?”

“My studio is just a few stores town.” He said with a small smile.

“What! You could’ve started with that! We could have totally gone somewhere not so close to work.”

“It really is my favorite place, and I know can trust them. They’re good and reliable. I want everything to go well on this date.”

Your chest suddenly felt like it grew too small for your lungs. “So… this is a date.” You say, not so much ask.

He looks at you with a slight blank expression, cocking his head to a side. “Did I not…? Oh my god.” His eyes widen and he covers his face for a slight second before dropping them and regaining his composure. “I did not ask you out properly, did I?”

“Well, depends on how you define ‘properly’.”

“Aish….” He mumbles. He looks around for a second and then turns back to you. “Hold on.”

He scurries off his chair and takes a few steps to get close to the back of the shop. He whispers something to the gentleman behind to counter that causes him to grin widely while nodding. Chanyeol bows in return and you see him walk to the vase of flowers that rested on the decoration towards the back. He plucks a flower out of the vase and makes his way back to your table.

The realization of what’s happening dawns on you with every step he takes closer to you.

He takes his seat across from you and raises the flower in his hand. He speaks your name and you hold his gaze trying to control the grin that is asking to spread across your face. “I would like to take you out on a date, right now, and get to know you more. Would you do me the honor?”

You can’t hold back the grin anymore and let it explode. Letting go of all the pent up feelings of confusion that had rested within you’re the past few days. You gladly accept the flower and bring it your nose for a smell.

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, thank God.” He says slumping back onto his chair in a dramatic way. “I can’t believe I messed up the first and most important part.”

You laugh again. It's not often that you meet a guy that comfortably expresses his feelings and thoughts. “Well, let’s make sure this date goes by well. What should we order.”

Chanyeol unlocks his phone to show you the digital menu. He points out all his favorites and must tries, and the few items he’s yet to taste. You both agree to order a couple of his favorites, and a few new dishes so that you get to try them together.

“Are you ready to order?” Says the gentleman wiping his hands on his apron.

“Yes. Please, we’ll or-“ You kick his ankle under the table and his nose scrunches at the memory of his promise. “I’m so sorry, sir. Is it okay if I practice my Japanese with you?”

The gentleman brightens up and, of course, agrees. You lean back and absorb the image of Chanyeol politely listing your order in a language unfamiliar to you. The gentleman asks a few follow up questions, and Chanyeol replies. There was a bit of the conversation that dragged a little longer, one in which the gentleman slightly pointed his pen between the two of you. That was the only moment you wished to know all the details of the words they exchanged.

“He said it would all be right out.” Chanyeol says facing back to you.

“That was impressive.”

“And a bit embarrassing.”

“Don’t be, you sounded great. What did he say at the very end?” You ask.

“Oh nothing. He asked if you were a friend of mine.”

“Mmmm, I guess I am?”

“Yes, for now.” He says, reaching his hand and twirling the flower’s stem between his fingers.

The gentleman interrupts you again by bringing you water.

“So, tell me something about you I haven’t learned yet.” He bids.

The rest of the meal was spent in easy conversation, as usual. You told him about your family and friends, and he did about his. You each shared stories, likes and dislikes, recounted the festival and the favorite parts and the not-favorite parts. All words shared over a delicious spread of freshly cut raw fish, perfectly seasoned rice paired with a few pickled and other simmered vegetables. The meal comes to a close with a kettle of green tea resting between you two.

“My favorite was the salmon nigiri and the yellow tail sashimi. I surprisingly liked the umeboshi onigiri.” You say listing all your favorite items.

“I liked the salmon nigiri too, but I liked the braised lotus root the most. It was a nice surprise.”

“With these, you’d officially tried everything on the menu, right?”

“Correct. Finally checking off that accomplishment from my list.” He says proudly rubbing his stomach.

“Should you get the check?”

“Yes, I’ll ask.” Chanyeol twists his body to make eye contact with the gentleman, and asks for the check.

“You can stop speaking in Japanese now. You’ve been freed.”

“Mmm, I kinda liked it. Plus, I get to show off a bit in front of you”

You roll your eyes at him before a bright light comes through the front windows followed by a loud thunder. You jolt in place at the sudden loud noise. “Rain?” You look out the window, only to be greeted by impossibly dark clouds.

“Shoot, we better get going. It’s going to pour.” Chanyeol says.

The gentleman did his best at hurrying, but in the short time it took to process the bill and Chanyeol to pay, the heavy clouds had begun to release their showers onto the pavement. Loud rain drops hitting against the window.

“We’ll get soaked if we walk to the car.” He says, taking his phone out to track the weather. “It’s going to rain for the next hour…”

You begin to peruse your brain for alternative options but got stopped by Chanyeol handing over his jacket. “Here. Use this to cover yourself, we can sprint to my studio. It’s just a few stores down on the left side.”

You agree and both bid goodbye and thank you to the man that took care of you. The rain was deafening when Chanyeol opened the door. He gives you instructions against but just requests for you to stay dry as he drapes his jacket over your head. You hold it in place; thankful his broad size actually provided you with good coverage.

He takes off in a sprint, and you follow right behind. The jacket helped ever so slightly, but the sideways rain instantly hit your legs and your body, leaving you feeling entirely too wet. He stops in front of a door and quickly presses a code onto the electronic keypad. You run in behind him right as the rain was starting to seep through your shoes.

You remove the soaking jacket and are mindful not to shake water everywhere.

“Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.” He says guiding you into his dimly lit studio. It was of similar size as the restaurant, only with an entirely different ambient. He had mentioned it was new and under construction, but this was nearly done except for some minor décor that that needed to be hung and was resting on the floor. The studio was fashioned like a living room. There was a big couch to the right with accompanying side tables. The master soundboard laid divinely across from it, bringing all the attention of the room onto to. Towards the back was a closed off room, with a mic and soundproof padding covering the walls. A row of string instruments stood on display, a worn down cajon now doubled as a coffee table where papers with scribbles all over laid on top of it.

You took it all in, feeling out of place surrounded by so much equipment. He noticed your hesitant pace and kindly came closer to retrieve his wet jacket from your hands.

“You can remove your shoes and leave them by the door. I, however, am soaked.” He reaches for a bag in a closet. It looked like an overnight bag. He leans forward, letting water droplets fall from his hair onto the bag and pulls out pair of pants and long sleeves. “I need to change. Excuse me.”

He made his way to the recording booth, and you look away as he pulls his wet shirt off his body. You remove your shoes and take a few gentle steps closer to the sound board. It all looked like a spaceship to you. As much as you wanted your curiosity to win, you hold your hands tight against you to prevent touching and breaking anything.

“I have this.” His voice jolts you back to focus. “You may be more comfortable dry.” He says returning to the bag and fishing out another set of dry clothes. A pair of shorts and t-shirt.

“Do you keep a wardrobe here?” You half tease.

He combs his fingers through his hair, pushing it all back creating a natural combover look you can’t help but find extremely attractive. “Actually, yes. I’ve crashed on that couch a few times when it’s too late and I’m too tired to drive. I keep a change of clothes just in case”

You were about to decline the offer of clothes when the cold AC had started to turn all wet bits of your clothes into cold spots, and the loud incessant rain outside told you were going to be here a bit longer than expected.

“May I?” You ask retrieving the clothes and pointing to the recording booth were he changed”

“Be my guest.”

You follow his cue and close the door behind you. You’ve never been in a sound booth before. The door closing created a vacuum seal on your ears, giving you the first listen into absolute silence. You carefully peel off your clothes, trying not to knock anything over with your bending body and not get anything wet. Comfort returned after putting on the all too oversized shorts and t-shirt Chanyeol had offered.

You leave the booth with your wet clothes neatly folded. Chanyeol was laying on the couch scrolling on his phone. You place your pile of clothes and gifted flower on the floor, and sit with your legs stretched out, opposite from him.

He immediately tucks his phone away, “you look cute.” He says, glaring at you up and down.

“You keep giving me clothes every time we see each other.” You joke

“You keep needing them,” he says crossing his arms on his chest. “So, how would you rate this date?”

“9/10. One minus point for unforeseen weather.”

He nods, “I agree with that rating.”

“But I could round up to 10 because I’ve never been shown a recording studio before.”

“This ol’ thing?” He says waving his hand out against the entire space.

“I’m serious, this is incredible.”

“It’s my baby.” Sincerity returning to his voice. “I used to rent space to work. It was finally time to have my own.”

“You’ve done well.” You compliment. “There’s so much equipment. And the sound board looks scary.”

“It really isn’t. Come, look” He pushes your legs off so he could get up. He took a seat on the spinning chair in front of the board. With a few button pushes, it all came alive. The computer monitor lit up along with the buttons that sprawled across. He types and clicks a few things as you approach him from behind, resting your forearms on the headrest of his chair.

“Okay look. This is one of the songs I played at the fest.” He says opening a file. The familiar jazz-sound playing from the speakers you hadn’t noticed were hanging from the ceiling. He cuts it off before the words begin. He points to the screen that displayed a never-ending maze of color coded horizontal lines. “Every part of a song; the main vocal track, backing vocals, every instrument, has one dedicated track.” He says noting the many lines of soundwaves that displayed on his screen. “Making music is little about having the best equipment, and a lot about knowing how to put something together that’s sounds good.” He repeats his own words from a few days back. You move from behind him to next to him, pulling up a spinning stool that was nearby. “So, look. Imagine if I increase this bit” He clicks a few buttons and presses play, playing the same track but now with an all too loud record scratch sound that drowned all other sound. “That sounds like ass. Every piece of the music needs to blend and marry each other.” He lowers it against and replays, revisiting the pleasant sound.

“Chanyeol, you’re good at what you do.” You say matter-of-factly.

He looks at you, his eyes trailing between your eyes and briefly on your lips. “No no, I just know what sounds good to-“

“No.” You stop him, “You are good at what you do. That’s how you know what sounds good.” He shakes his head a bit, a quirk that lets you know he’s not good at taking compliments. “And, this was a wonderful date. Thank you.” You say leaning closer, resting your elbows on your knees.

You notice his eyes switch between your eyes and lips again. “I’m glad you had fun.” You only noticed he was giving you a gentle smile because your eyes were also on his lips.

You both hold this moment, not sure how to proceed.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask. He replies with a nod, his eyes not leaving their spot on your face. “You just met me at work, and now we’re on a date. How did that happen?”

He spins his chair so he’s fully facing you. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He begins. “It felt like my lucky day every time I would need to buy something and you were on shift. I had the opportunity to ask you to hang out, and you magically said yes. Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you agree to come to my practice?”

“I, admittedly, didn’t know it was going to be just us two. But…” You start. “That’s when I noticed how handsome and kind you were. So, I didn’t mind seeing you again at the show.”

It started to feel like the space between you both was getting smaller by the second.

“Can I ask you another question?” He whispers. You nod. “Can I kiss you right now?”

Your faces were so close, only permission was needed to close the gap. “Yes.”

He makes away of all the distance by gently pressing his lips onto yours. It was a peck at first. Then another as he places a hand on your cheek. Then both your lips part as your heads tilt to the side to make more room for a deeper kiss.

You instinctively place a hand on his lap as he snuck his fingers closer to the nape of your neck.

His lips were as soft as they looked. The sound of the rain was still pitter-pattering outside the entrance, and the dim lighting was surrounding you both in what felt like a moment in space where time could stand still.

You wanted to get closer to him, and you could tell so did he by the way his tongue was beginning to tease your lips. You allow your tongues to dance as you brought yourself closer to him. The hand on his thigh moving to gently hold onto his forearm.

He retracts from the kiss and reduces it back to a peck. It was all so tender and polite. While enough passion was present to create a pressure between your legs.

A loud thunder breaks through the silence that was just created.

“We’re going to be here a while, huh?” You joke.

“Looks like it.” He agrees, not quite letting go of his hand on your neck. “We could keep,” he breathes, “we could keep kissing?”

Yes. Yes. 20 times yes. You nod and grab his hands in yours. Guiding him to the couch. You sit side by side, resuming where you left off. Your tongues were quickly melding into one another. The pressure at your core continuing to build. You dare to hike a leg close to him, only to be gladly welcomed by one his broad hands trailing from your thigh to your ass.

You pull away from his mouth to trail kisses down his face, by his lobe, and onto his neck. One kiss by the collarbone resulted in him squeezing your ass.

“You’re trying to kill me?” He asks through clenched teeth.

“We can stop whenever.” You offer while trialing your way back to his mouth.

“I don’t know if I can stop.” He says with an expression of absolute lust on his face. You were loving the control you had on him. The leg hiking up on him spreads wider to hoist yourself up onto a straddle. Both of you on thin lounge wear made it incredibly easy to tell that he was hard under his clothes. The light pressure he was placing on you was making you want him more and more.

A symphony of kisses, breaths, rain, and the occasional thunder filled your ears. It began to feel like nothing else mattered outside of this moment.

His hands had no other place to rest than your hips, where he sprawled all 10 fingers trying to hold onto every inch he could. You grind on him once, making him to throw his head back, sucking air between his teeth.

“Shit…” He mutters.

He was getting harder by the second.

“Fuck…” He pulls you off of him just enough to put a pause to it all. “Are you okay with us doing it.” He asks, always the too honest.

“Yes, I am. Are you okay with it?” You ask in return.

His arms instantly wrap around your waist making him burry his face between your breasts. “There’s nothing I want more.” He expertly pushes you off and places you down on the couch. “One second.” He gets up, his hard on noticeably showing now that he’s standing.

He made his way to his bag and pulls out a condom.

“You’re a well-prepared man, aren’t you?”

He shrugs while ripping the package open with his teeth. You extend your hand requesting the condom. His brow lightly raising as he gets closer to you.

You take the opened wrapper in one hand and place the other one on the back on his legs, bringing him closer to you. Your height while sitting on the couch aligning perfectly with his lower abdomen.

“Take these off.” You ask while tugging at his pants.

He obliges and his impressive length was freed from the spot you were just riding a second ago. You could feel your mouth salivate at the mere sight of him. You wrap a hand around him, stroking him at an impossible slow pace. Looking right at him and stimulating him until he was rock solid. Placing the tip of the condom on his head, you gently rolled it down to his base and into position.

“That was hot.” He mutters. He leans down to hover over your, lifting your chin with his fingers and stealing a couple of kisses. “Your turn," he says tugging at your shorts. Your swing your knees close to your chest and rip them off. “Lay down.” He commands again, and you happily oblige.

Chanyeol hovers over you again, now horizontal to you and begins to slowly kiss your neck. Your hand grasps at his shirt to pull him closer right as another loud thunder strikes. You widen your legs as much as you could to allow him to nestle himself between them. His hands snake under your shirt, cupping a breast as your chest rises and lowers He gently pinches one of your nipples, making you bite on his lip. If he’s into teasing, so are you.

You reach down and hold his dick with one hand, guiding him close to your entrance but using his tip to rub yourself from clit to hole. Spreading your wetness and welcoming him to feel your warmth.

“You’re a tease.” He growls, trying to stay composed.

“So are you.” You reply. Placing him right where you want him to be and letting go.

The hand he had on your breast moves to the back of your legs to adjust you in the way he wants it. He kisses you with increased intensity as he presses his hips forward, fully entering you and making you expand around him. Your fingers naturally find his hair and tug on it as he creates a steady pace sliding in and out of you. Quiet moans are already leaving your mouth in between kisses with every thrust. He wasn’t going too fast. He was giving you all the time you needed to adjust to him. You felt yourself fully relax into him and welcomed him deeper by wrapping both legs around his waist.

“Fuck me.” You ask. You beg.

He groans and loops an arm under you, lifting your hips upwards. You break your kiss to burry your face on his neck. Both of you focusing on the feeling of him pounding into you. You dared to open your eyes a bit. Welcomed by the vision on Chanyeol’s eyes closed, lost in the moment while being protected by the privacy of his studio.

“Fuck. This fucking couch…” He groans a bit in frustration at his limited space to move. “Get on your knees.” He guides you so you are facing the arm rest, while on your knees. You rest your forearms of the arm rest, and let yourself relax onto the position, allowing all of your behind exposed to him. You turn around and see him position himself behind you, “Yeah. This is fucking better.”

His hands find their old place on your hips, and he sheathes himself into you again. Now having better control. Driving you back and forth onto himself. The position was making your tits bounce and your skin clap with his. The angle in which you were at allowed him to hit you right at that spot that you loved.

You snuck a hand between your legs to touch yourself. He did not stop or change his rhythm.

The raw hot feeling was getting overwhelming. The familiar and lovely tension at your core was forming and you knew you were about to come undone. “Chan…Yeol… I’m going to…” You start.

“Let me hear you.” He says, smacking a cheek.

You stop controlling the sounds that were coming out of you. You stop thinking. You stop all manual processes and solely focus on the moment that you were at now. A gorgeous gorgeous kind man was fucking the shit out of you on the couch as you waited out the rain.

Your orgasm takes over your mind and body, making your body sway and jolt in movements out of your control. Chanyeol grasps your hips more firmly to keep you connected, making sure you feel all of him as your walls clench. You dare to look behind you to see him with eyes rolled back and lids half open. He bends over you and shuts his eyes tightly.

“I’m close.” He says in a whimper.

You bury your face deeper onto the arm rest, giving him a better view and full access to you. The sound of your wetness was impolite as your skin kept clapping with his. One of his hands moves to your lower back and like that, he pins you into place as he comes undone. He pairs each remaining thrust with a groan.

You were both out of breath and unable to form any coherent sounds.

You feel him pull out as he gently caresses your ass and thighs. The first return of his usual gentle self. You lower your body down to sit on your ankles and with your eyes, you see him discard the condom and reach for both your bottoms. He hands over your/his shorts over and you place them on, a quiet feeling of vulnerability creeping up within you.

“Um…” He says, sitting back down on the couch next to you. He looks over at you, and in unison you both let out a small chuckle at how intimate the situation is without the right words to pair it with. “I promise you this wasn’t my end goal for today.” He says, reaching a hand closer to you and placing it on one knee, a thumb rubbing on your skin.

You shrug back, “Mine either. But, I’m okay with it.” You say, making sure to not let the vulnerable feeling take over you and make you divert eye contact.

“I’m okay with it, too.” He says. You stay like that for a few seconds, bodies still trying to return to baseline without knowing if it was appropriate to use each other for comfort. A loud thunder reminded you that you were here for just a little while longer. You jolt ever so slightly, still with your senses on high. “Come closer.” He says, patting the space next to him. You scoot over and sit next to him. He drapes an arm around your shoulders, wrapping you in his arms. Your hands naturally find themselves on his lap, twirling at the drawstring as you allow yourself to relax onto the touch. A moment somehow more personal than the sex you just had.

“So, what now?” You ask, sobering up and unsure whether this diverted the date and your intentions together.

“What now?” He repeats. “Ummm…” He says with eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought. “I got to ask you a million questions today, so I know your backstory kinda well. I now know what you sound like when you cum-Hey!” He yelps as you swat his chest with a hand. “That hurt.”

“No, it didn’t” You reply, and he closes his embrace a little tighter.  

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay like this a little longer. And, if it’s also okay with you, I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You pull yourself up, and lean closer to his cheek. You plant a soft kiss there and his lips break into a tight line, trying to hold in his smile. “Yes. I’d like to stay here a little longer, and I’d like to keep seeing you.”

────୨ৎ────

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

after so many months of caring for mr. byun’s daughter, you still have yet to put a face to the name. there’s no telling what he does for work, but it must be a lot because he’s always too busy to even come to the door to drop his girl off. most of the time, she ends up walking to your front door herself, and all you get is a glimpse of his face as he makes sure you have her before he’s off.

it always leaves you wondering.. his voice sounds so expensive, like bills would fall every time he laughs. it’s velvety almost, and the fact that you’ve only heard it through the phone makes you feel even crazier. your friends talk about it all the time, saying nonsense like he’s famous! or he’s the rich ceo of all our dreams!

..fat chance, right?

before you can continue conspiring and pull out your laptop to research, your phone rings with a call from the man in your thoughts. it is about that time, 9 o,clock, where he drops his daughter off and speeds his way to work.

when you answer, an exasperated call of your name is the first thing you hear, followed by the sound of crying in the background. “i’m so sorry… byeol-ie has been so sick these past few days, and i couldn’t get time off to take care of her.. can i bother you to take her today? i’ll pay extra too, for it being so sudden.”

your eyes widen. not only did the man you were thinking of happen to call you, but he also blessed you with the opportunity to try and see his face again. “oh.. uh, yeah, bring her over. i’m not busy.”

he sighs in relief. “ah, thank you so much. you’re a lifesaver.” there’s an awkward pause, “.. i’m actually outside already. i’ll walk her up”

your heart nearly drops to your ass. it’s not like you have anything to hide, your house is clean, you’re clean, but you didn’t get to have any mental buildup to seeing your boss for the first time ever. it feels like your blood is pumping in waves, like a tsunami is coursing through your veins, at the thought that the man you can only (and have) dreamed of, is walking to your front door right now.

then, he knocks, and you rush over to let him im. hi, he breathes, holding a still-whimpering girl in his arms. you have no thoughts in your brain, eyes stuck on his cute little frown and the forearm muscles that entrap his daughter. dazedly, you step out of his way and let him in.

“i’m so sorry about this,” he says, lying byeol on your couch and kissing her forehead. he stands up straight, brushing dust off his button up. when he finally makes eye contact, there’s a bit of awkwardness as he takes in your now.. frazzled form.

he clears his throat, “..well, it’s nice to finally meet you.” he shakes your hand with a grip so firm that it humbly snaps you from your daze. with your consciousness regained, you respond with a passive yeah, before taking in his features.

his features are so soft, puppy-like, yet so incredibly handsome. contrary to the sweetness of his face, his body is toned, perfectly so. firm chest and broad shoulders that tug at the seams of his shirt, similarly to the fashion his arms do, along with his thighs that pull at his pants. yeah. he’s everything you imagined to be. he 100% lives up to his voice and his name.

“uh, are you alright? you aren’t sick as well, are you?” he speaks, a little cautiously, subtly laying the back of his hand against your forehead.

hands to your cheeks, slapping yourself lightly to wake yourself up, you nod. “yes, sorry, mr. byun. i’m quite alright. i’m not sick or anything.”

he laughs, and his smile strikes your heart almost as hard as he did the first 100 times. “good then. i’ll head out now, but i’ll be back later.” he heads towards the door, stopping halfway through to turn around. “maybe we can schedule a meeting sometime? so i can make sure my byeol-ie is in good hands.”

in pure shock, all you can do is nod and give him a thumbs up, before ushering him out the door in embarrassment.

You never knew that your emotions, sadness and tears could mean so much to someone. That it could matter, worry and concern someone this much.

But that was probably only because you hadn’t met Baekhyun in your life earlier. Because now, you felt like you always had someone to lean on, a chest to cry to, and a guiding hand to pull you out of whatever pit of sadness you seemed to fall into often.

It started small.

Only a couple of months into dating Baekhyun, when you started to come over to his place for sleepovers, he slowly discovered about your extremely restless sleeping habits, your sleepless nights.

The first time it happened, you sat up in the bed, heaving and gasping quietly to yourself to catch your breath—seriously trying not to accidentally awaken him because then you were worried that he’d see just how much of a pathetic loser you were.

But it wasn’t easy, you just couldn’t seem to calm yourself down and the tears weren’t stopping either, you just wanted a good night’s sleep with your boyfriend but your brain had other plans.

You swore your breathing froze when he stirred beside you, then he was suddenly sitting up, eyes squinting in the dark to stare at your shaking form.

“Baby…?” The words left his lips in such a soft and quiet manner as if you were some scared wounded animal that he didn’t want to startle anymore. Without any questioning or demanding explanation from you as to what happened that lead you to hyperventilating at 3 in the morning, he just moved closer to you.

You opened your mouth to tell him that it was okay, that he should just go back to sleep, that you didn’t want him to see you in such a pathetic state but all the words got stuck in your throat and the only sound that left your lips was this small wet whimper which made you shut your eyes tightly in shame.

Baekhyun didn’t need anymore words, not that you had said anything, he just took you in his arms, your head tucked under his chin as he tugged you closer—almost on his lap as you sobbed against his chest, wetting his shirt. He held you so… tightly, so firmly, so lovingly, as if trying to shield you from whatever was going on in your head.

“Breathe, baby, breathe…”

He didn’t even question you, just held you. His lips pressed to the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you, calling you every pet name imaginable while rocking you back and forth.

After your tears had dried down a little, he pulled away, softly asking you if you wanted to talk about it, when you shook your head, he didn’t push at all.

Instead, he grabbed you and just skipped over into the kitchen, smiling softly as he just told you easily, “let’s make a chocolate cake, hm? You can add the star sprinkles on top, pretty girl.”

Like he wasn’t in the kitchen at 3 in the morning, on top of when he clearly had a lot of work the next day, you tried protesting against it but he pressed a finger to your lips while you both got to making the cake, he licked off the frosting off your fingers, blowing some flour on you, just messing around with you, making you giggle.

Being with him like this made all your problems fade to nothing, the devastatingly big amounts of love and adoration in his eyes as his gaze zeroed in on you whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice and was busy whisking the eggs—it seriously made you feel so scared, being loved so intensely and intimately.

You often found yourself questioning if you even deserved such love from him, but then Baekhyun would wipe those thoughts away from your head with the reverent way he held your face while he kissed you, the way he touched you like you were made of the most precious porcelain and deserved to be cherished and worshipped.

Sometimes after a particularly hard day, after you’ve had some problems with your friends—Baekhyun would try his best to cheer you up, ordering your favourite milk cake from the bakery down the road, playing you a love song on the piano, watching your favourite reality show even though he had never really liked it.

He’d do everything just to take that look of utter hopelessness away from your eyes.

But the truth is, sometimes nothing really worked and Baekhyun understood that, he understood that your emotions weren’t like a light switch that he could turn on and off with just a couple of his loving actions.

He always waited patiently, waited for you to open up, crack out of your shell, climb up and out of the tall walls you had built around yourself, sometimes not even letting him in. He understood why, maybe you’d been scarred similarly in your past and that was why you were so wary now to let people in easily.

And when you’d let finally him in, Baekhyun’s heart in his chest felt like fireworks.

It was late and you both had gone to bed, he didn’t push you to talk of it. But maybe you just couldn’t take it anymore.

And as Baekhyun laid there on the bed, wide awake beside you because he was worried about you, he heard you sniffling, your back was to him and he couldn’t exactly see your face but god, did Baekhyun’s heart dropped to his stomach.

He didn’t say anything to you, just moved closer and enveloped you loosely from behind—giving you room to pull away from him if you didn’t want him or his warmth right now. He’d understand.

But when you leaned back into his chest, your sniffling turning into small sobs that twisted his heart, Baekhyun almost felt a sort of relief that you were leaning onto him, instead of just shutting him out and wallowing in your problems all by yourself.

“I’m here for you, sweet girl, hm?” He felt the need to word it for you, for you to really understand that he was here for you and will always be.

When you answered by twisting and turning to face him, your face all teary and red, holding back the sobs. Baekhyun winced at the sight of your absolutely wet face.

He couldn’t help but tug you even closer to him, you buried your head in the crook of his neck immediately and he wrapped his arms your whole body firmly, anchoring you to him.

“Oh, baby… it’s okay, I’m here for you,” was all the words he could get out of his mouth while you trembled and sobbed into his chest heavily. God knows what lead you to be like this and he felt helpless and almost a tiny bit frustrated as he thought about how reserving you were with your emotions, so he knew he couldn’t even ask you about it, afraid you’d only pull away and retreat back into yourself.

Imagine the level of surprise and relief flooding through him when you began speaking, rambling to him through your sobs, “I saw them at the café… the same one that I told them about, the one I wanted to go at with them but they’d told me they were busy… but then they were there, without me.”

“Who, sweetheart? Slow down, it’s okay, tell me,” he spoke in a hushed tone, hand rubbing up and down at your back to soothe you even further.

“My friends.”

“You saw your friends at a cafe? The one you wanted to check out with them, but they went there without you?” He countered softly, trying to get the picture of what you were going through and trying to tell him.

You sobbed and nodded, but then tried to catch your breath to speak a little more clearly to him, you started again, voice shaky, “yes, then they proceeded to be… passive aggressive when I walked up to them and asked them about it? They were weird towards me, said how they thought I weren’t free that’s why they went without me. I… I don’t think—Baekhyun, they don’t like me anymore.”

You fell into a fit of small whimpers and sobs again while you blamed yourself, words muffled into his chest, “maybe I did something wrong,” and a mix of “i always go and ruin all of my friendships.”

“No, baby. What? Are you kidding, it’s not your fault at all, you are the best and the nicest friend they could ever have. That’s clearly wrong from their side,” he was quick to reassure you and made you didn’t fall into the pit of self-blame.

Baekhyun didn’t like that one bit.

How dare your friends make you feel this way and how could you even blame yourself for this, you were the sweetest and nicest girl he knew. You were not a bad friend—far from it actually, but your friends. Well, he never liked them much from the start. Too many red flags.

But he never said it to you, never wanted you to feel that he didn’t like your friends because of his personal reasons, and also knowing how impressionable you were to his words, he didn’t say it to you because he didn’t want you to cut all your friends off and then stop being the outgoing girl you were.

He spent the night holding you and wiping your tears, telling you with that firm voice of his that he only used when he was really worried or serious about something—that it wasn’t on you at all. How you were the best girl ever and you didn’t wed such jerk friends anyways, how you can go and make more friends and perhaps better ones this time.

When you were finally out from it all and Baekhyun had insisted you on a change of your clothes—considering how wet and snotty you had gotten, he finally voiced the idea he had in his mind ever since you started, “so this café you were speaking of? Where it it?”

You replied to him, now feeling better as you pulled the loose t-shirt down on your torso and smiled. It was fairly new and had opened in the downtown.

Baekhyun smiled at you so tenderly while you spilled details and facts about the place, how you’ve heard such great things about the strawberry cheesecake from their menu and wanted to try it, you were so adorable and all he could do was smile as he presented his offer to you, “So, me and you then, this Saturday afternoon? How’s that sound?”

“What? You’ll go with me?”

He nodded sweetly and had to hold back a laugh at how surprised and taken aback you were at his question, though he also didn’t enjoy it much. Why would you be even surprised? He was your boyfriend, your lover. Of course, he’d be at your every whim and request. He’d take you everywhere you wanted to go to and he’ll tag along with you everywhere.

You suddenly ran to him and threw yourself into his arms. Baekhyun let out a chuckle, soft and warm, coming from the depths of his heart as you buried yourself in his arms, thanking him sweetly.

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for, silly girl. Of course, I’ll go with you. What do you take me for, huh? I’m your man.”

You beamed up at him as you settled back into the bed beside him, “I don’t know, I just think it’s sweet of you. I’ll love to go with you, you’ll love their caramel latte for sure!”

Fuck your friends if they didn’t want to go with you and hang out with you, Baekhyun would do all the things with you that required a friend—because he wasn’t just your lover, he was your best friend, your biggest supporter, your everything and every relation in life that you’d ever lacked.

He’ll be your man, your lover, your best friend, your father figure—whatever it takes for you to feel loved and cherished.

True to his word—like always, Baekhyun was there with you and you both found yourself sitting in a cozy dimlit cafe, munching on cheesecakes and cookies while sipping on your coffees.

Even though it might sound wrong, but Baekhyun didn’t—couldn’t hear a single word of what you were saying, something along the lines of how the place was so great and you’d buy their this and that.

“Let’s take one slice of that for home, too,” he just said easily, referring to the slice of New York styled cheesecake in your plate—he seemed to notice that you liked that one the best.

You nodded mindlessly and fell back into conversation while all he could do was just stare at you, the slice of chocolate cake in front of him long forgotten as he memorised all the little details about you—the way your lips tend to curve in a downwards smile when talking about desserts specifically.

“So… did you like the place, too?” You questioned, almost excited to know what he thought of the food and all that.

What an angel, he smiled at you like you were the center of his universe—you were. He reached across the table, intertwining his fingers in yours and he nodded, “of course, I did. You have the best taste, my pretty girl.”

His words gave you a rush like no other, it went straight to your head and you looked down, going lost in your thoughts—thoughts about Baekhyun.

At this exact moment some sort of epiphany occurred to you—you were so in deep, so far deep in love for him. You felt like a woman who had been lost and wandering meaninglessly your whole life and Baekhyun was the guiding hand who held you tightly and never let you go, like he was the one who could soothe the emptiness aching so intensely inside of you, every inch of your body—your existence, your very being, felt like it was made for him. Like he was meant to be your salvation.

Baekhyun looked at you with extreme levels of love and devotion in his eyes as he gestured the cashier to bring over the cheque. You shivered under his gaze, like you always did, helpless to the effect he had on you.

“I love you so much,” he almost whispered like it was something sacred yet the words came out easy and smooth, like he knew you needed to hear it and he said them often anyways.

“I love you more.”

You finished up quietly and just stared into eachother’s eyes in silence.

He’d take you home after this, giggle on the way home as you tell him some funny knock knock joke. Maybe once you’re both home he’d pepper you in kisses, talk stupid shit about how this painter was better than that painter, play chess, hold you close, make out with you then maybe fuck you on the couch—slow and deep before you’re both falling asleep right there in the living room.

And Baekhyun could and would live for eternity like that, that was all he would ever want in his life. Cry, laugh, fight, and do everything with you—even if it was baking a cake at 3 in the morning or just listening to your rant for hours about your favourite song.

He would choose you, over and over again. Always. In this lifetime and in any other one he existed in.

It was you and all you, the meaning to his life, the sunshine after the thunderstorm, the daisies on a warm summer afternoon, the cold breeze drifting through a hot summer night.

You were everything he had ever wanted and more.

And he was your everything, too.

“Let’s do it one more time,” your voice came from the phone while Junmyeon watched the live stream attentively. “Good, you’re doing great.” 

Junmyeon’s fingers were wrapped around his cock, jerking him off while he kept his eyes glued to his phone screen. The vein in his neck was prominent. Junmyeon knew the live stream would end soon, but as he waited for you in the parking lot, inside his car, it had become a challenge not to cum while watching you. 

Junmyeon had felt pathetic seeing his girlfriend through a screen, but those thoughts seemed to vanish every time he drove himself closer to the edge, thinking about you and the way your body moved.

Last month, Junmyeon had paid for a subscription to your pilates streams, as a way to support you. But every time the notification popped up, all his attention focused on your figure. Junmyeon already knew your schedule and had offered to pick you up after each class, so he arrived early, parked his car, and stayed there, jerking off.

The stream must have ended much earlier for Junmyeon. His forehead pressed against the steering wheel as he breathed heavily. He hadn’t cum yet, but he heard the voices of the women who attended your class approaching the parking lot, and panicked, knowing you would be there soon.

Junmyeon had to press his lips together to avoid groaning; the pressure was a torturous sensation. His throbbing cock was too close to climax, but as soon as he looked in the rearview mirror, he saw you. You were too close for him to try anything. Junmyeon struggled to pull up his pants, the fabric a painful touch. He breathed with difficulty, placing his jacket on his lap.

You got into the passenger seat, smiling. “Babe, have you been waiting for long?” you asked him, but when you leaned in to kiss him, you noticed the expression on his face. “Are you okay?” You touched his flushed cheeks, then his forehead. 

Junmyeon was too horny to even think of an excuse. “Y-Yes,” he tried to sound convinced but failed.

Placing your hand on his thigh, you suggested taking his place. “Should I drive?” Even when you touched the fabric of his pants, he melted, groaning softly. “Jun…?”

You lifted the jacket from his lap, finding his erected and dripping cock. Your eyes gleamed. You looked at him again; Junmyeon was too embarrassed to even explain himself. His lips barely parted, failing to pronounce a single word.

“What were you doing... Myeonie?” you teased. Junmyeon swallowed, closing his eyes for a second, then meeting your eyes again.

“Babe…” Junmyeon tried to explain, but you silenced him with a soft peck.

Your fingers found his cock, and he gasped at your touch. You broke the kiss, looking at his eyes with a mischievous gaze.

“What were you thinking?” you murmured, stroking him slowly, which was a torture for him.

“I was…” Junmyeon groaned, “watching you,” he finally confessed.

“Watching me?” you asked, your eyes full of curiosity.

Your thumb found his sensitive tip. Junmyeon groaned again, pleading with his eyes. Before giving him another peck, you leaned toward his lap from your seat. You kissed his tip, and he swallowed hard. You tasted the precum with your tongue, licking the head of his cock slowly. He immediately helped you by gripping your hair.

You felt Junmyeon’s body tense as he met the warmth of your mouth. He was dangerously close, but he made no effort to contain himself. He began to thrust, slowly, allowing you to take him deeper, and he gave a sharp gasp as his tip grazed the back of your throat.

“Fuck—you’re so fucking good,” Junmyeon groaned, letting the back of his head drop against the seat. “Shit, babe—I’m coming—"

You sucked deliberately, focusing your attention on the delicate, throbbing tremble of his cock every time your tongue made contact with the tip. With a deep, guttural moan, Junmyeon cum, bucking his hips into your mouth as he gripped your hair, his entire body shuddering. You took every drop of him, your throat working as you swallowed.

When Junmyeon finally slumped back into his seat, he was breathing heavily, a dazed look in his eyes. “Oh god,” he stared at you, his lips parted as he struggled to pull in air. “That mouth... you wanna kill me?”

You lifted your head, a triumphant smirk pulling at your lips. “That was good, wasn’t it?” you purred. You leaned across the console and kissed him hard, your tongue tracing the inside of his mouth. “But I can do it better.”

His eyes widened, and Junmyeon swallowed hard. Your fingers stroked his now-dripping cock again, firmly and with deliberate slowness. Junmyeon reached one hand out, gripping the steering wheel as if trying to anchor himself to keep from dissolving completely from the renewed arousal. Junmyeon groaned so loudly that a smile formed on your lips as you watched the last of his sanity slip away.

You leaned in, licking the tip, just a small, teasing taste. Junmyeon moaned again, still sensitive from the previous release, yet he made no attempt to pull away or stop you.

“Fuck—you feel…” he breathed, “so good... shit—”

You hollowed your cheeks slightly, drawing him deeper, stroking him while you sucked. His free hand returned to your hair, the grip gentle but firm enough to keep you steady. You knew your cunt was soaked; no need to check.

His cock throbbed under your tongue, his hips giving a slow, begging thrust. You could hear your name on his lips, sounding like a prayer, or perhaps his surrender. Your hand was slick with your own saliva and his precum, sliding faster and maintaining the pace.

“Babe—shit, I’m gonna cum,” Junmyeon groaned.

He was so close he couldn’t form a coherent word. You could feel it too, in the way his hand tightened at the back of your head, the slight twitch in his hips, the beginning spasms in his cock, the trembling of his thighs.

“Fuck—”

Your lips sucked down and licked the tip with excruciating slowness, a torturous moment for him, without stopping the frantic pace of your hand. A muffled cry escaped his lips before the thick, salty liquid reached your tongue, running down your lips, and trickling onto your chin. The powerful spasms in his cock forced him to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, right where his knuckles were white from holding on so tightly. Junmyeon moaned loudly, hoarsely, completely breathless.

Satisfied with his explosive orgasm, you licked every drop that fell from his cock. His swollen head and the powerful tremors that still ran through his body were proof of how utterly ruined Junmyeon was. You then cleaned your lips and chin, bringing your thumb to your skin and then to your mouth, wasting nothing.

Junmyeon looked up at you with wide, disoriented eyes, his mind struggling to process what had just happened, his body in total surrender. You looked up and smiled mischievously at him. The only noise inside the car was the sound of your tongue against your thumb and his heavy, ragged breathing.

“Well,” you said, your voice dripping with sweet mischief. “Next time, don’t you think it would be more fun to just wait for me inside?”

Junmyeon let out a weak chuckle, shaking his head. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

Junmyeon was a complete mess, panting against the steering wheel, his face flushed, and his hair delightfully disheveled.

Introduction

This day can’t get any worse.

Your flight is delayed. To make matters worse,you wish you were able to fly out during the day. Instead, you’re forced to fly in the evening since abandoning the class you teach in order to take a more convenient flight is frowned upon, generally. Even then, as you drive to the airport in rush hour traffic, you notice the progressive darkening of the sky as clouds hang low, heavy and full with unshed rain. And sure enough, as you wait in the gate, the first clap of thunder signals to you that you would be stuck here for a long, long time. 

As the flight is delayed for a second time, a full hour after your scheduled takeoff, your phone pings. 

Hi! Do you want to walk to the opening plenary together?

Stella, your first-year advisee, is a sweet girl, smart as a whip and knows more about occupational health than some people on your level, but she has what you affectionately call first-year clinginess, a tendency of first-years PhD students to hide behind their advisors in a mixture of both social anxiety and a hope for a networking opportunity. As if by sticking with you, they’ll magically be given the opportunity of a lifetime; a paper in a top-tier journal, or a tenure-track job at the most prestigious universities. 

Because that’s what these conferences are, right? People will say that they’re to discuss current research, share findings that will soon be published, “foster knowledge”, as some of the older faculty members who already have job security and respect in the field will say. But really, it’s clout-chasing. Shaking hands and swapping LinkedIn QR codes with people that you will most likely never speak to again. For most, it’s really about a socially acceptable environment to get shit-faced with a bunch of your other nerd friends and trying to find the bars that your students are not so likely to show up to. 

You remember being like Stella, being so anxious about conferences. You would attend a session every hour, try to strike up a conversation with the panelists afterwards, rehearse your elevator pitch every night in your hotel room. But now? You’re lucky if you even make it to more than one reception.

And to make matters worse, your field’s annual conference always conflicts with—

You roll your eyes and focus on the matter at hand. How childish. You begin to type back your response to Stella.

Sorry, my flight is delayed and I’m missing the plenary. I would walk with Kevin if you can find him!

Oh, okay. See you at lab lunch tomorrow!

It takes another hour, but your flight finally takes off. It’s impossible to get comfortable on the flight, because of course it is. Turbulence shakes you awake every time you start to doze off, and the motion makes it impossible for you to do anything productive on your laptop. The only thing you can do is stare at the back of the seat in front of you, praying that if the plane goes down, it will be a quick and merciful death. 

If only this were the end of your misfortunes for the day.

The Uber driver gets lost, and a missed turn adds about twenty minutes to your ride to the hotel. He even has the audacity to ask for your number at the end of it, a sickeningly sleazy smile on his face. By the time you’ve checked in, heading up the elevator to your room, you want nothing more than to just settle in between some crisp hotel sheets, melatonin working its way through your system, a long and dreamless night’s rest before you. 

But of course, because this is the day from hell, you just have to run into him. 

You’re just about to step into your room, literally one foot inside, when the room next door opens up and out walks Byun Baekhyun.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Baekhyun looks up at the sound of your voice. Just like that, his expression hardens, eyes narrowing in greeting. He looks at you like you’re not a person, rather, a problem to solve. He gets that look in his eye that he always gets when he’s thinking, the gears in his head whirring away. “Just getting in?” he asks, and you know you’re not imagining the slight judgment in his voice.

“My flight was delayed,” you say stiffly. “How was the plenary?”

“You know I don’t go to that,” he scoffs. “I’m heading out to dinner.”

“Judging me for just getting in while you’re actively playing hooky.” You tsk your tongue at him. “Honestly, where do you get the nerve?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “It’s networking.”

“You call everything networking.”

“At least I’m actually doing something productive with my time here instead of just hiding out in my hotel room or attending sessions. It’s a conference. Lighten up a little.” He turns on his heel and heads to the elevators, lifting a hand in goodbye. “See ya around! Or not.”

Fuming, you head into your hotel room. God you can’t stand him, haven’t been able to stand him for years. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you have to see him around year after year, especially on the one day a year you would actually like to be pleasant, now he’s your next door fucking neighbor. You close your eyes and exhale deeply through your nose. It’s fine, it’s fine, you tell yourself. He’s never ruined your birthday before, he wouldn’t start now. 

You open your eyes and meet your tired reflection in the mirror. As long as you keep to yourself, keep the interactions with Baekhyun confined to the conference itself, surely things would go smoothly.

“Surely,” you say out loud. The answering silence seems to mock your naivety.

Theoretical Background

You met Byun Baekhyun at your first ever conference. 

At your university’s reception, your advisor, Minseok, waved you over from where you were chattering politely with your cohort. “Come here,” he said, smiling warmly, his cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol. “I want to introduce you to a colleague of mine. This is—”

“Dr. Kim!” you exclaimed, then turned red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I really love your work, we have a lot of research interests in common.”

“Call me Junmyeon,” he said, laughing a bit in amusement. “And that’s what Minseok here was telling me. And this,” he waved over someone about your age, “is my first-year, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun smiled at you, and sometimes you think of this moment as the last time you ever thought of Baekhyun with anything other than deep-seated resentment and anger. He stuck out compared to you and the other first-years. Where you felt a bit more formal than the other faculty and professionals in the room, stiff and awkward, Baekhyun seemed more relaxed in his business-casual wear, hands buried in his pockets. “Nice to meet you,” he said coolly. He stuck his hand out to shake yours before resuming his casual posture.

“Maybe we can have a bit of a cross-university collaboration?” Minseok said. He nudged Junmyeon in the side. “Be a bit like the old days?”

“Will you sleep in the lab and pretend like you didn’t even though you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes?” 

The four of you laughed good-naturedly. Back then, you thought that this would be the beginning of a beautiful academic relationship, if not a genuine friendship.

That all fell apart the next morning.

You stood in front of your poster, anxiety and excitement bubbling in your chest. Your first conference! Your first poster! You engaged in some conversations with interested passerby, your pitch perfectly polished. It was going really well for the first half-hour.

And then Baekhyun came.

You’ll never forget the way that he squinted as he read your poster, lips moving as he read the words to himself. You don’t know why his approval mattered so much to you at that moment. Maybe it was because he had an advisor you looked up to, maybe it was because he actually knew the material, maybe it was just because you wanted a friend. It didn’t matter, anyway. All of these hopes and dreams fell by the wayside when he turned to you and said,

“This is wrong. Isn’t it?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “What do you mean?”

Baekhyun pointed at your results table. “Your interpretations suggest a full mediation. But there’s a partial mediation in your results, see? So it’s not fully capturing what you’re claiming is the takeaway.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Yeah, but a partial mediation is not insignificant. I say that future research should focus on finding the other explanations for the direct pathway.”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I dunno. It kinda seems like too simple an explanation. Partial mediation is just the easy way of saying, ‘We were wrong.’ Also, you know that this is an outdated concept? Like they’re calling for the complete overhaul of it.”

You had not, in fact, known that. 

You felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment as your mind clambered for something intelligent to say, some sort of comeback that would save this entire interaction. But your treacherous mind couldn’t, so instead, you just gaped at him. 

Baekhyun pursed his lips, seemingly amused at your silence. “I have some ideas about how you can improve the design, we could talk about it sometime. Especially since these days, cross-sectional research isn’t considered good enough for publication.”

You watched as he turned away, already scrutinizing the poster next to yours before you could even reply. Isn’t considered good enough. The words echoed, bouncing around your skull. 

Not good enough, not good enough.

The words followed you through the rest of the day, distracting you from the sessions you attended. You forgot people’s names the moment you met them, leading you to try and look at their name tags without them noticing. They even followed you all the way to the next morning, when you found yourself back in the poster hall. At the time, you told yourself that it was just total coincidence that you found yourself in front of Baekhyun’s poster, but the reality probably was that his name in the agenda had caught your eye and you hyperfixated on it, your body able to carry you there without you even realizing. 

His poster was good. Really good. Thorough, with advanced statistics to back it up. Impressive implications for both academics and practitioners. It didn’t seem like the work of a first-year, no, it was very, very advanced.

Baekhyun turned to you after wrapping up a conversation with another passerby. “Whad’ya think?” he beamed.

It’s good, you thought. But that sinking, icky feeling from yesterday rose like bile in your throat. You sought for something, anything to pick apart on his poster, to bring him down to where he had left you. He looked at you expectantly, smugly, as if he knew. As if he knew what you were trying to do, and that you were unable to do it.

Aha.

“I think your theoretical argument is a little weak. I can think of two other theories that are stronger and point to what you’re actually looking at. For example, have you heard of Work-Home Resources Theory?”

Baekhyun blinked. “Uh… is it similar to Conservation of Resources?”

You nod enthusiastically, your voice picking up speed and volume as you talk, as it always does when you’re excited. “It’s similar, but better. It’s a more optimistic view of the way people treat their resources, rather than from a depletion and conservation standpoint.”

He opened his mouth, then stopped. His eyes sharpened and the gears in his head turned, turned, turned. “Optimism doesn’t make a theory better. Look, if this is about yesterday, I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, I was just suggesting—”

“I’m just making a suggestion too,” you cut in. “This theory takes macro and micro resources into account, as well as the personal resources that an individual builds up over time. If you want to do research that’s more connected with the broader context, you have to take all of those things into consideration.” 

You hated the words coming out of your mouth, a mixture of nonsensical buzzwords that the try-hards around you used to sound smart. 

But you loved the look on Baekhyun’s face even more. 

“You—” For a moment, you saw past his polished yet comfortable attitude, revealing something rawer, electric, inside. The side that all academics had that no one wanted to admit to. Pure, ugly, ego. But just as fast as it had appeared, it melted away, sinking back into the depths of his psyche. “I think we can have a more productive conversation about this some other time, yeah?”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure. Anytime.”

You never did have that conversation, and a pattern of constantly trying to one up the other formed. The next year, he returned to your poster, poked holes in your argument with that same smug smile. When he spoke at his first panel, you were in the front row, asking way too many difficult questions. It got so commonplace that when Minseok made you practice your presentations, he asked you to imagine what Baekhyun would say. 

This rivalry continued after school as well, as both of you landed assistant professor positions upon graduation. When you won an early career award, Baekhyun was awarded a prestigious grant. When he landed a publication in your field’s top journal, you secured popular press coverage. It was a never-ending cycle, and neither of you were ahead for long enough to get comfortable before the other person overtook them.

Something your students asked you sometimes when they were in the depths of despair, an experiment that wouldn’t work or a fourth round of revisions, was what motivated you to keep going. You fed them the same bullshit answers that anyone would. Doing this research is meaningful or We’re actively contributing to knowledge or even It’s worth it to mentor students like you. All of these things were true to you, in some way and in varying degrees.

But the real truth, the dirty, bitter truth? What kept you going when it was time to be nice to your hostile administration, or deal with an undergrad who was bitter about you not rounding their grade from a C- to an A, or stay up all night writing a new manuscript? It was the look on Baekhyun’s face when you saw him next when he knew you were two steps ahead of him. Nothing pleased you more than the thinly veiled annoyance on his face, the begrudging pleasantries that he was forced to offer you in the company of your peers. You hated him. And that’s what kept you going.

And there was nothing, nothing that could happen that could change your mind.

Methods

You wake up to your phone buzzing on the hotel nightstand. Groggily, you reach out blindly and accept the call without even seeing who it is. “Hello?” you croak into the receiver.

“Happy birthday, my favorite student!” Minseok chirps.

“Minseok, I already know that you call all of your students that.” You yawn, groaning slightly when you look at the time. “And thank you. It means a lot that you remembered.”

“First off, you’re all my favorite students, so it’s not like I’m lying to you. And second, of course I remembered, who do you think I am? I know you hate it when I mention your birthday at the conference so I figured this was the next best thing.”

“At seven in the morning, though?”

“Conference starts at eight~” he sings. “Anyways, we need to catch up! Lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure. But please don’t make me pick the place.”

“I already have the reservation. I’ll see you around!”

You sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. You had definitely hoped to sleep in for another half hour but at this rate you’d never be able to fall back asleep. You get ready lazily, taking breaks to reply to birthday messages from your family and friends. Despite what your introverted tendencies at conferences may have people believe, you actually have a bustling, active social life. You just choose to keep it separate from work, especially this week. It was the best this way, since conferences had a tendency of turning you into someone that you didn’t particularly like being 24/7. 

You’d tried that once. It hadn’t ended well.

The convention center is just a short walk from the hotel, so you breathe in the fresh, unfamiliar air as you try to blink the sleep away from your eyes. There’s a winding river in between your hotel and the convention center, and as you pass over the stone bridge, you take a moment to look out at the body of water for a moment of peace. If you had the energy for it, you’d like to explore the city, but right now you’re just trying to take it one day at a time. 

As you climb the steps to the convention center, a wave of anxiety suddenly floods through you. What if I don’t see anyone I recognize? What if I do? What if I don’t remember someone’s name but they clearly remember mine? You try to laugh it off as you wrap your hand around the door handle. These are such student thoughts. Surely you’re seasoned enough at this point to know how to do these things. You ignore the fact that there’s still a pit of unease in your stomach, settling to the bottom like a rock in water.

It’s busy, overlapping chatter from dozens of small conversations in the lobby. You don’t immediately recognize anyone you know, and you’re unsure of whether this is a good or a bad thing. You’re looking over the agenda for the morning when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi!”

Stella looks very polished in her crisp blazer and button-down, but you can see a slight nervousness in her eyes, that flighty, overwhelmed look that you used to recognize in your own reflection as a younger student. “Hi, Stella. Are you ready for today?”

“I guess so,” she chirps. “Are you attending any of the sessions this morning?”

“We’ll see,” you say. “I might have a meeting with some colleagues later but I’ll definitely see you at lunch later.” A bold faced lie, but she doesn’t need to know that. “What sessions did you have in mind?”

“I was looking at this one,” she says, pointing at the timeslot in the agenda. “It sounds interesting.”

“Oof,” says a voice that appears to your right. “Well I know you won’t be going to that.”

“Good morning, Kevin,” you say. Kevin, your other advisee, is just like any fourth year PhD student: extremely jaded, chronically tired, and completely fucking over it. “Keep your voice down, hm? We’re not in the lab right now.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” he says matter-of-factly. “Everyone in this room would probably lose their shit if they saw you enter that room.”

“What’s wrong with this session?” Stella says, voice hushed and eyes wide.

“Nothing at all,” you reply. “You should go if it sounds interesting to you.”

“Dr. Byun’s student is on the panel, so he’ll probably be in the room,” Kevin says bluntly. 

Even Stella, who hasn’t been a part of this world for even a full year, knows enough to nod solemnly, lips pursed. “Well, I don’t have to go to that, then.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Kevin says quickly. For all his brashness, he at least has a soft spot for her. “I think you should go. It’s not like we have to have an alliance against him.” He casts a sideways glance towards you. “Right?”

You sigh. “No, there’s no alliance. This isn’t a clique, it’s research. You should go.”

Kevin snickers. “Just don’t look Dr. Byun in the eyes. He can smell weakness.”

Stella gulps.

You make it through the morning without attending any sessions, successfully avoiding any wayward conversations until it’s time for lunch. The restaurant is beautiful and bustling with people in businesswear, but luckily you don’t recognize anyone directly. The three of you are seated by a wall of mirrors, reflecting the dining room behind you. Stella looks through the menu with a concerned eye. “All of this is really…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’s my treat.”

“...Alcohol too?” she asks softly.

“Welcome to grad school,” Kevin says. “We get paid dirt for five years so you might as well get some free drinks when your advisor’s offering.”

Some faculty might bristle at Kevin’s bluntness, but you welcome it with open arms. It wasn’t long ago anyway since Kevin was exactly where Stella was, nervous and overly polite (as hard as that is to believe). Since your first student graduated, you know that he’s been jumping at the chance to be a mentor. Even if it’s in his own, less than savory way. 

You don’t get a chance to decide whether or not to chastise him before the server approaches the table. “Welcome in, may I start you all off with any drinks today?” she asks.

“Yes, can I just get a mimosa to start with?” you say.

“Can I see some ID?” 

You pull it out for her and wince when she gasps. Shit. “Happy birthday!” she says.

“It’s your birthday?!” Kevin and Stella say in unison.

You put your finger to your lips to shush them. They finish ordering their drinks before they turn their attention back to you. “Happy birthday!” Stella says.

“How come you’ve never mentioned that it’s your birthday before?” Kevin asks. 

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” you reply. “I still don’t.”

“Well… we can pay for lunch if you want,” Stella chirps, ignoring Kevin’s glare.

You smile. “That’s very sweet of you but all I want for my birthday is to pay for your lunches and to not mention it anymore.”

Lunch continues smoothly. You like spending time with your students outside of the lab meetings or campus in general. The conversation drifts into work sometimes, but not often enough to make it seem like an official meeting. Instead, they talk about their lives: what they plan to see in the city outside of conference hours, what their summer plans are, the latest social media thing that you’re blissfully unaware of. It reminds you of your lunches with Minseok when you were in their shoes, and that thought comforts you. It tells you that you’re on the right track, that you’re doing something right with your life.

Kevin’s eyes dart behind you and a shadow of annoyance flickers across his face. “Don’t look now,” he mutters.

You don’t even have to. Baekhyun’s loud, corrosive laugh is warning enough before you see his reflection pass in the mirror in front of you. He’s here with his students too, all seven of them. Of course, ever the overachiever, he didn’t stop at accepting one grad student a year (already a considerable task given that each student needs and deserves enough attention to feel like they’re thriving). He sometimes accepted multiple per cycle, so even without counting any undergraduate research assistants, the size of his lab is easily one of the largest in your field. 

“I wonder if his students are happy,” Kevin hums as they pass. “There’s gotta be some serious favoritism, right?”

“Actually, I met one of his first years at the plenary last night,” Stella says. “She said that Dr. Byun gives them all equal attention, and he’s a really great advisor.” She wilts under Kevin’s stare. “What? I thought we said there were no alliances?”

“There aren’t,” you say pointedly. You pick at the edges of your food, trying to hide the loss of your appetite. 

“Am I… allowed to ask what happened?” Stella says timidly. “Like, is he abusive? Is he someone I should watch out for?”

You sigh. “Baekhyun and I have a complicated history. He is not abusive, and he does good science. If you ever want to collaborate with him, or with any of his students, that is your choice and you are free to do so. I just ask that you don’t involve me.”

Kevin leans over and cups the side of his mouth, whispering exaggeratedly. “That’s professional speak for he’s super smart but he’s a massive asshole.”

On your way out of the restaurant, you pass by Baekhyun’s table. A couple of his students notice you and immediately exchange glances with each other, but for the most part, you slip by undetected.

Or so you think. 

At the last second before exiting the building, Baekhyun coolly looks at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in an infuriating smirk. Bye, he mouths, winking. 

You resist the urge to punch him in the face.

“We definitely need to chat, I just loved your latest paper. Do you want to grab dinner with some friends and me tonight?” 

You nod, lips closed tightly as you swallow the mouthful of champagne. This reception has gone on long enough, you think, even if Jongin, the newest addition to your faculty, is genuinely good company. “I’m actually going to call it an early night tonight, I’m afraid. I don’t quite have the energy of you young kids anymore.”

Jongin laughs. “Well, at least I’ll be close to tenure when I’m where you’re at. I’ll take going to bed early for some job security any time. We should schedule lunch when we get back then?”

“Sure,” you smile, weariness hanging around the edges of your eyes. “Well, good night. Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

You say a quick goodbye to Stella and Kevin before hurrying out the doors and into the cool night. These are the moments of conferences that you like the most: wandering around the streets in a new city alone, alternating between looking at a map on your phone and trying to commit the surrounding streets to memory. You pause by the river again, the water now reflecting a deep midnight shade. It’s nice to have just a moment to yourself, a quiet few seconds where you don’t need to worry about looking professional. You continue on your way, ducking into a local convenience store right next to the hotel to find what you’re looking for: a small, personal birthday cake. The frosting is a little lumpy and the price is maybe a bit too high for what you’re getting, but it will do for tonight.

As you make your way back to the room, you’re too distracted by scrolling through your delivery app to find some takeout for dinner to notice that Baekhyun’s in the hallway.

“Already heading in?”

You nearly drop your phone in shock, narrowing your eyes when you see who it is. He’s already changed out of his business casual clothes and into a sweater and dark jeans.

“Skipping the receptions?” you ask. 

“The one for my university was last night.”

“I thought you went to dinner last night.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know there was a one social event limit per night. Are you my mom now?”

“Nice comeback. Didn’t realize we were in elementary school,” you sneer. 

Baekhyun peers around you, peeking into the plastic bag in your arms. “What’s that? Drugs?”

You laugh sharply. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t share. Go find your own.”

He grins lopsidedly, leaning his arm against the wall. “C’mon, just one peek? I wanna know what you’re getting up to that’s so good you won’t join any of the festivities tonight.”

His tone brings about a burst of anger in you. Usually you’re immune to his antics but it’s your birthday and you’re tired and all you want to do is sit on the floor of this hotel room and eat your cake in some peace and quiet. “It’s actually none of your fucking business,” you spit. 

Your outburst surprises him. You can see it on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together, lips parting ever so slightly. For all the backhanded compliments and petty arguments, you’ve never actually raised your voices at each other. He recovers quickly, running a hand through his hair, though his voice is hard enough to cut. “Well, whatever. Have fun holing up and being a hermit while the rest of us humans actually interact.”

That does it. Something deep within you snaps. Your annoyance overflows, bubbling up to the surface until you’re sure that your face is bright red. You press your keycard to the door and open it, shoving one foot in the doorway while you have one last word. “You know, I’d rather be anti-social and be by myself than spend my birthday with a fucking asshole like you, who thinks you’re better than everyone else just because your h-index is higher. Christ.”

The last thing you see before the door slams shut is the look of pure shock on Baekhyun’s face.

You take a shower just how you like it: scalding hot and incredibly long. While you’re in there, the frustrations of the whole interaction melts away. You’re actually a tad disappointed in yourself. It’s fun to make witty digs back and forth in the middle of a convention center. It’s not so fun to blow up at him, emotions vulnerable and on full display.

You’re in the middle of drying your hair and trying to come up with ways to get back at him when there’s a soft knock on the door. 

Baekhyun looks like a kicked puppy. You can practically imagine his tail tucked between his legs, ears flattened low against his head. In one hand, he holds a bottle of wine and in the other, a plastic bag of takeout.

“This is for you,” he says softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

You regard him for a moment. You have a chance here to reject him, make him feel as awful as he made you feel. You could slam the door in his face and tell him to shove that wine bottle up his ass. But…

He looks up, dark eyes shining with real remorse. Not even a hint of the smug superiority that you’re so used to seeing reflected back at you. 

You reach out and take the items from him. “Thank you,” you say. And against your better judgment, you open the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows. “Oh. I didn’t think you wanted me here. I only got enough food for one. But I have some leftovers that I can grab and I can eat with you if you want.”

“Sure.” He runs next door to his room and the thought settles in that you’re about to spend your birthday dinner with Byun Baekhyun. Past you would never have imagined that it would come to this. Hell, the you from this morning would never have imagined that it would come to this. 

You eye the leftover container in his hands when he returns, identical to the one that you’re currently holding. “Is this from the same place?” 

“Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “It’s really good! I got you something different though, I remember you don’t like pork.”

“You… remember that?” You remember making some offhand comment about it years ago when he was in earshot, but it’s something that most people don’t really remember, let alone Byun Baekhyun.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I have a really good memory,” he says.

You settle onto the floor across from each other and start digging into your food. The food is really good, and it is nice to have someone with you for your birthday, you suppose. But…

This whole thing is horrifically awkward.

What do you even say to someone who you’ve only spent making passive-aggressive digs at for the better part of a decade who suddenly decides to be nice for a change? After you compliment the food and he agrees with you, awkward silence descends over the two of you like a dark cloud. You don’t know where to look— at him? The food in front of you? The floor? Even Baekhyun, who you’ve never seen fumble at a social interaction in his life, seems to be at a loss for words.

“This is… awkward, right?” you say finally, breaking the tense bubble.

He laughs in relief, the tension in his shoulders releasing. He finally fully meets your gaze. “I’m glad you said something about it. I don’t do very well when it’s quiet.”

“I’m used to it,” you say. “I’ve grown to like it a lot.”

Baekhyun frowns slightly. “How come you never told anyone that it’s your birthday? We have the same circles and no one even mentioned it.”

You shrug. “I’ve always accepted that the conference will coincide with it, and everyone’s always so busy with different meetings and session prep if I’m not busy myself. I just decided that it’s better to not take away from it and just wait to celebrate properly when I’m home with my friends and family. Minseok knows and that’s about it.”

He nods. “Oh, that’s good. I thought that—”

“You thought I was gonna be sitting in here feeling sorry for myself because I had no one to celebrate my birthday with?”

“Well… yeah, kinda,” he says helplessly. 

“I have friends, Baekhyun. They’re just not in academia.”

He hums, looking back down at his food. “Wonder what that’s like.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, so you fall back into silence, only this time it doesn’t feel so oppressive. A few minutes pass before he speaks again.

“You know…” he says sharply.  “I don’t look down on people if my h-index is higher than theirs.”

You stifle the urge to laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, really. Besides, yours is higher than mine.”

Now you laugh. “Oh, so you care enough to know whose is higher, though.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but a smile settles on his face. “Just with you,” he replies easily. “I only care if it’s you.”

“Glad to know the feeling is mutual.” You take another bite of your food before the next thing to say pops in your mind. “Congrats on the Nature publication, by the way.”

“Thanks.” He pauses. “That’s it? No snarky comment?”

“I’m feeling generous. It’s my birthday after all.”

Baekhyun smirks. “We’ll see how you feel when the Nature paper bumps my h-index up. Then you’ll probably write a commentary hit piece on it calling it juvenile.”

“Come on, you know I wouldn’t. I’d rather just wait until next year and give you a couple of jabs here and there.”

“You’re right,” he smiles crookedly. “You wouldn’t do anything that would require any extra work.”

You fake a gasp. “Maybe I will write a commentary piece then.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

You hold his gaze defiantly for a few seconds before you sigh. “I can’t. It’s actually a really good paper, Baekhyun.”

The corner of his mouth twitches before settling into a genuine smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“It helps that you cited me too.”

“Yeah, well.” He waves his hand in the air. “Something something, you’re one of the leading scholars in this research area, something something.”

“Aw, Byun,” you coo. “You almost said something nice about me.”

He snorts. “Don’t get used to it. Anyways, what was in the bag? I’m kind of hoping it’s drugs now.”

“Don’t get too excited.” You fish in the bag and pull out the cake. “You want a slice?”

“Fuck yeah, I want a slice. Do you want me to sing for you?”

“Please, no.”

He pouts. “You’ve never even heard me sing. Some have described it as life-changing.”

“Baekhyun, I can barely handle your academic ego on a good day, please don’t have one about other things too.”

“Okay, fine. I won’t sing if you promise to go out with me tomorrow.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Out? Like…?”

“Oh my God, please, don’t make it weird,” he says quickly. “Me, Chanyeol, whoever else wants to come. You can even invite someone if you want. If you don't, I'm gonna sing happy birthday to you at the top of my lungs.”

“I don’t know Baek—”

“HAPPY—”

“Okay, okay! I’ll come. Shut your fucking mouth or you don’t get any cake.” 

He laughs, really laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling up around the edges in an endearing way. You roll your eyes when he pushes the clean side of his takeout container forward, eagerly snapping his mouth shut in an exaggerated manner, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. 

Results

Something’s… different.

You feel lighter, more at ease. You navigate the conference with less pressure on your shoulders, waving to people that you recognize and not even feeling a pit of dread when the more eager ones stop you to talk. You even sit in on a random session just because it looked interesting. When was the last time you did that?

Minseok notices this too. “You seem really good,” he remarks on the walk back to the convention center after a pleasant lunch. “Conference treating you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you say. “I went to this really good session about empathy in the workplace for different work-family conflicts. It gave me a little idea for a potential study.”

Minseok nearly stops in his tracks, eyes wide. “Okay. Who are you?”

“Careful,” you joke. “Or I won’t ask you to advise.”

“Ah, there you are,” he replies, falling back into step beside you. “But seriously, I’m happy for you if this is what you want. Don’t force yourself to go too far.”

“I won’t.”

“Seriously.” He looks at you solemnly. “I worry about you sometimes, you know? I don’t want what happened in your fourth year to happen again.”

You wince. “It won’t, okay? I promise that I’m doing this because I want to.”

He sighs. “Alright, I trust you. Hey, is that…?”

You follow his gaze and your stomach turns. It’s Baekhyun, because of course it is, and he’s heading directly towards you. 

Before last night, you would have handled this the way you always have: a stiff nod of the head, some backhanded comment about his latest achievement, and then off on your merry way. It’s gotten so common that Minseok knows not to scold you for it anymore. But now you don’t quite know where things stand. 

You think that maybe you’d just pass by each other in awkward silence before Baekhyun decides how to handle the interaction for you. He stops in front of you and…

Smiles.

“Hey,” he says. “Hi, Dr. Kim. Having a good conference?”

“Hello, Baekhyun,” Minseok replies. If he’s surprised by the friendly atmosphere, he’s doing a really good job at hiding it. “Yes, I’m having a good time. I was surprised to see you’re not presenting this year.”

“Yeah, I decided to take a more supportive role for my students this time. I think this is my first conference ever not presenting. It feels a bit strange, to be honest.”

“You’re wearing glasses,” you blurt out. 

The thin, wire frames sit prettily on the bridge of his nose, and you had never known of their existence in all those years of knowing him. He touches the side of the frames somewhat self-consciously and chuckles. 

“I didn’t get a chance to put my night contacts in last night,” he says sheepishly. “I don’t really like wearing them out, but hey, what can you do? By the way, we haven’t decided a place for tonight yet but let me get your number so I can text you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” You pass your phone to Baekhyun and let him text himself, ignoring the way that Minseok’s gaze is currently burning holes into the side of your head. You keep studying Baekhyun’s glasses. It’s weird how something like this seems to change not only his appearance, but the entire image that you had of him in your head. It’s not like you expected him to be static all this time, to be the same year after year, but… maybe you did, actually. 

“I’ll try to let you know as soon as I can,” he says, handing your phone back, completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring. “Bye, Dr. Kim.”

As soon as Baekhyun’s passed you, Minseok clears his throat. “Do I want to know?”

“There’s nothing to know,” you say.

“Right.”

The lounge is an upscale one, one where you have to squint at the menu to read it in the candlelight or risk the social awkwardness of pulling out your phone flashlight. The pages are full of wildly inventive cocktails with ingredient pairings only someone with way too much time on their hands would think to put together. It’s a strange group gathered here: you and Baekhyun, sworn academic enemies until about 24 hours ago; Chanyeol, someone you vaguely remember as being from Baekhyun’s graduate cohort; and Jongin, who nearly tripped over himself with excitement when you invited him along. 

“I wish Baekhyun didn’t veto my suggestion of the club down the street,” Chanyeol frowns, taking a sip of his drink. “Places like these make me feel so stuffy.”

“Well, that’s the most popular club in the city, and I’m sorry for not wanting to see my students blackout drunk,” Baekhyun snorts. He’s changed out of his conference clothes, swapping his button down shirt for a black turtleneck that even you have to admit makes him look really good. The candlelight glints off the metal of his glasses, constantly drawing your attention to them. “I think that’s taking the advisor-advisee relationship a bit too far.” 

“Should have just gone applied like me,” Chanyeol says. “Don’t have to worry about students, don’t have to teach classes, I make about twice as much as you…”

“It’s not all about the money,” Jongin pipes up. “What about, y’know… fulfillment?”

Chanyeol laughs and claps Jongin on the back good-naturedly. “Oh, to be young again.”

“Blech. No more job talk.” Baekhyun leans forward and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, smiling wickedly. “So, Jongin,” he says, jerking his head towards you. “What’s it like working with her? Is she as much of a hard-ass on everyone as I think she is?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need to answer that, Jongin.”

“No she’s— you’re really great.” Jongin smiles. “It’s only my first year, and she really helped me a lot with the adjustment. She even helped me pick my first incoming advisee for the fall when I couldn’t decide.”

“Aw,” Baekhyun coos. Jongin isn’t fluent enough in Baekhyun-isms to know he’s being made fun of, so you shoot him a dirty look from across the table. “How cute.”

“And she sings really well too.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows lift. “Oh? You sing around the office?”

Your ears burn bright red as Jongin continues, oblivious to your embarrassment. “No, we went to a karaoke bar one night after the conference submission deadline. Of course I sounded like a dying bird, but she really killed it.”

“Karaoke bar?” Chanyeol perks up. “We should go to one right now!”

“No,” you and Baekhyun say flatly in unison. 

“Can I at least buy us a round of shots if you’re not going to be any fun?” Chanyeol whines. 

“Sure, Yeol.” Something unreadable passes through Baekhyun’s expression, a slight flicker in the dark. “Make them doubles.”

“So… Jongin seems nice.”

The night air is cool, not holding any of the humidity present during the day. You and Baekhyun walk side by side through the back roads, away from the hustle and bustle of the main areas where other tourists and conference-goers roam. You can see your hotel just a block away. Your feet are killing you in your heels, but you resist the urge to take them off and walk the rest of the way barefoot. Somehow that seems too… intimate in front of Baekhyun.

“Hm? Yeah, he’s nice. A little skittish, but who isn’t during their first year?”

“You were?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I always pictured that you entered that university and made everyone your bitch. Professionally, I mean.”

You laugh. “Well, no. I was a nervous wreck. I kept napping in my office because I would get so stressed during teaching that I would just crash after.”

Baekhyun nods. “And you hang out with him… casually?” 

“Just the one time. Why?”

“I dunno. I guess I’m so used to picturing you one way that it’s weird when there’s evidence to the contrary.”

“What, like, you picture me as some kind of girlboss, takes no shit from anyone, eats manuscripts for breakfast?”

“Well… yeah, kinda.” Baekhyun holds the front door of the hotel open for you. “So hearing about you going to karaoke with Pretty Boy back there kinda messes with my head.”

You stop in your tracks and glare at him. 

“What?” he asks, oblivious.

You scoff, taking off towards the elevators. Baekhyun stalks after you, calling your name. “What the fuck did I say this time?” he huffs.

“If you’re implying that there’s something unprofessional going on between Jongin and I then you’re way out of fucking line,” you say harshly. 

“Hold on, I wasn’t accusing you of anything. It was just an observation.”

The elevator dings and the two of you get in. You all but punch the button for your floor. “Just because it’s an observation doesn’t make you any less of a dick,” you mutter.

Baekhyun throws his hands up. “I’m sorry for just stating the obvious.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “The obvious?”

He laughs dryly. “Don’t be stupid. He clearly wants you.”

“Oh wow. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”

“The kid was practically drooling hanging onto your every word. So, my bad for thinking that something was going on there.”

The elevator doors open and you rush off to your room, but Baekhyun’s hot on your heels. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure if the two of you wanted to have a salacious affair it wouldn’t be a big deal, just don’t fuck on campus.”

You whirl around. “Jongin and I are just coworkers. And even if we weren’t, what’s the big deal? Is it that unfathomable to you that someone would find me attractive?”

“Well, of course it’s not.”

You freeze. Suddenly, your heartrate feels like it’s tripled, thudding in your ribcage. “What?”

“You heard me. Of course Jongin finds you attractive.”

You wait for the other shoe to drop, for the punch line to this cruel prank. But it never comes. He just stares at you earnestly, gaze brimming with something dangerous beneath the surface. 

“If this is a joke, this is really mean, Baekhyun,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This isn’t a joke.” He takes a step closer. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Of course Jongin finds you attractive, because you are really fucking hot.” He slowly reaches out to cup his hand around your arm, drawing you even closer to him. “Especially when you’re pissed,” he whispers.

“You’re drunk,” you say incredulously.

“Stone cold sober. Do I seem drunk to you?”

He doesn’t, and that’s what scares you. He seems as sharp as he always is, the gears in his head whirring away. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were eyeing me earlier when I ran into you and Minseok.”

You gape at him. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I noticed. You were shameless.” 

“Shut up,” you whisper, but your voice doesn’t hold any heat in it anymore. 

He draws in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His hands travel down to your waist, hovering on the edge between polite and uncharted territory. “Just tell me how badly you want this. If you don’t, I’ll go to my room and we will never speak of this again. Promise.”

You swallow. Your head is spinning, heartbeat stuttering. You feel like every breath you take is much too loud in the silent hallway. He lets out an exhale, his warm breath traveling across your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

You don’t know why you say the next three words. All you know is that it’s true. 

“I want this,” you whisper.

Baekhyun crashes his lips against yours, your back hitting the wall. It’s a messy, frantic kiss, hungry and possessive. Your breath hitches in surprise as your brain tries to catch up with your body, your arms wrapping around his neck. You kiss him back with equal fervor, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

His mouth travels lower, down your jawline, sucking on the delicate skin behind your ear. “Baekhyun,” you murmur. “Inside.” You scramble around blindly for your keycard in your pocket and tap it against the door, unable to untangle yourself from him for even a second.

The moment you’re inside he’s pulling at your top, clumsily tearing it off your body as he walks you backwards towards the bed, the backs of your knees hitting the mattress. You fall backwards onto the sheets, chest heaving as you look up at him. “God,” he says raggedly, staring at your body with ravenous desire. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Hurry up and fuck me,” you pant. 

“So mouthy,” he huffs. He slips his ring and middle fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue. “Get them wet for me.”

You swirl your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as if they were his cock. He stares at you, jaw going slack. With his other hand, he fumbles with your pants and underwear, pulling them down past your thighs just enough for him to slip his hand through. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, spit trailing across your chin, before he slips them inside your cunt.

You exhale breathily as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, leaning down to leave kisses all over your neck and chest. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close to you as the pleasure builds, the slick squelching sounds of your wetness growing louder and louder. Still, even as electricity starts to thrum in your blood, you refuse to give in entirely to the feeling, your lips pressed shut in a thin, firm line. Call it pride, call it ego, but you refuse to let Byun Baekhyun of all fucking people earn your moans and praise so easily.

“You’re holding back,” he calls you out. He switches the angle of his hand, grinding your clit with the heel of his palm with every thrust. “What do I have to do to hear you, hm? You want my mouth?”

“Just do better, maybe,” you bite back, raising an eyebrow. 

In a flash he’s off of you, tugging your clothes completely off of your body and discarding them somewhere on the floor. You don’t even get the chance to be self-conscious about being fully bare in front of him. He simply bends you in half, your thighs to your chest, and buries his tongue into your pussy without preamble.

“Holy fuck!” you cry out, hooking your hands around the back of your knees to hold yourself open for him. It’s sudden, your body jerking with the shock, eyes squeezing shut.

“There she is,” Baekhyun murmurs, clearly pleased with himself. His fingers resume their position deep inside of you, parting his fingers slightly to make room for his tongue between them. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you gasp, chest heaving with exertion. The onslaught of sensation is so intense, more intense than anything you’ve ever felt before. He’s messy, spreading your wetness all over your inner thighs, but skilled. He alternates between sticking his tongue inside of you, to giving hard licks against your clit, to sucking on the sensitive nub. You look down at him to find that he’s just as wrecked as you feel, eyes half-lidded, nose and lips dripping wet, glasses askew. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging harshly at a particular devastating suck.

He groans, eyes rolling back briefly before he changes the angles of his fingers again. This time, he hits your sweet spot dead on, your back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, right there, right there,” you whimper. You struggle to hold your legs open as he hits it again, and again, each time increasing the overwhelming tidal wave building inside of you. “I’m gonna cum,” you manage to choke out before your orgasm overtakes you, rolling through you in waves of white-hot fire. You drown in it, sparks behind your eyelids as it sears through your blood, body trembling like a livewire under his touch.

Baekhyun stands and strips himself quickly, stepping out of his clothes before climbing back onto the bed. He urges you to roll onto your stomach, propping your hips up with a pillow. You turn your head back to look at him as he settles over your thighs. “Keep them on,” you say hurriedly when he lifts his hand to take his glasses off.

He smirks. “Oh? Why’s that?” 

“You’re such an egomaniac, oh my God.”

SMACK. You jolt as his hand strikes the skin of your ass, a surprised moan ripping from your throat. “Don’t think I won’t walk out of here,” Baekhyun warns, soothing the reddening skin with his hand.

“Oh, please,” you deadpan, even as your skin tingles. “You need this just as badly as I do.”

“Maybe,” he replies. He spreads you apart and teases your hole with the head of his cock. “But judging by how fuckin’ wet you are, I’d guess that you need this pretty fucking bad. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You don’t get to reply before he’s pushing all the way in, sheathing himself fully inside you. You both gasp in tandem, your head dropping forward onto the sheets as he pulls back out all the way, torturously slow. 

“Tell me how badly you want this,” he says, thrusting the tip of his cock in shallowly. 

“Seriously?” you whine.

He drapes himself all the way over you, his chest pressing against your back. He reaches around with one arm and holds you in a headlock, your neck stabilized between his forearm and bicep. His breath is hot against your ear, voice pitched low and gravelly.

“I said…” he murmurs, pushing the blunt head of his cock back inside of you inch by inch. “Tell me how fucking badly you want me to ruin you.”

Your head is reeling, so dizzy with want that you can’t even care anymore about keeping up this facade. You try to arch into him but he presses down on your hip firmly with his free hand. “I need it so bad,” you breathe. “Please.”

He kisses your temple and chuckles lowly. “Good girl.” He winds back and buries himself inside you, slamming his hips against yours. He lets go of your throat and pins your wrists behind your back, holding them down firmly.

You bite the covers beneath you in an effort to not be too loud, but you know deep down it’s all in vain. “Fuck, Baekhyun,” you moan, voice muffled. “More.”

“More?” he laughs breathily, upping the pace of his hips. “So greedy.” 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to feel the crest of your orgasm beginning to form. You squirm, hips wriggling underneath his weight to no avail. He has you firmly underneath him, and the thought just turns you on that much more. 

“I’m getting close,” you whimper.

You feel his hand in your hair as he presses your face into the mattress, slightly cutting off your air flow as he pounds into you. Your head grows fuzzy, voice pitching higher and higher until all that comes out are choked, pathetic whimpers. “Baek—” you mewl. The searing feeling low in your gut is hot enough to burn. “Close— please.” 

He suddenly jerks your head up, pulling your body taut. You gulp in air greedily, the sudden shift in the angle bringing about your second orgasm with an unprecedented ferocity. You shake in his grasp, mouth falling open as your body succumbs to the sensation. 

He flips you over onto your back and enters you once again, your thighs twitching through the aftershocks. Now that you can fully see his face, you can see just how wrecked he truly is. For all his taunting dirty talk, he seems just barely holding it together, a fucked-out, intense expression on his face. His hair damp with sweat, cheeks and ears flushed pink, glasses hanging low on his nose. It sends a thrill through you, seeing him like this, a sick sort of satisfaction blooming within you that comes from the knowledge that he’s just as desperate as you are. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he rasps, looking down at where your bodies are connected. You’re soaked, fluid slickening both of your inner thighs, a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock. It’s so dirty but you can’t look away, can’t stop watching his cock slide in and out of you, the fluid roll of his hips, the tensing in his thigh muscles with each movement. 

“Feels so good,” you whimper, drawing him close to connect your lips with his.  “You’re fucking me so— mm, so deep.”

He shudders, hips stuttering. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

“You like that?” You rake your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands at the nape of his neck. “You like it when I tell you you’re doing a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. I like it, shit.”

Your nails drag lightly down the sides of his neck, over his collarbone and down the expanse of his chest. “Good boy,” you coo, emboldened by his sudden gasp at the pet name. Your nail passes gently over his nipple, catching slightly over the raised bud.

“O-Oh, fuck,” he keens suddenly, tucking his head against his chest. His words are slightly slurred, drunk on the sensations, drunk on you. “I’m not gonna last long if you do that again.”

You hook your legs around his waist, locking him against you. He sputters, and you take the opportunity to slip your thumb into his mouth, cupping the side of his face with your hand. He sucks on it obediently, eyes wide and dark with wanton desperation. “Admit that you were jealous and then you can cum.”

“Jealous of what?” he huffs.

“You were jealous of Jongin earlier.” Your other hand reaches up to tug at his hair, making him whimper. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes— fuck I was.” He snaps his hips harder at the memory. “You happy?”

You smile, satisfied. With your other hand, you drag your nails back down his chest, making sure to pass over his nipple. “I want you to fill me up,” you murmur. “Cum in me, make a fucking mess.” He cums with a heated growl, pushing his hips flush against yours, cock throbbing inside of you as he empties himself inside of your cunt. He gasps for breath, leaning into your touch, nudging his face against the side of your hand. 

“Good boy,” you say, trying to steady your own voice. 

Baekhyun’s eyes suddenly open with a renewed intensity, a wicked grin forming on his face as he pushes back in. “Not fucking done,” he rasps, bending down to press your foreheads together. “Need to feel you cum one more time.”

It’s slower, softer, but no less intense, the way he winces with sensitivity, elbows shaking as he holds himself up. It’s a disaster between your thighs, his cum seeping out, dirtying the sheets below, but you’re simply too needy to care. Every thrust sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, and you don’t know whether to try and push away from it or surrender yourself to it entirely.

Baekhyun leans back, holding your hips steady with both hands as he rocks into you, head tipping back as he loses himself in the feeling. He looks like sin itself, red trails that your nails traced blooming across his chest, skin flushed and damp, lips wet and kiss-swollen. A steady stream of noise falls from his lips, barely audible over the slick noises of sex. 

“I’m close again,” you choke out, one hand gripping the sheets below you and one gripping his forearm. He presses his thumb against your clit and then you’re gone, shaking all the way through it, whimpering his name one single, broken time.

He collapses on top of you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. He kisses you tiredly, clumsily, borderline missing your lips entirely until you align your face accordingly. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. It’s different from the way he said it before. Where back then, it could have been a one-off statement said in the throes of heat, here it feels reverent. Here it feels true.

It makes you more embarrassed than anything else that just transpired. You don’t respond, don’t trust yourself to. You just hold him close to your chest in silence until darkness clings to the back of your eyelids, dragging you deep into a restful sleep.

Discussion

You wake up to the feeling of an arm around your bare waist and a body against your back. It’s comfortable, warm sunlight streaming through the windows. You sleepily watch the shadows cast by the blind slats dance across the wall, your gaze drifting down to the nightstand, then to the hotel clock.

8:32

Fuck.

You immediately spring out of bed, haphazardly pulling your outfit of the day out of your suitcase, clumsily stuffing your legs inside your slacks. “Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter under your breath.

“What the fuck?” Baekhyun mumbles. “What’re you doing?” You look back to see him sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. His hair is a disaster, sticking up every which way, but you don’t even have the time to take in this new image of him.

“Stella has her first session at nine. I told her I would meet up with her a bit early to give her a pep talk. Fuck, I have to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He’s more alert now, your adrenaline contagious. “Please tell me you’re not leaving today.”

“No, my flight’s tomorrow afternoon.” You examine your appearance and try to figure out a way to look presentable and less I just got fucked in about five minutes or less. “Baekhyun, I’m not trying to be a dick, but I literally don’t have time to deal with this right now.”

“Will you be able to deal with it tonight?” His expression is timid, maybe even hopeful. It’s certainly the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. 

“Maybe? Probably? I’m sorry, I can’t think right now.” You stick your toothbrush in your mouth, trying to enunciate as best as you can around it. “Again, I’m not trying to be a dick, but…” You look pointedly at the door.

“Right. Yeah, I hope she has a good session.” He quickly gets dressed in last night’s clothing and puts on his glasses, heading towards the door. 

“Last night was—”

“Baekhyun.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward as he pauses to look back at you. “You look pretty.”

“You have twenty seconds to get out of here before I literally wring your neck with my bare hands.”

He yelps, finally pulling the door open and exiting your room hurriedly. He doesn’t see your smile when you turn back to the mirror, and how it doesn’t fall off your face for several minutes afterwards. 

You bumble through the doors with less than four minutes to spare. Up at the podium, Stella catches your eye immediately, waving her hand in a half-greeting, half-cry for help. You collect yourself and walk to the front of the room. “Sorry I’m late,” you say. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m about to throw up and faint at the same time,” she says through a perfectly polished smile. It’s actually pretty impressive, if not a little scary. “They changed the order last minute and I’m first. I don’t think I can do this.”

“You can. You’re incredible and you’re gonna kill it. We’ve gone through it a billion times and you just get better each time. You know this paper like the back of your hand.”

Stella takes a deep breath in. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“You won’t,” you say. “And if you do, no one will remember it next time, okay?” You catch the sideways glance from the moderator and nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, you’re up.”

“Kevin has a seat for you in the front row next to Dr. Kim,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You turn and take your seat between Kevin and Minseok, who both look equal parts concerned and relieved to see you. “How was she this morning?” 

“Freaking the hell out,” Kevin replies. “She’ll be fine, though.”

“Cutting it a little close,” Minseok whispers in your ear. 

“Sorry. Had a crazy night last night.”

Minseok grimaces. “Okay, stop. I don’t want to hear anymore.”

The session begins and Stella crushes it. You never had any doubts that she would. Watching her up there is like looking into a mirror, watching your younger self, all her dreams and ambitions and anxieties on full display. She is far from the worst speaker on the panel, delivering her presentation with an ease beyond her years. She even gets a few questions directed towards her at the end, and she answers them with the kind of confidence that you could only dream of at that age.

Stella meets the three of you outside in the hallway after the crowds have died down a little. She squeals in happiness, jumping up and down. “I did it!” she cheers.

“You did! And it was incredible,” you smile. “You handled all of the questions really well.”

“Especially that one asshole,” Kevin rolls his eyes. “I would have told him to fuck himself but your response was good too.”

“Thank you.” She sighs dramatically, her breathing rushing out in a big woosh. “I got super nervous when Dr. Byun walked in.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What?” You have to stop yourself from swiveling your head wildly to look around for him.

“Yeah, he walked in right when the session started and he stayed in the back row. Left as soon as we wrapped up too.”

You and Minseok share a glance. Baekhyun showing up to any of your panels was a sign of trouble in past years, but showing up to each other’s students' presentations was entirely unheard of. It was especially unlike him to enter and leave without saying a word. 

“Well, you handled it like a professional,” you say. “You guys should celebrate tonight.”

“We are!” Stella chirps.

“I’ll tell you what bar so you can stay away,” Kevin deadpans. “See you next week.”

The two bicker as they walk away, and you and Minseok head in the opposite direction. “There’s something weird going on between you and Baekhyun, huh?” he asks.

You snort. “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“In any case, I support it. You have this spark in your eye that you used to get as a student. I missed it.”

You smile softly to yourself. You always thought that your biggest motivation came from trying to one-up Baekhyun. That idea is starting to change, slowly but surely. “Thanks, Minseok.”

Can I come over?

The text stays delivered for almost an hour. You’re nearly fully packed by the time you get a response, the vibration against the nightstand almost going unheard.

Yeah

Sorry about the mess

You head next door and knock softly, only having to wait a second before Baekhyun opens it. His hair is wet, and he’s dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, glasses slightly askew on his face. “Sorry I missed your text, I just got out of the shower,” he says sheepishly.

“No problem. Can I come in?”

He swings the door open wider and you enter, eyes widening slightly at the clothes and various items scattered around the floor. Baekhyun notices your stare and winces. 

“I would’ve cleaned up a little before you came but I didn’t want to leave you waiting any longer.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” You laugh. “I thought you would have been really tidy. Like American Psycho clean.”

“God, I wish,” he says. “I’m kind of a disaster.”

“We just keep surprising each other this week, huh?”

“Yeah, speaking of…” His voice trails off. “Should we have the adult discussion now?”

The two of you settle next to each other on the bed, leaving a few inches of space between you that feel like miles. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you settle them firmly in your lap. 

“Do you have any regrets about last night?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “None at all. You?”

“Not really.”

Silence.

“Um…” Baekhyun laughs self-consciously. “Is that it?” 

“I guess so.” You laugh too, a hysterical bubble that rises in your throat. “You’d think we’d never slept with anyone before.”

“I’ve never slept with a colleague,” he says, fake-scandalized. 

“Aw, are we colleagues now, Byun?” you coo. 

“What else would we be?”

Friends, is the first word that pops into your head. Lovers is the second. 

“Thorns in each other's side?” you say instead. 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, his body language already considerably more relaxed. “I guess another thing I wanted to ask is if this was just a one-time thing.”

You shrug. “I guess so, right? We’re so busy during the year and we don’t even live on the same side of the country. And last night was good but I’m not getting on a plane for a booty call.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Baekhyun mumbles. His hand drifts across the empty space between you, slowly reaching out until his pinky is pressed against your thigh. “Can it… be a two-time thing?”

You scoff, but you’re the one who kisses him in the end. 

It ends up being more than a two-time thing. He empties himself inside of you while you ride him hard, gripping his shoulders and grinding your hips down into him until his voice cracks around the edges. Later, you suck him off as a reward for getting all of his things off the floor and properly packed into his suitcase. And finally, he kneels before you in the shower, making you cum on his tongue, your moans echoing against the tile. You now lay side by side in the dark, clean and spent, although a fourth round was considered for a few minutes. Neither of you explicitly say anything about you spending the night, but the thought of returning to your own quiet room makes your stomach churn.

“Do you need to put in your night contacts?” you ask.

“I think I’ll leave them out again.” He smiles playfully. “I get the feeling that somebody really likes my glasses.”

“Oh, who might that be?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling, before falling back into comfortable silence. “Stella was really good on the panel today,” he says quietly, tracing the love bites on your neck with the pads of his fingers. 

“She was, wasn’t she? She said she saw you come in and it scared her.”

He laughs. “I deserve that, probably. I realized after I left this morning that I’ve never seen your students present. You’ve taught them really well.” He purses his lips in thought. “She reminds me of you.”

“God,” you close your eyes. “Thanks. I hope she doesn’t end up like me.”

“Believe it or not, that was supposed to be a compliment. You know that.”

“How could I know that?” Your eyes fly open and you turn on your side towards him. “We’ve spent our entire professional lives coming at each other’s throats. You hate me.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t hate you. Do you hate me?”

“Well…” Your voice falters. “I do. Or, did.” You wither under his gaze. “Oh, don’t give me that look. If you don’t hate me you sure have a weird way of showing it.”

“I thought that what we did was just banter,” he whines. “Friendly competition.” 

“Do you have ‘friendly competition’ with anyone else?”

“No,” he replies, hurt visible on his face. “You’re the only one that I thought was smart enough to take it.”

“Then why make all those comments about me being antisocial?”

“Oh, that?” He sighs, rolling on his back to look at the ceiling. “I guess that did come from jealousy. I feel like… I feel like I’m performing all the time, y’know? It’s not enough to be smart to make it in academia. You have to play the game, know whose asses to kiss. In grad school I felt like I was a circus animal, and everyone was just lining up to see me dance for peanuts.” He looks at you. “You never cared about any of that, but you’re as successful as you are. So yeah, I got a little jealous.”

You stay silent for a bit, picking your words carefully. “I used to be like that. You know I almost dropped out?”

Baekhyun doesn’t have a big reaction. Doesn’t gasp or widen his eyes. He just says softly, “I didn’t know that.”

“I did everything. I kissed up to everyone I needed to kiss up to, I did so much service, I mentored like six undergraduate students. I would have little bouts of burnout but I just accepted it as part of the job. It didn’t matter that I was getting sick all the time, or that I had about one weekend every quarter off. I kept telling myself that it was going to be worth it. Conferences were the worst. I barely slept because I was planning what I was going to say to everyone I wanted to talk to. My days went from seven to two in the morning the next day, just because I was afraid of missing out.” 

You shake your head as the feelings come back to you. “In my fourth year I hit a breaking point. I went through three rounds of R&R for a paper I had started in my first year, and then they rejected it. They said that the political context had changed so significantly that it wasn’t relevant anymore, and just like that… They killed my baby. If they had found reviewers faster, or if they had even done the reviews in less than six months at a time maybe it would be published. I could have accepted it if it just wasn’t good enough. But everything being out of my control… that was too much for me to handle.”

The memories are painful, but you keep going. “I just felt so hopeless. I had given this everything and it couldn’t even give me one thing in return. I stopped going to class, stopped going to meetings. I didn’t reply to any of Minseok’s emails. I just disappeared for like two months. To me, it felt like my entire world was ending. I grieved that paper. I grieved all the hours I put into it, all the things I had turned down to work on it. I went to Minseok’s office one day to tell him I was done, but before I even got the words out he told me to take the rest of the semester off. He told me that I had to remember what life was like outside of everything.”

Baekhyun nods. “That’s why you graduated a semester late. And you didn’t present anything that year because you missed the submission deadline.”

“Yeah. I was super embarrassed to graduate after you did, but honestly? That semester off might have saved my life. I became a person again. And now everything I do is to make sure that I still am a person outside of my work, and make sure my students are their own people as well. I don’t play the games, I don’t dance. And yeah, it’s made me lose out on some opportunities, but I’m still happy with where I am. It’s a fulfilling job and I’m proud of my work, but it’s not everything I am.”

Baekhyun’s quiet for several beats, processing the information that you’ve just given him. The gears in his head turn, and turn, and turn. 

“I think… I think it might be everything that I am.”

He closes his eyes, and you see his lip trembling in the darkness. “Ever since I knew this was what I wanted to do, it’s all I’ve had time to think about. Everything is so… loud all the time. Up here.” He points at his temple. “I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking in fifteen years. I can’t even enjoy the good parts sometimes, it’s always what’s next or how can I be better?”

Baekhyun sniffs. “I don’t really know how to be a person,” he whispers, voice delicate and sensitive. “This job gets me up in the morning but without it, I don’t think I’d ever wake up again.”

The vulnerability of his statement makes your heart twist in your chest. “Hey.” You reach a hand out and lay it on his chest. “Why don’t we practice being people tomorrow before we fly home, yeah? Let’s just walk around the city and explore. No work talk allowed.”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. “Baek?”

He inhales shakily, then intertwines his fingers with your own. “Yeah. That sounds nice.” He squeezes your hand. “I like it when you call me that.”

You hadn’t even noticed, the nickname slipping out as easily as Sunday morning. You squeeze his hand back, and you fall asleep just like this, holding onto each other in the darkness. 

Conclusion

You leave early the next morning, as early as you and Baekhyun can bear to disentangle yourselves from each other. He’s clingy when he sleeps, wrapping himself around you, mumbling nonsense while lost in his dreams. You take a moment before heading back to your room to gather your belongings to look at him, all of him. The way his hair is a total bird’s nest, how the corners of his mouth droop down into an even poutier frown. He calls your name softly, half-asleep, his voice rough around the edges.

When you return, he’s fully awake, shuffling around the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. Bleary-eyed, he draws you in and kisses you on the forehead, almost as though he doesn’t realize that he’s done it. It’s too domestic, too endearing, and you busy yourself with adjusting the straps of your backpack until the heavy, flustered feeling goes away.

After you check out and store your luggage for the day, the two of you head out with no plan and no agenda. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, the kind with a gentle breeze that keeps you from feeling too hot. “I’m not used to just… wandering,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t even know where to go first.”

Your stomach rumbles. “How about we start with some food?”

You duck into a bakery that you happen to pass by and order some coffees and pastries to go. There’s a bit more walking before you find a nice bench by the river. You eat, watching the passerby go about their mornings. Most people leave the conference on the last day to avoid having to pay for another night at the overpriced hotels, so all that remains are the local joggers, the young parents pushing babies in strollers, elderly couples taking a morning walk.

“So, who are you outside of all of this?” Baekhyun asks. “You said that you make sure that you’re a person outside of work.”

“Well,” you say, wiping the corner of your mouth. “I read. Fiction, not journal articles. I run and hike sometimes when the weather allows. I keep a spreadsheet of all the coffee shops in my city and I’m trying to complete it by the time I’m up for tenure.”

“A spreadsheet?” He wrinkles his nose. “I bet it’s color coded and all that shit.”

“Well, of course it is. How else are you supposed to sort them?”

Baekhyun snorts. “See, you’ve surprised me a lot this week but some things are pretty predictable.”

You toss your crumpled up parchment paper at him and he yelps. “What were you like before grad school?” you ask.

Baekhyun wipes the crumbs off his hands. “I was in a band, actually.”

“No kidding.”

“Yep,” he says, popping his lips on the p. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a good singer. I also played a lot of video games. I haven’t done anything like that in a while.”

“What about socially? Do you at least do things with other people?”

“Well, yeah, they’re just all in the field. Y’know, I have Chanyeol, some others. I’m not like… completely lonely and hopeless, you know.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “I’m just making sure! What about meeting new people? Do you go on dates?”

“I mean…” He waves his hand noncommittally. “I hook up sometimes but I don’t really do dates. Didn’t have a lot of luck on the apps and just decided it was for the best.”

“Really?” you say a bit too loudly.

“...What?”

“I just… find that hard to believe, that’s all.”

“Why?” He grins cheekily. “Tell me why you think that.”

“No.”

 “Aw, come on. Is it my good looks? My charm? My irresistible intelligence?”

You stand up abruptly. “Let’s keep walking.”

“Y’know, I think you’re really starting to like me,” he says, following close behind. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You somehow end up in a small square of sorts, a sprawling park with an old church in the background. Baekhyun spends a while taking some photos of the scenery, then a couple of you posing in front of things. You sneak some candids of him in turn while he explores. The more time that passes, the more he starts to seem less and less like the Baekhyun you thought you knew, morphing into something more true and real right in front of your eyes. 

“We probably have time for one more big thing,” you say, checking your watch. 

“Hm…” Baekhyun scans the surrounding area, lips pursed as he thinks. “Oh! What about that?”

Your eyes follow where he’s pointing to see a large aquarium. You nod. “That looks cool, let’s do it.”

It turns out to be a combination of an insectarium and an aquarium. 

It also turns out that Baekhyun is terrified of insects.

“I literally cannot get any closer,” he says, holding his arms to his chest in defense. He stands several steps away from the exhibit, mouth drawn in a frown.

You’re just inches away from the glass, looking at the giant spiders crawling around in the tank. “But this one’s so cool! I think he’s waving at me.”

Baekhyun fake gags. “He wants to eat you.”

“Look, I think he’s waving at you too.”

A shudder passes through his body. “Please, can we move on?”

You hurry through the rest of the insect exhibit, only stopping to look at the bugs that genuinely interest you. Baekhyun’s nice enough to keep the commentary to a minimum, although he makes no progress in getting even closer to the glass. When you transition into the aquarium section of the building, he breathes out an audible sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he gasps. “I thought I was gonna faint.”

The aquarium is quieter. Peaceful. You float through each of the exhibits at a relaxed pace now that Baekhyun’s no longer squeamish. You pass through the themed halls, stopping at each tank to give each fish an equal amount of attention. He starts out taking pictures of all the ones that he finds pretty, or interesting, or scary, but soon his hand stops reaching into his pocket for his phone. He merely… looks. 

He has a slight smile on his face as he walks, sharp eyes darting around faster than you can comprehend, drinking in everything in front of him greedily. He coos, and ahhs, and points out his favorites to you, but for the most part he just… exists.

For the first time since you’ve known him, the gears in his head have finally stopped.

The two of you pass through a large tunnel, surrounded by water on all sides. You take a minute to rest your aching feet at a bench, sitting side by side and staring up at the sharks and fish passing overhead.

“This was so great,” Baekhyun murmurs. You turn to look at him, the lights and shadows from the water casting his face in cool shades of shimmering blue. “I feel… like I finally got some peace.”

“I’m glad.” You jostle his shoulder with yours. “Promise me you’ll do stuff like this from time to time?”

He smiles, the corners of his pink lips curving upwards. It’s a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I will. It’s more fun with you, though.”

Your gaze drifts down towards his lips and you feel a pull towards him deep in your chest. Part of you wants nothing more than to kiss him right here. Another part of you hesitates. Just as Baekhyun doesn’t know who he is outside of work, what are the two of you together? What are you outside of the conference, the hotel room? What will you be as soon as you walk out of these doors? As soon as you board your plane?

For someone whose entire job is to help explain the unknown, the unknown feels fucking petrifying right now.

“I think we should go pick up our bags now,” Baekhyun whispers. His gaze is broken wide open, vulnerable and scared. He feels it too. You’re sure of it.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse. Neither of you moves until a small child barrels through the tunnel, hollering at his parents, and just like that, the spell is broken.

Baekhyun laughs, your favorite, crinkly-eyed laugh of his. “Let’s head back,” he says at a normal volume.

You nod and stand, leaving this place behind together.

The ride to the airport is quiet. It’s funny. Even though quiet hasn’t been a stranger in the last twelve hours, this twenty minutes of silence feels heavy. But every time you look over at him, the words die in your throat. The further away you get from the city, you can’t help but worry that this was a one-time thing. You won’t see him until next year. Would things stay like this? Do you even want them to?

“I’m a bit late so we need to hurry through security,” you say when you get dropped off. You’re already taking off in the right direction, Baekhyun hurrying close behind you.

“Doesn’t your flight board in like… an hour?” he asks.

“Yes?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re a ‘two hours early at the airport’ person.”

“You never know what could happen!” you sputter. “There could be a backup at security.”

“You have to buy me a coffee if security takes less than ten minutes.”

“Fine,” you say. “But you have to buy me one if it’s more.”

Fifteen minutes later you’re sipping your coffee victoriously. 

“This is stupid,” he grumbles, taking a sip of his own latte. He lightly kicks your ankle under the table, maybe by accident but probably not. “You’re still stuck waiting here for 45 minutes.”

“I like the airport,” you say simply.

“You like the airport?” he asks incredulously. He shakes his head, laughing into his cup. “You’re so weird.”

You giggle, then a thought occurs to you suddenly. “I never even asked you when your flight was.”

He shrugs, chugging the rest of his coffee. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It means don’t worry about it.”

Behind him, you see that there’s a screen with the list of all the upcoming flights for the day. You take off for it, leaving him behind.

“Hey wait—”

“Too slow!” you call back. You scan the list for his hometown airport. Then lower. Then lower.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he says glumly, catching up to you.

“Baekhyun, your flight isn’t for another eight hours.”

He smiles sheepishly. “I need to catch up on grading anyways.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“It’s not your fault. I never told you any different and I said I’d come with you from the start so why wouldn’t you assume that my flight would be soon?” 

“But still. You could be doing literally anything else right now.”

He shrugs, suddenly turning pink. “I just thought… I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could. Y’know, since it’ll be a while before next time.”

You fall silent then, the weight of the situation settling onto your shoulders. Suddenly the next forty minutes seem incredibly important.

“I’ll make it up to you. We can do whatever you want until I have to board.”

Whatever he wants turns out to be heading to the nearest convenience store and raiding it for snacks. You lament at the egregious price of the peanuts and he sneaks it into his basket when you’re not looking, slipping it into your hands as you walk out. 

You walk towards your gate together, swapping handfuls of each other’s snacks, talking about anything and everything as the minutes slip by. He’s invited to one of his students’ weddings in the fall, and you’re planning a weekend-long hike in the mountains. He thinks matcha is gross and you vehemently disagree.

It’s so unfair, you think, looking at his face, trying to commit all the details to memory. Just as soon as you've started to like him, really like him, you have to leave him. 

The intercom buzzes to life and they announce that your boarding group has finally been called up. “This is me,” you say quietly.

Baekhyun nods, smiling softly, sadly. “Are we close enough for a hug now?” he asks.

You have half a mind to say something snarky, some wisecrack about all the salacious things he’s done to you in the last 48 hours but he can’t hug you in public, but all you can manage is a small nod. He wraps you in his arms, the fabric of his hoodie soft against your skin. You breathe in deeply, as if doing so will make the memory of his scent stick longer. 

“Bye,” you whisper.

“It’s not goodbye. I’ll see you next year.”

You don’t know why, but you feel the sting of tears prickling behind your eyelids. He releases you halfway to look at you, and with a start, you realize that his eyes are similarly misty.

“Are you crying?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “You’re crying too.”

He lets go of you, and with a heavy heart, you turn towards the gate.

“Wait.”

A firm hand wraps around your wrist, holding you in place. You whirl around to meet his expression, a whirlwind of frenetic emotions on his face.

“Baekhyun, I need to catch my flight,” you whisper, your voice stuck in your throat.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But please just listen to me.” His eyes are frantic, desperately combing over your face. “This sounds crazy but I think I might be falling for you.”

“What? Baekhyun, I—”

“It might be way, way too soon to say this, but after this week I just feel like something is different between us.”

“So what are you saying? You’re in love with me?” you snort.

He huffs, frustrated. “I’m serious,” he says firmly. “I think there’s something special between us, you and I. I think maybe there always has been, and we’ve been too— I’ve been too egotistic to see it. But you’re miles ahead of the smartest person here, and you’re funny, and you’re magnetic, and you’re so beautiful, God, you’re so beautiful.”

“We live on opposite sides of the country, Baekhyun,” you say, the logical part of your brain fighting for attention, ringing every alarm bell you have. “This would never work.”

He licks his lips. “I’ve been wanting to leave my institution for a while and I’ve been interviewing. I got an offer at a university near yours. It’s an associate professor position.”

“What?”

“I haven’t told anyone. I almost passed on it because I thought that being close to you would be difficult. But fuck… the thought of going home right now and not seeing you for another year is just too much to fucking bear.”

Your head is spinning, reeling from the sudden declaration. You don’t know what to think. On the one hand, this week hasn’t been anything short of life changing. You think back to the aquarium, of the patterns of light as they dance along his face, and how the only thing you wanted in that moment was to kiss him right there. You think of the night you spent together, how you don’t think you’ve ever felt so connected to anyone before. You think of how relieved you felt to spend your birthday with someone else for a change. 

But on the other hand, the decade of hurt is almost too much to bear.

“We only just started being able to stand each other this week,” you say. “I don’t— I don’t know you, Baekhyun.”

“You do know me.” He puts his hands on both sides of your face, looking deeply into your eyes. “You know the worst parts of me. I’m a workaholic, I’m too impulsive, I have a massive ego. You’ve seen me be jealous and narcissistic and ambitious to a fault. But I hope this week you got to see the other sides of me too. The sides that I want to share more of with you.”

The way he remembers your dietary preferences years after you’ve mentioned them. The way his hair is a mess in the mornings. The way his eyes crinkle around the edges when he laughs, really laughs. The mole on the side of his lip, on his thumb, in the shell of his ear. 

You’ve spent almost a decade trying to be one step ahead of Baekhyun that you never even considered what it would be like to walk alongside him. 

“This is a lot to take in,” you say.

“Okay, yeah.” He nods. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions now. But just… consider it? I can visit you when the semester’s over and we can spend some time together without any of this bullshit. Just us. We’ll see how we are together when there’s no work involved.”

You take in a breath. “Okay. We can do a trial run.”

Baekhyun beams, a beautiful smile reaching from cheek to cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But don’t think that this means I’m gonna stop being competitive with you.”

“God, I hope not.”

He sweeps you into a kiss, one hand cupping your chin and the other resting on your back. In that moment, you forget about it all: the conference, the competition, your feelings and how they’ve changed so quickly. All that matters is the softness of his touch, of his lips against yours.

“I have to board now,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I know,” he says. He kisses you again.

“Baek.”

“Say my name like that again,” he murmurs. 

“You’re so insufferable.” You pull away from him and shrug your backpack over your shoulders, trying to feign annoyance, even though the crimson dust on your cheeks give you away. 

Baekhyun smiles softly at you, taking in one last look at your image before you leave. His eyes go soft, tender in the ways that you’re only now just getting used to. You hope that there will be many more times you see that expression.

“You like it,” he says cheekily. 

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Everything’s already been said. 

You turn toward your gate and jog to make it before they close boarding. You only look back once. He’s still there, watching you go, lifting a hand to wave goodbye.

You wave back. 

He smiles. 

You smile.

Bye, he mouths, winking.

Bye, you mouth back.

You turn your back to him and board the plane, an indescribable light feeling in your chest. It feels good. It feels right.

References

This day can’t get any worse. 

It’s the third time you’ve circled around the airport. You have a massive headache starting behind your temples, and if you get honked at one more time it might just be your fucking breaking point. You park firmly into a waiting space and put your hazards on, letting your head sink into your hands.

You’re only there for thirty seconds when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. You groan into your palm before rolling your window down a fraction.

“Ma’am, if your passenger isn’t here you need to circle around,” the airport employee says. 

“Please,” you beg. “I swear he’s coming, just please let me wait for one more minute—”

“I’m here!” Baekhyun’s voice cuts above all the noise. Your back door is yanked open, carry on suitcase and backpack haphazardly thrown into the seats. “I’m here,” he says again. The employee nods and moves along. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun pants, climbing into your passenger seat. His glasses are hanging on by a thread, his hair disheveled and messy. It’s gotten longer even though it’s only been a couple of months, curling around the nape of his neck. “They closed down like half the terminal so I had to take these insane detours and everything was just so chaotic—”

“It’s okay,” you cut in. You’re smiling, grinning like crazy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, a smile of his own spreading across his face. “I made it.”

You don’t let him get another word in. You reach across and take his face in your hands, kissing him deeply. His lips are so soft and he smells so good and he’s finally here. He smiles against your mouth, giggling like a lovesick teenager. 

“What happened to the trial run?” he asks. 

“This is still a trial run,” you say in between kisses. “You have to really impress me this week, Byun. Then we’ll decide if you get tenure or not.”

Someone behind you honks, but you pay them no mind. All that matters is what’s in front of you, the man in your arms, and the endless, countless days ahead.

Appendix (aka where mai overexplains a bunch of things for anyone interested. the fic is over now, so feel free to stop reading, i'm just nerding out)

Revise and resubmit refers to the decision that journals make when reading submissions in which authors have a set amount of time to address some concerns, and then it goes back in for consideration. It's not a guaranteed publication if all the issues are addressed, it's more like a "maybe." It's very rare that submissions don't go through at least one round of r&r before acceptance

Baekhyun and reader are both meant to be about 4-5 years into their careers as assistant professors. Reader is about to be up for tenure, which means she will get a huge pay bump and job security basically for life. Sometimes you can move to another university and immediately secure tenure, but that's contingent on you doing well at your prior university (publishing a lot, getting good student evals, etc.) This is the position Baekhyun's in by the end of the fic.

h-index refers to a metric based on how often a person's publications are referenced. A higher h-index means that your work is referenced often, and is generally a marker for prestige and respect

Work-Home Resources Theory and Conservation of Resources theory are both valid theories. WHR was actually developed with COR in mind. Reader is wrong in her critique.

Mediation statistically explains why X -> Y. Full mediation means that the relationship between X -> Y is fully explained by M (X -> M -> Y), while partial mediation means that M explains some of the relationship, but there's something else also at work ex., social media use -> reduced self esteem -> depression vs. social media use -> reduced self-esteem + poor quality of sleep -> depression. Partial mediation is a valid finding. Baekhyun is wrong in his critique.

Originally the outdated concept Baekhyun references is named (LMX) but I took it out because this section was getting too nerdy even for me and I decided to keep it vague. The idea of LMX being outdated is very controversial. It's still being used constantly to this day.

Baekhyun having seven students at a time is basically unheard of (in my field). I know of a prof who has five students at a time and they are all pretty miserable or neglected. Baekhyun is superhuman.

I was sort of vauge about their specific field on purpose but at the risk of doxxing myself (as I wrote this from experience so their field is the same as mine) i'll just say that it's a social science (although i fear it's pretty obvious)

Nature is a very very prestigious interdisciplinary journal. To my knowledge it's hard for people in my field to publish in it, so this is a massive deal for Baekhyun.

Stella and Kevin are OCs but their namesakes are meant to be Stella from h2h and Kevin from the boyz

The structure of this fic was stolen from my favorite academia-esque au ever (baekhyun and kyungsoo: a scoping review) even though it doesn't really make sense in my case and is mostly for aesthetics

whew thanks for coming on this journey if you read this far. if you're new here i don't usually yap this much but this was very personal and fun for me to write. love ya for sticking around <3

your car slows to a stop in the driveway of your family home, and before you can even shut it off, your mom is running down the driveway to meet you. as quickly and frantically as possible, you fling anything incriminating from your first semester in the backseat before she gets any closer.

just like that she’s opening the door, shutting the car off for you, and pulling you out into her arms. it feels like you’ve been swept into a tornado with all the kisses on your face paired with the vigorous swaying back and forth.

“oh, my baby is home! it felt like you were gone for forever! my sweet girl is finally back..” she kisses your forehead one last time before pulling away, ushering you towards the house. “come, come, everyone’s here! baekhyun’s here, your aunties are here, chanyeol’s here, everyone! we’ve all been so excited to welcome you back.”

as soon as you walk in the door all the cheers start up again, and as appreciated as it is, it’s definitely annoying. you have such an overbearing family, it’s no wonder you were dreading coming back. everyone gets up and goes to hug you one by one, commenting on one thing and the next about you and college life. eventually, thankfully, your mom gets a wave of pity and finally gets everyone away to finally give you space.

strolling to the kitchen, all your favorite foods are laid out, and you sigh in contentment. not only are you finally able to breathe away from your entire family tree, but the true thing you were looking forward to awaits you; mama byun’s home cooking.

just as you start piling up your plate, someone comes up behind you, “oh, peanut!”

you freeze, dropping the spoon you were holding. your eyes squeeze shut, a deep breath hisses through your teeth. you almost don’t want to turn around, but you know doom awaits you if you don’t.

park chanyeol, baekhyun’s best friend and self-appointed family member, leans against the doorway with a smirk that seems at least a little like a genuine smile. you wish you could kick him out right now because you can see in his face that he absolutely has not forgotten about your past.

your lips are pressed into a thin line, and you nod in response. “chanyeol.”

he winces, hand to his chest, “gosh, you wound me. i thought you’d be more excited to see me.. what did college do to you? you’re so.. emo now.”

you frown. “i’m not emo, yeol- chanyeol, i’ve just.. grown up, okay?”

your nonchalant facade cracking for a moment makes him smile, strolling over to you to lock you in a hug. holy shit, you think, sirens blaring in your head, eyes wide as you feel his biceps around you. his chest is so firm and built that it nearly chokes you how it bulges against your throat, and fuck. it’s over for you. he’s someone you’ll never get over.

“there’s my peanut… i knew you were in there somewhere. are you embarrassed? trying to move on?”

you force yourself to pull away, otherwise you might pass out. for multiple reasons. to hide the warmth in your cheeks, you get back to plating your food, “i’m not embarrassed, chanyeol, and there’s nothing i need to move on from. you’re crazy. you must be drunk.”

he chuckles, still hovering incredibly close by you. “i see. so baekhyun crying about the things in your diary was a drunk memory, right? because you’re so grown now, you know exactly what it’s like to be drunk and make things up.”

that’s what makes you give in, putting your things down to turn to him with fire. “you are so- ugh! why are you like this?! does it get you going to instigate all the time?! this is why i went so far away. i hate you.”

he coos, “i’m not instigating, peanut, just making conversation. and i know you don’t hate me, look at your face,” he pinched your cheek, and only laughs when you turn your head to bite his thumb. slowly, he backs up and towards the living room, but not without his trademark sentences that leave you fucking reeling,

“and there’s no animosity here. maybe i’m rekindling your ‘burning-hot feelings’ for a reason.” he winks, leaving the room.

fuck park chanyeol.

after nearly two hours of laying on the couch, there’s so much boredom flooding your veins that you end up hanging off the edge, the top of your head grazing the floor. with sehun out working all day, you were left home to your own devices. typically that wouldn’t have been an issue, but with the terrible white noise from the tv and the nonstop thoughts running through your head, it’s getting harder to tolerate being alive right now.

it’s just been a really big week for you. while it’s been good, receiving gallery invitations and much more, it’s starting to feel like you bit off more than you can chew. it gets harder and harder to balance all the things, like completing paintings, finding time for yourself and friends, doing the rest of your schooling, and then being a good girlfriend at the end of the day. 

you love it, and love being ambitious with the need to do everything you love, but there’s moments like these where you stare at the wall and realize you can’t handle it that make you feel terrible. that exact feeling is what put you right here, getting home from your last class of the day, one that ended when the sun was up, and going straight to sitting in the same position on the couch for the rest of the night.

the silence is starting to pull a headache to the front of your skull when the front door opens, sehun pushing through with a sigh. it’s so dark that the only thing he can see is your face, lit up by the tv. he frowns, and you can’t really see it all too well, but you know it’s there in the way he hasn’t said anything.

he flicks the table lamp on as he comes closer, calling your name softly, “why’s it so dark in here? are you okay?” 

you look at him briefly, just for a second before the thought of talking at all brings a burn behind your eyes. all you can do is shake your head and roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. your head falls in your pillow before you can see sehun’s reaction, but you can tell that he’s even more put off by you than he already was.

he sits next to you, by your feet, in silence. you see his hand reach out to touch you, before pulling away. his mouth opens, like he’s going to speak, before it closes again. he then makes a movement to grab one of your feet, turning to face you better while pressing his thumbs into the sole. the fact that he still chooses to be so tender despite your soft launching a terrible attitude forms a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes. 

sehun frowns once again, as if the one he had couldn’t grow any deeper, before finally speaking up again. “sweetheart..” he takes a sharp breath in, finding his words, “i see that you’ve had a bad day. and i’m sorry. i want to help you, but when you give me this negativity i can’t, right?”

you sniffle, a little shudder moving through your body, before collecting yourself and sitting up. your knees get hugged to your chest, chin resting on top. “i know, but i just..” you don’t even know. the feelings are still so fresh that it makes you even angrier trying to compute it. “i’m just so fucking tired, okay? and i can’t.. i.. i don’t-“ 

sehun shushes you and closes the gap before your emotions can take you any further. his arms wrap tight around your torso and pull you into his chest, grounding you and pulling you away from your frustrations. he holds you there, tightly while you fall apart again, quick breaths and hot tears falling onto the fabric of his button up. i know. he mumbles, missing your hair. i know. 

just like that your entire body in his grasp, and he’s up on his feet. your head is still buried in his chest, tears still falling freely, but it happens silently as he leads you to the bathroom and sits you on the toilet. he grabs a bit of tissue, calmly wiping your tears and your nose, and exiting  with a kiss to your forehead.

when he comes back, his hands are dangerously full, almost dropping two candles and a bag of bath salts. he starts with the water, fiddling with the temperature like one degree matters, which it does when it’s for you. then the candles are lit and salts are thrown in the water, and all you can do is watch with your damp cheeks and stuffy nose because how is he so perfect? how does he always know what to do?

once everything is set up, he kneels in front of you, hands on your knees. face is completely calm, straight as can be, while managing the look of patience that only comes out after leaving the office.

he takes in a breath, “i know your day hasn’t been good. your back hurts. your feet hurt. your brain hurts. now, all i need is for you to let me help you. should i stay with you or do you want some time to yourself?”

you’re too drained to even try talking so you just grab his wrist, he asks again, and you nod. that’s all it takes for him to slowly remove your clothes for you, helping you into the bath before getting seated next to you. he’s still in his slacks, you realize, tie now undone and button up halfway unbuttoned, and he brushes it off, knowing what you were thinking already. he’s studied you so well that he might as well put mind reading in his resume.

the same way he knows your thoughts before they even form, he rolls his sleeves to his elbows and puts his hands under the water to work through the tension in your muscles. his eyes never wander, nor do his fingers, gaze locked on your face to make sure your mind is on nothing but him and the moment you’re in now. of course he’s made the mental note to talk to you about everything, but that can be pushed to later. your needs are different right now, and he’ll work his hardest to meet them.

You hear them all the way down the hallway before you hear the jingling of the key in your door. That telltale muffled bickering grows louder and louder the closer they get, until their words become crystal clear when the door slams open.

“— you had just been paying attention then we would’ve scored that final point!”

“So fucking what? We would’ve won anyways, thanks to the touchdown that I scored in the third quarter.”

The two barrel into your entryway, hardly giving you a second glance. Baekhyun and Chanyeol, the star quarterbacks of your university’s football team, who always seemed to butt heads on and off the field. They had already showered and changed out of their gear (thank God, after showing up to your place much one too many times tracking in dirt and grass), but that didn’t mean that they left their game day mindset behind.

You clear your throat from your perch on the couch, looking up from your study notes. “Have a good game?”

Baekhyun sighs dramatically, flopping onto the cushions next to you. “It would’ve been a good game if Chanyeol was thinking about anything related to football at all in the last ten seconds.”

Chanyeol frowns, helping himself to a glass of water from your sink. “Like I was saying, I scored the winning touchdown several minutes before that. Why does it matter if we didn’t get three extra points?”

“It’s about the principle, Yeol. We only moderately beat them”. Baekhyun’s eyes glint with a mixture of annoyance and passion. “If we got those extra points we could’ve gone around saying that we beat their asses into the ground.”

“What do you think?” Chanyeol turns to you. Two pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly.

You sigh. You hate mediating whatever petty argument the two of them get up to. Frankly, you simply have better things to do with your time. But sometimes, on a night like tonight when the adrenaline is still high from their game, it’s in your best interest to stir the pot a little bit.

“I dunno, Baek, it kinda sounds like Chanyeol won the game for us.”

Baekhyun’s mouth drops open while Chanyeol smirks. He crosses over to the couch to sit on your other side and ruffles your hair affectionately. “See, Baek? Your point is meaningless.”

“It doesn’t count because you weren’t there,” Baekhyun says petulantly, bottom lip jutting out not unlike a child who’s just been told no. “You should’ve felt the rush from the crowd. They were definitely disappointed that we didn’t score.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is that serious!” The volume of Baekhyun’s voice raises again, a renewed motivation to argue surging through him. “You know that I play better when I’m feeding off the crowd’s energy.”

“Guys, stop,” you say firmly. Instantly, they shut up, mouths snapping shut obediently. “Last time you guys fought I was getting noise complaints for days. Don’t make me regret giving you guys the spare key.”

“Sorry,” they say in unison. 

“If you guys keep bickering I’m just gonna go to sleep. Or…” you say pointedly. “You could settle this a different way.”

That gets their attention. They perk up immediately, waiting for you expectantly. 

“Whoever makes me cum the most in the next hour wins.” 

Tension settles in the air, thick and heavy. It’s no secret to the other that you hook up with both of them. They don’t care on any level deeper than petty jealousy. But this… having you at the same time? It’s an entirely new experience, but one that you’d been fantasizing a lot lately, waiting for the right time to broach the subject.

To your delight, they look incredibly interested. Baekhyun swallows, his gaze drifting heavily from you to Chanyeol. The other mirrors his disposition; you can practically see the gears turning in his head. The two size each other up, ever the competitors, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

“Or I could just say that Yeol was right—”

Baekhyun reaches out to grab your chin, tilting your head towards him. He kisses you roughly, slipping his tongue past your pliant lips, groaning when you fist a hand in his hair. To your other side, Chanyeol whines. He shoves his hand between your faces and pries you away from Baekhyun, kissing you when your lips part. 

“Playing dirty already, Yeol?” Baekhyun huffs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before he pulls your attention back towards him. He ducks his head down to suck a mark into your neck, smirking against your skin when you gasp. 

Chanyeol goes to unbutton your shirt, large hands fumbling with your buttons. “Shut the fuck up, Byun,” he grumbles, kissing your chest.

It’s a huge mess: hands and lips moving everywhere. You lose track of which body part belongs to who, whose hand is settling on your tits, who’s slipping their fingers past the waistband of your pajama shorts. All you know is that your head is spinning, whirling from their constant tugs for attention, and that you end up completely bare in between the two of them. You can feel just how soaked you’re starting to become, heat pooling in your core.

Baekhyun kneels between your legs, all but pulling you forward towards him as he hooks his arms around your thighs, locking you in place. Chanyeol continues to make out with you, a sharp sting blooming across your bottom lip when he nips at it, pulling the skin slightly towards him right as Baekhyun buries his face in your heat, nose bumping against your clit as he licks at you fervently.

You gasp into Chanyeol’s mouth, pulling away to look down at the sight below. Baekhyun’s staring up at you with a fire in his eyes, the kind of heat you only see from him when he’s on the field. 

“Not fair,” Chanyeol says, slightly out of breath. His lips are dark and wet, eyes bearing a similar flame to Baekhyun’s. 

“Too slow, Park,” Baekhyun mutters, smirking as he sinks two long fingers into your cunt. “You snooze, you lose.”

You open your mouth to scold him, but you don’t get a word out before Chanyeol’s lips descend on yours again. You whimper against him, instinctively arching into Baekhyun’s touch. His tongue dips into your hole, brushing against your walls as he strokes your clit with his thumb, skilled fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Can we confess something to you?” Chanyeol asks, voice heated. “We hoped this would happen when we came over tonight. We made up the argument.”

“What?” you pant. “You little shits.”

Baekhyun sinks his fingers back into your wet slit, curling them against your g-spot. “Are you complaining?” he asks cheekily. “I’ll stop right now if you want me to.”

“You’re such a basta— oh fuck, Baekhyunnie,” you moan, fisting a hand in his hair. “I’m getting close.”

“Not yet,” he says. “Why don’t you help Chanyeol out, he’s getting awfully squirmy.”

Without a second to lose, Chanyeol gets rid of the rest of his clothes, moaning breathily when you spit into your other hand and begin to jerk him off slowly. 

“Ah, shit,” he gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. “Just like that, baby.”

Your senses are on overdrive trying to process everything that’s happening: the sight of the two with their desirous gazes, the slick noises coming from either side, the buildup of pleasure in your body. It all becomes too much too fast, and you tip over the edge, clamping your thighs around Baekhyun’s head as you cum. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently, making you shudder with sensitivity. Chanyeol sucks a bruise right under your ear. “So beautiful, so good,” he murmurs, sending another wave of desire through you.

As soon as Baekhyun moves off of you, Chanyeol’s strong arms are pulling you up and into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, mind hazy from the afterglow of your first orgasm, as he carries you into the bedroom, Baekhyun following close behind. He tosses you onto the bed and flips you over onto your stomach, not even giving you a second to breathe before sheathing himself inside of you without preamble. You cry out, head dropping forward onto the sheets in front of you as Chanyeol immediately sets a brutal rhythm. He’s not usually so rough with you, but the buildup, not being able to touch you in the way that Baekhyun has, must have gotten to him. You can feel it in the way that he grips your hips like he has something to prove, burying himself inside of you again and again.

“Fucking impatient ass,” Baekhyun grumbles, moving to the other side of the bed so that he’s in front of you. He tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze even as he continues to talk to Chanyeol. “You literally carried her in here.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol bites back. He tightens his grip, holding you still as he pounds into you. “Sounds like you were just too slow.”

“Why are you both— hah— talking about me like I’m not here?” you manage to say, your words coming out unsteady.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Baekhyun coos condescendingly. “You want even more attention than you’re already getting, hm? Getting fucked into the mattress isn’t enough?”

“Jesus, Baek,” Chanyeol says. “Isn’t that a little mean?”

“She likes it.” He settles into position so that you’re laying in between his legs, his cock just inches from your face. “You don’t feel how she’s getting wetter?”

You nod frantically. “I do— I like it, Yeollie. Please, more.”

“Good girl,” Baekhyun chuckles. He lightly slaps the side of your face, not hard enough to sting, but still enough to make you gasp. “Now open up.”

You wrap your hand around the base of Baekhyun’s cock and put it to your lips, tongue darting out to lick the underside of his head. “Come on, you can do better than that,” Chanyeol says. Before you know it, his hand is on the back of your head, pushing you down once onto Baekhyun’s length before letting you go. You choke, spit dribbling down past your lips and down his cock, the momentum from Chanyeol’s thrusts pushing you deeper onto Baekhyun. Your eyes water as you struggle to adjust, but soon you settle into a rhythm.

“God, you look so good like this,” Baekhyun murmurs, reaching out to caress the side of your face, jarringly gentle for the way you’re currently being manhandled on both sides. “I don’t think she’s gonna want to go back to having us one at a time, Yeol. You should see her face.”

“Yeah?” Chanyeol grunts. “Tell me how much you like it, baby.”

You pull off of Baekhyun with a slight pop. You feel your own spit all over your bottom lip and chin, and a string of saliva connects your mouth to the tip of Baekhyun’s cock. It’s dirty, filthy, and you think that maybe you should be embarrassed but you’re not. Not in the slightest. “I love it,” you gasp, tilting your head up so you can see Chanyeol above you. “I love it so much.”

Chanyeol wraps his hand around your throat and bends down to swap a filthy kiss with you before letting you go, lowering your mouth back onto Baekhyun’s cock. You work with the rhythm that Chanyeol sets, using your hand on whatever can’t fit inside your mouth. Baekhyun’s head tips back, lips parting. He swallows thickly, reaching out a hand to settle on top of your head. “Such a good slut,” he groans. “You love being used like this, huh? You like being our little fucktoy?”

You moan instead of answering him with words, nodding your head as best as you can around his length. The salty tang of precum touches your tongue, only spurring you on further.

“Don’t take his cock out of your mouth when you cum,” Chanyeol says, one hand grabbing your shoulder for better leverage. “Wanna hear you choke on it when you do.”

His words unlock something in you, the filth coming from Chanyeol, who’s usually so restrained with his words, dripping with pure, animalistic lust in his voice. It suddenly brings about your second orgasm, your body trembling through it, your puffy, sensitive walls fluttering around Chanyeol’s length. Your voice comes out muffled and choked around Baekhyun, making him groan. He grabs at the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

Chanyeol doesn’t wait another second and slaps your ass as he pulls out, making you jolt. “C’mon, ride me.”

“Wait, hold on,” Baekhyun pouts. “It’s my turn.”

“I’m not fucking done yet,” Chanyeol says with a huff. “You can wait.”

“Quit being a dick—”

“Or you could both do it.”

They both shut up immediately, looking at you with a mixture of apprehension and arousal. “Baek in my ass,” you continue. “Yeol in my pussy.”

“Are you sure?” Baekhyun asks, all of his previous bravado melting away to show his concern. “I know we’ve— done it like that before but never at the same time.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Chanyeol chimes in. 

“I’m sure,” you say. “Here, like this.”

You gently push Chanyeol onto his back and climb on top of him, slowly sinking down onto his  thick length. You lean down, almost touching your chests together, arching your ass as best as you can for Baekhyun.

“Oh my God,” Baekhyun groans, settling behind you. He rubs his hands over your ass appreciatively, parting your cheeks and letting some spit dribble down onto your hole. “You look so fucking slutty like this.”

You swallow and give him the go-ahead, distracting yourself by leaving hickeys across Chanyeol’s chest. Inch by inch, Baekhyun pushes in. It’s tight, uncomfortable, but not anything you can’t handle. The three of you take shaky breaths, silent for the first time as you all adjust to the new sensations. “Look at me, baby,” Chanyeol says softly, grabbing your face with both hands. “You’re doing perfect. Such a good girl for us.”

You mewl in his grasp, arms shaking as you struggle to hold yourself up. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and the feeling is almost so overwhelming you don’t know whether to run from it or towards it. “So— so much.”

“Too much?” Baekhyun asks, voice strained. You can tell that he’s holding himself back, every muscle in his body working to stop himself from losing control, from pushing all the way in.

“No,” you gasp. “Don’t you dare stop.”

It takes a bit of time, but slowly you start to feel yourself getting used to the stretch, pleasure replacing the discomfort. You drop your head onto Chanyeol’s chest as Baekhyun starts to slide in and out. 

“So fucking tight.” Baekhyun leans over and scatters kisses across your back. You feel surrounded on all sides, pressed between the two of them, the warmth of their bodies heating your skin. “How you doing, angel?”

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled whine. You can’t think, much less form a proper sentence. Chanyeol tips your chin up towards him and kisses you. “Answer,” he says softly but firmly, rolling his hips upwards gently. 

The dual movement makes you cry out, fingers scrambling to grasp onto Chanyeol’s shoulders. “It’s good,” you whimper. “So— fuck— please.”

“Cute,” Chanyeol chuckles. He kisses you again. “You’re so pretty when you’re wrecked.”

They begin to move faster and at the same time, making you feel so full in ways you never thought possible. The two are almost just as wrecked as you, hands and lips roaming, breath hot against your skin, mumbling praise, an endless stream of, “So good, angel,” and “Our pretty slut.” You can’t return their sentiments, at least not through words, only able to babble out a stream of incoherent words and breathy whines.

It gets to the point where they’re pounding into you, hips rolling as if they were one unit. You cry out at a particularly deep thrust, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “Fuck, I’m getting close,” you whimper.

“Who’s better?” Chanyeol whispers in your ear, cutting through all the noise.

“Wh-What?” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. Your head starts to droop forward again but Baekhyun tugs your hair back, forcing you to lock eyes with Chanyeol. 

“I said, who’s better at fucking you stupid, huh?” He punctuates his point with a sharper thrust upward, making you scream. “Answer, or we won’t let you cum.”

“I— I don’t know!” you wail. The tears fall, streaming down your face. “You’re both so good, too good, fuck!”

“Goddamn, who’s being mean now?” Baekhyun says, leaving a sharp smack on your ass. “If she doesn’t want to pick, don’t make her pick.”

“I— I don’t wanna,” you whine, straining back to look at Baekhyun, his sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. “Please, Baek. I— I wanna cum.”

Baekhyun swears, hips stuttering. “Just a little longer, baby.”

You’re frantic, fingers leaving red indents on Chanyeol’s shoulders from holding on for dear life. Baekhyun reaches out and grabs your wrists, pulling them taut behind you. You sob, breathless, helplessly at their mercy but you wouldn’t want it any other fucking way. “Please,” you babble, delirious, the only thing on your mind being your need for release. “Fuck, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Say who makes you feel this good,” Baekhyun hisses into your ear.

“You do! Both of you! Shit, I can’t—”

“Okay, baby,” Chanyeol grunts. “Cum for us.”

It explodes through you, white-hot and ferocious. Your vision turns spotty around the edges as it ripples through you. The two of them swear as you tighten around them, your walls fluttering, two pairs of large hands holding you still as you shudder in their grasp. 

Chanyeol helps you off of them and puts you onto your back, positioning himself near your mouth. Exhausted, still shuddering through the aftershocks, you take him into your mouth, wrapping your other hand around Baekhyun.

“Not gonna last long,” Baekhyun groans, tipping his head forward.

“Me neither,” Chanyeol replies, fisting a hand in your hair.

It doesn’t take long until they both release, Chanyeol into your mouth and Baekhyun across your tits and stomach. He drags his fingers through the mess, slipping his fingers past your waiting, open lips, giving both of them a fucked-out smile. You’re spent, your limbs turning to jelly, and if you had any say in the matter you’d just sink into the mattress and be a part of the furniture forever.

“You okay?” Baekhyun asks softly, running a hand through your hair.

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him. You turn your head towards Chanyeol to give him the same treatment. “That was insane.”

“You’re so perfect,” Chanyeol murmurs. “Let me get you some water and clean you up.”

“Get me one too?” Baekhyun asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes and flips him off, but comes back juggling three glasses of water all the same. They both work to clean you up, whispering soft praise into your skin the entire time. Through the haze, you realize that they’ve gotten you ready for bed, and they’ve gotten ready for it as well. You’ve never done this before, spent the night with both of them, but it’s as easy and natural as though you’d done it for years.

“So who won?” Chanyeol asks.

“I thought you made up the argument,” you reply.

“No, your challenge. The one about making you cum.”

“It was a tie,” you mumble sleepily, curling into Baekhyun’s chest. “One for Baek, one for you, one for you both.”

“That’s not very satisfying,” Baekhyun frowns. 

“Try again tomorrow, then,” you reply. “Now be quiet. I want to go to bed.”

Chanyeol settles into your other side, draping his warm body across your back, and the three of you drift off into a deep, undisturbed sleep.