Sans titre

Jihoon built the careers of his team from the ground up with Garage Band and two cents to their name. At the age of 17, he was their main producer, their main song writer, their main guy. Since then, everything relied on him - the lives of his team rested on him. And even though Jihoon doesn't often consider himself an egotistical person, he had the pride of being the creator of SEVENTEEN and all their songs, the same songs that brought them to where they are today.

Back in 2020, when Pledis - the company that Jihoon practically built himself - was bought by Hybe, he wasn't prepared for the amount of control that the company would want over their music - his music. They would bring in other producers, other songwriters, other sound engineers that wouldn't match the tone of his team, that would argue with Jihoon, and would make his team suffer through vocal notes that aren't in the range of their vocalists or rappers or dancers.

And since then, Jihoon wasn't that big of a fan of having another main producer enter his studio with the goal to make their next title track or side track or... well, anything. Of course, he was open to it, and not all of them were bad... Jihoon was just far more comfortable being the one in control.

After all, being with SEVENTEEN, writing for SEVENTEEN - was everything to him.

On the other hand, you were a producer and songwriter for Big Hit Entertainment - a young one, for that matter. Despite being the same age as Jihoon, your career started somewhat later than his - where a sample of your songs entered the charts, and you got scouted to write for Big Hit in 2017.

You were offered to write two songs for BTS at the time... and they were perfect. The album you worked on - Love Yourself 'Tear' perfectly set your place within the music industry, and you were busy since. You were loved within Big Hit. The artists would brag about you to others, always compliment your creativity and your flow. That would fuel your own ego and pride.

And when Big Hit became Hybe, you started to write for other groups - other soloists, and other artists. You expanded, and before you knew it, you were one of the biggest producers and songwriters in the entire company.

Rumours went around with the more songs you worked on for BTS - and the more popular SEVENTEEN became. It was whisper gossip amongst the producers and songwriters, at first.

'Two musical geniuses under one building.' 'A producing monster for Pledis, a composing machine for Big Hit.'

Eventually, the artists themselves started to take notice of it, as well. Whenever they would go in to record, the sound engineers would make small comments and remarks that would fuel the curiosity of the artists.

"Jihoon-ah, do you have a rival or something?" Soonyoung once asked his same-age friend in the middle of the recording.

"Huh?" Jihoon raises his eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... I've heard it from Bumzu-hyung, but there's someone else in the building, right? Someone who's like, crazy or something."

"There's a bunch of crazy people here," he doesn't seem to care too much, changing the levels and gains of his mixing board.

In the other studio, four rooms down from Jihoon's, you were in mid listen-through for the latest song. After the song was over, your friend looks at you with a somewhat concerned look on his face.

"Hey, I heard this while coming over, but is everything okay with you?" Yoongi questions.

"Huh? What do you mean?" you didn't look at him as roll your chair to the sound board.

He shakes his head, "It's probably nothing. Are they putting you against other people, or something?"

"You've got to elaborate more on that, man."

Yoongi opens his mouth to add something else, but holds back. He sighs, "Nothing. If you haven't heard about it, then it's definitely nothing."

Jihoon has seen you around, awkwardly waiting for the elevator and waiting to head up to the same floor. He knows the songs you wrote, and how popular they had made you. It wasn't as if he saw you as a rival... but whenever he hears the whispers of other producers and songwriters, he gets defensive.

'Jihoon-nim's songs are surface level at best. y/n-nim has the better taste.' 'Woozi's just a performer. Why is he still trying to compete to those like y/n-nim?'

And you would hear the same thing.

'y/n-nim's writing has gotten bland lately. And repetitive. Woozi-nim's run lately has been going really well' 'Maybe y/n-nim should work with Jihoon-nim on something. Maybe it'll get her spark back.'

It was those snide comments and remarks from across the hall, from the next studio, or even word of mouth, that had sparked a small, prideful, rivalry between the two of you. And god, those awkward elevator rides would be the worst part of both your days.

"Jihoon-nim," you would greet, lowering your head in respect.

Jihoon would do the same, glancing at you briefly before facing the wall in the cramped as hell elevator. Nothing else would be said, nothing else would be done. Get on, and get off - quick.

Until that didn't happen. You came into the elevator from the 11th floor, with the goal to head up to the studios for work - as always. Jihoon was coming up from the first floor after a bunch of schedules, tired out of his mind. He only looked up, nodded at you, and went back on his phone. Regular.

Normal, even.

Then, the elevator stopped.

The lights turned off two seconds later.

You looked at the floor number in horror, watching as the screen flicker a short 19 before turning off entirely. It was a blackout - and the two of you were stuck in the elevator on the 19th floor.

Jihoon lowers his phone and presses the buttons to the elevator. It didn't do anything. "Fuck." He presses the emergency service button, too, but that doesn't work, either. What's the point of that button if it doesn't work in the case of an emergency, anyways?

"Dang it," you grumble, running your hand through your hair. "You call security. I'll get ahold of the front desk."

"I don't think I have security saved to my phone..." Jihoon flatly says, scrolling through his contacts. "I'm calling my manager."

Both of you head into different corners (it wasn't much help - as the cubical space was 6x5 feet in terms of width and length), making your respective calls to your own colleagues.

Ten minutes later, you got off your phone with an annoyed look on your face.

"Power's out for the entire building. They won't have it fixed for another thirty minutes - minimum," you groan, putting your phone down. You lean back against the wall of the elevator, watching as Jihoon finish his call, as well. "Fuck."

"Damn it," Jihoon mumbles, looking at the time. "You aren't scared of enclosed spaces, right?"

"Ha, who do you think I am?" you scoff, crossing your arms.

"Just asking."

Neither of you say anything else, the silence falling slowly between you two. Somehow, on some miracle, Jihoon still had signal. He quickly texts his members, informing them of his current situation.

jihoon how is there literally a blackout at the company building

horanghae rawr ha L where r u rn

jihoon elevator

bbookwan HA omg are you by yourself

jihoon i wish i was im with l/n y/n

cherrycoups wait actually???

jihoon yeah

jeongtoram omg forced proximity start talking to her

jihoon wtf why would i do that

horanghae rawr why would you NOT do that you heard what the others have been saying about you two idk maybe its time to clear things up

jihoon no i refuse what is there to clear up anyways

horanghae rawr well i mean elephant in the room by itself... the company's biggest producers are both stuck in an elevator together with no power im surprised you have signal

Before Jihoon could respond to that, the service went out. Just his luck.

He looks up from the device, noticing you had looked up at the same time. Both your eyes met... and you both turned away just as fast. Man, could this get any worse?

"God..." you run your hand through your hair again, messing it up more than it already is. "I was supposed to finish an arrangement today..."

"How close are you?" Jihoon somewhat reluctantly asks.

"I have a few bars left and the last chorus," you sigh, finally sliding down the wall so you were now crouching on the elevator floor. "I'm going to need another extension..."

Jihoon nods, putting his phone in his pocket, "How often do you ask for extensions that you're dreading it?"

"Almost every comeback for every song," you sheepishly answer, the dim emergency lights flashing every two seconds. "I've been in a slump lately."

"Seriously?" Jihoon crosses his arms, leaning against the elevator walls. "From the outside, it looks like you've got everything under control. I've heard your work whenever you have your door open at the studio."

"Ah..." your face flushes red momentarily, forcing a somewhat friendly smile. "It's messy when you actually look at the score. I play around a lot when I'm at the studio. I do all my writing and arrangements back home."

"is that so?" Jihoon tilts his head. "You don't immediately crash when you get back?"

"Of course not. I have so much work to finish that I don't have time to crash," you laugh, putting your hand over your eyes. "If it wasn't for the poor ass signal, I would be writing something."

Jihoon looks at you with curiosity - genuine curiosity. At this point, you were sitting on the elevator floor, legs crossed, phone on the ground, and hand over your eyes. As he takes a closer look at you and the state you're in... he notices you shivering - just a bit.

"Are you... sure that you're good with small spaces?"

"Of course," you quickly confirm, lowering your hands. "It's just cold as hell."

Makes sense. It was early autumn, and the weather was unpredictable as hell. Earlier today, it was warm like the summer, but twenty minutes ago, it started to get real windy, real quick. You were only wearing a light blouse with a cardigan and a skirt that showed your legs. With the temperature dropping in the elevator, being cold made the most sense.

Without thinking, Jihoon takes off his sweater and holds it out for you, "Here."

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, "What?"

"Don't catch a cold if you still have a shit ton of work to do," he says, draping the sweater over your legs. "We're going to be here for a while, knowing how long it takes for the company to solve problems."

Your face turns red - completely unintentional. You fix the sweater on your lap so it properly covers your bare legs. "Thanks..." The sweater was warm. It had a strong smell of a powerful and rich cologne that made you remember that... Right. Jihoon was a successful producer with money - and not just idol money.

The silence that falls again was horrible, to be honest. Jihoon hates standing around idly, because he could be doing so many things right now. He could be writing a song, answering calls, maybe sending emails, or working out in general. Or even eating. But no. This is the most unfortunate case he could be in. His phone almost dead, no signal, and no estimate of how long he was stuck in the cubical space with someone who he barely knows.

"So..." you fiddle around with the sleeve of your cardigan. "What have you been working on, Jihoon-nim?"

"Huh?"

"We're stuck here for who knows when," you shrug. "My phone is almost dead, and I'm going to assume your phone is almost dead, too. It's 10pm. You're at the studio. Come on, there's got to be something."

"I guess," he decides to sit down right across from you, choosing to ignore just how dirty the ground may be. "Comeback is around the corner, and I need to rearrange some parts of our title track for the music video."

"Ah. At 10pm?"

"Yeah," he chuckles. "If I don't get to it now, I don't think I ever will, and that'll just put more work onto Bumzu-hyung."

You laugh, "Right... He's cool. Bumzu."

"You've worked with him before?"

"Nope," you deny. "He came into my studio before, asking me about some stuff."

"Oh really?"

"It was, um..." you nervously play with your sleeves again, folding them up, then roling them down, "He actually came to talk to me about what I thought about you."

"Oh."

Jihoon hesitates. Does he want to know what you thought about him, even though the two of you have never talked for more than 2 seconds? Actually, have the two of you ever talked in the first place? You were always in your studio, he was always in his studio (whenever he was in the building)... Your paths don't often cross - only at moments like these - in the elevator.

"Why would he ask you that?" Jihoon questions.

"He heard some people talk about us, I guess. The two musical geniuses of Big Hit and Pledis," you manage a second laugh at the words 'musical geniuses'. "I told him I thought of you as the same as all my other colleagues. A coworker. A fellow musician and artist - except you're a lot cooler, in a way."

"Oh. Thank you..." he trails off. "Why, exactly?"

"You're also an idol that performs," you warmly smile, finally properly looking at Jihoon in the eyes. "You got your team to where it is today. I'm so in awe at you."

This time, Jihoon's face turns red. He's glad that the dim lights made everything seem yellow and red anyways, or else it would be so obvious that he was blushing ruby red.

"Ever since I first heard people talking, I thought you saw me as a rival and therefore didn't want to make communication with me," Jihoon admits, rubbing the side of his neck. "Sorry. I shouldn't have judged."

"That's fine. I did... or, well, I still do see you as a rival," you respond with no hesitation.

Jihoon gets taken aback by your response. "Really?"

"Of course," you scoff. "You're on your way to take away all the grand awards from my team. I can't let my guard down. My boys are everything to me."

"BangTan?"

"Of course!" you giggle, covering your mouth. "I've been with them since 2017. I can't let them down."

Jihoon looks at you with a somewhat fond smile, "I'm in the same boat. I can't let them down, either."

"You won't," a hum leaves your mouth. "All your songs are a hit after hit. Seriously... I don't know what you put into Pretty U back then, but there's got to be some kind of spell, or a drug, mixed in there to make it so freakin catchy."

This time, Jihoon laughs boldly, which only makes you smile even brighter. He was glad that you were friendly with him - or else it would've gotten awkward really fast in the tiny space.

"I swear I didn't somehow mess with the code that messes with people's psychology," he promises, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Good to know that you don't hate me, though."

"Hate you?" you repeat. "Where ever did you get that idea from?"

"The gossip must've came from somewhere, right?" Jihoon says. "Someone must've gotten wind of it, and then started talking straight out of their ass."

"Guess you're right," you brush your hair with your hand, taking a look at your watch. It's been almost ten minutes at this point, and there has been no new updates yet.

In Jihoon's head, he was starting to run out of conversation points. Most of his side conversations would end in a matter of seconds, primarily because he has never put in the effort to continue small talk, but unfortunately... He was starting to regret not working on those social, small talk skills that some of his members (cough, Seungkwan, Mingyu, cough) were naturally born with.

"So... What are you - an INTP?" you suddenly ask, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. From the way you were looking at him, Jihoon knew he had the look of surprise.

"How'd you know?" he retaliates.

"Intuition?" you shrug. "What, I got it right?"

"Almost. INTJ since the last time I took it. Before that, INFJ."

"Seriously?" you straighten your back in surprise. "Oh my god, I'm actually getting closer in getting people's MBTI."

"And that means...?"

"I've been trying to guess people's MBTI based off my few minute conversations with them," you boldly answer - a somewhat proud look on your face. "I've talked with the guys from TXT, some trainees, Le Sserafim... I think this is the first time I've tried that with someone from Seventeen. Oh wait!" you snap your fingers. "I talked with Hoshi in the past. And Seungkwan. Both in an elevator, now that I think about it..."

"I'm not surprised," he chuckles. "The chances of running into any of us is... really high."

"Yeah... 13 members. I don't know how you do it," you admit. "Especially with the writing part. It's already a pain for me to write for 7 guys with widely different ranges and tones. How do you do it? Doesn't it get... tiring?"

"Is this an interview now?"

You check the time on your almost-dead phone - 10:14 - almost 20 minutes have passed at this point. "I'm running out of talking points here. It's going to be an interview if we don't find another common ground."

Jihoon lets out a soft laugh, waving at you dismissively. "It's okay. I'm only teasing."

"So... Do you get writers block? Music block? Anything like that?" you curiously ask.

He takes a moment to answer - thinking about the times where the words wouldn't appear, where the melody wouldn't work, and especially when he was just... tired. Then, he recalls the times on how he overcame them.

"My members," he casually responds, watching your reaction carefully. You didn't show it at first, but he knew you were surprised. "It's cliché as hell, but I don't have another answer to it. They have so many ideas and different styles of music that I never run out of creativity. Whenever I hit a block, I would ask them for ideas. If I'm burnt out, I would step back from writing. It's as I said earlier. They're... kind of everything to me."

You slowly nod, pressing your back against the wall of the elevator, "Cute."

"Cute?"

"Your relationship with them, and how they treat you," you push some hair out of your face. "I'm jealous."

"Then what about you? Isn’t it the same with your group?"

"They dote on me like a little sister," you laugh. "They don't want to criticize my music too much because everyone else does it, but it sometimes feels... suffocating. No matter what I write for them, they would say it's perfect and call it done."

"I don't think that's a good thing," he deadpans, eyes darting over to you with a somewhat judgemental undertone to them. "Criticism is how you get better."

"I know," you rub your face. "Just... it also depends on who it comes from. After all, I do have that kind of pride in my work."

"Well, if you ever need someone to be blunt about your music, my door is... open on Wednesday evenings and whenever I'm in the building," Jihoon jokes.

You scoff, "You joke a lot more than I thought you would."

"I don't think you have the right image of me, if that was the idea you had," Jihoon rolls his eyes while smiling. "Though, I guess you're a lot more talkative than I thought you'd be."

"I would rather have us be in a conversation than silence," you insist. "At least you try to maintain the conversation, too. There's been so many times where I've had run-ins where the other person refuses to continue talking."

"I've had my experience over the past 8 years," he simply says.

"When you're not writing music or at your idol schedules, what do you do?" you casually ask again, stretching your legs out a bit.

"Work out."

"At home, or at the gym?"

"Home. I don't like going out most days."

You let out an impressed whistle, "You've got a gym at home? Villa in Gangnam?"

"Okay, I'm not that rich," he says. You don't say anything, staring at him with a... somewhat scary, burning passion in your eyes. Jihoon sighs, then sheepishly admits, "Hannam-dong."

You let out an excited giggle, clapping your hands, "You are rich! Penthouse?"

"Yeah..." his face was so red as he answers, looking away from you.

"Dude, that area is really for the rich. I've been to Namjoon's place there, and holy shit, it's nice as hell."

"You're a world renowned producer, as well," he jumps in. "Don't act like you don't have money, too."

Your lips curve into a small pout, crossing your arms as you shake your head. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Seocho-gu? Cheongdam-dong?"

"Songpa-gu."

"You cannot be speaking if you live anywhere remotely close to there," Jihoon returns the same mischievous look in his eyes. "I've seen the prices. They aren't prices you could get with a normal salary."

"Says the idol and producer."

"And you're the main producer for the biggest boy band in the world right now."

The two of you share a laugh in the midst of your somewhat strange conversation. Money, and how much money, you both earn was often a sensitive topic - as you both know that not everyone can make the amount you two could make in a month, but being around someone else that were put in the same boat... with the same level of modesty... It felt refreshing.

"You know, for someone who lives in such a nice ass area, you're here a lot," you comment, recalling all the times you had left the studio only to hear music coming from Jihoon's studio - Universe Factory - from across the hall. "You guys work nonstop."

"The same could be said about you," he argues. "Whenever I clock in, you're always here."

"Most days, I start early," you shrug. "But back to your apartment."

"What-"

"I'm curious on how your place is different from Namjoon's now," you tilt your head. "Stepping into Hannam-dong by itself was so scary. There was so much security and it was so quiet, and so clean, and... Oh my god, it felt like I wasn't even Seoul anymore."

"Well, we kinda need that kind of privacy with the line of work we have."

"Obviously," you agree. "I was thinking of originally getting a place there when I was on the house hunt, but then I would've been subjected to so many artists asking me for stuff, and then some of my colleagues are also there... Yeah, no thanks."

"Oh, right. There are a lot of producers around the neighbourhood."

"Do you talk to them?"

"No."

"Wow, you really are an introvert."

"Yeah, kind of. I barely leave my place when I don't have to, so I don't meet people."

"Move to my area. Nobody will even bat an eye at you. Unless you're not married," you rest a finger under your cheek. "The residents beside my place is an elderly couple, and they're the kindest people in the world. Except for all the times they tried to set me up."

"Seriously?' an amused look appears on his face. "Who do they usually set you up with?"

"Whoever they think is 'approachable' and respectable to them... which is already a really high standard because they have impossibly high standards..." you respond with no hesitation. "Whenever they introduce me to someone new, it's always the same thing. They would pass the initial interview, learn that I have a shit ton of money, then they get intimidated by my schedules and life, or they would want me to just... retire, since I guess they can't phantom the idea of someone else making more money than them. Holy shit, you have no idea how fucking egotistical some of these guys are. They act all nice in front of their elders, but around women their age? You would think they're a wolf pack. Oh my god! And don't even get me started on the people who would actually stalk me because I'm close to some idols. Ugh..." you mess up with your hair in frustration, practically pulling at it. "I don't get how you guys are able to live, much less date."

Jihoon cracks a chuckle, but it was more bittersweet than anything else. He knows the struggles of a relationship within their industry - and apparently, it was just the same with their staff that was even remotely close to them.

"Well," you stretch your arms, forcing a happier smile on his face. "At least I have it overall easier. The horror stories I would hear from the others are just nightmares."

"Yeah..." he rubs the side of his neck. "Not fun, most of the time. Unfortunately, that's part of the gig."

"Appears so..." you sigh, checking the time on your phone again. "We've hit the 30 minute mark. Why haven't we heard anything from them yet?"

"How much is your phone at?" he checks his. "I have 10%."

"14," you quickly close it. "Seriously, this building has so many problems..."

"I know," Jihoon didn't even hesitate. "Hey, at least neither of us are stuck alone, right?"

"You've got a point there. I think I would've gone insane if I were alone."

The two of you go quiet again, where both your social energy was starting to drain right out. Jihoon could see it from your face, the way you had yawn right after your last sentence, the rubbing of your eyes, and the slight stretch of your legs.

"Tired?" he questions.

"A bit. It's getting boring - being stuck," you murmur loud enough for him to hear. "Jeez, there's only so much we can talk about, huh?"

"Want me to ask some random ice breakers?"

"You have them in mind?"

"Not really," he shrugs. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Purple."

"For BTS?"

"As I said - they gave my career a chance. Before that, I didn't really have a favourite colour."

Jihoon scoffs, "Right... What's your favourite food?"

"Oh my god, there's this really good bakery down the street from here, and it's such a hidden gem. They have the literal best egg tarts and pineapple buns ever. It's cheap, too! I get it every time I have a lunch break, so they practically have my order ready when I enter."

"Seriously? You go there that much?"

"Hey, don't hate it unless you try it," you shrug. "Do you drink?"

He shakes his head, "Can't. I have an Asian flush and it's terrible for me."

"Really?" you rest your chin against the palm of your hand. "I feel like every content I see of your group, you guys are always drinking."

"Drunkards. That's all I can say."

"Sounds about right~"

"Cats or dogs?"

"Cats."

"Do you have any?"

"Nope. I have two fishes and that's about it," you let out a dramatic sigh. "I would love to have cats, though. Unfortunately, I'm not home often, and I work basically 24/7."

"Ah..."

"What about you?"

"Cats. I have 2," Jihoon smiles fondly.

"Oh my god, you have to show me pictures! Preferably when we're not stuck in this cubical."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I see you," Jihoon agrees. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Work."

"Come on - even I don't work 24/7."

"Oh..." you rack your brain for a better answer, trying to remember the last time you were able to do something that wasn't work. "I like travelling. If I wasn't always so busy, I would be travelling."

"Where would you want to go?"

"Italy, probably," you shrug. "Maybe anywhere in Europe. God, the idea of Europe sounds so nice..."

"Yeah, it does," he agrees. "Don't you travel a lot for work?"

"Only to the States to meet other songwriters and producers. And almost 9 times out of 10... They can be assholes."

"Sounds right. If you ever need-"

The lights suddenly flicker on. You and Jihoon both stand up, watching as the power return after 45 minutes being stuck in the small, cramped, space.

The elevator finally starts to move again. When it stops, the door opens, finding a series of firefighters and technicians that let out a breath of relief.

"Holy crap, that took forever," you brush up on your clothes, fixing your skirt as you hold the sweater in your hand.

"We're so sorry it took so long," one of the technicians apologized, bowing his head low. "The entire neighbourhood had a power outage. Are you two okay?"

"I believe so," Jihoon glances at you and smiles. "Is the elevator and everything working fine now?"

"Yes, sir," the firefighter confirms. "If you would like to go back up, let me accompany you in case it fails again."

"First, let me get some fresh air," you dash out of the company building without hesitation.

Jihoon watches you leave, then turns back to the workers, "I'll need some air, too. Thank you so much."

"We're so sorry again," they apologize, letting Jihoon follow right after you.

The two outside staff exchanged glances - an unknown message being communicated without it being said out loud… ‘So... they definitely kissed or something right?’

Outside, the world was silent. The night lights had long since turned on, and the life outside has fallen fast asleep... and yet, you were still here - at the company, saved from being stuck in a 6x5 cubical.

You take a deep breath in, taking in all the fresh air that surrounds the building, before exhaling. You hear footsteps coming up from behind you... and yet, somehow, you knew it was Jihoon.

"I don't think I'll ever take this for granted again," you shyly admit, looking up at the sky.

Being in the big city, stars was never a common sight. Though, somehow tonight, the pollution wasn't as bad - and a single star was shining bright, right above you.

"You don't realize what you have until you lose it," Jihoon agrees, settling right beside you. "Are you going home?"

"No..." you shake your head. "I have so much work to get done - it's ridiculous. I have to head back."

"You're going to overwork yourself."

"Impossible," you insist. "We were stuck in an elevator for 45 minutes. I need to... do something right now."

"I guess we're in the same boat on that," Jihoon nods. "Let me know when you're ready to go back. I don't think either of us are ready to take the elevator alone."

You burst out laughing, nodding along in agreement. Despite having not known each other an hour ago, there was a new found... respect and awe for the other that went far beyond being only colleagues.

Five more minutes outside, the two of you head back into the company building with the goal of finally being able to work. The two of you tell the staff about both your goals to head back up, which they allowed despite the skeptical looks from them.

After finally successfully heading upstairs to the correct floor, you and Jihoon went your different ways (kind of).

By the time Jihoon is finally able to check the time, it was 3am. Holy shit. He was working for 4 hours straight without a break. He silently rubs his eyes, wondering maybe if it was the effects of being stuck in an elevator for 45 minutes that caused him to work so much.

He stands up, saving the files to his USB before pulling it out and closing all the tabs. Jihoon picks up his stuff from the nearby couch, pushing in his chair and throwing away any bottles of water that was left in the studio.

When everything was clean and ready, he locks the door to Universe Factory behind him and starts to make his way to the elevator. He's kind of hungry. What is there to eat at 3am? Should he cook something when he gets back? His schedules starts up again in 6 hours, so perhaps cooking something may be a bit of a pain...

He passes by a room with the door that was silently cracked open, a silent muse playing from the other side.

He knows this studio. It was your's.

A silver name plate on the studio door, decorated with a bunch of gifts and messages you've got over the years. Of all the studios on the floor, your's had the most personality, ranging with colour, words, and just... positive vibes. It was far from the first time Jihoon had ever passed your studio door... but this is the first time he's passed by it after getting to know you - being stuck in an elevator and all.

When he stops at your studio door, the music becomes more clear, and it was obvious you were replaying the same parts, over and over and over again. There was frustrated tapping, as well.

Jihoon doesn't know what came over him when he knocks on the door.

The music pauses. He hears a chair rolling around, and two seconds later, you were at the door.

"Oh! Hey," you weakly greet, slightly lowering your head. "Um... What are you doing?"

"Why are you still here? It's 3 in the morning."

"I, um... arrangements," you sheepishly admit, running your hand over your face. "God, is it already 3am? I have a recording to get to across the city in four hours..."

Jihoon frowns, glancing into the studio, "Do you... need help with anything?"

It was clear as day that you hesitated with your answer - opening your mouth, then quickly closing it. You turn your head at your dimly lit monitor and all the messy notes... then broke into an exhale.

"If you could, can you take a listen to this?" you open the door wider so he could come in, heading back over to your setup. "Sorry, it's a bit messy."

"Don't worry about it," Jihoon steps into the studio, where he was immediately met with the smell of... fresh flowers, a hint of a somewhat rich perfume, and the many blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals scattered around. Your LED lights were fading from dark purple, pink, red, and blue, where he then noticed a shelf full of awards. Awards that were proudly displayed for everyone to see.

"Sorry," your face turns bright red, throwing a cover over the glass shelf out of embarrassment. "Seokjin insisted that I set something up like this, and the next day, the guys literally did it themselves... I may be prideful, but I'm not that egotistical."

"It's fine. You should be proud of them," he smiles, taking note of the Best Producer award from the latest AAA. "Well deserved."

"Don't say that..." your face was still burning red while you shuffle behind your work table. You move your mouse around, fixing up the composition while telling him, "It's a work in progress. Like, a really big work in progress. I don't know why, but nothing is working with me. I'm thinking about scrapping the entire thing, but I've worked way too hard to just delete everything... Also, the guide is my voice, which was recorded really last minute two days ago. I haven't gotten the chance to go over it or anything, so I'm so sorry if it's messy... and bad... and-"

"Hey," Jihoon finally interrupts your rambling, which makes you stop clicking on the monitor. "Don't worry about it. This isn't finalized. I've made and created my own too bad to even mention songs."

"Ha... Right..." you sheepishly pull up the correct file. You hand him over a pair of headphones. "Forgot that you're basically in the same boat as me. Anyways, take a listen."

Jihoon presses the headset against his ear while you press play on the computer. Immediately, he is met with a strong bass and a guitar rift... until it stops. Then, the voices enter. At first, he was taken completely aback by you rapping - your flow and tone on par with the BangTan guys by itself. Then, the vocals hit, and he was taken by surprise even more. You were incredible, going from low to high, then shifting your range entirely.

Music and instrumentals aside, he was in complete and utter awe at your voice. For the next three and a half minutes, Jihoon listens carefully to the song, making mental notes of all the areas he would personally change if this were a song that was given to him by an outside producer.

“The bridge - is that where you’re struggling?” he removes the headphones, turning his head over to you after the song ends.

You rub the side of your neck, “Yeah. Is it that obvious?”

"A bit," Jihoon steps back, allowing you to sit back down on the chair. "Do you want my honest take?"

"Not really," you quickly deny, closing the tab of the score sheet. "I'm not in the right head space to take criticism right now, especially from another producer."

"I heard you cursing on the other side of the door," Jihoon adds. "I think you need a wake up call."

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrow, a deathly glare in your eyes that made Jihoon step back quickly.

"It's exactly what I said," Jihoon insists, trying his best to calculate what to say next based off your reactions. "You said earlier how BangTan doesn’t criticize you enough, and that it felt suffocating. This is the first step of breaking out of that."

You turn to your monitor, looking at the recording and instrumentals you made yourself through multiple all-nighters, random car rides in-between travels, and more than enough arguments from the other producers and writers. With a deep breath in, you make a copy of the recording and open it on a separate file. You stand up from your chair, stepping to the side.

"Here. Take a look."

Jihoon nods, pulling the seat out so he could settle. He puts the headphones on, pressing the space bar to play the original instrumentals of the track. He takes a moment to register your voice again, hoping that his face didn't look too red as he listens to the lyrics, as well. It was about love.

Your voice had so much in it that he didn't want to change too much of the original recording, but he couldn't help but start moving some of the melody around. He pressed some keys on the keyboard that was set up beside your desk, playing a melody that matches exactly of the one you recorded. He raised the bass, lowered the sound of the drums, and changed some harmonies with the synth. He added a repeat to the end, where it allowed a softer sound to the finish.

While he works, you were watching with awe. You've never seen someone work so diligently before - and you've seen producers make live music before. Jihoon didn't say anything while he edits, which was a complete contrast of all the previous people you've worked with. Before, one of the reasons why you hated live editing and feedback was because they would immediately jump straight into what you did wrong, why you added this, why you changed that, etc, etc. It was a never ending loop of things you did wrong, and it became a pain and total hit on your ego.

Instead, Jihoon was working quietly. If he didn't like something, he simply moved it or even got rid of it altogether. He didn't say anything to you, which you kind of appreciate since this entire session felt somewhat awkward.

Twenty minutes of work later, he takes the headphones off.

"Here," he saves the file on the monitor, standing up from the chair. "Take a listen."

You take the seat back, putting on the headphones. You give him a thumbs-up, and he presses play.

At first, the song was the same. Same beginning, same verse - maybe a few changes in key or a different rift of the electric guitar there... but it was the repeat of the chorus at the end of the song - the part that Jihoon had completely added as new - that changed the meaning of the song. When your voice repeated, the music stops. The instrumentals go quiet, and you were left listening to your own voice... but it was different.

"I was... really amazed by your vocals," Jihoon explains when the song finishes, leaning close to the screen with one hand on your chair. "Someone who has a powerful, emotional voice should sing this part and have it repeated, because it then changes the meaning of the song, and..." He puts a hand over your's that held the mouse, moving to change the tab to show the score sheet. "I was thinking that maybe if you add a violin sound starting the bridge, it might-"

"It's perfect," you abruptly turn your head right as he looks at you - leaving your lips only centimetres apart.

There was a silent that fills the air, separated by a wall of pride and ego that neither of you would admit. The heart in your chest was starting to beat faster, now becoming very aware of his larger hand over your's. Jihoon meet's your eyes, unintentionally gripping your hand even tighter.

You let out a breath of air, eyes darting around his face as the moment continues. "Jihoon...nim..."

"I should... go," Jihoon says, his voice quiet now. He coughs, letting go of your hand. Without turning around, he walks straight for the door. "Get home soon, y/n."

"Oh, wait..." your voice came out softer than you thought it would, watching as Jihoon leaves without turning around.

The sweater that you forgot to return lays untouched on the sofa.

Jihoon presses the button to call the elevator, shoving his sweating hands in his pockets. He breathes in, then out, then in... then out.

The image of your lips being so close to his flashes through his mind - frantically shaking his head. The way your face had lit up when the music sounded good, your voice during the vocal guide still ringing in his ear...

He pushes his hair back, taking a deep breath in. What the hell got over him just now?

"Jihoon," he mumbles to himself, slapping his arm. "Pull it together."

It takes a little over a week for the next time Jihoon runs into you. Their fan-meeting was right around the corner, which means he's less in the studio area and more going between recording locations and the dance rooms... but he couldn't help but have the image of you cross his mind every time he enters the elevator, or pass by your studio.

Jihoon was scrolling on his phone with Soonyoung in the company building, on their way down to the lower levels for their regular scheduled dance schedule. Then, the doors open right before they closed, where you come entering the enclosed space.

"Oh! Hi," you greet, a smile appearing on your face when you see Jihoon.

"Hey," Jihoon returns the smile, nodding his head.

Soonyoung looks at the two of you, eyes darting between the Big Hit producer and his best friend. "You two are friends?"

He shrugs, putting his phone away. "45 minutes stuck in an elevator together kind of forces you to become at least friends."

"Yeah," you slightly nudge his arm. "Is that what we are? Friends now?"

"Coworkers?"

"I think I would prefer friends."

"Ah..." Soonyoung stares at his same-age friend, a small smirk growing on his lips.

Jihoon notices it immediately. "What?"

"Nothing~" Soonyoung hums, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'll tell you later."

"Are you on your way to the studio?" you ask.

"Dance practice," Jihoon responds, taking a better look at what you were wearing. "It's going to get cold later tonight. Do you have a jacket?"

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at what you had on - a white short sleeve button up, black dress pants, and high heels. "Well, I do plan on just catching a ride after I'm done at the studio... I was in a business meeting the whole day."

"You should check the weather before you leave," he casually suggests, not even thinking for a second before talking. "Your schedule is just as packed as mine. Take care of your health some more."

"Yeah, I know," you sweetly smile, pressing down at your button up. "It's okay. It won't be too cold this time."

"You sure?" Jihoon tilts his head.

"Of course!" you promise him as the elevator stops at your floor. "Okay, see you, Jihoon-nim~"

"See you," Jihoon gives you a quick wave, watching as you exit the elevator safely.

After you leave, Soonyoung immediately forces his friend to turn and face him.

"What was that?" Soonyoung's eyes were wide with excitement, frantically shaking his friend's shoulders. "What the hell was that, Jihoon?"

"What was what?" Jihoon breaks free from Soonyoung's grasp.

"That!" he exclaims, nodding over at the door while the elevator starts to move. "That entire interaction! That entire conversation! What was that?"

"Use your words. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Soonyoung scoffs, throwing his hands into the air. "I can't believe I just witnessed that with my own eyes. What the hell happened that day?!"

"I'm not going to answer you until you tell me what you're talking about."

Soonyoung waves his hands again, almost hitting Jihoon in the face. "I just! I can't! There was tension, Jihoon! It looked like you two kissed in that elevator or something!"

"What." Unfortunately for Jihoon, his tone came off a lot more defensive than he would've liked it.

Soonyoung seems surprised at the tone, then his lips curve into a shit-eating grin. "Alright, alright. Maybe not kissed, but something happened."

"Nothing happened. We cleared up a misunderstanding we had of each other and started to talk... Nothing else," Jihoon fixes his clothes, glaring at his friend.

"I mean, sure, I noticed your face getting red whenever we mention you being stuck in the elevator, but I just thought it was because you hated being stuck in a space so you got bad memories," Soonyoung was wearing a shit-eating grin while he talks. "Who knew it was because of a girl."

"Okay, you're just running your mouth."

The elevator doors open on the floor of their dance rooms, where the two friends step out and starts making their way to their practice room.

"I definitely saw that, though!" Soonyoung excitedly says. "Jihoon, Jihoon. I've known you for half my life now. There's no way that was just a regular colleague interaction."

"Get your eyes checked, because it was."

"Uh, no." Soonyoung shakes his head. "You were worried if she was cold. I think I'm surprised you didn't give her your jacket!"

The memories of him handing you his sweater the other day last week crosses his mind - suddenly feeling very hot on the face really quick. Thankfully, Soonyoung was following him from behind, so he wasn't able to see his red face...

"Oh? Woozi-hyung, are you okay?" Seungkwan turns the corner and starts talking immediately. "Your face is red."

Soonyoung halts right in his spot, gasping for air, "Oh my god!"

"What's wrong with him?" Seungkwan furrows his eyebrow at his other hyung.

"Nothing. Everything. Everything is wrong with him. I'm going to the washroom." Jihoon turns to the right while the others continue straight down the hall. He pushes open the bathroom doors, pressing his palms against the sink as he stares at himself in the mirror. Damn, his face was red as hell. Fuck..."

He splashes his face with water, hoping it would tone it down even just a bit. Maybe he can get away with it by saying he caught a cold, or something...

An unsettling feeling washes over him at the thought of a cold - and for some reason, the image of you only a short sleeve dress shirt from the elevator crosses his mind. You weren't wearing anything as light as last time, but still...

Mental note - check on you (out of colleague and friend concern) to make sure you have enough layers. Maybe he could offer his extra jacket... He's sure he has one hanging around in his studio, anyways.

Practice ends on time at 11pm. The members gathered their things and starts to leave one by one, preparing to call it done for the night.

"Are you going home, Jihoon-ah?" Wonwoo stands beside their producer, packing his things up.

Jihoon shakes his head, "I'm heading to the studio. I've still got work to do."

"Ah, come on, Jihoon. You don't have to always work so hard."

In the back of his head, the thought of you still in the studio didn't leave his head yet. For all of practice, he was worried that you were going to stay until 3am just like the other week... and it would be a lie to say he hasn't been worried about your overall well being and all the work you had.

"It'll only be for a bit," he promises. "I just want to check on something."

Wonwoo raises his eyebrow, but nods, "If you say so..."

"Jihoon-ah!" Soonyoung comes running up to him. "Studio?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come with you? I think we can squeeze in some time for lyrics-"

"No," Jihoon interrupts him quick. "I'm going to be in and out really fast. You don't have to."

"Oh?" Soonyoung furrows his eyebrows - then his eyes widen. "Oh my god... Are you going to check on her?"

"No."

"That was a fast denial."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Jihoon!"

"Shut up."

Soonyoung whistles, putting his hands on the back of his head, "If you say so~ I'll leave you alone."

Jihoon glares at him again, but didn't respond. If he had responded to his friend, that would've led to even more teasing from him - and seriously, he didn't need any of it.

While his team and the rest of their staff goes down to call it a night, saying bye to everyone and etc, etc, Jihoon goes upstairs to the 21st floor again.

He steps out of the elevator and heads towards the direction of your studio. The door was slightly open, but there wasn't any sound this time. He knocks on the door.

Nothing.

Maybe you already left... but why would you leave your door unlocked? Then again - why would it be his problem? You two are barely friends now. If there was literally any one else, he would turn back around and call it a night. It wasn’t his place - so he shouldn’t be there.

Jihoon turns, facing his back against your studio door.

He’s able to take three steps to the elevator before turning around and his control getting the better of him. Jihoon reached out for the door knob, hesitating for a moment.

He’s supposed to close the door shut. He’s supposed to close the gap that was left open… but why is he hesitating?

With a small click of his tongue, he opens the studio door just a bit, calling out your name.

There wasn’t a response.

He sighs, realizing that you probably just left the door open on purpose (but which producer would ever do that?), and as he was about to close the door again - he hears a small little ‘hm?’.

Faster than he would ever (and I mean ever) admit, he swings the door open entirely, where he saw you in the corner of your booth, head against your table with your arms acting as a pillow.

Jihoon rushes over to your side, where he sees the monitor that was shut off, a half-empty glass of coffee on your table, and a bunch of crumbled pieces of music sheets underneath you and around the studio.

Ah.

You fell asleep mid-work - probably telling yourself you would shut your eyes for a second to wave off the exhaustion.

"y/n?" he says your name, tapping at your shoulder. You shift in chair, but you were still fast asleep. He shakes you even more, "Hey. y/n. Get up. y/n."

"Hm?" you let out a soft hum, your eyes fluttering open. When you register who was looming right in front of you, you shot up immediately. "Jihoon-nim!"

"Hi," he greets you. "Sorry. I... was worried that you were going to stay until 3 again."

"What time is it?" you rub your eyes, trying to regain all your consciousness. "Fuck, how long was I out? Holy shit, it's already 11:30? Fuck."

"It's okay," Jihoon insists, trying to calm you down as you frantically shake your mouse to wake your monitor up. Pulled up on the screen was a new score of another song, where Jihoon then noticed the million other tabs of other instruments that you were messing with. "Struggling with work again?"

"Ugh, not even..." you slap your arm, pulling yourself together. "It's okay. I should probably pack up. Man, I told myself I was going to leave early too..."

"Never too late to start heading back now," Jihoon helps clean up the studio while you were busily moving around, throwing stuff into your purse that includes 3 USBs, a small microphone, and multiple sheets of paper. He throws away all the crumbled pieces of paper (that he double checked to make sure you didn't need), taking out empty cans of soda, and folded up the blankets on the sofa.

"Thanks," you sheepishly smile, finishing packing up at the same time that Jihoon wraps up the cleaning. "That I can thank you for, right?"

"You can," Jihoon chuckles, opening the door to the studio. He holds it open for you, where you walk out immediately.

You lock the door when Jihoon leaves, where then the two of you make your way down to the lobby together. At the front doors, Jihoon's ride awaits him.

He turns back at you, "Where's your ride?"

"Ah... They're getting here in forty minutes," you check your phone real quick. "Don't worry too much about me."

To be honest, Jihoon suddenly didn't like the idea of you waiting for 40 minutes in the office building without anyone around. He looks around the area - just as empty as it was inside. Yeah. That’s not sitting right with him.

"Songpa-gu area, right?"

"Yes...?" you tilt your head.

"I'll give you a ride," Jihoon decides quickly, making his way over to the driver that waits for him.

"Huh?" You run right after him, "Wait, Jihoon-nim! You don't have to. My ride is supposed to get here soon - it's okay. I swear."

"Yeah, and have you wait here by yourself? I don't think so," Jihoon turns to you after talking to the driver. "Songpa-gu is only twenty minutes away. We can head over there."

"It's almost 12 in the morning. Don't you have schedules tomorrow?" you worriedly ask.

"It's fine. I would rather be worried about being late than worry if you got home properly," Jihoon says, opening the door to the back. "Ah... Hyung, this is l/n y/n, one of my colleagues."

"Nice to meet you," the driver nods. "Songpa-gu, right? That's not too far. I can make it there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, if that's a worry.”

"Oh, um... Yes," you manage a smile, now finding yourself entirely unable to deny the ride anymore. "Once." You tell Jihoon, climbing into the vehicle.

"Once," he repeats, closing the door and going around to the other side. He enters the car. "Okay, let's head to your place first."

"I would get kidnapped so easily if this was all it takes for me to get into a stranger's car..." you grumble, but despite that, you put in your address for the chauffeurs phone. You hand it back to him, where he takes a good look at the address.

"Oh my, you must have money like Jihoon," he remarks, propping his phone up. "Jamsil Le’el is not a cheap place."

Your face flushes red, looking out at the window. "It's... It's nothing much."

"Uh-huh..." Jihoon hums, holding back his growing smile. "So you really can't be commenting about my place."

"Yah, you live in the fancier neighbourhood!"

"Says the person that lives in the richest apartment complex in Seoul..."

"My place is not all that."

"I've seen the photos of Jamsil."

"They exaggerate!”

The driver takes a peak through the mirror of the two of you bantering, a new sight that he was entirely taken by surprise. It was one thing when Jihoon had approached him moments earlier about driving you back, but driving someone back who lives in the total opposite direction of you was an entirely other thing... and the way Jihoon was speaking? He was confident - comfortable, even. He was making jokes, laughing without care, and talking without thinking. Silently, the chauffeur chuckles, letting the two of you continue with your conversations without intervening.

"Oh my god, they're so cute!" you had moved closer to him when Jihoon pulled up the photo of his cats. "How long have you had them?"

"Almost six years now," he responds, showing you more photos of his beloved cats.

"Aw~" you coo, zooming in on the images. "You are such a cat person."

"Tell me something I don't know," Jihoon continues to swipe on his phone, but then a photo of his members appeared. "Oh, wait."

"Aw, I want to see!" you quickly exclaim, lightly hitting his arm.

"No, this is such a terrible photo of all of us.”

"You guys are idols. I'm friends with BangTan. I've seen embarrassing photos. Nothing can surprise me anymore."

"Yeah, right."

"You have not seen Namjoon's camera roll before."

Jihoon gives you a skeptical look, then lets out reluctant sigh. "Fine. Here's an album of some of my favourite photos of them. Don't tell them that I'm showing you this."

"Oo! Yay~" you cheer, taking his phone and beginning your journey through the album.

The photos starts from 2018, where the first one was of Jihoon, and the two other unit leaders of his team, Seungcheol and Soonyoung. It was a cute, messy, selfie of the three of them as young adults. The one after was a video of the unit that you're more familiar with - BooSeokSoon - doing some crazy shit (nothing surprising). After was a photo of their youngest's bright red face, with a drink in his hand and an arm around Mingyu.

As you go through them in curiosity, giggling and asking questions about the context every now and then, Jihoon couldn't help but feel his heart skip a beat every time you turn to him with another wonder, genuine excitement in your eyes and voice.

Eventually, by the time you reach the end of the album, the car was turning into your neighbourhood.

"Aw," your voice softens, watching the video that Jihoon took of the 12 other members singing to songs using a karaoke machine in a bar. "Now this is family."

"It was after our tour ended," he recalls, looking over your shoulder. "We didn't get back to the hotel until the morning."

"You guys seriously party so hard," you laugh, covering your mouth in adoration. You hand the phone back to his, taking your own out, "Let's see... I don't think I have that many videos or photos of my guys. I don't usually go to their after parties because I have work..."

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're here," the chauffeur pulls into the driveway of your apartment complex.

"Oh, already?” you frown, looking outside to see that you really have arrived. "Ah... I won't put you through the trouble of signing in and everything. I'll walk from here."

"Are you sure?" Jihoon grabs your wrist before you could leave. "It's not too much trouble."

"It's okay," you promise, giving him a reassuring smile. "There's security cameras all over, and a security guard just ahead. Thank you for driving me already. Seriously."

Jihoon reluctantly lets go of your wrist, nodding as you climb out of the vehicle.

"I'll treat you to dinner next time we see each other," you tell him before closing the door. "Your choice of location. Doesn't matter how fancy or far it is - I'll handle it."

Jihoon nods, "I'll hold you to that."

"Thank you again," you close the door and begin your walk inside.

Just as Jihoon's driver begins to start the car again, Jihoon shakes his head.

"Wait. Not until she gets through the gates." His eyes never left you, making sure you were able to enter through the security gates of your apartment and everything. When the doors open from the pedestrian side, he lets out a relieved breath. "Okay. Let's go."

His driver lets out a whistle while he begins the drive to the other side of the city, "So... Was that a date offer?"

"What?" Jihoon furrows his eyebrows.

"What y/n-ssi said," his chauffeur grins, looking at his client through the mirror. "Taking you out for dinner? I may not be as young as you two are, but I can recognize when someone is trying to ask you out."

"It's nothing," he shrugs. "Just two colleagues treating each other when we can.”

“Is she the women you were stuck in the elevator with the other week?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well that makes sense,” his chauffeur chuckles, keeping his eyes on the road. “Well, I do love driving around these parts of Seoul. If she ever needs another ride, don’t hesitate to tell her that it would be an honour.”

“Honour, seriously?”

"She gets you to speak instead of staring at your phone the entire ride," he glances at him from the rearview mirror. "So... Will you take her up on that offer? For dinner?"

He doesn't respond, which was quite enough for the chauffeur to know his answer by itself.

The next time he sees you (outside from the casual hi's and hey's while passing each other), winter was around the corner, the leaves long since fallen, skirt and blouse weather left behind, now home to sweaters and mittens and gloves and hats and scarves. Around the company building, every artist and staff was busily preparing for the holidays, excited chatter in the hallways between studios and closed doors, with even the artists themselves getting into a rather festive spirit.

Jihoon was passing by the studio when he notices your door open. He casually looks inside when he walks past, noticing the festive decorations that you were in the middle of putting up. You were standing on a ladder, reaching for the top of the walls with snowflakes in your hands.

"Do you need help?" he suddenly asks, making you jump up in surprise.

"Jihoon!" you step down from your ladder, putting the snowflakes down, as well. "Hey! How are you doing?"

"Good," he answers, pushing the door to your studio open. "Wow... You really went all out in here, huh?"

You glance around, eyes darting at the tree that was in the corner, the hanging garlands, and just the general theme of holiday colours.

"It's kind of a tradition I have going," you smile fondly, leaning against your desk. "And usually I have a lot more help, but lately..."

Jihoon doesn't need you to finish your sentence. He saw the announcement earlier - that BTS was officially starting their group enlistments. You knew it was coming - but Jihoon believes you just weren't ready for the day to come, especially since you've known them for so long.

"What else do you need to do?" he looks at you, a genuine smile on his face.

"Huh?" you push yourself off your desk in surprise. "Oh! Um... I just need to hang a few more lights, put the candles in its right, non-flammable, spots, overall clean my desk, maybe vacuum the ground..."

"Let me help," he insists, already moving to your storage boxes beside your studio couch.

"God, now I really need to take you out for dinner," you groan, watching as Jihoon searches through your decoration boxes. "Are you free later today?"

"You do know I'm still an idol with idol schedules, right?"

"Hey, I heard you preparing for a comeback for a subunit," you shrug. "It's worth asking."

"Good. Because I am free," Jihoon hides his smile really well, searching through the boxes of decorations.

"Huh?"

Jihoon takes out a star, checking the condition of the decoration before putting it on the side. "What do you want to eat?"

“Anything right now,” you admit, climbing back up on your ladder. “Maybe some barbecue? Oh, but Chinese food sounds so good right now, too…”

“There’s a good Chinese fusion place in Songpa-gu,” Jihoon suggests. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever been there, but the food is so good. They also have private rooms, so I think that’s better for us.”

For us. He didn’t even register what he said until he said it, his face burning red. His heart slowly begins to pound in his chest, feeling the exact same difficulty of breathing whenever he would see you around the company now.

“I’m down for that,” you smile, reaching the higher spots on your wall.

Jihoon continues to go through the boxes, putting up decorations in areas that were lacking in holiday spirits. You were busy gluing and sticking items against your wall, balancing on your ladder with ease.

30 minutes later - the studio was transformed into a wonderful and joyful space - but to be honest, the two of you were kind of exhausted of all the decorating… and glitter that had fallen all over your hands.

Jihoon brushes his hands, “Is that it for the decorations?"

“Yeah,” you confirm, then a loud groan escapes your mouth as you look down at your ripped sleeve. "Dang it... Before we go, I should stop by my apartment and get a change of clothes."

"Maybe," Jihoon agrees. "The place is kind of nice. If you care about what you wear, pick something that you would wear to an awards show. Something casual."

"Okay, those two themes do not go together at all," you laugh, rolling your eyes. "At my awards shows, I wear a full dress, heels, hair done, makeup done and everything. Two hours at the beauty shop!"

Jihoon looks at the time on his phone, "It's only 4. You have time to get ready, I think. How about I come pick you up at your apartment at 7? I'll get a reservation by then."

"Reservation? What kind of fancy ass restaurant do you have in mind?" you wonder. "Actually, don't answer that. I'm kind of curious now."

Jihoon puts his hands in his pockets, hiding the fact that as the dinner conversation kept going, the more he's processing that it's basically a date. He lets out a huff of air, "I'll send you the location of the restaurant. You can plan your outfit based on the photos."

"Great!" you go around the corner, taking your jacket from the couch. "I'll head back to my place now and start getting ready."

Jihoon nods, following you out of the studio, "Make sure to wear something warm. It's winter now."

"Yeah, I know~" you lock the door behind you. "See you at seven, Jihoon~"

"See you," he allows himself to smile proudly, watching as you go to the elevator while he prepares to head to his own studio.

Jihoon pushes the door to the Universe Factory, where a good quarter of his own team was waiting for him inside. His blood runs cold when he sees them, recalling of why he was at the studio in the first place.

"Yah, took you long enough!" Soonyoung complains, lounging around on the couch (he was entirely upside down).

"Sorry. Got to go," Jihoon goes to his desk, picking up all his stuff and putting them into his bag.

"Yo, where are you going?" Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows, watching as Jihoon pack his things from the recording booth. "I thought we were recording today-"

"Already told Bumzu-hyung. He's coming over right now to fill my spot," Jihoon says, closing all the tabs on his monitor. "Sorry. Something came up."

"Huh..." Joshua watches him with a skeptical look.

Without even saying bye, Jihoon runs straight out of the studio. He didn't even stop to scold or remind them to lock up properly - Jihoon just left.

"Okay. That was weird," Jeonghan deadpans. "He's been weird lately, right?"

"Definitely."

Soonyoung suddenly sits up, his eyes wide. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Seungcheol turns to him.

Soonyoung begins laughing, then he frantically pulls out his phone and starts sending a series of messages.

"What? What?" Joshua joins Soonyoung on the couch, trying to catch a look of his friend's phone.

"Oh my god, don't tell Jihoon this, but I think he has a crush," Soonyoung grins, watching his members process what he's saying.

It takes a moment as they exchange looks. Then, before Soonyoung could further explain anything, the members immediately move to the sofa, surrounding their performance team leader with wide eyes.

"Okay, okay, go back," Jeonghan starts, putting a hand on Soonyoung's shoulder. "What do you mean he has a crush?"

"I said I think!" he reminds, putting his phone down. "You know how he got stuck with y/n-ssi a few weeks ago? In the elevator? Yeah, so I think they did far more than just talking."

"They fucked?!"

"Why is that the FIRST thing your mind goes to?!" Soonyoung throws his hands into the air. "No! If that happened, then I'll be even more sure! But no. I think Jihoon's finally found someone who might just be as musically creative as he is."

"y/n..." Seungcheol repeats your name. "The producer for BTS?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Apparently, Jihoon helped with a song. I have no idea what kind of relationship they have though... and I have no idea where he's going now." Soonyoung grabs a bottle of water and opens it, taking a sip. In his other hand, he looks at the message that popped up on his phone.

woozi of hoshi x woozi dinner with y/n remember to lock up and dont make a mess

Safe to say, Soonyoung spat out the water and practically lost it.

7:00 PM arrives.

Jihoon finds himself wearing a nice black dress shirt, his hair perfectly styled, even makeup worn, waiting outside of your apartment. When he and his chauffeur pulled up to the familiar neighbourhood again, he was going to send you a text message... except he doesn't even know your number.

Luckily, you were on time.

There was probably five thousand and one things that's going through Jihoon's mind the moment he sees you step out of your apartment complex.

"Jihoon-ah," his chauffeur calls. "Your mouth is open."

"No, it's not."

"Hi!" You open the door to the vehicle, climbing into the car with a bright smile on your face, "Okay, let's get going!"

"I said it was casual, not high-class." Jihoon comments, looking away from you as he covered the bottom of his mouth with his hand. "You didn't have to put in that much effort for a casual dinner."

"Hello? The place you sent me is not just casual!" you exclaim. "People get proposed to there! Which makes sense, because it's still in Songpa-gu, but still..."

"It's not that fancy," he argues, but there was the very obvious smile on his face. "By the way, I was going to text you, but I realized I don't even have your number." Jihoon holds his phone out.

"Oh, really?" you take his device, quickly putting in your number. Not only that, you even added your own contact name and took your own contact photo. You raise the phone up, taking a quick selfie, then upload it as the profile picture. Then, you set your own nickname: y/n pd >^^<

Jihoon takes a look at the nickname, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "PD? Really?'

"What, it's the truth!" you giggle. "Production director."

Jihoon sends you a message, a quick little 'hi', which you successfully receive on your phone.

You take your phone and take a quick photo of Jihoon, who became completely caught off guard.

"Yah."

"You look fine, Jihoon," you casually comment while setting up a nickname for him: Jihoon-nim^^

"How'd you find this place?" you ask, putting your phone away.

"Mingyu took us during our monthly meetings when it was his turn to host," Jihoon leans forward a bit. "Hyung, reservation is at 7:30."

The driver nods, "I got it. We'll be there at 20."

"Thanks," Jihoon goes back into his seat, a relieved sigh leaving his mouth. "You look great, by the way."

Your eyes widen a bit, face turning red. You look away, nodding as you cover your mouth, "Thanks. I think the photos of the place scared me a bit too much. Hopefully, I didn't overdress."

"No, you look perfect," he didn't even register what he said until he said it, his face now turning red. Jihoon quickly clears his throat, fixing the sleeves of his black dress shirt. "So... How did the song go? The one you showed me?"

"Oh my god!" you turn to him, eyes starry and bright. "I was going to mention this over dinner, but I guess we can talk about it now, too. I showed it to the others that I was working with, and they definitely love your version. If you can, can you come with me to meet up with them on Tuesday? Only if you're free. I'll literally move my schedule around to match your's, because they really want to talk to you. They have connections in the States, too, so I think this is a really good opportunity. Please, please, please tell me you'll be free soon."

Jihoon registers what you say, ignoring that your hand was now on his on his leg. "I... I should be free on Tuesday. The next few weeks, we're going to be off because of our subunit's comeback, so we don't have a lot of group activities, and i don't have that many solo ones..."

"You're about to now!" you grin. "When the song goes through, I'll register your name and everything. I'll talk with our CEO and get him to approve. He literally cannot say no to me."

"Close?"

"Nah. He's more scared of me, if anything."

"You really are a pillar in this company, huh?" Jihoon laughs, making you retract your hand and cross your arms.

"It's nothing," you bite the inside of your cheek with a small pout. "I could say the same thing about you, Jihoon - the backbone of Pledis and Seventeen."

"Yeah, yeah," he lightly kicks your feet. "So... They liked the version I edited?"

"They said it solved the problem from before - that it was lacking something," you explain. "Of course, that definitely wounded my ego, but it wasn't that bad."

"To be honest, they could've released your version as is. To me, it felt like it was only missing that emotional piece that your sound is known for," Jihoon comments.

"Emotional piece?"

"That's your strength," he nods. "You know how to write songs that resonates with the listeners, using instruments to convey thoughts and actions... if that makes any sense."

You put a hand over your mouth, playfully hitting his arm, "Don't act like you know my music as well as you know your's! You know how to make each song sound so drastically different, and yet you still keep the Seventeen signature. I don't get it."

"It's not always me," Jihoon scoffs. "It's what I said the first time we met. The members are always there."

"Ah, Jihoon-ah, y/n-ssi, we're here," the chauffeur pulls up into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Oh, already?" you take a look outside. "Wow... This place looks so much better in person than the photos."

"Hyung, thanks for the drive again. I'll let you know when we're done,” Jihoon leaves the vehicle first. He goes around to the other side, opening the door for you. Jihoon holds his hand out, which you take as you step out of the car.

"Oh? It's snowing," you look up at the snowfall.

"Cold?"

"Nope, it's okay," you flash him a fond smile, waiting for Jihoon to close the door after telling his driver some other information. "Just starting to regret only wearing heels..."

"Don't worry - the table should be ready. There's no wait," Jihoon informs, guiding you into the restaurant as his chauffeur drives off behind you.

The two of you enter the rather lively restaurant right on time, where one of the waiters nods at both of you. They guide you two into the back of the building, where a quaint table was ready and prepped. Jihoon pulls the chair out for you without a second thought, where you feel your face flash a deep shade of red. God, if it wasn't for the overall dim lighting, it was obvious your ears were almost the colour of your lipstick. He goes over to the other side, getting comfortable in his seat.

"Why don't you have work today?" Jihoon curiously asks, opening the menu. "Every time I see you, you're always on your way to your studio or going to another studio."

"Ah... I finally finished writing my song for one of the other groups," you respond, taking the other menu. "I sent it over last night, so I didn't even have to come to the company today. I'm glad I did. I finally get to treat you out."

"You didn't need to," he says. "Oh, my recommendation would be the hanwoo beef. Pair it with the rice, and it's so good. The noodles aren't that worth it here, but the stir-fried shrimps are good, as well... Hm, the braised porks aren't bad, either. Actually, most of the items here are great."

"Jihoon," you call, moving your hand over your mouth to cover your giggles. "Order whatever you want. I'm treating, remember?"

Jihoon gets taken aback by a moment, but you could see that his shoulders were slowly loosening. He nods, ordering what he wants, while you do the same.

The two of you send the menu back after choosing your dishes, where small talk now becomes inevitable. The flow of the conversation kept going - where both of you got to talk about stuff you wouldn't usually with others. For Jihoon, he felt like he was being heard (the struggle of being introverted and being in a group with 12 other members who are way more talkative than he was). For you? You finally got to hear stories from other producers and artists (results of being so protected by older brothers who didn't want to ruin your confidence). You two go on and on - even when the food arrives to when it was all almost done.

"Do you want to take a listen? To the newest song?" you ask, wrapping up your food.

"Oh? Will you let me give feedback again?" he teases.

"As long as it's not straight up hate, then yes."

"Then I would love to," he agrees. "Do you have the recording on you right now, or...?"

"It's back in my apartment - all my recordings," you inform, putting your chopsticks down. "Do you want to come over?"

He furrows his eyebrows, initially taken aback by your request. "Tonight?"

"When else?" you say that so casually that Jihoon realizes the request being strange didn't even cross your mind. It was as if you asked your best friend over for dinner - or something like that.

"If'I'm not being too much of a bother..." Jihoon agrees, a small smile forming on his face. "Then we'll actually see if you were lying or not if the photos were exaggerated or not."

"Oh, they definitely were!" you exclaim. "I don't live that high class."

"Right... You're wearing a designer bracelet right now."

"Yeah, says the person with the watch worth over six million won."

Jihoon looks at his wrist, where the watch sits. He scoffs, "I don't know what you mean. The fact you can recognize the watch brand is telling me a lot."

"Right back at you," you can't help but laugh, unconsciously moving your hand over your mouth again.

"Why do you cover your mouth so much when you laugh?" he finally questions, blurting it out without even thinking it through.

You stiffen, lowering your hand in embarrassment.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes quickly. "That came out of nowhere. I... Well, I've noticed it whenever we talk. You have a really nice smile, and your laugh is... really cute."

"It's... Um..." you gaze shifts downwards, watching as the candle flicker on the table.

"Don't answer if you're uncomfortable," he adds. "Curiosity."

"No, it's okay," you sigh. "My ex... I think from a few years ago now... He's always had something to say about my voice and my laugh and whatever other sounds I would make for the sake of my music. I didn't know it was that obvious."

"It's not. I just... pick up on those things more," he hesitates with his response, where a flicker of sadness flashes through his eyes. "He must've been an ass."

"That's why we broke up," you proudly say. "If he had a problem with my techniques, then he can literally go fuck himself."

"It must be a pain," he hums, leaning back against the chair. "Successful producer and all, and still being in your 20s."

"You're projecting now."

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Are you done?"

You nod, "Yup."

"Let's get the dessert and head over to your apartment. I'm really curious on the song now."

After being at the restaurant for an hour and a half, you two were finally leaving. You pay for the entire meal, something Jihoon actually insisted you didn't when you called for the bill. You scoffed and laughed at him, getting the card reader before he could and putting your card first. Thankfully (and out of relief), your card went through.

"I said I would treat!" you were laughing as you get your jackets. "Don't be mad about me for that."

"Yeah, but now I have the image of letting you pay for my dinner."

"So?"

"So, it's a bad image."

"Yeah, deal with it. I finally got you dinner. If it's that much of a problem, buy me bubble tea the next time you come to the company building."

By 9:30 PM, the two of you arrive at your apartment on the 42nd floor.

You were laughing at something Jihoon said, pressing in the correct numbers to the keypad. When you successfully unlock the first door, you take out your home keys and unlock the main doors. "Welcome to my place."

Jihoon steps inside, completely taken aback by the sheer size of your apartment... actually wait, it's not even an apartment. It's a penthouse, in the middle of the bustling city of Seoul, surrounded by major executives for other companies, not just in entertainment.

“Ugh, it’s so messy,” you rub the side of your head in frustration, kicking away shoes that you haven’t bothered to put back in its proper place. “Crap, I should've cleaned if I was going to invite you over..."

Jihoon chuckles, watching as you frantically put jackets back on hangers, putting shoes up in its proper places, and cleaning up empty plates that were left on surfaces around the apartment.

"I'll clean up while you listen to the new song," you decide, brushing off your hands. "God, this is so embarrassing..."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassures you. "You're more human this way. I'd be more scared if it was spotless. At least your place looks lived in."

"Way to put that lightly," you sigh, moving to fix up your living space. "Okay. Studio."

Jihoon follows you down the halls, passing by the photos you have put up. There were group photos of every group that you have worked with, along with a collage of album art for songs that you have created or worked on. The hallway was a documentation of your entire life - from the beginning of your career to the present.

You open the door to one of the rooms, flicking on the lights. The room was a warm yellow with padding all over the walls. In the corner were a series of instruments, and a microphone set up pushed to the side. Your electric guitar sits beside your main setup, with a large multi-monitor setup against the front wall.

"Oh? What model is that?" Jihoon nods at the guitar.

You follow his gaze, a fond smile on your face as you go over you pick it up, "Customized Fender for my birthday after the company expanded. BangTan, some close friends, producers, and writers all piled money together to get it. God, I think I cried for a good five days." You hand it over to him.

"Damn..." Jihoon gently takes the guitar, admiring it with awe. "My members gave me a Gibson one for my birthday the other year. It was the first time I actually wanted something."

"And all 12 of them pitched in? Only those 12?"

"Yeah," he confirms, giving it back to you.

"Holy shit, they must love you a lot," you put the guitar back down, taking a seat by your setup. "Even with 15 people pitching in for my guitar, it was still a lot."

"Your model is way more expensive. You have expensive taste."

"Yah. Says the idol producer."

"You are literally sitting down in the main chair."

"That's not the point~"

Jihoon scoffs, shaking his head as he watches you start up the monitor. "To be honest, I'm surprised you don't have more windows in your apartment."

"Really?" you hum, eyes zeroed in on the screen. "I think there's enough windows."

"Enough direct sunlight?"

"Of course!" you pull up the proper files. “Okay, here. Take a look."

You and Jihoon switch places, with him now sitting on the chair while you stand to watch. He puts on the spare set of headphones, pressing play in the process.

And eventually, the two of you lose yourselves in the world of music, just as how you always do.

Feedback was exchanged, comments were made, but despite jumping around from lyrics to composing, to even making new sounds... one theme was obvious:

Both of you love music. You both live and breathe it. The two of you have a certain vision when it comes to your sound, and you both know it. There was a level of understanding that came between you... which only made the entire session feel much more intimate than all the other ones.

Of the time spent inside your studio, with the occasional break to get some snacks or water from the kitchen, it only felt like an hour passed. The next time you finally look up at the time, it read 1am. Over 4 hours of work... and it didn't even feel like work.

"Oh, shit, it's late," you notice, staring at the time with a frown. You take a look outside through the curtains, where the snowfall had long since began to fall. The roads below were entirely covered with the layer of white. "It's snowing bad."

He looks outside, frowning at all the snow that had landed on the ground in the hours he's been out. "Fuck."

"You shouldn't let your driver come pick you up in this weather, especially since it's late," you remark, getting up from your chair. "If you want, you could stay here for the night. I have a spare bedroom, and some of my brother's clothes.

"Oh, I shouldn't," he quickly shakes his head. "That's-"

"Jihoon, I'm not letting you or your driver take the road at this hour or in this weather," you insist. "Just stay the night. It'll be fine."

The idea of another guy staying in your apartment and the implications that it could have didn't cross your mind at all. You were worried for your friend - that was it.

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze lingering at your rather determined gaze. Then, Jihoon lets out a huff of air, "Fine. I don't think you would've let me out anywyas."

"Don't say that. It sounds like I kidnapped you in that tone."

"You kind of are."

"Am not!" You let out a breath of air, putting your hands on your side, "Let me set up the spare bedroom and check if I actually have any clothes. Just... make yourself comfortable around my place. Explore, or something like that... Oh, I don't know!" you throw your hands into the air. "I don't have people over often!"

Jihoon laughs again, watching your frustrated actions with a layer of fondness. "For someone who was so comfortable making me that offer, you really aren't prepared, huh?"

"Hey, at least we got some work done. I call that a win," you leave the studio first.

Jihoon couldn't wipe the stupid smile off his face, even after he presses his hands against his cheeks. Seriously, what is coming over him? He shouldn't be staying the night. There's probably five million and one things wrong with that... but why is he finding himself in this situation? How is he just... letting you drag him into these cases? Not that he's complaining at all...

He leaves the studio, closing the lights behind him. Your place was spacious to no end, with high ceilings and long hallways. Despite all the complaints earlier about how messy it was... Jihoon felt at ease, knowing that it was still a home.

"Okay, bedroom's ready," you come out of one of the rooms, moving the hair from your face. "The clothes are on the bed. My brother hasn't been here for a while, so they haven't been worn in, like, months, so hopefully, that's fine. There's a bathroom in there, too, so just make yourself comfortable."

He couldn't help but let his gaze linger on you some more. You didn't change out of the dress that you had on during the dinner, a result of both of you immediately jumping straight into work rather than getting comfortable. He was the same - except, he didn't really have the option of changing in the first place. Though, despite that, you still looked... kind of divine. You were tired from staring at a screen for four hours straight, from working for four hours without rest. The hair you had done hours earlier had long since fallen apart, along with your makeup. Despite that, Jihoon feels his heart squeeze - even if it was just a bit.

"Jihoon?"

"Isn't it uncomfortable?" he asks, blurting out the questions he had in his head without thinking... again. "Oh, fuck- I mean, your dress. I've heard a lot of colleagues complain about being in a dress for a long time and it getting uncomfortable and-"

"It's fine, Jihoon," you wave him off, pressing your hands against the fabric of your outfit. "I'll get out of it in a few minutes. But what do you think, though? Isn't it nice? The last time I wore this was for Golden Disc last year."

"You should wear it more often," he comments, putting his somewhat sweating hands in the pockets of his pants. "You look... really good."

"You said that the first time you saw me tonight," you laugh, moving your hand up instinctively again.

"Your hand. You're doing it again," Jihoon frowns.

"Ugh, it's a bad habit now!" you quickly lower it.

"I'll keep on reminding you until you stop," a small smirk plays on his face. "You should start winding down. It's late. What time do you need to start tomorrow?"

"Around..." you close your eyes, trying to recall what was on your scehedule. "Fuck, I think I have an early recording with some of my artists tomorrow... Maybe 9am?"

"Ah, so the same as me," he nods. "I need to record, too."

"Oh? So we'll just head out together, huh?"

"By the sounds of it," he agrees. "Now, go start your nightly routine. I'll take a shower."

"Got it," you smile, moving out of the way so Jihoon can enter the spare bedroom.

Jihoon enters the bedroom, where the clothes that you had laid out was put on the bed, along with a spare towel, slippers on the ground, and even some makeup remover. He smiles fondly at the items, taking a better look at his clothes you had laid out.

A regular t-shirt, some sweatpants... and a sweater that seemed awfully familiar.

He takes a closer look, realizing that it was his sweater. How did you get...?

He never got his sweater back after giving it to you the first time you had met. It lays there on the bed, freshly washed, folded, and presented. How long has it been now? A few weeks?

Jihoon heads off to the shower with the clothes you provided and his sweater, unable to get the idea of you out of his mind - for some strange, unknown, reason.

He takes his shower with those thoughts practically plaguing his mind. The way you would work, how hard you would dedicate yourself to music... but also how beautiful your laugh is, how bright your smile could be...

Then, the idea of you covering your mouth, or falling quiet, out of either shame or embarrassment crosses his mind - which only gets him upset. How could anyone tell you otherwise?

"Fuck, Jihoon," he curses at himself, letting the water fall onto his back. He takes a deep breath in, pressing a hand against his chest. "Get it together."

He wraps up his shower, putting on the clothes. They were all comfortable, which he really appreciates. Jihoon steps out of the bedroom, where he spots you in the kitchen, changed out of your dress, wearing an oversized shirt and some shorts. Your hair was also damp, which didn't make his thoughts go any cleaner.

"Getting ready to sleep?" you wonder, looking up from your phone. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"No, it's okay," he insists, rubbing his wet hair through the towel. "Your shower pressure is really nice."

You laugh, shaking your head, "Seriously? That's what you have to say?"

"Bathroom is nice, too."

"Thanks, Jihoon," you smile, shaking your head. "Man, I need to rest my eyes." You put your phone down, swinging your legs from your high rise chairs.

"That's why I tend to work out whenever I can," Jihoon comments, sitting across from you. "Won't you get cold?"

You shake your head, "I have my apartment's temperature set at a high. I hate sleeping with sweats or long sleeves."

Jihoon nods, taking a look at the time. "Oh fuck, it's already 3am?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "I need to sleep soon, or else I'll be late tomorrow... and I really don't want to hold you up if I'm late."

"It's okay. At most, you're only going to hold up some of my members."

"Okay, that's not any better!"

"Better than unknown, overseas, producers."

You scoff, resting your chin against your palm, "If you say so..." You let out a yawn, stretching your arms. "Okay, I seriously got to sleep. There's bottle water in the fridge, and other snacks. If you want to cook something, you can. It doesn't matter..." another yawn. "Goodnight, Jihoon."

"Night, y/n," he says, his voice tender and... soft. It all felt so... real. Domestic, in a way.

The next day, the two of you somehow found a schedule that you didn't know you have. Jihoon was up first, making breakfast at almost the crack of dawn. You woke up at 8:10, only 50 minutes before you two were supposed to be at the company - but he didn't mind.

"Think of this as repayment for letting me stay the night," Jihoon comments, serving up the food for you. "When was the last time you had a proper breakfast?"

"I mean..." you stare at the pancakes, practically drooling at the sight and smell. "I don't wake up early enough for it, so I end up grabbing buns at the bakery beside the company..."

"This will save money, at least," Jihoon sits in front of you. "Do you take a long time to get ready?"

"Nah," you shake your head., taking a bite from the food he made. "Oh my god, it's so good. I didn't know you could cook like this!"

Jihoon chuckles, watching you with awe. "Don't mention it. My mom would've scolded the hell out of me if I didn't know how to cook for myself and other's."

"Who's the best cook on your team?" you curiously ask.

"Mingyu, probably, or even Joshua," he answers. "The two of them cooks for fun all the time, and they would always bring stuff for us."

"Worse cooks, then?"

"Seungkwan. Vernon. Seungcheol isn't that bad, but he struggles a whole bunch."

You take a look at the time, almost letting out a shriek when you realize just how late it had gotten. "Oh, fuck! We gotta get going. We're going to be late at this rate."

Jihoon turns his head to the clock, a rise of panic bubbling over, "Ah, shit..."

The two of you quickly clean up the breakfast, putting the items in the sink with you insisting that you'll be doing them when you get home later in the day. Without arguing much, Jihoon heads over to the bedroom and begins to change first.

Fuck. His phone was still outside.

Not bothering to throw his shirt or sweater back on, he quickly leaves the room and heads back to the kitchen. Unfortunately for him, it was at the same time where you were just leaving the cooking space to get ready... which ultimately led to both of you crashing right into each other.

"Oh, shit," Jihoon grabs your waist, making sure you didn't fall behind. "Are you okay?"

Your face is bright red, your hand sprawled against his chest out of reflex. "Sorry..." you mumble, eyes darting between looking at him, to looking at his body, then looking away entirely. "Are you..."

"Left my phone," he sighs, stepping away from you. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay!" you wave your hand, finally looking away from him. God, you feel your face as red as a tomato now. "Let's get going in the next five minutes. Traffic is hell."

"Already called Hajoon. He's on his way."

"Didn't question why he's coming to pick you up at my apartment?"

"Nah. Not at all."

Somehow, you two get to the office on time. Jihoon's chauffeur may have almost crashed a few times on some sharp turns and had maybe almost ran the red lights, but hey, at least the two of you weren't late (and still alive). You both head up at the same time, falling into small talk again. Then, the doors to the correct floor opens up.

"Alright, I'll see you later, Jihoon," you stop in front of your studio, taking out your keys.

"Yeah," Jihoon smiles. "Let me take you out another time. It was fun."

"Yeah, maybe not during the middle of a snow storm," you laugh. "Still... I would do it again."

Jihoon hides the way his smile became even wider at your response, nodding his head instead. "I'll hold you to that." He makes his way back to his studio, while you enter your own.

"Hey!" you greet, hanging your jacket up on the nearby hook.

The only two that was currently present in the studio was Namjoon and Yoongi, who both stopped what they were doing to look at you.

"Wow, you're glowing," Namjoon comments, pressing pause on the recording.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you pull out your regular chair beside him, a confused look on your face.

"Check this out," Yoongi turns on his phone, does a quick search, then shows the article to you.

SEVENTEEN WOOZI spotted on a date in Songpa-gu with fellow HYBE producer, L/N Y/N. Dating, or working on something new?

You choke on air, quickly turning around to hit your chest. Then, you register what you had read, snatching Yoongi's phone. You scan the article. There was a clear, obvious, photo of you and Jihoon at the restaurant, both wearing fancy attire that shows it was way more than just a business meeting.

"So..." Yoongi whistles. "Explanation or...?"

"I owed him dinner. We went out for dinner. That was it," you clarify, giving him his phone back. "Fuck, I didn't know people saw us..."

"Woozi is the one that looks like Yoongi, right?" Namjoon recalls, where a teasing sparkle appears in his eyes. "y/n-ah, I think you have a type."

"What type?!" you shriek.

"Out of all of us, your favourite is literally Yoongi!" he argues.

"Whatever," you grumble, taking out your USB from your bag. "Here's a new version of the file I sent you the other week. I had Jihoon check on it yesterday after our date- dinner, and he gave some amazing feedback with a few tweaks. I'll send you the new scoresheet in a bit, but I think this might be the finalized one."

"Jihoon?"

"Woozi."

The two older men exchanges looks, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. While you set everything up, the two immediately runs up to the other's side.

"Okay. There's something up here," Namjoon whispers. "Wasn't Woozi the one that she was stuck in an elevator with?"

"Yeah," Yoongi nods. "It was definitely a date."

"Clearly! And it was in Songpa-gu, so it was definitely expensive."

"I mean, both of them have money."

You snap your fingers at them, "Are you two going to continue whispering, or are you going to record?"

On the other hand, Jihoon was dealing with the exact same response after the article was put out for publishing. He was unlocking the doors to the Universe Factory when he hears voices from the other side...

"Okay, what the hell?" Jihoon waits at the door, dropping his bag at the entrance while he meets the eyes of the other guys in the 96z line of Seventeen.

"So~" Jun leans back against Jihoon's chair with a sparkly look in his eyes. "Jihoon-ah~ Is there something you would like to tell us?"

"Not really?"

Soonyoung practically jumps right out of the couch, "Yeah, right! Your date with y/n-ssi was caught and it's going around everywhere!"

"It wasn't a date," he clarifies. "It was a business meeting at most."

"Yeah, and you wore a nice dress shirt, your nice watch, your hair is styled, and she's wearing a nice dress, heels, makeup and hair done. I don't think it was a regular business meeting," Wonwoo looks up from his Nintendo. "What did you two even talk about?"

"Business and music," he says, moving over to his corner. "She owed me dinner because I drove her back last week, so I only took up her offer. That's it."

"Uh-huh..." Soonyoung didn't believe it for two seconds. "Well, the company's going to want to talk to you two about it. This isn't anything small, especially since you were caught going outside."

"Me going outside isn't that big of a deal," Jihoon insists. "I'm still human."

"Barely."

"I'm barely human?"

"Yeah, kind of."

Then came a knock on the door.

The group quickly falls silent, watching Jihoon like a hawk hunting for pray as he moves to the studio doors. Jihoon opens it up, where you were standing.

"Hey," you smile. "Sorry, are you busy right now?"

"Not really," he shakes his head.

"We're supposed to be-" Soonyoung got his mouth shut up by Wonwoo and Jun.

"Well, if you're not too busy with work later, can you stop by my studio before you leave? I want you to take a look at the score sheet we were working on last night."

"Huh? Is something wrong?"

"Nope!" you shake your head. "I want your input on some things before I alter anything. After all, you wrote, like, the main body and everything."

"Yeah, sure," Jihoon smiles, watching as your face morph to relief. "You don't have to be so on edge to ask for feedback, you know."

"I know!" you throw your hands into the air. "I'm still not used to it. I'll see you later, okay?"

"See you," Jihoon nods, watching as you turn away and leave for your studio again. He closes the door, turning around to only meet the wide and curious eyes of his friends. "What?"

"Why is that always your tone when we talk to you?" Soonyoung asks, a teasing look on his face. "So...?"

"So what?"

Wonwoo lets out a sound of disbelief while Jun was laughing proudly. Soonyoung didn't even bother to say anything, letting Jihoon return back to his personal studio space.

And those days of going back and forth, going between the studios, and sometimes even out of it, becomes the norm. A desire for feedback here, a creative block there... The two of you eventually found each other to lean on during your creative blocks - when the music isn't floating properly into the sheets.

Eventually, even the others around you both started to pick up on the strange signs and... somewhat strange relationship the two of you had. I mean, not as if the two of you were good at hiding it to begin with.

If you weren't in your studio, you were at the Universe Factory. If Jihoon wasn't at practice or in his studio, he would be in your's. For the upcoming weeks, that was the schedule the two of you fell into... and everyone kind of noticed.

"Oh? Woozi-nim?" Namjoon comes into the studio with a surprise look on his face. "Hi. I... think this is the first time we've officially met?"

Jihoon stands up from his chair beside your table, bowing as he greets his senior, "Hello."

"Hi," Namjoon smiles. "y/n, what are you doing?"

"We're working on a new project," you tell him, not even looking away from the monitor. "What do you need?"

"Nothing - just checking up on you..." Namjoon trails off, watching as Jihoon sits back down.

"You should add an acoustic guitar here," Jihoon points at the screen. "Then, back it up with some vocals, maybe in a higher key than the main. This is also a good part to add some ad-libs."

You move around, clicking at the computer to put in what Jihoon had said. After listening to it, you smile and the two of you high-five.

Namjoon watches fondly, then, as silently as he could, he closes the door.

On another day, around the time after New Year's, the two of you were working late into the afternoon as always. This time, it was in Jihoon's studio - aiding him with the next songs on his album for his group.

The comeback was set for April 24th, only three months away. Jihoon's deadline was in a few more weeks, to which he still has to finalize on choosing a title track and polishing the rest of the songs.

After three straight hours of work, the two of you finally take a break.

"The company's powering off after six today," Jihoon complains, pushing back against his chair. "We can't stay back to work."

"Aw," you sigh, crossing your arms. "And I'm getting a new setup at my place. Guess we'll have to cut it early."

"I mean..." Jihoon trails off. "My place isn't too far away. We can always continue our work there."

"Really?" you smile. "You're finally letting me come over?"

"I never stopped you," he retaliates, saving the files to his USB. "Well?"

"Let me grab my stuff, and we can head over there now," you quickly get up, rushing over to pick up your things from the sofa.

Before you knew it, you were standing in Jihoon's hallway to his apartment in Seoul. It was on the highest possible floor of the complex, where you refused to let him live down.

"I still think you have the better place," Jihoon grumbles, allowing you to tease and taunt him throughout the entire ride up.

"Yeah, right!" you were snickering in delight. "Look at this place! There's marble and everything!"

"Okay, okay!" Jihoon scoffs, finally opening the door to his place.

"Holy shit, Jihoon..." your mouth falls open at the sight of his apartment.

It was big. There was already multiple levels, by itself, plus all his awards and accomplishments, along with a shelf full of albums displayed. His lifework.

It was clean to the max, with everything in its rightful place, and large, big floor to ceiling windows, along with a patio.

"Wow, Jihoon, your place is so much more... Wow," you can't help but comment.

Jihoon scoffs, taking off his shoes. He slips into his slippers, heading over to his closet to grab another pair. He puts it down in front of you while you take off your heels. "It's nothing."

"Holy shit, this view is beautiful," you gasp, taking quick and light steps across the living room to look out of the full length window. "Damn..."

"I wasn't lying when I said I was surprised you didn't have a ceiling to floor window," he leans against the nearby wall, watching you be in awe at the city of Seoul below them. He had taken off his sweater, showing off his... incredibly toned arms that had veins popping out.

You stare at him momentarily, then quickly turn away with a clear of your throat, "Where's your studio?"

"Down the hall," Jihoon walks you over to the room down the hall. He unlocks it with a pin, then pushes the doors open. "It's messy, but hey, at least I know where everything is."

"How many instruments do you play, oh my god?" You laugh, taking note of the 4 different guitars, 2 sets of drums, 2 clarinets, a flute, a keyboard in the corner by his monitor, and even a violin.

"Around seven, I believe," he answers, swiftly throwing some of his clothes onto the sofa or a chair... or, well, anywhere that wasn't the floor. "Okay, maybe it's a lot messier than I thought it was."

"You've seen my place. It's fine," you scoff, pulling out the chair to his producing setup. "What have you been working on lately?"

"Writing a b-side for the album,"Jihoon sighs at just the thought of it. "I'm waiting for Bumzu-hyung to return from the States so we can continue working, but for now..." he comes close to you and his setup, turning on his monitor and PC. After a moment, he starts opening up the correct apps and tabs, where he pulls up the latest track - 'I Don't Understand but I Luv U.'

"Aw, cute title," you giggle.

"Hoshi saw a comment on one of our lives and he insisted that we put it in," Jihoon explains, taking his headphones off from its rack and handing it to you. "Take a listen."

You put on the headset while Jihoon presses play on the recording. You listen closely, closing your eyes the moment the music starts. It was a beautiful song with an even more beautiful meaning. You close your eyes, taking in everything - from the instrumentals, to the voice guide that was clearly Jihoon's and maybe some background vocals of his teammates, and the overall quality of the production... and as always, you were completely taken away by Jihoon's art.

"It's beautiful," you take the headphones off. "I don't understand how you do it, Jihoon. Every time I watch you, you always have something different in the making... You're insane."

"I could say the same thing about you," he scoffs, pulling up a chair beside you.

You roll your eyes, moving the mouse to pull up the lyrics. Jihoon always had his lyrics saved in the same spot - which is something you've learned during your late or early sessions of music production. "Let's see... There was a part in the song that I found a little bit awkward... Oh! Over here." You point at the section right before the second verse. "Let me try something..."

You quickly begin, writing down words that had crossed your mind during your first listen through. You went back, singing the melody silently under your breath as you go back to edit areas that seemed off in pace. After fifteen minutes, you look up from the screen.

“Where’s your mic?”

“Let me get it,” Jihoon rolls his chair to the other side, pulling open a drawer. Two seconds later, a mic was set up. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you fix the settings and gains on the mixing board - then pressing record on the main tab.

You start singing into the mic, recording whatever new lyric you had wrote using the method and melody in your head. After a few more attempts, you finish recording and put the mic down.

“Take a look,” you smile, watching as Jihoon read over the lyrics.

He listens to the track again, where his voice in the original guide was suddenly blended into your new one - and like always, whenever the two of you would end up recording, he becomes completely mesmerized by your voice. The raw emotions, the gasp of air that you have in your tone…

“You’re just as crazy as me,” he concludes, taking his headset off. “I keep telling you this.”

You roll your eyes, stretching your arms out, “Whatever you say, Jihoon~”

The two of you go back and forth between the music, losing yourselves in the world of production once more. It was normal now. Far from the normal you knew before of mutual ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ in the elevator.

Then, about two hours into the production session, you hear something crash from the other side of the door, turning your head quickly. Jihoon lets out an annoyed sigh, standing up. He opens the door, where two cats come rushing into the studio space.

"Oh my god!" you exclaim, standing up to greet the cats.

"Meet Rang-i and Ddung-i. Bundles of chaotic energy and... well..."

Before he could finish, the two cats were immediately up against your legs, purring softly and rubbing their scent all over you. You coo and silently squeal, petting them behind their ears.

"They're so cute," you giggle, letting them go up all against your hand and leg. "Way cuter than the photos you showed me."

Jihoon stares at his cats with a raised eyebrow, "Okay. Usually, they would be hiding when I have someone over. So this is just weird."

"That means they love me!" you laugh, picking one up and putting him into your embrace. "Aw, so cute~"

“Let’s take a break,” Jihoon suggests. “I need to feed them anyways.”

“Aw, they’re so freakin cute…!” you coo, using a hand to pet the cat that wasn’t in your hands.

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t protest. The two of you leave the studio with the cats tailing behind, meowing and purring with excitement- as if they knew exactly what time it was.

You watch in fondness as Jihoon opens a can of wet food for the pets, dividing the food into two bowls while mixing in some warm water. Then, he puts the bowls down near their regular feeder, where the cats immediately starts devouring the food.

“Always acting like I don’t feed them,” Jihoon shakes his head, making his way around the kitchen. “It’s going to get busy starting today, you know.” He takes out two glasses from the cabinet. “Do you want a drink or…?”

"I thought you didn't drink?" you take a seat.

"I am still friends with 12 other drunkards. I always have a drink or two somewhere here," Jihoon says, heading over to his small little wine cabinet. "Well?"

"You have sparkling?"

"Yup," Jihoon takes it out from the cabinet. "Anyways, we're preparing for an April comeback now that BooSeokSoon is done. I can't stop by your studio often now to give you feedback."

"Jihoon, it's fine," you promise him, watching as he opens the wine bottle with ease, then begins the pouring of the drink. "We'll continue helping each other, even if it's not for music production. You're my friend now."

“A friend who you could apparently criticize to no end, huh?”

“I don’t criticize you!” you complain with a loud laugh, where Jihoon watches you with one of the softest looks to ever come into existence.

Perhaps it was around then when he finally processed that he would do anything to see you smile and laugh like that again, especially if it was him who caused it.

After that day, it was as he had said. Jihoon became busier with comeback getting closer. He would be at dance practice, filming for shows, recording for songs… Though, despite those busy schedules, you still always found a way to see him throughout the day.

"Jihoon-ah!" Mingyu calls. "Your girlfriend's here!"

"She's not my girlfriend," Jihoon glares at him, though it was obvious that his face had turned slightly red. He moves the hair from his face as he excuses himself from the group practice, joining you by the entrance to the dance room. "Hey."

"Good job out there," you couldn't help but admire Jihoon's figure for a second - taking in the way his shirt compressed against his well-defined body, the way his hair was slightly sticking to his face, and his- You cough, holding out a bottle of water, "Here."

"Thanks," Jihoon smiles, taking the water. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to check on you," you shrug. "You were basically dead last night during production."

Jihoon shakes his head, "It's okay. You don't have to worry about me like that."

"Are you sure?" you tilt your head. "Don't pull that on me. I know how gruesome idol schedules are, and on top of that, you're still writing songs for the team."

"And that's how I stay calm and composed," he insists, which makes you laugh.

"Man, seriously... You cannot be real, Jihoon."

"And yet I stand right in front of you."

You scoff, raising your hand out of habit, but Jihoon quickly catches it.

"No more hiding," he adds. "You have a pretty smile, I told you already, right?"

"Okay... What the fuck was that." Practically everyone in the studio wonders, looking at him with wide eyes and mouths open.

With only a few weeks days to comeback, you stop by his place with the plan to celebrate. It wasn't completely unannounced - you told him you were on your way over an hour ago, but for some reason, Jihoon felt an overbearing cloud hovering over his head.

Comeback, dance practice, promotions, more promotions, filming, more filming, working on the next comeback even when the current one hasn't even started... It was getting to his head.

You buzzing in interrupts him from his small spiral of overthinking.

Six minutes later, you were at his door, a bright smile on your face that you are starting to become more and more confident in with the more you surround yourself around Jihoon.

"Hey!" you enter the apartment as if you own the place. "Sorry I'm late. God, traffic was terrible."

"It's okay. I wasn't doing much anyways," Jihoon takes the stuff from out of your hands, letting you take off your shoes and slip into the same slippers you've had since the first time you entered his place.

You swiftly take back the bag, entering further into the apartment. You put the bags on the nearby table, taking something out before turning towards him.

"Congrats on the comeback!" you cheer, popping open a party popper that sent confetti flying around. "You deserve it."

"Thank you for helping me," Jihoon laughs, letting you excitedly hug him. "Definitely less stress-inducing than the last few ones."

"Of course!" you giggle, swiftly moving around the apartment. "We need to toast. Maybe not to wine, because I can't have you being puffy, but maybe some cola?"

"You seriously act as if you own this place now," Jihoon follows you in amusement.

You go into the kitchen, rummaging through his fridge (truly as if you lived there). Two seconds later, you take out two bottles of cola, while Jihoon brings out the glasses. You open them, pouring in the drink for the two of you.

"Had anything to eat yet?" Jihoon questions.

"Company dinner right before this - hence the outfit,” you shrug, taking the drink while you nod at your clothes. "Nothing too important. I think I talked a bit too much about my excitement for your next album."

Jihoon raises his eyebrows, "Seriously?"

"Duh! I watched it all come together, and I'm even credited in one of the songs! Of course I'll be excited about it," you laugh, raising the glass of cola. "To a successful album."

"To a successful career for the both of us," he nods, the two of you clinking glasses.

You two take a sip of the glass at the same time, neither looking away. For some reason, the air was different. Neither of you were in the mood to actually work or stare at a screen… but it didn’t seem you were in the mood to leave just like that yet.

You lower your glass first, “When your album gets released, am I going to see you around the company?”

He shakes his head, “Not as much as before. We start promotions immediately, and like a thousand other schedules.”

You nod, a sigh leaving you, “That means this may be the last time we hang out like this.”

“Don’t worry - it’ll end in a few weeks,” he promises. “I’ll still see you around.”

“I know,” you lean back against your chair. “It’s just different since we won’t be working on music.”

“Who said we only need to work on music when we hang out?”

“I mean, that’s what we’ve been doing for the past few months… Haven’t really done anything else.”

Jihoon goes silent for a bit, letting your word sink in. You’re right - all the two of you have ever done together was work; music production here, lyric writing there… But it was a good schedule for the two of you. It was comforting. It was normal. But for some reason, to Jihoon… there’s more to it than that.

“Oh! I need you to look over something for me,” you quickly snap out of the silence, reaching into your bag to pull out your USB. “Come on.”

With Jihoon following you to his own studio, you put in the right passcode and enter the work space. Without even waiting for him, you turn on the monitor, put in your USB, and start pulling up the proper files.

“Okay, here,” you show it to him. “I was trying to work on my vocal guide, but something is off and I really can’t figure it out. I’ve asked some other producers and writers at the company, but they can’t figure it out, either. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Jihoon pulls up the spare chair that now resides in his studio, taking a better look at the sheet music. “Here. Get rid of this repeat, and maybe add some other lyrics that’s not just the same one. Change the key for the song by itself and maybe add another voice.”

He didn’t even have to listen to the song anymore. You smile, doing exactly what he had suggested. After writing a new verse (you had one prepared, actually - mostly from a previous draft), you set up the new microphone.

“Jihoon, you try,” you hand him the mic. “I think it’ll sound nicer if there’s harmonies.”

“Sure,” he takes the microphone without hesitation.

You press begin on the recording, where he listens to the track at first. Upon the second playing, he starts to sing at the proper part. When though you were supposed to be watching the screen to check the levels… You were distracted by Jihoon’s voice.

Perhaps it was due to the 11:00 PM air - or the fact that two of you have been working non stop on your projects that it’s been so hectic to see each other, but Jihoon's voice leaves you feeling...

Two hours of nonstop work for the two of you, focused on the work ahead instead of the growing feelings deep inside the two of you without the either knowing.

“I need to get going,” you look at the time with a frown. “I probably shouldn’t stay for the night again.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he wonders casually, fixing up the file with his eyes glued to the screen. "Not like you haven't spent the night here before."

"I know, but it's just..." your voice gets caught in your own throat. “Nevermind. I’ll see you around, Jihoon,” you awkwardly smile, standing up from the chair.

“Ah…” Jihoon watches as you prepare to leave.

if you walk through that studio door - you won’t come back. Not until after promotions. He knows that. You know that. Everyone in the building probably knew that. So far, you've been in Jihoon's life during the parts where there's significantly less mess - less schedules and less moving around. But once those schedules pick up? Once those recordings last for hours upon no end, where everything relied on them practicing till they drop?

Something gets over him. The same something that decided for him to look through your studio door that first night being stuck in the elevator - the same some thing that got over him when he went to check up on you at 12am out of fear you were working. It was the same thing that came over him when he offered to drive you home, and the same thing when he took up your offer for dinner, skipping an entire recording studio for the first time since becoming even a trainee. And that something was...

A desire for you. For your safety - for your love. Something that went completely above and beyond his own musical pride.

“Hanging around with you, getting to know you, being around you… I don’t want it to end.”

You stop - hand on the door knob as the words echo in your head.

“I… Fuck, I don’t know how to say this,” he runs his hand through his hair, almost pulling strands out. “You drive me insane. From that day in the elevator to now… I haven’t stopped worrying about you, thinking about you… I want you to gain more confidence in your smile and laugh, because fuck, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard and seen in this world, and shit, y/n… You're insane in such a good way that I can't even describe. You have no idea how much-"

Before he could continue his ramble, you kiss him. Right on the lips. He’s taken aback at first - leaving his arms awkwardly at your side before ultimately, completely, melting right into you. His hands find his way to your waist, pulling you in closer as he feels his muscles all relax.

You break first, smiling at him with the same sparkle that he has become completely whipped for. “Jihoon. You can use your words better than that.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips again.

SMUT BEGINS

"Fuck, Jihoon," you murmur, heavy breaths coming in and out of you as you feel your pulse quickening.

"I got you," he mumbles, pressing his hand against the small of your back. "Shit..."

You crash your lips against his, sucking all the air out from him as you run your hand through his long, dark hair. His tongue slips into your's, where you immediately got the idea of where his mind was going to. A faint moan leaves his mouth, his hand sneaking silently underneath your shirt while you lose yourself entirely. Both of you.

"You're going to drive me insane," Jihoon says in between kisses, slowly guiding you to the end of the couch in the studio.

"More than before?" you jokingly ask, pulling him down with you as you lay your back against the piece of furniture. "Just shut up and kiss me."

He doesn't respond, connecting your lips for the third time that night. He takes your hand away from his hair, gently pinning your arms above your head while he slowly lowers himself, going down your neck to leave trails of kisses. He unbuttons your dress shirt, leaving kisses all over your body from your chest to your ribs to the bottom of your stomach.

Jihoon presses closer towards you, where the bulge inside his jeans became undeniable anymore. A small moan escapes you as you roll your hips, managing to steal a softer, quieter sound out of Jihoon.

"Shit, do that again," he pleads, leaning close to your ear as he says it.

You compile with no hesitation, grinding against him through your clothed pussy. This time, Jihoon doesn't stay silent. A loud groan escapes his lips.

"Never knew you could make a sound like that," you manage to tease, your chest rising up and down.

"Still not as beautiful as your voice," he insists, helping you remove your dress shirt entirely. "God, nor as beautiful as you are right now."

You shook off your shirt completely, leaving you in your bra, but bottom half still entirely clothed. You move your hand down underneath his shirt behind his back, scratching into his skin using your nails that draws out a low moan from Jihoon.

Jihoon reattaches his mouth against your body, moving one side of your bra over with his hand. When your left breast was freed, he goes to reach for it... but hesitates.

"May I?" he cautiously asks.

"Jihoon... You can do whatever the hell you want," you promise him.

"Just to be sure," he murmurs - and this time, he presses his mouth against your left breast, planting soft kisses all around before finally, mouths at your nipple with a low hum.

Your back arches at the contact, pressing yourself closer towards him. After Jihoon manages to unclasp your bra, his other hand finds itself to your other breast, massaging it while he unintentionally moves against your clothed core.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you groan, gasping as the friction becomes far too unbearable from below. "Fuck, fuck."

"I know, I know," he grumbles, pressing a kiss on your lips again. He caresses your face, watching as your eyelashes flutter at every touch. "I know, love."

Jihoon's hands begins to wander again. He traces your figure with gentle strokes with you shivering underneath his touch. A smile forms on his face at your reactions, enjoying himself a bit too much. God, he's never felt this overwhelmed but full at the same time.

"Stay still for me," he whispers, his hand finally reaching the bottom half of your body. He presses his index finger against your core through your pants, causing you to stir around. "Love, don't move."

You weakly nod, letting Jihoon take off your pants. Before you knew it, you were left in your underwear. Shameless, you grasp at his shirt, bundling the bottom half with a hungry look in your eyes.

"Take it off," you order, making Jihoon let out a low, deep chuckle. God, your voice was like honey. It was going to drive him insane.

He does what you say, swiftly taking off his black shirt to reveal his body that you had previously caught a glimpse of. Your breath hitches, staring at him for a second longer than intended.

Jihoon notices, leaning close to you. He presses a kiss on your temple, whispering into your ear, "Should we get started?"

"Fuck yes," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Jihoon nods, hovering his hand over your pussy. Without thinking, you move your legs apart in order to grant easier access. Jihoon intertwines his free hand with your's, crashing into your lips again. You return the kiss, but broke away when you felt the slight graze of Jihoon's finger against your wet, clothed, clit.

"Fuck," you gasp out.

Jihoon circles his finger around your core, painfully slow movements that is about to drive you over the edge.

"Jihoon," you call his name out again, grinding your hips against his finger that refuses to go further. "If you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to fucking kill you."

He folds. Jihoon pushes your panties to the side, brushing his knuckles against your wet entrance while he kisses your breast. You let out another breath, grasping for a fist full of his hair. He continues to circle at your pussy with his fingers, pinching at it that makes you jolt.

Before you could scold him even more, he puts one finger inside of you. The sounds that leaves your mouth drives him even more crazy, putting his second finger inside your pussy. He starts to move, pumping them in and out slow at first.

"Fuck," he hisses, feeling you clench around his finger. "You're so... Fuck, baby, you're going to make me cum before I even do anything..."

He starts to pick up the pace, pumping both fingers in and out, faster and faster. As he moves his hand, he finds the right spot, making you arch your back even more as hands find its way to his back, leaving dark red scratch marks all over.

"Shit, that's right. Just like that."

He continues to abuse your hole, until finally, he moves his thumb to pinch at your clit, and you come undone, right on his fingers with a loud moan escaping your lips.

"Breathe, baby," he brushes the hair from your face, slowly taking his fingers out that was leaking with your release. He meets your eyes, and with a watchful look, he puts his finger inside his mouth, getting himself a taste of you.

Fuck.

You were so gone.

"Are you still green?" he asks, wiping the excess release off of his face.

"Green," you respond, feeling yourself getting wet again at just the sight of him.

He smiles, climbing off of you. Jihoon scoops you from underneath, carrying you out of his studio. You let out a shriek in surprise, grabbing at his neck while he walks down the hallways of his apartment. He kicks open a door, entering his bedroom with the lights off. He uses the back of his foot to close the door again, you still in his arms.

He lays you down on the edge of the bed, watching as your bare chest rise up and down while holding back a laugh. He kneels right in front of you on the ground, spreading open your thighs as he meets your wet pussy all over again.

"Shit... you're perfect," the grip on your thighs tighten, using every last bit of his power to hold back from absolutely devouring you right then and there.

You sit up, reaching for his chin that forces him to look up at you and your glossy eyes. You lean over, kissing him briefly. When your lips part, his gaze drifts back down at your spread apart legs.

Jihoon moves your legs, helping you out of your panties. He shifts your legs over his shoulder, and with a slight nod of approval from you, he presses his mouth against your entrance, using his tongue to explore around your folds.

You pull at his hair, letting soft pants leave your mouth, throwing your head back as Jihoon works his way around your core.

"Fuck, you sound so good," he grumbles, his voice vibrating all throughout your body. You don't respond. You can't respond, completely lost in the pleasure that he was giving you.

As he works his tongue, he subconsciously starts grinding his harden cock against the mattress, unable to keep it together any longer. Months of mutual pinning led up to this - the dreams he would have of you in this very position, the idea of your voice making those sounds...

Fuck, it was all too much for him.

He presses his tongue deep into you, making your hips and legs twitch at the touch.

"Jihoon, Jihoon," you groan, feeling your legs buckling. "I'm going to... Holy shit..."

"It's okay, baby," he looks up at you, his face covered with your liquid. "Do it again."

Without warning, he dives inside you again, but this time, using his hand to add pressure to your clit. That was the final stretch, coming against his face with a loud, ethereal, moan.

"How are you feeling?" he cautiously asks while he eats you out.

"I need you to fuck me so bad, Jihoon," you squeeze your legs around his head, which only drove him even crazier.

God, the tightness of his pants was getting painful at this point, but he couldn't help but eat you clean after all that.

You reach for his hand, pulling him up towards the bed. Jihoon climbs in with you, watching as your hands work along his belt and pants, practically dragging your fingers to get him out of the final pieces of clothing that separates the two of you. He watches you in awe - how delicate and divine your fingers look, how your face was looking at him with a fiery determination that he never knew someone could have for him.

When you finally got his belt off, his pants were next. You pull down at the hem of his jeans, leaving Jihoon in his boxers that was leaking in pre-cum. Jihoon shakes off his pants, throwing them across the dark room. He connects your lips again, tongue and teeth against your own.

He moves his hips, grinding against your already-wet pussy and his hard dick.

"Jihoon," you break away, moving your hand to the band of his boxers. "Please."

He loses it.

He completely loses it.

Jihoon takes off his boxers, letting his length fall free. He kisses your lips once more, guiding you gently down against his bed while he grabs his pillow. He forces your hips to raise, putting the cushion against your ass while your kisses continues to get messier and messier. A moan escapes your mouths - Jihoon shifting his weight in preparation of putting himself inside you.

Jihoon reaches for his bedside table, fumbling around to find a condom at the bottom of his drawer. He never breaks away from you, keeping you warm with his own body heat, and absolutely edged with the way his cock keeps accidentally touching your entrance.

He successfully finds the condom, ripping it free from its packaging and slipping it on himself. When he makes sure that everything is right, he looks back at you - lips swollen, eyes glossy, and hair messy to the tee.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says, which makes you nod.

God, the way he's always asking for permission is getting you more and more worked up.

Slowly, Jihoon puts himself inside of you, slipping into your wet pussy with care. Fuck, he almost loses his composure as your walls squeeze around him, making him let out another sound he never thought he would make.

At first, it was too much. You let out a gasp, grabbing at his back that makes Jihoon stop. You take a moment, breathing in heavily with the help of Jihoon. When you got used to it, you nod.

"Continue," you whisper.

"Breathe with me, my love," he murmurs, pressing gentle kisses along your neck. "Breathe."

He continues to put himself in until there was no more left. He was entirely inside of you, gasping and holding himself back. He stays there without moving, letting you adjust for a moment. There was no sound other than both of your heavy breathing, but it was enough.

"You can move."

And with that, Jihoon loses himself completely. He starts to move - slow at first. His movements draws out loud, mesmerizing, sounds from your lips that makes him quicken his pace.

"God, you're so... you're so tight," Jihoon grits his teeth, kissing your lips in between. "Made just for this, right? For me? You're so good, pretty. So perfect. God, you're beautiful." He continues to move back and forth, gripping at your hips to keep you in place.

You were a mess, at this point - your thoughts and mind itself turning into complete mush as Jihoon hounds right into you.

Then, you let out a silent shriek, your hands quickly flying over your mouth, where Jihoon hits you right at the spot that sends you over. A smirk flashes over his face as your voice rings in his ears, hitting that spot over and over again.

"So beautiful..." he repeats himself, feeling himself draw closer and closer to his high. "God, you're so fucking beautiful. Don’t ever cover your mouth again. Let me hear everything, my love.”

"Fuck, Jihoon!" you cry out, nails digging into his back.

Jihoon lets out a groan as well, feeling your walls clench around him again. Then, with one final snap of his hips, you came for the third time that night. He rides your high together, slowing his pace down before pulling out, where he pants for a moment before his own climax reaches him..

SMUT ENDS

Jihoon falls silently beside you, gasping for air as both your chests rise up and down. His hands rubs gentle circles around your back, pressing a kiss against your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before finally, giving you a final kiss on the lips - full of love, adoration, and completion.

"Are you okay?" he asks, moving the hair from your face.

You nod, slowly moving yourself so you got closer to Jihoon. He wraps his arm around your body, letting you squeeze in closer to his chest.

"I think I might have to call in tomorrow," you let out a laugh, making an attempt to lift your leg, but was entirely unable to without wincing. "Shit, there was no control tonight, huh?"

Jihoon chuckles, taking your hand in his. "I'll take care of it." He sits up, heading over to the bathroom that connects to his bedroom. When he comes back, he was wearing a pair of shorts while carrying a warm, wet towel in his hand. "Can you sit up for me?"

You do as told, managing to move yourself upwards. You lean your head against the bed frame, opening up your legs just enough for Jihoon to clean your pussy. He plants a gentle kiss on your inner thigh, looking up at you with a sweet innocent smile that makes you question if he really was the same person that was fucking the daylights out of you minutes ago.

"You look so sweet and innocent now, but fuck, I don't think I've ever felt that good... ever," you shyly admit, watching as Jihoon cleans you up with care and soft touches.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he chuckles, wiping off your stomach. "You can shower in this bathroom. I'll head down the hall. There should be some of my shirts, shorts, and a robe hanging in there. All new. I did the laundry the other day."

You let out a laugh, looking carefully down at your still-twitching legs. "I think you may have to help me."

"That was always the plan," Jihoon gets up, going around the bed to your side. Without hesitation, he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, letting giggles fall out of your lips as you clutch his neck.

As he steps into the bathroom, you notice the scratch marks all over his back through the mirror, making your face turn red in embarrassment.

“Holy shit,” you couldn’t help but trace your fingers against your nail markings. “I really did all that?”

“Hm?” Jihoon hides in the crook of your neck. “I don’t think I’ll be able to work out with my team for a while.”

You manage a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of Jihoon's neck. "If I hear them look at me or make a comment, I'm going to retire and go hide out in a cave. You're never going to see me again."

"Then I better find an excuse to not work out with them," Jihoon kisses your cheek. He puts you on top of the bathroom sink, where he then starts up a nice, warm bath. On the shelf in the bathroom, he picks up and lays out some of his clean clothes while you watch in awe. "Change of clothes. If you don't like anything here, there's some other stuff hanging in my closet in my room, so take whatever you want. The robe is hanging behind the door."

"Thanks," your face flushes red, allowing Jihoon to give you another peck right beside your lips.

"I'll be down the hall."

It was a long, warm, and entirely relaxing shower - probably one of the best ones you've ever had in a long time. All your stress has left your body, you were feeling good (except for maybe the sore legs), and it felt like you could finally breathe again.

Coming out of the bathroom, you saw that the bed sheets have been changed, with a new set entirely laid out. The room was clean, with both of your disregarded clothes thrown into a clothing hamper with other dirty clothes in the room.

Jihoon was fixing up the pillows, his hair slightly damp from his own shower, wearing nothing except for his shorts.

You smile warmly, sneaking up and hugging him from behind.

"How are you feeling?" you ask him, pressing your forehead against his back.

"Full," Jihoon quietly responds, taking your hand in his.

"Good."

He turns around, gently picking you up and putting you on his bed. He climbs in a second later, letting you get comfortable in his arms.

"We're never turning back now, huh?" you wonder, letting Jihoon play around with your fingers.

"Oh, fuck no. I have to hear you make those sounds again," Jihoon scoffs, kissing the back of your hand. "I've heard a lot of sounds over the years. The noises you made an hour ago is by far my favourite."

"Jihoon!" you exclaim, slapping his arm away as you turn away from him. "Enough."

He drags you towards his chest with his arms, humming into your neck, "Get used to it, love. You're my new favourite musical pride."

"Disgusting."

"The next song you write, don't tell me to come record it just so you can hear my voice."

"Where did this confidence come from?" you wonder with a laugh, shifting in the bed so you were now face to face with him. “This is such a different colour for you.”

“Maybe because I just fucked the lights out of you?” he guesses.

You roll your eyes, scoffing as you say, “Next time, I want to top.”

“Oh?”

“You heard that right. I want to know how much sound I can get out of you.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t make me make you fall in love.”

You’ve been taking a break from dating. After your last heartbreak, you realized you’d spent so long jumping from one guy to the next, chasing the attention because you hated being alone. But this time felt different. Being by yourself actually felt… better. Quieter.

You still had a few friends though, mostly guys. Nothing serious, just people to fill the empty spaces when they got a little too loud. Every now and then you’d hang out, keep things light, nothing complicated.

Today was one of those days. Your phone lit up with a text: “hotbox + food.”

That was all it took. You tossed your phone down and hurried to get ready.

While you were still getting ready, your phone buzzed again.

“There’s this guy coming btw. His name’s Chris.”

You glanced at it for half a second but didn’t bother replying. You were too busy trying to pull yourself together. Nothing crazy, just enough to look decent. You slipped on a pair of black leggings and a black sweatshirt, pulled your hair into a messy bun, and kept your makeup light. Just enough to leave the house and feel cute.

When you finally finished and checked your phone again, the message didn’t really mean much to you. Another friend, another random guy in the rotation. It wasn’t anything worth thinking about.

You grabbed your keys and headed outside to meet them at the car.

You locked the car door behind you and walked over to where they were parked. The music was already loud, windows cracked just enough for smoke to slip out. The second one of them saw you, the back door swung open.

Friend 1: “Finally.”

One of them laughed.

Friend 1: “We thought you bailed.”

You slid into the seat and rolled your eyes.

You: “Please. You said food. I would never.”

They laughed, passing the blunt around while arguing about where to eat. You were halfway into the conversation when the passenger door opened again.

Someone new slid into the seat.

You glanced up out of habit—and immediately had to look away.

Oh.

So this was Chris.

He was… yeah. Definitely not what you expected. Broad shoulders stretching the sleeves of a simple t-shirt, arms that looked like he spent way too much time in a gym. His hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, and his whole vibe was stupidly relaxed.

Like nothing ever bothered him.

Like he knew exactly how he looked.

One of your friends leaned forward.

Friend 2: “Oh yeah, this is Chris.”

Chris turned slightly in his seat to look at you. His eyes moved over you for a second before he gave a small nod.

Chris: “Hey.”

You cleared your throat slightly.

You: “Hey.”

Someone passed him the blunt.

Friend 3: “This is the friend I was telling you about.”

Chris took a hit and leaned back in the seat, smoke curling around his face as he glanced at you again.

Chris: “Yeah?”

You raised an eyebrow.

You: “Hopefully he said nothing embarrassing.”

One of the guys snorted.

Friend 1: “Relax. I didn’t expose you like that.”

You leaned your head back against the seat.

You: “Good. Because I’d hate to have a reputation.”

Chris smirked slightly at that.

Friend 2: “You definitely do.”

You shot them a look.

You: “Shut up.”

The car erupted into laughter.

The conversation bounced around the car after that—music, food, random stories. But every now and then you felt it.

Chris looking at you.

Not quickly either.

Like he was just… taking his time.

The third time you caught him, he didn’t even look away.

Instead he tilted his head slightly.

Chris: “You good?”

You blinked.

You: “Yeah. Why?”

Chris: “You keep staring at me.”

The guy in the front seat turned around instantly.

Friend 1: “OOOOHHHH.”

You groaned.

You: “I literally was not—”

Chris chuckled quietly.

Chris: “Relax. I’m joking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

You: “Yeah? Because you’re the one looking.”

The car got loud immediately.

Friend 2: “Ayeeeee.”

Friend 3: “Chris starting already.”

Friend 1: “Man we just picked him up.”

Chris ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to hide his smile.

Chris: “You all talk too much.”

Friend 2: “Nah bro you been giving her eyes since you got in the car.”

Chris shrugged like it didn’t matter.

But then he glanced at you again.

Chris: “I’m just observing.”

Friend 3: “Observing what?”

Chris looked straight at you.

You held his gaze.

He lifted one shoulder casually.

Chris: “The vibe.”

You laughed softly.

You: “Right.”

Someone clapped their hands dramatically.

Friend 1: “Anyway— FOOD.”

You grabbed the blunt.

You: “Thank you. Finally someone with priorities.”

Chris watched you for a second, smiling to himself before looking out the window.

Eventually the car started moving, music turning up as they headed to a late-night spot. The car got warm and hazy from the smoke, everyone talking over each other.

Chris stayed quieter than the others, but every once in a while he’d lean forward to talk to you.

Chris: “You actually like tacos or you just arguing to argue?”

You looked at him like he’d offended you.

You: “Excuse me? Tacos are elite.”

Chris: “Debatable.”

You: “You’re insane.”

He laughed under his breath.

Later someone asked him something from the front seat, and when he turned back around his arm brushed yours.

Neither of you moved right away.

It was small.

But noticeable.

By the time the car pulled into the parking lot, everyone started piling out while arguing about who was paying.

You stepped out and stretched, the cool air hitting your face after the hot car.

The others walked ahead toward the restaurant, still yelling at each other.

You were about to follow when you heard Chris behind you.

Chris: “Hey.”

You turned.

He had his hands in his pockets, rocking back slightly on his heels. Up close he was even worse—taller than you realized, shoulders blocking part of the parking lot light.

Chris: “You never answered my question earlier.”

You tilted your head.

You: “Which one?”

Chris: “Why you were staring.”

You laughed.

You: “I wasn’t.”

He hummed softly.

Chris: “Sure.”

You crossed your arms.

You: “You think highly of yourself, huh?”

He shrugged casually.

Chris: “Not really.”

Then he looked at you again—slow and amused.

Chris: “I just notice things.”

You: “And what exactly did you notice?”

Chris stepped a little closer.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough that you could feel the shift.

For a second he didn’t answer.

His eyes moved over your face like he was thinking.

Then he spoke quietly.

Chris: “That you got real quiet when they started teasing me.”

You scoffed.

You: “Because they’re annoying.”

He leaned slightly closer.

Chris: “Or because they were right.”

Your stomach did a small, annoying flip.

You lifted your chin.

You: “And what if they were?”

Chris smiled.

Not cocky.

Just entertained.

Chris: “Then I’d say you’ve got good taste.”

Before you could respond, someone from across the lot yelled:

Friend 1: “AYO CHRIS—YOU DONE FLIRTING OR WHAT?”

You groaned.

Chris just laughed under his breath.

Chris: “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the restaurant. “Before they start an investigation.”

He started walking toward the group.

But halfway there, he glanced back at you over his shoulder with the same slow smile.

The restaurant was loud the second you all walked in. Music, people talking over each other, the smell of fried food hitting you immediately. Your group grabbed a big booth in the back, everyone sliding in and arguing about what to order.

You ended up on one side of the booth, and Chris slid in across from you.

You tried not to notice.

You really did.

But it was hard when every time you looked up, his eyes were already on you.

Menus were spread out everywhere while everyone talked over each other.

Friend 1: “I’m getting wings.”

Friend 2: “You always get wings.”

Friend 1: “Because wings are elite.”

Friend 3: “Get something different for once.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head while scanning the menu.

Across the table, Chris leaned back in the booth, arm resting along the seat behind him.

Watching you.

Again.

You looked up and caught him.

He didn’t even pretend to look away.

Instead, his eyebrow lifted slightly.

Chris: “You deciding or just reading everything?”

You smirked a little.

You: “I like to consider my options.”

Chris: “You’ve been on that page for five minutes.”

You: “Maybe I’m a slow reader.”

One of your friends leaned over the table.

Friend 2: “Nah she just dramatic.”

You kicked his leg under the table.

You: “Mind your business.”

Chris laughed quietly, shaking his head.

The waitress came, everyone ordered, and the conversation bounced everywhere again. Random stories, dumb jokes, arguing about music.

But every once in a while, you felt it again.

Chris watching you.

When you reached for your drink.

When you laughed.

When you leaned forward to say something to someone else.

It wasn’t subtle.

At one point, Friend 1 noticed.

He leaned back and looked between the two of you.

Then grinned.

Friend 1: “Bro.”

Chris looked at him.

Chris: “What?”

Friend 1: “You staring again.”

The whole table turned instantly.

You groaned, covering your face.

You: “Oh my god.”

Chris just shook his head.

Chris: “Y’all are obsessed.”

Friend 2: “Nah you just obvious.”

Friend 3: “Man hasn’t blinked in twenty minutes.”

Chris rubbed his jaw, trying to hide his smile.

But when he looked back at you again, his voice dropped slightly.

Chris: “They talk too much.”

You laughed under your breath.

You: “They really do.”

Dinner dragged on with more teasing, more jokes, and way too many comments every time you and Chris spoke to each other.

Eventually, once everyone finished eating, the debate started again.

Where to go next.

Friend 2: “My place?”

Friend 3: “Your place boring.”

Chris shrugged.

Chris: “We can go to mine.”

Everyone immediately agreed.

—

His house wasn’t far.

Music was playing low when everyone piled inside. Someone went straight for the couch, someone else started looking for snacks like they lived there.

You ended up leaning against the kitchen counter while everyone scattered around the living room.

Chris walked past you to the fridge.

Again… that quiet tension was back.

He grabbed a drink, twisting the cap off.

Then he leaned against the counter across from you.

Not saying anything.

Just looking.

You raised an eyebrow.

You: “What?”

He took a sip.

Chris: “Nothing.”

You: “You keep doing that.”

Chris: “Doing what?”

You gestured vaguely.

You: “Looking at me like that.”

He smirked slightly.

Chris: “Like what?”

You rolled your eyes.

You: “You know what.”

Before he could answer, one of your friends yelled from the living room.

Friend 1: “AYO CHRIS WHERE THE REMOTE?”

Chris sighed and pushed off the counter.

Chris: “Living room drawer.”

He walked off, leaving you standing there trying to ignore the weird flutter in your chest.

The night went on like that.

Music.

Talking.

People moving in and out of rooms.

But somehow, you kept ending up aware of where Chris was.

And he kept ending up aware of you.

At one point, most of the group ended up outside on the porch.

You stayed inside for a minute to grab your jacket.

When you turned around—

Chris was standing in the hallway.

Leaning against the wall.

Like he’d been waiting.

You paused.

You: “You following me now?”

He shook his head slightly.

Chris: “Nah.”

But he didn’t move.

The hallway suddenly felt really quiet compared to the noise outside.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer.

Not too close.

Just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Chris: “You always this hard to read?”

You crossed your arms.

You: “What does that mean?”

His eyes dropped briefly to your lips before coming back to your eyes.

Chris: “You act like you don’t notice.”

Your breath caught slightly.

You: “Notice what?”

He stepped a little closer.

Now there was barely space between you.

Chris: “This.”

Your heart was beating faster now.

Neither of you moved for a second.

Then he lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

Your breath hitched.

His voice dropped lower.

Chris: “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

So he leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first.

Testing.

But the second you kissed him back, the tension that had been building all night snapped.

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as your hands grabbed the front of his shirt.

When you pulled apart slightly, both of you were breathing a little heavier.

Chris rested his forehead against yours.

Chris: “Yeah… I definitely noticed the vibe.”

You laughed softly, breathless.

You: “You’re annoying.”

He grinned.

Chris: “You still kissed me.”

Outside, your friends were still loud on the porch, completely unaware.

Inside the hallway though, it suddenly felt like the rest of the house didn’t exist.

The hallway stayed quiet after that first kiss, like the rest of the house had disappeared for a second.

Chris looked down at you, still close enough that you could feel his breath.

Then he kissed you again.

This time it wasn’t slow.

Your hands grabbed the front of his shirt as he pulled you closer by your waist, your back brushing lightly against the wall behind you. The tension that had been building all night finally had somewhere to go.

His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you in so there was barely any space left between you.

You could hear the muffled sound of your friends outside laughing, music playing faintly in the living room, but it all felt far away.

Chris broke the kiss for half a second, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled.

Chris: “You sure about this?”

You looked up at him, breath a little uneven.

You: “You gonna keep asking questions or…”

Before you could finish, he kissed you again.

You let out a soft laugh against his mouth as his hands tightened slightly at your hips. You shifted closer without even thinking, and he noticed immediately.

Chris: “Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

Your fingers slid up into the back of his hair while he leaned into you again, one arm bracing against the wall beside your head.

The energy between you felt charged now—every little movement noticeable.

When he pulled back slightly, his eyes moved over your face again like he was still figuring you out.

Chris: “You’re trouble.”

You smirked slightly.

You: “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop staring.”

He laughed quietly under his breath.

Chris: “Fair.”

Your hands were still gripping his shirt, and he noticed. His gaze dropped for a second before coming back up to your eyes.

Chris: “You always move this fast with people you just met?”

You tilted your head.

You: “You complaining?”

He shook his head immediately.

Chris: “Not even a little.”

For a second neither of you moved again.

Then he leaned in one more time, kissing you slower this time, his hands resting steady at your waist.

Outside, your friends were still loud on the porch, completely unaware of what was happening inside.

Your fingers tangled deeper into Chris's hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low against your mouth.

The sound vibrated through you, straight down to the ache building between your thighs. His tongue slid against yours, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of the beer he'd cracked open earlier—sharp, yeasty, mixed with the clean mint of his breath.

You pressed your hips forward without thinking, grinding lightly against the hard bulge straining the front of his jeans.

He was thick there, the denim rough against your leggings, and the friction sent a spark of wetness soaking into your panties.

Chris: "Fuck," 

He muttered, breaking the kiss to drag his lips down your jaw, nipping at the skin under your ear. His hand slipped under your shirt, callused palm scraping over your stomach, up to cup your breast through your bra. He squeezed, thumb circling your nipple until it pebbled hard under the lace. 

Chris: "Been thinking about this since I seen you."

You gasped, arching into his touch, the cool hallway air hitting the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. Outside, laughter erupted from the porch—someone yelling about a bad shot in beer pong—close enough that you could hear the clink of bottles. Your pulse hammered in your ears, but it only made the heat pooling in your core throb harder. 

What if they come back inside? What if someone sees?

The thought twisted into something filthy, making you clench around nothing.

You: "Don't stop." 

Tou whispered, voice husky, your hands yanking at his shirt to pull it up. You needed skin—his skin. Warm, taut muscle met your palms as you raked your nails down his abs, feeling them flex under your touch. He smelled like clean sweat and cologne, something woodsy that clung to the air between you.

Chris's free hand gripped your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip in one smooth motion. Your back pressed fully against the wall now, the plaster cool and unyielding. He rocked into you, his cock nudging right against your pussy through the layers of fabric. The pressure was perfect—firm, deliberate—dragging over your clit with each shallow thrust of his hips. 

Chris: "Shit, you're soaked already. I can feel it through your pants." 

His fingers dug into your ass, kneading the flesh as he ground harder. 

Chris: "Bet this pussy's dripping for me. Say it."

Your breath stuttered, cheeks burning, but the words tumbled out anyway. 

You: "Yeah... it's dripping. For you." 

You bit your lip to stifle a moan when he pinched your nipple, rolling it roughly between his fingers. The sharp sting shot straight to your clit, making it pulse.

He smirked against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point before sucking hard—marking you. 

Chris: "Good girl." 

Then he was dropping to his knees, right there in the dim hallway light filtering from the living room. Your heart slammed against your ribs as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, yanking your leggings and panties down in one tug. They pooled at your ankles, the sudden exposure making you shiver. Cool air kissed your bare pussy, slick folds glistening, clit swollen and begging.

Chris stared for a beat, eyes dark and hungry, his breath fanning hot over your thighs. 

Chris: "Fuckin' perfect. Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and shiny." 

He leaned in, nose brushing your inner thigh, inhaling deep. The scent of your arousal hung heavy, sweet and he groaned like a man starved. His tongue flicked out, flat and broad, lapping up the crease from your entrance to your clit in one slow, deliberate stroke. You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the whine building in your throat.

He didn't rush. No, he ate you like he had all night—tongue circling your clit with lazy pressure, then dipping lower to thrust inside your hole, fucking you with it. Wet, obscene sounds filled the hallway—his slurps mixing with your muffled gasps. One hand gripped your thigh to keep it spread wide, the other slid two fingers into you without warning. They stretched you just right, curling up to hit that spongy spot that made your knees buckle.

You: "Oh god— Chris—" 

Your free hand fisted his hair, hips bucking involuntarily. He hummed against your clit, the vibration making stars burst behind your eyelids. His fingers pumped steadily now, knuckles slick with your juices, thumb pressing your clit in tight circles. 

The risk amped everything. the distant roar of your friends' voices, the music thumping faintly, it all blurred into white noise.

Chris: "Cum on my tongue," 

He growled, pulling back just enough to speak, lips shiny with you. 

Chris: "Wanna taste you when you cum for me." 

Then he sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it fast while his fingers crooked harder. The coil in your belly snapped. Your walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing wildly as your orgasm ripped through you. 

Hot slick flooded his hand, dripping down his wrist, your thighs trembling so bad you nearly slid down the wall. You came with a choked sob into your palm, body jerking, pussy fluttering around the invasion.

He didn't stop until you were twitching, oversensitive. Licking you clean with soft, possessive laps. When he stood, his mouth crashed into yours—letting you taste yourself, tangy and addictive. You fumbled with his belt, desperate now, popping the button on his jeans. 

His cock sprang free as you shoved them down—thick, veined, the head flushed and leaking precum in a fat bead. It throbbed in your grip, hot velvet over steel, easily seven inches and girthy enough to make your mouth water.

You: "Condom?" 

You panted, stroking him base to tip, thumb smearing the slick over his slit. He groaned, nodding toward his pocket.

Chris: "Wallet." 

You fished it out, tearing the foil with shaking hands while he kicked his jeans lower. Rolled it on quick, then he was lifting you—hands under your ass, your legs wrapping his waist instinctively. Your bare back hit the wall again as he lined up, the fat head nudging your entrance.

Chris: "Tell me you want this dick baby." 

He rasped, teasing, dragging it through your folds. Coating himself in your mess.

You: "Chr— Fuck yes—" 

The words were barely out before he thrust in—slow at first, stretching your pussy inch by inch. You were soaked, but he was big, the burn delicious as your walls yielded. Halfway in, he paused, both of you panting. 

Chris: "So tight... fuck."

Then he snapped his hips, bottoming out. Balls-deep, pubic bone grinding your clit. You cried out—too loud, maybe—but he swallowed it with a bruising kiss, starting to fuck you in earnest. Long, deep strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. 

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed faintly, his cock dragging over every ridge inside you. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, your tits bouncing under your shirt.

You: "Fu— faster…"

You begged, nails digging into his shoulders. He obliged—hips pistoning now, short and brutal. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto your collarbone. You could smell it—salty, masculine—mingling with the sex-thick air. 

Outside, a door creaked—footsteps?—but he didn't stop, pounding harder, one hand muffling your moans.

Chris: "Gonna fill this pretty pussy up," 

He grunted, breath ragged. 

His free hand slipped between you, rubbing your clit in frantic circles. It was too much—the fullness, the friction, the edge of danger. Your second orgasm built fast, coiling tight.

You: "Chris—I'm—fuck—"

Chris: "Cum on it. Now." 

His voice was wrecked, thrusts erratic. You shattered—walls convulsing, squeezing him rhythmically as pleasure tore through you. Juices squirted around his cock, soaking his balls, the wall behind you. 

He followed seconds later, burying deep with a guttural groan. His cock kicked hard, pulsing ropes of cum into the condom, hips jerking through it.

You both slumped against the wall, chests heaving, his forehead on yours again. The porch voices faded back in—oblivious. He kissed you soft, once. 

Chris: "Told you... trouble." 

You smiled, breathless, already craving round two.

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seated in his cramped backseat, your thoughts are entirely consumed by the feeling of his cock buried deep in the slick on your cunt. your skirt is bunched at your waist, your top pulled down to expose your breasts, knees digging into the seat. everything is hot and sticky, with steam fogging the windows and sweat layering your feverish skin and, normally, this would be enough to drive you insane. but right now, you're too far gone, only able to focus on feeling of pleasure overwhelming all your senses.

"c-chan—" you can barely say his name. your words catch in your throat, pitched and wobbly as his hips piston upwards, thick cock plunging into your sopping pussy with a loud plap plap plap that resonates in the heated space. your body jolts with the force of each thrust.

you dig your nails into the leather seat of his car, right beside his head. "b-baby, slow down—"

"fuck, i can't, sweetheart," he huffs hotly against the shell of your ear, practically breathless as he keeps his brutal pace. his hands grip the supple flesh of your ass, giving you a bruising squeeze. "you feel too good."

you whine, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "you're so deep. i—hnghh—i can't, chan... s'too much..."

"nuh-uh," he clicks his tongue as if chiding you. "none of that. you know how to take this cock, i know you do."

you do know. but when chan gets like this, drunk on sex and high on pleasure, it makes your head spin and your thoughts blur until all you can feel is him — on you and inside you and it has your nerves so fried that you're not sure if you want to push him away or pull him closer. clearly, you have yet to push him away, despite the harshness of his thrusts.

"fuuuck," he groans, voice rough, accent thick. "you're drenched, jus' dripping down my cock like fuckin' water. can feel it on my balls."

you press your face against his neck, embarrassment burning hot across your chest and up along your neck.

"s'your fault." you mumble. "lookin' like that tonight."

his hand comes down on your ass, hard and fast, and you cry out against his flushed skin as he soothes over the blossoming ache. he can be mean, but never too mean. "my fault? this pussy was practically beggin' f'me before i even touched you."

in your defense, he had looked unfairly good. he'd picked you up that evening wearing a loose hoodie and grey sweats, a type of casual and effortless outfit that shouldn't have looked as good as it did. you'd nearly fainted when he peeled it off later that evening, when the thrum of packed bodies had generated too much heat for him to handle. and then there he was, white tank spread taut over his broad shoulders, his muscles visibly defined beneath the fabric which tapered down to fit his slim waist. every movement caused the hem to lift, revealing a sliver of smooth skin above his waistband that you stared at appreciatively. not to mention, the almost noticeable outline of his soft cock pressing against his sweats, hanging freely and heavily.

you'd struggled to keep your composure the entire time, mind blank as your eyes constantly moved from his groin to his shoulders to his biceps and back again. each time you repeated the seemingly never-ending, but not unwelcome, cycle, your underwear grew evermore slick with arousal. chan as observant as he is, hadn't missed a thing. his sharp eyes caught onto your subtle attempts to relieve the ache between your thighs, and he was thoroughly amused by your flustered response to simply his very being.

now he's got you here, after a torturously long, tension-filled night of knowing grins and suggestive touches, he's finally caved and taken you for everything you have.

"m'close," he pants, breath warm. "m'gonna cum in this pussy. gonna—a-ah shit—m'gonna fill you up a-and fuck it into you, nice and deep.

you don't get time to fully digest his filthy words. chan slides further down the seat, planting his feet and wrapping his arms firmly around your middle to lock you in place. any response you had dies on your tongue, and you swear you see stars burst across your vision.

this new angle has the fat tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot with ruthless precision. his balls smack heavily against your puffy clit, causing cosmic sparks to shoot down your spine.

you gasp, hands flying to grip his blonde hair, your shaky thighs pressing against him on either side. your pussy clenches around his glistening length. "o-oh, fuck!"

"there she is." chan grunts, pleased with himself, and nuzzles his nose along the underside of your jaw. he kisses his way down your neck, over the bruises beginning to blossom along your slick skin, until his lips are at your breasts. you mewl when he takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling on the already sensitive nub.

your fingers tug painfully on his blonde hair, pulling a deep chested groan from him. the action no doubt hurts, but you'll apologize later, when he's not busy fucking you like he hates you.

"don't stop," you plead, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes in a hot trail. you can feel that familiar band of tension in your abdomen, tightening with alarming speed.

chan releases your nipple with a satisfied, wet pop. he smooths a rough palm up along your spine until he grips the back of your neck and turns your face to meet his.

"come on," he murmurs encouragingly, hips losing it's steady pace. "come on baby, let me feel you, all of you. wanna feel you cumming around this dick, let go for me."

you tremble in his embrace, hands slipping from his damp hair, but you manage to find a grip on his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into his muscles as you cry out, that taut band snapping under his guidance. you clench, hard, and he hisses against your parted lips. his hips stutter, thrusts weak and sloppy, until he uses the last of his strength to bury himself balls deep, strong thighs flush against yours. he cums in seconds, cock throbbing as a deliciously familiar warmth splatters across your inner walls.

you go practically limp in his arms, slumping forward onto his warm, bare chest, no longer gripping onto his shoulders (or his cock) like your life depends on it.

the sounds of the frat party occupy the silence between you and chan; all wordless songs and muffled cheers. you focus on taking deep breaths to clear your mind and calm your rapidly beating heart. chan's hands rub firmly along your back; from your shoulders, down the sloping curves of your body and back up, a rhythmic motion that helps ground you to reality.

you hum weakly, taking a moment to relocate your voice. "that—that was..."

"yeah, i know," chan soothes his hands back down and over your ass, now tender and surely bruised from his earlier antics. "fuck, i seriously love you."

you manage a breathless laugh, though it sounds more like a wheeze. "that's the post-nut clarity talking, babe."

you can feel his grin against your hairline. "whatever, i still love you."

you snort, amused, and adjust your position, laying your cheek against his chest where you can faintly hear his heart beating beneath his ribcage, fast but steady.

you let it settle before you speak. "i can't believe you weren't wearing underwear."

"no one else noticed but you," his chest rumbles with laughter.

you ignore his comment, too mortified at how easily he can read you. "you did that on purpose."

"maybe," he hums cheekily. "but surely the outcome was worth?"

"maybe," you echo.

chan pinches your side lovingly and you squirm, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"brat," he mutters, though his lips find your forehead for a tender kiss.

you let yourself sink further into his warmth, allowing time to stretch on. eventually, you feel your eyes drooping, a wave of exhaustion washing over your body and pulling at your bones. you grow heavy in chan's arms.

"baby..." he murmurs, he shifts his weight, and you feel him twitching inside you. your brows briefly pinch together at the feeling, then you settle back in, oblivious to his restlessness.

chan tightens his arms around you, and you don't think much of it, until he rolls his hips experimentally and you feel him graze against your sensitive spot with an embarrassingly audible squelch.

"chan..." you whimper, eyes snapping open and body instinctively jolting as your pleasure spikes into slightly painful, though no less enjoyable, territory.

"what?" you can hear his smirk. "i told you i was gonna fuck this cum into you."

"i-i didn't think you—ngh—that you were serious..." you bring your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the curls at the base of his skull, and lift your face to meet his. his plump lips are tugged up into a devious grin.

"i was more than serious, baby." he smoothes his hands under your thighs, helping you lift and drop your hips to meet his thrusts halfway. your breath hitches in your throat, fatigue fading into pleasure.

"come on, sweetheart, time for you to put in a little work, hm?"

8 girls. 8 guys.

1 nervous wreck.

Your heart pounded as you stared at the mirror, examining every inch of yourself that was free to be seen by everyone in these sheer robes. You were sure it was one-way glass, and you kept shifting from heel to heel, too anxious to stand still. The green gossamer fabric clung to your skin and you crossed your arms, trying to keep from exposing too much.

You had wanted to be here more than anything, but now, being so naked in front of them made your stomach churn. It took a while for the guys to do whatever they were doing, and when the red light above the glass finally flickered and came back green, your heart raced in anticipation of what it meant.

It was announced that you were to stand still and wait for your chosen member. You had no say and would be handed whoever wanted you. You only wanted Chan, though, and you had lied on your application to get him. You knew he was the only one who wouldn't be angry once he found out...knew he was the only one who could give you what you so desperately wanted.

Chan walked out first. He'd dressed up for the event in black slacks and a white button-down shirt. It was partially undone and the sleeves were rolled up to show off his muscled forearms and diamond-encrusted watch. He looked beautiful.

Chan nodded politely as he passed each woman, and you averted your eyes nervously, not even able to look at him when he was in front of you. He didn't linger and skipped ahead nodding to the others in line until he'd finished greeting everyone.

"Thank you all for choosing to be here," he appreciated. "You may think it's an honor to be selected, but the honor is ours. We hope to make the next year one that you'll always remember and to make our homes as welcoming as possible."

Some of the girls giggled at how sweet he was, others thanked him. You were busy staring at the ground and trying not to throw up. How would you make it a year here when 30 seconds had you ready to dispel your breakfast?

Suddenly, a delicate finger reached out to touch your chin. Chan raised your head to stand tall and you gazed anxiously at him, worried that you'd disrespected him by not seeming appreciative.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

"(Y/n)," you answered in a hoarse voice. Your throat was dryer than the hottest desert sand.

He smiled when you spoke as if it was the prettiest name he'd ever heard. "I choose you," he claimed, looking so genuinely heartfelt that you wondered if this was what it felt like to be in love. You had no experience in such things.

"Is that okay with you?" he asked, his hand moving from your chin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your mouth opened to speak, but your voice was still gone. Instead, you nodded, unable to process that your wildest fantasies were coming true.

Pleased with the answer, Chan took your hand and stood beside you. You kept looking at him in disbelief that he was real. He'd return your looks with dimpled smiles that put you at ease, and by the time I.N. had chosen, you were leaning against his shoulder, feeling so unbelievably comforted by his presence that you could've fallen asleep.

"Please take the aids to their rooms," the hostess announced.

You furrowed your brows when a door opened, having thought this place was abandoned, and followed the others onto the elevator. Chan must've sensed your confusion because he whispered, "If it looks abandoned, fans leave it alone."

You realized he and the others must've gone through a great deal of effort to keep their homes private. The ride was quiet save the occasional comment from Seungmin.

When the elevator doors opened, you were taken aback. The dorms they filmed in must have been all for show because this was nothing like the drab beige rooms you'd seen in live streams.

It looked like a greenhouse. There were plants everywhere growing out of the ground and a massive skylight to help them grow. There was a waterfall in the corner and an aquarium with colorful fish. It looked like a rainforest except that it was inside.

You were about to ask where the rooms were when you realized on the border of the forest were steps to different doors, all marked with their names.

"Like it?" he asked, his adorable grin knowing the answer before you could even reply.

In awe, you nodded and tried to soak it all in.

"We can't get outside a lot without fans running up to us, so we brought the outside to us," he explained as he squeezed your hand and pulled you to follow him. "Wait until you see my room."

Your heart raced eagerly as Chan brought you to the door marked with his name. You wondered what was inside, wondered what he'd think once he found out you lied to be here.

He opened the door, revealing a very organized room with so much equipment that it mirrored a recording studio.

"I like my job a lot," he shrugged playfully. You stepped in, observing the red carpet floors and dark walls in surprise. His room felt like a cave...somewhere to hide away.

"Let me get you something to drink," he offered. "Is tea okay?"

You nodded, hoping it brought your voice back, and smiled at a picture of Chan with his family on a trophy shelf. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, still feeling too awkward to show off like that, as you gazed upon all of their successes.

"My family flew all the way to America to watch us win that one," he said proudly. "My mom actually gave me something to give to you," he remembered before handing you the mug. You took a sip and waited patiently as he hurried off. He came back right away with a basket—in it, a blanket, slippers, and a book. In his other hand, was a letter.

"For you," he held it out.

You took it, feeling surprised that his mom would have done such a thing for a stranger. You used the paper to cover yourself, and Chan noticed with a slight interested tilt of his head.

"I'll give you a moment," he said before setting the basket down and heading off to his room, or what you assumed to be his room. Once his door closed, you set your mug down and opened the letter.

Hello,

If you're reading this, congratulations! You must be really special to have been chosen by my son. Whether this partnership lasts for a few months or years, I'm grateful for the happiness and security that you will bring to him.

I wanted to offer a few items to make your stay more comfortable. In the basket, you'll find a blanket. I miss hugs from my son every day and should he have to travel and you can't go, this will bring you a bit of comfort. The slippers are for you to wear for Chan...he's a bit of a neat freak and doesn't like shoes worn in his house. The book is his favorite. Even if you don't click right away, it will give you two something to talk about.

I know that he seems like a confident and impressive person on stage, and in many ways he is. But he's soft, and he's kind. Please don't take advantage of that.

I'm sure we'll meet soon, but until then, I hope you enjoy getting to know him.

-Jessica

You couldn't help but feel immensely grateful for how thoughtful the letter was. You slipped on the slippers as she'd recommended and went to find Chan to tell him to thank his mom. In his room, you discovered him waiting patiently, sitting on his bed and hugging a pillow in more comfortable clothes.

"She told me not to read it," he admitted when you walked in. "I hope it was all good things."

Your heart fluttered upon realizing just how true the letter was. He was incredibly gentle and sweet. Chan just wanted to be seen...to be loved.

"It was all very good things. I'll have to thank her when I meet her," you murmured and stepped closer, arms crossed again.

Chan signed in relief and moved the pillow away before reaching for your waist. You stood between his legs and gazed down at him. You instinctively ran your hands through his hair and blushed when he hummed in pleasure. That perfect sound had you plagued with guilt.

"Chan..." you trailed off, your voice shaky. You didn't want to ruin this.

"Mhm?" he asked, eyes still closed from the way your fingers were massaging his scalp. It was easier to touch him when he couldn't see.

"I lied on my application," you confessed.

There was a small pause...one that felt like an eternity where you imagined being sent away and called out. "I know," he said instead of the horrible things you'd imagined, his warm eyes opening to meet your anxious ones.

"You know? How?" you asked, feeling shy when he glanced down briefly, looking at your tits before returning his attention to your face.

"You're a virgin, right?" he checked in a non-judging voice.

Blood rushed through your cheeks as tears stung your eyes. You answered with yet another nod, feeling fearful as Chan reached for your hand and pulled you to sit on his lap.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You were brought here to be my aid...my little wolfie," he murmured sweetly with a hint of playfulness. "You weren't brought here to fuck me," he promised.

"Chan..." you pouted. He was missing the point. "I lied about being a virgin...but I want to have sex. I just wanted...I wanted to lose it to you."

"I knew that, too," he smiled and brushed his thumb across your cheek. "You're not as secretive as you think, wolflie."

He wiped away a tear that escaped and waited for you to calm down. He was so comforting that it only took minutes.

"You're not mad?"

"No," he chuckled. "I'm not mad."

"And you want to...you know..." you trailed off awkwardly.

"You're beautiful (Y/n)," he answered sincerely. "But I want to take this slow...I want to do this right."

"Oh," you frowned. "So you don't..."

"That's not what I said," he interrupted. "We'll have sex once we know each other more. There's no rush. And it's obvious you're uncomfortable right now..." he pointed out your arms which you had subconsciously crossed again. "In fact, I should've gotten you something to wear sooner."

You stood and followed Chan as he sifted through his closet before presenting an oversized hoodie. "Here," he offered before turning around so you could change. He was just as thoughtful as his mom...not even attempting to sneak a peek.

You shrugged off the robe and slipped into the comfortable sweatshirt before tapping his shoulder. You were already feeling more confident, and when he turned around he couldn't help but smile at you when he noticed how much more relaxed you were.

"This is your home, too," he explained as he pulled you close. "You aren't here to serve me but just to exist as someone I can confide in and be around," he added.

"If it's my home..." you began and stood on your toes, desperate to get something from him if sex was off the table. "Can I have a kiss?"

Chan smirked, his eyes shining adoringly at you. "Of course."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, waiting patiently for him to close the gap. You were a feminist when it came to 99% of things, but you still believed the guy should kiss the girl first.

Chan cupped your cheeks and lingered just in front of you, watching your expression for any hesitation. He found none.

"Welcome home," he breathed before sinking into a kiss, letting his plump lips fill yours.

His lips felt better than you could've ever imagined. They were softer...warmer... and cozier. You moaned and arched into him, holding him as close as humanly possible. The kiss, like him, was filled with an unspoken passion. Your heart pounded with every second, and Chan squeezed your sides, unwilling to pull apart.

Your sweatshirt rose up, and Chan's hand slipped, his finger coming in contact with the bare skin of your hip. You whimpered and leaned into him in surprise, your naked bottom half bumping against his cock.

"Fuck," he groaned and pulled away in a daze before realizing what had happened.

You were frozen in shock, body still flush against his as Chan's hand remained on your lower back.

"I should've gotten you some shorts," he apologized.

"I should've asked for some," you laughed shyly, your face growing pink.

He carefully removed himself, trying not to touch you more than he had, and headed off in search of something for you to wear. He returned moments later with a pair of boxers before turning around again.

You stepped into them, trying to ignore the knowledge that Chan would've had his dick against them at some point, and tapped his shoulder again.

"I'm dressed," you told him.

He turned around and pulled you close again, a devious smirk forming. "Where were we?"

"Here," you teased and melted back into him.

He smiled into the kiss, his hands roaming freely over your clothed back. "I've got a closet of things for you across the hall," he shook his head and bit his lip as he took you in. "But I much prefer you in my clothes."

"I think I do too," you agreed and hugged him.

Chan breathed deeply in contentment, but that quiet moment was soon cut off by music playing outside.

"What's that?" you asked, noticing Chan was laughing

"Opening night," he took your hand in his. "A chance to get to know each other."

He pulled you from the room and you noticed others retreating from dorms as well. Everyone had changed since earlier, and Han bounded over to Chan to swing his arm around his neck.

"She's in your clothes," Han teased him with a wink before running off again to Changbin.

"Sorry about him," Chan apologized. "He's not normally like that," he paused and decided that he had been dishonest. "...Actually he is. That's Han."

You laughed shyly and squeezed his hand for something to ground you. Being around so many new people was a lot.

"So this is a tradition at the start of every year, but it's out first time with aids so it might be a little wild," he explained before leading you to a grassy area with little tents. There was one with a wolf engraved on a wooden post, and you knew it was his. He guided you to it where you found two pairs of wolf ears on top of a pair of sleeping bags.

"We like to spend our first night home under the stars," he explained as he picked up his ears. Blindly, he pinned them perfectly before reaching for yours.

"As the leader," he continued. "It's my job to make sure everyone enjoys themselves and likes being here. And as my chosen wolfie," he grinned once he saw the ears fixed to your hair. "Your job will be to let me know if anyone is unhappy."

"I'm a snitch?" you teased.

Chan smirked and shook his head. "Not quite. More like an advisor. But for you to do well..." he took a deep breath and cupped both cheeks as he gazed into your eyes. "I need to know that you're happy, too. Is this arrangement and home okay for you?"

"Chan," you sighed and pressed your hand to his heart. "It's perfect."

"Good because I just want..."

A horn bellowed outside and Chan sucked in a deep breath before sighing in disappointment. "They're not very well-behaved, are they?" he rolled his eyes before heading out to the lounge area. Some people were snacking on picnic benches, and others lying in the grass and stargazing. Standing on top of a table was Han with the horn and his date cheering him on.

"Han, hand it over," Chan ordered. "You know that's mine."

"Thought you might have been...busy," he winked again.

Your cheeks burned when you realized everyone was looking at you now...probably thinking the same thing.

"Please don't talk about Wolfie's sex life in front of everyone..." he instructed as he snatched the horn.

"So you have a sex life?" he gawked only for Lee Know to smack the back of his head

"Ow!" he yelped as Chan took his place on top of the table.

"Hello!" he called out, drawing the attention of all in attendance. From your count, only one couple was missing. "I hope you've had some time to settle in, and that you're enjoying yourselves. This evening is meant to bring us together...to remind us that this is all for the music and the comfort of friendly faces. My ears are always ready to listen if you have any concerns, but I hope you all enjoy living here...and I'm sorry to Han's aid...good luck with that," he added with a laugh.

He rejoined you and guided you to sit in front of the tent in his sleeping bag as others buzzed past with games and drinks. "I'll be back," he said and hurried off to get some dinner.

While he was gone you took in the group that you'd be spending the next year with. They were all smiling and laughing, appearing completely at ease.

"For you," Chan proclaimed as he sat beside you with a pair of sandwiches.

"Thanks," you settled against his shoulder and took a bite.

"It's nice, isn't it?" he asked as he watched the same beautiful scene as you. His arm came around to settle on your shoulder and his thumb brushed back and forth.

"I don't think I'll ever want to leave," you confessed in a playful tone.

Chan said nothing in response but kissed the top of your head which felt like an answer in itself.

The two of you stayed that way long into the night, observing the fun rather than partaking. It was entertaining and made you appreciate the dynamics of everyone there. Some were quiet, others loud. Some kept games going while others broke the rules. Everyone had a purpose.

When the music finally cut off and night befell the dorms, you realized rather quickly that most couples were sleeping in the tents together. Chan didn't want to force that expectation on you, though, and suggested, "You can go sleep in my bed if you'd like. I'll stay here and watch them."

You yawned...a fake one...as you thought over what you wanted, but that answer had always been clear. You wanted Chan.

Instead of answering you crawled into the tent and undid your sleeping bag before fixing it to lie flat in the space. "We can use yours as a blanket," you offered.

Chan was obviously happy to comply and quickly laid down. You settled against his chest, letting him hold you in ways you had only imagined. His heart was pounding, and you realized he was just as nervous as you. To hide it, he pet your hair, calming you down with long strokes that sent shivers down your spine.

"I do have one complaint," you whispered into the darkness.

"Do you?" he asked, somehow sensing it was nothing serious.

"You're almost too perfect," you complained. "It isn't realistic," you teased.

Chan laughed and hugged you closer, wrapping both arms around you. "I swear I'm not perfect at all."

"How?" you argued. So far he had  been a perfect gentleman. He seemed to have it all.

"Well..." he thought for a moment, wondering how deep he should go. "I bring work home with me a lot. I forget to eat sometimes. And I rely on people for support because I'm not good at being my own emotional champion, but feel like it's an imposition to let others help..."

"But you offer to help others all the time..." you trailed off with a frown as you sat up to look at him.

Chan sighed, "I don't see myself as worthy of being a priority. I do what I can for them so they never feel like that."

You kissed him and thanked him for sharing such a secret and added bravery to his list of traits. "You're my priority, Chan," you vowed.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice small and shaky.

"Yes," you assured him. "You can take care of them, and you can even take care of me if you want. But I'll take care of you."

It seemed to be all he needed to hear. Within seconds his lips were on yours again, this time allowing his tongue to dip into your mouth. You moaned...you couldn't help it and straddled him.

"I don't want to move too fast," he reminded you.

"Me either," you agreed. "I want this to happen naturally."

"Well...I'm sorry, wolfie, but something else is about to happen naturally if you stay there," he groaned and shut his eyes, trying to keep control of himself.

"Oh!" you moved off of him, realizing what he meant. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," he coughed shyly before turning on his side to hold you. "For tonight...let's just stay like this, okay?"

You nodded and kissed him again before cuddling into his chest. "Goodnight Chan."

"Goodnight (Y/n)."

3 months later

You were sitting on the couch, your legs draped over Chan's lap as you read a book. He had his laptop out and was working diligently to select songs for the next album when he cursed under his breath for the third time in a row.

"What is it, Channie?" you asked, taking off your reading glass to see him more clearly.

"Hypnotic," he mumbled before slamming his laptop shut. "The guide track is gone."

You set your book and glasses down and scooted closer, your hand rubbing small circles on his back. "That's okay. You can just redo it, baby."

You kissed his shoulder as you often did when he had these fits of his. He took his work so seriously...and if something wasn't perfect, it drove him mad.

"I need to have it done by tomorrow to make the album cut off," he sighed and sat back, covering his eyes with his hands in frustration and exhaustion.

"Then let's get you ready to go," you said, standing and reaching for his hand.

"I can't..." he shook his head, unwilling to move from the couch. "We have dinner with your family tonight and..."

"Chan..." you put your hand on your hip sternly. "I will call and tell them, and I know they'll understand. We can go for dinner with them this weekend."

"I have the recording days this weekend," he frowned.

"Then we'll find a day next week. It's really not that big of a deal."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want them to hate me."

You smiled and cupped his cheek. "They could never hate you."

"They will if I keep canceling on them," he pouted and pulled you into his lap for a kiss, always soft...always emotionally binding despite this all being temporary.

Your hands went flat against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your palm. "They could never hate you. I've hyped you up too much," you smiled when you pulled away.

"Don't make their expectations too high, wolfie. Then they'll really hate me."

"Chan," you frowned, hating when he spoke down about himself. "You live up to everything I've told them. You're perfect."

"Perfect?" he grunted as he stood with you wrapped around his waist. "I'm 5'6"."

You kissed his cheek. "Still perfect."

"I have insomnia," he reminded you.

You kissed his other cheek. "Still perfect."

"And I can't eat spicy food."

"Everything about you is perfect, Channie," you hugged him tight and kissed him playfully one last time so he could get on his shoes.

You pulled out your phone to text your family: Sorry but Chan has a work emergency. Can we take a rain check?

Mom:

Sure honey. Let me know another day that works.

Brother:

I knew he didn't exist lol

Dad:

Google are cargo pants out of style

Brother:

Wrong app dad

"They're fine with it, Chan," you held your phone up to show him.

He breathed a sigh of relief and held out a sweater for you before picking up his laptop.

"What's this?"

"You're coming with me," he motioned again for you to take it.

"Are you sure?"

In the last few months, Chan had never let you see him in that setting. He said he was too intense and too focused and didn't want you to feel left out.

"Of course. You can press the buttons...make sure the song is actually recorded."

"I do love to press a button," you said playfully, though inside you were jumping for joy that he trusted you with something so important. You shrugged on the sweater and put on your shoes to head downstairs.

The recording studio was in the same building but another floor. It required badged access...which you didn't have.

"Will JYP be mad?" you whispered and snuck down the hall as though the cameras were sound-detecting.

Chan shrugged. "It has to get done. It's not like he can fire me."

"No, but he could fire me," you told me worriedly.

Chan stopped and turned around to see your wide eyes and the nervous shake of your hand. "I won't let him," he reached for it, squeezing it tight before finding a room in which he could record.

It wasn't what you expected. The wall was a dark maroon with scuffs in the paint at feet level where they must've kicked the wall in frustration...or played with a soccer ball. The leather couch was peeling a little from years of wear and the recording equipment sat on a basic wooden table that they'd carved their names into.

And while the room was simple, it felt so important to you to be there. This was where they made all of your favorite songs. It's where Lee Know and I.N. found their voice. It's where Changbin learned how to be a leader and where Han kept people's energy up on tough days. It's where Hyunjin and Felix experimented with different sounds and where Seungmin perfected his. And it's where Chan felt more pressure than he did anywhere else...

He was getting the equipment set up, his breathing heavy and frustrated. "So I'll just...sing in here and you'll press this," he pointed to a red button marked with a piece of tape labeled record.

"Okay..." you nodded.

"Then you'll press this blue button so I can hear it back. We'll do it in 3 line increments. If you need to delete something when I mess up, just press this back button here...got it?"

"I think so," you answered, your brows furrowed as you repeated the meanings to yourself.

"Luckily, the instrumental is still there...I already queued it up, so just press record when I give the thumbs up, okay?"

You nodded and watched as he went into the room, the stress so evident it was making your hands shaky.

He gave the sign, and you pressed record.

Chan sang beautifully. He didn't mess up at all, and you pressed the button to talk to him...labeled talk... "That was amazing, Chan!"

"Let me hear it back," he asked, politeness gone with how determined he was to get this over.

You let him and noticed him waving it off right away. "I was off. Redo it."

You did...again and again and again... he hated all of the takes.

"Fuck!" he cursed and slammed his headphones down. "Why am I so bad at this?"

You abandoned the equipment and went right into the room where he'd fallen to the ground, crying into his hands.

"Chan...baby..." You pulled his hands back to look at him.

"You're exhausted. Should I text Changbin? See if he can come down to help?"

"I'm the leader. This is my job," he explained angrily.

"Chan...every single take has sounded fine. This isn't the final product. It's just a rough draft," you reminded him.

"I know what a fucking guide is," he bit back, taking his frustration out on you.

He'd never spoken to you like this before...had never dismissed your help or treated you so coldly. But you'd promised to be there for him. So you sat on the ground, reaching to hold one of his hands in yours until he calmed down.

It took a while...maybe ten minutes before he choked out an apology through tears. "I'm just so fucking angry at myself," he cried as you hugged him. "I deleted it by accident, and now I can't get the guide right, and we won't be able to present the song properly."

"Channie...I know you think everything has to be perfect...but this doesn't have to be. Just knock it out, and let it be what it is. If JYP can't trust your judgement without tearing apart a guide by this point, then he's an idiot."

"JYP can hear you in here," Chan whispered.

"Oh! Fuck! Shit...I...Sorry!" you screamed to the ceiling.

"I'm only kidding, wolfie," Chan kissed your cheek. "And I'm sorry for being an ass. You're only trying to help."

"Make it up to me by getting through the song, okay?"

Chan sighed but nodded. "Just do the whole thing."

You left him inside and closed the door to press record one more time. Chan effortlessly went through the entire song as if it were ready to be released as-is, and when you offered to play it back, he shook his head. "You're right. JYP trusts my judgement. The guide doesn't need to be perfect."

"Sorry, I didn't record that part. You said I'm what?" you teased.

Chan laughed and shouted into the mic, "You're right! My girlfriend is right!"

He was still laughing when he opened the door, but you were frozen, your cheeks burning, your heart scared to believe he meant what he just said.

"What is it?" he fretted as he approached your paralyzed frame.

"You just called me your girlfriend..." you trailed off as you pressed the button to replay his voice.

You're right! My girlfriend is right!

"Shit..." Chan muttered, seeming like he wanted to take it back. His voice began to play again, but he clicked it off. "I'm sorry. I...I shouldn't have said that."

"Oh..." you frowned, your lip quivering as you tried to let go of the hope you'd had just a few seconds ago. "It's okay. I'm just..." You turned away from him to collect his laptop cord, and more importantly, to hide your tears, "I'm just your aid."

"No, wolfie..." Chan crouched down beside you. "You're not just my aid."

You stayed turned away, making the act of pulling a plug from an outlet a grueling seven minute task.

"Baby, can you look at me?" he asked softly.

You listened, but the mask you were trying to prepare to wear fell the second you did, and heavy, painful sobs erupted as you fell to his chest.

"Fuck," he whispered guiltily. "I didn't mean it like that, wolfie." He rubbed your back, trying to calm you down the same way you often did for him. "I'm not sorry I called you my girlfriend."

"W-what?" you sniffed in shock.

"I've been feeling it for weeks. I just...I wanted to ask you after I met your family. After I made sure they liked me."

"Chan? What are you saying?"

He wiped the tears from your cheeks and then the makeup from under your eyes. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

You broke into a smile so wide it hurt. "Really?"

"Yes," he laughed. "I can't deny how I feel...and I think you feel the same way. Right?"

You answered him with a needy, sloppy kiss. Chan smiled into it, laughing so hard he nearly fell backwards to the floor. Luckily, he caught you, and you adjusted to sit with your knees around his waist.

"How were you so sure I felt the same way?" you asked. You'd tried your best to keep him a little bit out of reach in case it led to heartbreak.

"You...may have whispered it in your sleep," he said guiltily.

"Oh god!" You hid in your hands. Of course, he would've heard since he's usually up at night. You'd forgotten about that habit since you lived alone before this. "What did I say?"

Chan smirked, his dimples deep as ever. "That you love me," he teased.

You groaned and fell headfirst to his shoulder, burying yourself out of his eyeline. "It's okay, wolfie," he cooed. "I love you too."

"Chan," you pulled back to cup his face...eyes wet for a happy reason now. "You love me?"

"Of course I do," he answered like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"I love you too," you replied.

"I know..." he tried to say, but you were already attacking him, already tongue deep into his mouth.

His hands squeezed your sides, ran roughly up and down your back in the way that you loved. "We need to get upstairs," he groaned, his voice as desperate as ever.

"Why?" you breathed, heart racing when you met his needy eyes.

"Do you still want to..."

"Yes," you said right away.

"Do you want to...right now?"

"Yes," you smiled, eyes lighting up.

"Good...because I cannot go another day."

Chan collected his laptop, which you noticed he held in front of his crotch the entire walk back to his dorm. Every time he glanced at you, he shook his head in disbelief that he could be so lucky...you felt the same way.

...until you got back to his room and the nerves set in.

"Chan?" you called as he set down the laptop and turned back to you. "I'm a virgin."

He chuckled and took your hands in his before kissing you. "I know."

"And that means...I have no idea what I'm doing," you muttered between kisses while walking backwards to his room.

"That's okay," he said. "I'm pretty good at being in charge."

"True," you kissed him again, your hands making their way to the nape of his neck. "But what if it hurts?"

Chan held your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs gently. "Do you trust me?"

"Always."

"Good," he said before another peck landed on your lips. "Then let me take care of the logistics. You just focus on feeling good, okay?"

You bit your lip nervously but nodded.

Chan didn't pull you toward the bed right away. Instead, he kissed you until your lips tingled, until something you did all the time felt even more special. Your hands clutched his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

"Tell me if anything doesn't feel right. Okay?" he whispered into your mouth.

"Okay."

He kissed you again, this time longer, taking his time. You could feel him slowing you down, calming your nerves by letting each kiss linger. His hands cradled your waist, never rushing for more until he was sure you were ready. His fingers made slow, grounding passes up and down your sides, over the sweater he'd given you earlier. When he slipped his hands beneath the hem, he paused.

"Can I take this off?" he asked, his forehead still resting against yours.

You nodded and raised your arms to assist him.

Chan peeled the sweater off gently. His hands brushed your skin only briefly, but the contact sparked something deep in your core. You were left in just your bra and boxers...his, of course...and your cheeks flushed at the realization. You moved to cross your arms as he hadn't seen you this naked since the first day with the sheer robes, but he caught them.

"Hey," he said, voice low. "You're allowed to look nervous, but don't hide from me, okay? Unless you changed your mind..."

"I didn't," you promised him before kissing him again.

He walked you back slowly until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You sat without thinking, and he followed, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, to very slightly pull them apart. His thumbs rubbed back and forth slowly, grounding you again. "Can I kiss you here?"

You nodded again, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your knee. Then another, just a few inches higher. He was so careful about it. You could feel yourself trembling, not from fear but from the unfamiliarity. The sensitivity. Every inch of skin felt magnified by his plump, perfect lips.

"Still good?" he asked.

"Yeah," you breathed. "It's just a lot."

"I know," he said, smiling softly. "We'll go slow."

He kissed his way up your thighs, never rushing, never pushing. When he reached the waistband of the boxers, he looked up as if he wanted to ask something.

"Take them off," you permitted, your voice quieter than before.

Chan inhaled sharply before tugging them down slowly, letting his fingers trail along your hips and thighs as he did so. You gasped softly when the cool air hit you, instinctively pulling your legs together, but he reached up to hold your hand.

"You're doing so good for me, wolfie," he whispered, kissing the inside of your knee again. "You're perfect."

You nodded, heart in your throat at the sight of him.

He stood then, only to undress in front of you. He began by peeling off his hoodie, followed by his sweats, until he was just in his boxers. You couldn't stop looking at him. The firmness of his abs. The width of his shoulders. The way his hair stuck slightly to his forehead.

"You can touch me too, if you want," he offered with a gentle laugh, and you realized your hands were clenched in your lap. You reached for him then, and he stepped closer so your fingers could brush across his stomach. He shivered at the contact.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Mhm," you replied. "You?"

"I'm great," he said, leaning down to kiss you again. As he did so, he laid you back on the bed. Every movement was careful, every shift accompanied by another kiss. When he climbed over you, he didn't press his weight down... just rested his forehead against yours, and whispered, "How are we feeling so far?"

"Good," you hummed and ran your hands across his chest.

His lips drifted down, eager to explore your throat, your collarbone, and your chest. When he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, he paused again.

"May I?"

"Yes," you breathed nervously.

He undid it in one try, letting the straps fall away. You started to cover yourself, but his hands were already there, holding you gently, thumbs brushing under your breasts.

"You're so beautiful, wolfie," he murmured. "Let me make you feel good."

He leaned in to kiss your chest, his lips soft and warm around your nipple. The sensation made you flinch...your whole body arching slightly in shock.

"Too much?" he asked, immediately backing off.

"No," you panted. "Just...new."

He smiled and kissed lower, more gently this time, giving you space to adjust.

Then his hand moved lower. He kissed you as his fingers drifted down your belly, then down to your thigh. His touch didn't go anywhere private right away. He just kept kissing you and letting his hand learn your body like it was a song he was memorizing while letting you adapt to the ways a hand could feel so good somewhere so simple.

But it began to drive you mad after a few minutes of him skirting around where you wanted him most. "Channie," you pleaded, your hips trying to catch his fingers.

"Did you want me to touch you?" he teased with a dimpled smirk.

"Obviously," you said, your voice cracking a little in desperation.

His fingers finally grazed your folds so carefully that they made you jolt. You grabbed his wrist instinctively, not to stop him...but to steady yourself from the surprising way it felt.

"Too much?" he asked again, not moving until you nodded or spoke.

"No...just...please don't stop talking to me," you whispered.

"I won't," he promised, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your jaw. "I've got you."

One finger traced between your folds again, this time a little more confidently. He found your clit almost immediately and didn't do anything more than circle it softly using barely any pressure at all.

Your hips twitched, and you gasped, your hand flying to his forearm this time.

"That's okay," he murmured, kissing your temple. "That's normal. You're doing so well."

You nodded, lips parting, eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm going to go a little lower," he warned, and you hummed in acknowledgement.

When his finger pressed gently to your entrance, your breath hitched again, but you didn't stop him. He didn't even push in... just traced the rim, getting you used to the sensation.

"Still okay?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," you answered, your hips twitching upward again.

He kept kissing your neck as his finger eased in just a little. It didn't hurt, but it was a slight stretch, and you weren't used to it. He didn't move until he saw your body relax again. Then, he added more... until his whole finger was inside.

"You're gripping me so tight," he whispered, voice thick with adoration. "Feels so good already."

You gasped as he curled it, making your thighs twitch around him. You'd fingered yourself, but you didn't even know curling was an option. Holy fuck you'd been missing out.

You could feel him watching your every breath, every shift, every moan. He didn't add a second finger right away. He just let you ride the first, let you get used to it. Let your body open.

"Can I give you more?"

"P-please," you whimpered.

Chan leaned in and kissed your cheek again, murmuring against your skin, "Being such a good girl, using your manners like that, wolfie."

"Oh fuck," you whined at his words just as he eased a second finger in beside the first, the subtle fullness making your breath hitch. Your hand tightened on his forearm again, and he stilled right away.

"Need me to stop?" he asked, his thumb still brushing soft circles against your thigh.

You nodded quickly, forcing out a breath. "No. You're just... so good at this."

He chuckled, and his fingers moved again, just the slightest push forward, then back.

At first, you couldn't tell what you were feeling. It wasn't sharp or painful...it was heat. Deep and low, like your stomach had been set alight from the inside. You couldn't quite process it until Chan's thumb slid up and found your clit again, circling it in time with the movement of his fingers.

You cried out, your hips jolting up into his hand. He pressed his forehead to yours, smiling softly through his own heavy breathing.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged.

Your thighs convulsed, and your head rolled back against the pillow. Your lips parted with moans you didn't even know your body could make. He watched your every reaction, adjusting as needed and pressing deeper when your hips rose to meet him, easing off when you gasped too sharply.

"So good for me," he praised. "So perfect. I love seeing you like this."

"Chan..." Your voice broke on his name. "I think..."

He slowed immediately. "You think you're close?"

You nodded, unable to say more.

"Do you want to cum like this?" he asked, eyes searching yours for consent to keep going.

You blinked up at him, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "No... I want you."

"Are you sure?"

"Please, Channie. I've waited so long."

His eyes searched yours one more time before he shifted back onto his knees. You watched as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and paused.

"Do you want to see me?" he asked softly. "If not, I can turn the lights down..."

"No," you interrupted. "I want to see you. I want... all of it."

He nodded, then slid his boxers down to free himself. You couldn't stop the way your eyes widened.

"Oh," you gasped, sitting up slightly, your thighs pressing together with nerves.

"What is it?" he asked quickly. "Too much?"

"No...I mean maybe...I just... I've never seen one in person before," you admitted, heat rushing to your cheeks.  "At least not outside of health class diagrams or porn."

Chan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges, but it wasn't teasing. It was full of something warmer. Something safe and deeply affectionate.

"You're adorable," he smiled. "Want to touch it first?"

You hesitated.

"Only if you want to," he added immediately.

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing across his length. He hissed softly at the contact, and your hand froze.

"Good?" you asked quickly.

"God, yes," he moaned. "You're doing perfect."

You explored carefully, feeling the softness of his skin, the weight of him. It was fascinating and overwhelming and a little surreal, realizing this thing that barely fit in your fist was about to be inside of you.

You looked up at him. "How is that supposed to... fit?"

Chan leaned forward, cupping your face and kissing you again. "We'll go slow," he whispered. "I'll keep checking in."

"Okay," you nodded.

He kissed you again, then gently pressed you back into the pillows. As he settled between your thighs, he reached between you and guided his cock to your entrance. He didn't push in...just let the tip rest there, warming you to the idea.

"If it hurts just tell me," he reminded you as he drove his cock up and down your slit.

"I will."

"I love you so much, wolfie," he murmured

"I love you too," you breathed nervously as his tip pushed in for the very first time.

He shifted slightly, one hand guiding himself, the other still cradling your cheek and watching you as if he still wasn't sure. "I want you," you repeated, your voice trembling. "Just... go slow."

The head of his cock pressed to your entrance, and your body tensed without meaning to.

"Relax, wolfie," he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. "Breathe with me, okay?"

You nodded, and together you exhaled.

When he started to push in, it felt like... pressure...a full, slow, agonizing stretch. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but it was overwhelming. He barely got the tip in before you gasped and flinched.

Chan stopped instantly, both hands coming to your hips to still you. "Okay. That's it for now," he soothed. "Let me know when you're ready."

"I didn't know it would feel like that," you admitted, voice shaking. "I've never... I never even used a toy like this."

Chan smiled, breath catching at your honesty. "Yeah?" he whispered. "Well, baby...I can tell." He laughed and kissed your forehead while letting you adjust.

You wrapped your legs a little tighter around him for a better angle. "I think I'm okay," you whispered after a few moments.

He moved again, sinking in another inch. This time, you whined and gripped his back. He groaned, barely holding himself still.

"F-fuck," he gasped. "You feel so warm already."

You held onto him tightly. The stretch burned this time, like your body was figuring out how someone his size could even exist.

"You want me to keep going?" he checked.

You swallowed and nodded. "All the way."

He kissed you again as he pushed the rest of the way in...inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. Your jaw fell open in a soundless gasp when his hips finally met yours. You didn't even realize you'd been holding your breath until you exhaled shakily against his shoulder.

"I'm in," he whispered, voice wrecked. "You okay?"

"It's... a lot," you breathed as you held him tightly.

"Too much?"

You shook your head. "No. I just... can't believe it."

"I know," he smiled and gave you a peck. "Me neither."

He stayed there, fully buried, and kissed you again, deeper this time. His hand rubbed gently up and down your side. He didn't move until your hips began rolling slightly, inviting him in.

"There you go," he whispered, eyes darkening as he pulled out slightly, then back in. "Fuck, you're so needy, aren't you, wolfie?" His voice changed then, just slightly. Still gentle... but more praise-heavy now. More focused. "I knew you'd take me so well."

Your thighs trembled as his hips found a slow, shallow rhythm, each thrust sending a warm ripple up your spine.

"Tell me how it feels," he murmured, lips dragging along your neck where he left little nibbles.

"Feels full...so full," you whimpered. "It's so much, but...don't stop, Chan."

"I won't, wolfie."

His hips rocked more confidently now, each stroke dragging across something deep inside you that made you gasp and cling to his shoulders.

"Fuck! Right there," you choked out, nails biting his back.

"Oh?" he smirked against your cheek. "You like when I fuck you there?"

You nodded wildly, too breathless to speak. The pressure was building again, tighter this time, like everything inside you was clenching up, getting hotter.

"I can feel you, baby," he grunted. "Your pussy's getting so greedy for me."

"Chan...oh god!"

"You gonna cum for me like this?" he asked. "Gonna let me feel you while I'm inside you?"

You moaned and nodded, words failing. His pace grew more confident. Every thrust sent sparks through you, and when his thumb found your clit again, your whole body jolted.

"Channie! I'm gonna..." you cried out, body shaking with need.

"Cum for me, wolfie," he begged, voice tight. "Please."

You did...stars bursting behind your eyes as your body clenched around him, orgasm ripping through you like a wave. You cried out his name as he kissed you, kissing through every moan, every whimper, until you collapsed against the sheets.

He barely held out after that.

"Can I..." he grunted. "Fuck, can I finish inside?"

"Yes," you whined, overstimulated and on a euphoric high like nothing you'd ever experienced.

His thrusts turned desperate, hips stuttering, and just a few moments later, he buried himself deep and moaned your name as he came.

You both lay there for a moment, unmoving, hearts pounding in sync.

Chan kissed your forehead first, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, dazed and glowing. "Better than okay."

He smiled and stayed close. "You're mine now, you know that right?"

the door to your apartment swings open as chan comes in, looking exhausted but irresistible after his gym session. you can see the sweat that still clings to his skin and also his tank top hugging his broad shoulders and defined chest and those workout shorts that do little to hide the powerful lines of his thighs.

before he can even kick off his shoes, you’re on him, launching yourself forward to crash your lips against his in a hungry, desperate kiss. his hands instinctively grab your waist, steadying himself as you press your body against his, your tongues tangling in a heated makeout that leaves you both breathless.

“babe, wait-”, he says, pulling back just enough to say against your lips, but you don’t give him a chance.

your fingers thread into his damp, short hair, tugging him closer as you back him towards your bedroom, your lips never leaving his.

“what’s got into you? i just got-”, he tries again, a chuckle rumbling in his throat, but it dissolves into a groan when you nip at his lower lip, your hands roaming down his back to squeeze his ass through his shorts.

he gives up fighting it, his resistance melting as he follows your lead and his strong arms wrap around you. the hallway blurs as you guide him, your mind racing back to just minutes ago. you had been scrolling through your phone when you saw the gym video he posted - his muscles flexing, sweat dripping down his body as he powered through reps that made your cunt clench. 

you have been dripping wet ever since, your thighs rubbing together in anticipation, counting the seconds until he walked through that door. and now, he was here, and you weren’t waiting another minute. 

you push him into your bedroom and then move him towards the bed. his eyes are dark with confusion and growing need, but he lets you take control, tumbling onto the mattress with a surprised laugh that turns into a groan when you straddle his hips.

“fuck, you look so hot like this”, he says, his voice dripping with lust.

before he can say anything else, you lean down and kiss him again and then move to stand up. you reach for your phone on the nightstand and then place it on top of the dresser against the wall. the angle is perfect - side view of the bed, capturing both your bodies in full frame. you start recording then, and you toss a wicked grin over your shoulder at him.

“let’s see if you post this video too”, you say, your voice low and teasing.

chan’s brows furrow, his head lifting slightly off the pillow.

“what? baby, what are you-”, he says but his question cuts off as you climb back on top of him, sealing his mouth with another deep kiss.

your hands are everywhere, yanking at the hem of his tank top, pulling it up and over his head in one fluid motion. he helps you, arching his back to take it off, revealing his abs carved from hours in the gym, and a light sheen of sweat that makes his skin glisten.

you break the kiss just long enough to take your own t-shirt off, tossing it aside, then you take off your shorts and panties, leaving you bare from the waist down. chan’s gaze rakes over you hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts through the bra before you unhook it and let it fall away.

“shit, you’re so fucking hot”, he says.

your fingers move to his shorts and you tug them down along with his boxers. his cock springs free, thick and half-hard already, twitching at the cool air and the sight of you. both of you are naked now, your skin hot where your bodies touch.

you slide down his body and settle between his spread legs as he props himself up on his elbows, watching you with wide eyes and his chest heaving. you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, giving it a slow and firm stroke that makes him buck his hips. leaning in, you maintain eye contact, locking your gaze with his as your tongue flicks out to trace the underside of his cock, from balls to tip.

“oh, fuck”, his breath hitches as a groan escapes his lips.

without breaking that intense stare, you take him into your mouth, your lips stretching as you suck him down. you hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head as your tongue swirls around the tip. chan’s head falls back against the pillow with a groan, one of his hands grabbing the sheets while the other reaches down to tangle in your hair.

“f-fuck, baby… k-keep going, don’t stop”

you hum around him, the vibration drawing a sharp curse from his throat and you feel him throb against your tongue, growing fully hard now. he doesn’t know the fire that video ignited in you, how it had you imagining this exact moment - his body under yours, surrendering to your mouth.

he looks at you again as you take him deeper, relaxing your throat to swallow around him, your eyes never leaving his as tears prick at the corners from the effort. he’s losing it, his hips jerking up involuntarily as his hand grips the headboard now.

“fuck, yes… just- just like that. your mouth feels so good wrapped around me. keep looking at me”

his words spur you on, and you can feel your cunt soaking and clenching around nothing. you can tell he’s close from the way his abs tense and the salty precum that leaks onto your tongue. 

“baby, i’m gonna… fuck, i’m-”, he says, but you don’t let him finish.

as his grip tightens, you pull off with a wet pop, licking your lips as you crawl back up his body.

“not yet”, you whisper, positioning yourself over him.

his cock, slick from your saliva, nudges your entrance, and you sink down until he’s completely inside you. both of you moan at the stretch, your walls fluttering around his cock as you adjust to his size. his hands fly to your hips, his fingers digging in so hard you know you’re gonna have marks there the next day.

“fuck… you’re so wet, you’re soaking”, he moans.

you start moving, rolling your hips in a slow grind at first, savouring the drag of him inside you. then you start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, the bed creaking under your bodies. his eyes are glued to where you’re joined, watching himself disappear into you over and over again.

“you’re taking my cock so well. you love it, don’t you? been thinking about this all day?”, he says, his voice rough with need as he thrusts up to meet you, “fuck, you’re dipping all over me, baby. tell me how good it feels”

“yes, chris… it feels so fucking good”, you moan, leaning forward to brace your hands on his chest, your nails scratching his skin.

the angle hits deeper, his cock brushing that spot that almost makes you lose control completely. he’s relentless now, bucking up hard, one of his hands sliding up to pinch and twist your nipple while the other smacks your ass lightly, the sting sending jolts straight to your core. 

“that’s it, ride me harder. i wanna fell you come on my cock”

his words push you closer to the edge and you clench around him, drawing a deep moan from his lips. the tension builds, coiling tight in your stomach, and you can feel him swelling inside you, almost on his breaking point.

“chris- i’m… i’m close, don’t stop”, you whine, grinding down faster.

“come with me, baby. fuck- now”

he thrusts up fiercely and then you tip over, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave, your cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. he breaks with you, his cum filling you up as he groans.

“yes, take it all… shit, you’re perfect”

you collapse against him, both of you panting, your bodies trembling. his cock softens inside you, but he doesn’t pull out yet, he just holds you close as he presses kisses to your shoulder. after a moment, he tilts your chin up, searching your flushed face with a puzzled smile.

“okay, seriously, not that i’m complaining, but what was that all about?”, he says.

you laugh breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck before lifting your head.

“it’s your fault and that stupid gym video you’ve posted. i’ve been soaked since i saw it. couldn’t wait to get you home and fuck you senseless”

his eyes widen in realisation, then crinkle with amusement. 

“shit, that’s what this is about? damn, i should’ve known”, he glances towards your phone still recording, a spark of understanding lighting his gaze as he pieces together your earlier comment, “and you’ve recorded us? fuck, baby, that’s so damn hot. i’m not posting this anywhere, this one is just for me. i’m gonna watch it when i’m on tour, stroking my cock to the sight of you bouncing on me”

he kisses you hard, his hand sliding down your body, cupping your ass as his cock stretches faintly inside you, already stirring at the thought. you break the kiss and move, sliding off him with a wet sound, his cum trickling down your thighs as you stand up to get your phone, stopping the video. he watches you, propping himself on one elbow, his gaze lingering on the mess between your legs with a smirk. 

you sit down beside him, your phone in your hand but before you can say anything, he pulls you in for a quick, teasing kiss.

“we should watch this together right now. i think it’ll recharge us both for another round”

he plays the video and the screen lights up, and as the video starts, his hand already wanders back down your body, as you get ready for another cardio session. 

the library

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟

dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷

You have dated Lee Minho for nearly three months, and he still hasn’t kissed you. Okay, well, he has kissed you before, but not in the way you wanted him to. His kisses were either on your cheek or just briefly on the lips. None of his kisses was raw, passionate, and even…possessive. He hasn’t kissed you like he wanted to fuck you.

At the start, you figured that it was just his personality. Even when you met him at some pudding shop, you knew he was a bit closed off. His expression has often been neutral, his humor was dry, and the most physical touches he’s ever done were hand-holding, small kisses, and hugging you if you hugged first. Even his clothes were heavily contrasting with your hyperfeminine aesthetic. If he wasn’t on stage, he wore mostly black hoodies, sweatpants, T-shirts, strong cologne, and sometimes, a plain, regular suit every man ever would wear. Meanwhile, you wore lace, dresses, skirts, bows, flashy jewelry, sugary perfume, showy shoes, and everything pink, fluffy, and ruffled you could get your hands on.

If anyone got only one glance of the two of you, they’d only see a princess and her brooding bodyguard.  

That wasn’t to say that Minho had been an awful boyfriend. He took you out on dates to fancy restaurants, the beach, cat cafes, and even his dorm, where he cooked dinner himself. Those dates have been wonderful, and you enjoyed every second of them. He was handsome, he was polite, and he always made sure that you got home safely. You just wondered if he was ever going to give in and be more physically affectionate with you or even tell you that you looked pretty.

You haven’t seen Minho in about a whole week. He said he was busy working on the upcoming Stray Kids comeback, so there was no time to schedule a proper date. You understood, but God, you just wanted that man to fucking touch you. Three months and no proper kiss? Of course, you didn’t want to rush or pressure him, but you still couldn’t help but wonder what was holding him back. Was he a virgin? Was he just shy? Or was he waiting on you? You needed an answer!

Even though he was busy, you wanted to see him at least. Calling him and texting him wasn’t enough. You were now in your bedroom, fishing out the perfect outfit from your incredibly pink closet. A pile of lace and bows was on the floor, and it only got bigger and bigger as you stared at yourself in the mirror to see if it was the right outfit. You were now wearing a baby pink fuzzy tube top with its matching miniskirt. It was cute. You loved this outfit. It was super soft, simple, and even sexy. Your tits and ass looked amazing in it, but Minho has seen you wear it before.

“Ugh! I can’t wear this,” you scolded yourself, “He’s seen it before and barely reacted to it.”

You immediately stripped off the set of clothes, leaving you in only your lacy white underwear. You went back into the closet to see that it was damn near empty. Your eye twitched, you pulled on your hair, and you heaved a groan of frustration as your knees landed on your fuzzy Hello Kitty carpet.

“Fuck! Why is this so damn hard?” you whined, “Does he even think I’m sexy?”

A pout formed on your glossy lips, and you laid on your side on the carpet, basking in the dreamy scent of flowers that you often sprayed on it. You sighed in defeat, thinking that maybe Minho just wasn’t into you as you were into him, and he’s probably just stringing you along like any man ever. But he couldn’t be just like any man ever. Any man ever would try to grab you, spank you, ask to fuck you within seconds of seeing you, and generally act super gross because of the way you dressed. Minho was polite. Minho was modest. He was respectful, and you liked respectful men. And he was actually handsome, unlike most men you saw daily. You just wished that he’d do more than just be polite and modest. You wanted that man to ruin you.

“What outfit could even get him to ruin me?” you sighed, before looking right at yourself in the mirror: you lying on your side, your hair a little messy and slightly covering one side of your face, and you wearing nothing but white lace panties that had little bows on the sides. 

Pink dusted your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but stare. What if Minho walked in and saw you like this? A lightbulb turned on in your head. Maybe you didn’t need the perfect outfit. You just needed to test the waters first. Your eyes darted around the floor, looking for your phone. Once you landed on the pink and pearl-studded phone case, you instantly grabbed it and took a quick picture, the flash creating a little star on the mirror. You looked at the picture and smirked. Surely, this would be enough to fluster him. You sat up and got an even better idea.

You tried different poses in front of the mirror. You played with the lighting in your room. You even applied a lot more lip gloss to make your lips look more succulent. You tried adding more or less jewelry. You tried different facial expressions, such as the doe eyes and pouty lip combo or the wink and lip bite combo. You even pointed your camera at different areas of your body, like your bare cleavage or your nearly bare hips, as you pull on your white panties. You even tried no panties. You tried putting on the sexiest lingerie you had, your favorite being the sheer ruffled pink set that had some floral details. They weren’t covering anything, more so decorating your body. You even grabbed the longest pink satin ribbon you had, which you typically tied your hair with, and took a picture of your bare legs tied together with it.

Once you were finally done with taking enough pictures to fill a magazine, you looked back at all the photos. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, and you couldn’t help but giggle and kick your feet. Surely, they had to work. Surely, they would stir something in Minho at least. They must have. You put your whole heart, soul, and pussy into these pictures. Especially one of them. The picture was of you completely wearing nothing but your lacy white stockings that reached up to your upper thighs and had little bows on the hems, paired with your Leebit headband. In the picture, you were on your knees hugging a giant Leebit teddy bear from behind, making a suggestive pose but giving such an innocent face to the camera: your eyes wide and doe-like, your lips glossy and wet, and your mouth was open as if you were giving a shocked expression.

You opened your messaging app, selected all the pictures, and were ready to click the send button. Your heart pounded, your face was completely red, and sweat was dripping down your body. Come on, Y/N. Just send them. You didn’t do all of this for nothing.

And within the next two seconds of inhaling and exhaling a large breath, you clicked send.

x•x•x•x

Minho typically kept his phone off during practice. He was again putting his all into the new choreography for the comeback. New arm movements. New group synchronization. New leg movements. New footwork. It was tiring. Not that he hated it, but his lungs were begging for air every second, sweat was dripping down his whole body, and by God, was his body ready to collapse. Luckily, it was time for a break. Chan left the practice room to grab the lunch he ordered; meanwhile, Minho and his fellow members were left to their own devices. He only went to the spot in the room where his stuff was lying on the floor. He sat down, and of course, Han sat next to him.

“Finally, a break,” Han sighed, “Like the choreo is good, but damn, my legs are killing me!”

“What food did Chan-hyung order again?” Minho asked, his voice a little gruff and breathless.

“I think tteokbokkie? Are you okay, Minho? You look tired?”

“I’m fine. This dance was just a lot…”

“Well, at least you can rest for now.”

“Yeah…”

Minho inhaled and exhaled once more, and he finally decided to kill whatever time he had by opening his phone. If he were being honest with himself, he wondered how you’ve been doing all week. It was so unusual not seeing you every single day, and it bothered him especially whenever his members would ask about you because he didn’t know. He didn’t want them to know either, because why should they? You’re his girlfriend, not theirs. You were probably doing fine. You always were. You with your cute pink outfits, sugary perfumes, candy lip gloss, and that bubbly aura you always carried everywhere, bringing smiles—oftentimes perverted—to others’ faces. He was so sure that you were incapable of being bored. A girl like you was always excited about something.

He remembered the last time he took you out on a date, you were so entertained by the bees pollinating the pink roses at the park. To him, it was just some bee doing its service in nature, but to you, your eyes widened in awe of that bee. It was the cutest thing ever in the world to you, and you rambled about this one TikTok you saw of someone having a pet bee. And of course, the color pink never fails to catch your attention. You wanted to pick out one of the roses, but Minho warned you about the sharp thorns and spiderwebs that covered a good portion of the flowers. You pouted and whined, but luckily, you were happy again when he gave you a bouquet of similar-looking pink roses. Your smile, giggling, and jump always replayed in his head, and he would do anything to see you that happy once more.

“You’re going to text her?” Han asked, interrupting Minho’s chain of thought.

“Oh…yeah…I am,” Minho said, pursing his lips together. “I’m not sure of what to say…it’s been a whole week without seeing her.”

“Just say ‘I miss you.’”

The tips of Minho’s ears gained a red tint all of a sudden.

“That sounds desperate. I can’t let myself look like that.”

“Hyung, be for real. You like her, and it’s been three months, right?”

“Yes—”

“So, it’s not out of bounds to say that you miss her.”

“I guess so, but…”

“But what?”

Minho stared at the black screen of his phone. His heart was skipping a few beats, his stomach churned a little, and his mind was a little jumbled. Why the Hell am I nervous?

“Okay, I’ll do it…”

He turned on his phone, his lock screen being a picture of you with his three cats. A soft smile formed on Minho’s face. You looked awfully cute playing with the most precious babies in the world. He even remembered you meowing at them, pretending to be a cat to get them to like you. In some ways, you were like a kitten. A kitten in pink.

Right before he was about to swipe up on the screen and enter his passcode, he got a text from you.

kitten =^-^=: [22 attachments]

kitten =^-^=: <333

It’s been a couple of days since you last texted him, so his stomach did a flip. Minho clicked on the notification and immediately dropped his phone, creating a loud thud in the dance practice room.

“What’s wrong, Minho?” Han asked.

Minho immediately picked up his phone to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. A whole week without seeing you, and the one time he decided to send an “I miss you” message, he sees you humping Leebit. Red covered his face, his throat went dry, his heart pounded, and he felt the rush go straight to his pants.

“Minho-hyung?” Han asked again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” Minho quickly stood up and rushed outside of the practice room to go to the nearest bathroom. Once he was alone in a stall, he took a deep breath and looked through all the photos you sent him. “Fuck….”

He leaned his back against the stall door, already feeling lightheaded. All the poses, the facial expressions, some of the lingerie you’ve worn, the pink ribbons wrapped around your legs like you were some gift, and the fucking Leebit teddy bear. You looked so damn innocent, as if you didn’t know what you were doing: pulling that giant plushie close to your pretty much naked body, your back arched, and your pussy rubbing up against the plushie’s back. Minho felt like he was on the verge of exploding in his sweatpants.

If only he could just skip practice, but now, Minho’s got to deal with a fucking hard-on for the rest of the day. He ran his hand through his sweaty black hair and stared at your pictures again. His tongue was poking in his cheek, and he reached down to his crotch to ease some of the tension. A deep groan came out of Minho’s mouth the more he palmed himself, and frustration stirred in his stomach when none of the tension would go away. He only got harder.

“Fuck—”

Knock! Knock!

Minho jumped and dropped his phone on the bathroom floor.

“Minho? You okay?” Chan asked from the other side of the stall.

“Yeah!” Minho said it too quickly. He cleared his throat, and sweat was still dripping down his neck. “The practice is just tough.”

“Tough? Since when did dancing get tough for dance master Lee Know?”

The fact that Minho could easily picture Chan’s smirk made him feel more embarrassed.

“I mean the dance is so different from what we’ve done before,” Minho lied. It was a stupid lie, but anything to calm down his chaotic chest. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to the practice room, just give me a minute.”

“Oh, alright,” Chan said, “Just don’t push yourself too hard. You’re doing amazing so far anyway. We’ll wait for you.”

Chan left the bathroom, leaving Minho alone again. Minho let out a heavy breath of relief. He then looked down to see his phone, which thankfully, landed screen-down. Minho crouched down and grabbed his phone, trying to avoid looking at the picture of you looking so fucking sexy with your plump pink lip gloss, lacy knee socks, and that flimsy nightgown that didn’t bother to cover anything up. Fuck, how am I supposed to finish practice like this?!

x•x•x•x

You haven’t gotten a response from Minho after you sent the nudes. You were lying on your stomach in your pink, floral sheets, wearing your pink lacy nightgown. You were going back and forth between scrolling on TikTok and checking to see if Minho texted back. It’s been a couple of hours since he left you on read, and your heart was pounding from the painful anticipation. You figured that either he was too busy to respond or the pictures gave him the worst hard-on in his life. You were hoping that it was the second option because who just leaves a collection of nudes on read? Especially when you’ve spent so many hours, thought, and horniness into it. Hell, you even used your Leebit teddy bear and headband!

You checked your messages again. Still no response. A pout formed on your lips, and you huffed. Your shoulders slumped, and your body was completely flat against the mattress.

“I’m never gonna do it, am I?” you asked yourself. You then looked at the soft Leebit teddy bear sitting in front of you. Your hands reached for the plushie, and you looked into its eyes while lying on your back in the pink floral blankets. “Is he even attracted to me at all?”

Your hands fiddled with Leebit’s ears, disappointment coming over you the more you stared into the plushie’s eyes. Why was Minho even with you if he wasn’t attracted to you? How could he possibly not be attracted to you? You’re the embodiment of a dream girl. Everyone should be attracted to you. Your head lolled back and groaned into Leebit’s chest, as you pressed the plushie up against your face.

“What is wrong with me?” you lamented.

Knock! Knock!

You bolted up in your bed at the sudden knock on the door. Your heart pounded a little, and you shivered a little. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight, so who could it possibly be? You got off the bed, walked up to the front door of your apartment, and opened the door. Once the door was opened, your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widened, and you felt all the air leave your lungs.

“Minho—”

Suddenly, Minho’s lips were crashing into yours. Your back instantly arched, and Minho pressed you up against the wall. You whined against his lips, and his hands were already grabbing your ass, squeezing some of the flesh tightly. 

“You think you’re so fuckin funny, Kitten?” Minho asked, his voice so deep and low and raspy that it sent shivers from your spine to your clit. “Sending those pictures while I was at practice?”

“Minho…” You were already too dizzy, trying to catch your breath. “I—”

“My members could’ve seen them, Kitten, and as if the practice wasn’t exhausting enough, I was doing it with a fucking hard on.”

A high-pitched moan escaped your lips when you felt the large tent through his sweatpants. It sounded so pathetic, but dear God, you were on cloud nine. Your panties were already soaking, and you were sure Minho could see the slick reaching down your thighs.

“I thought it would be cute,” you said, your chest heaving, your face completely red, and your legs feeling weak. “Plus….I wanted to push you….”

You gulped, feeling so pathetic for admitting it to him. Minho’s grip on you tightened, and he leaned into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin.

“Push me?” Minho asked, “Oh, Kitten…push me to do what exactly?”

He pressed your body further up against the wall, the tent in his sweatpants rubbing up against your clothed clit so good that you wanted to cry. Tears were forming in your eyes, and you’re sure that your baby pink lace panties were now transparent.

“I—” you started before whining again from the slight movements he made.

“Answer me, Kitten.” Minho gripped your chin to make sure that your eyes met his. His eyes were full of hunger that your heart pounded and your pussy was clenching over nothing. “Why did you send those pictures?”

“I wanted you to fuck me….” You said it rather quietly, but Minho was not having it. He gripped your chin harder, and his intense stare gave you goosebumps.

“Say it louder, Kitten…loud and proud.”

“I wanted you to fuck me!”

Silence was between you both. Minho’s eyes widened a little, and they scanned your body from head to toe. He noticed the pink sheer nightgown you were wearing, how it barely covered anything, how your panties were practically glued to your pussy, your lower lips completely visible through the fabric, and even your slick coating some of your thighs, giving your skin a clear shine. He even noticed the way your hips tried to rub against his hardness, the tip of the tent perfectly fitting between the slit.

Minho then looked at your face once more. God, you looked like you walked out of a porn magazine. A fucking sex doll, begging to be played with. Your pink lip gloss all smeared, the bows in your hair almost undone, and the way your breasts were ready to pop out of the cups of the nightgown. A smirk crept up on his face, and he leaned in close.

“That’s it, Kitten?” he asked, “You wanted me to fuck you? Didn’t think you’d be such a slut about it.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt yourself throbbing at the sudden degradation. You didn’t even think Minho was capable of this. It was like all his politeness and respectful behavior were thrown out of the window the moment he stepped into your door. And you were living for it.

“Is that right?” Minho asked again.

“Please…” you whimpered. You sounded so pathetic and whiny, but you didn’t care. If you were going to be a slut for Lee Minho, then you’re going to be just that. “Fuck me, Minho, please…”

You looked up at him, your pupils already blown out wide and glassy. 

“Well…since my girl asked so nicely.”

Minho kissed you roughly again, and you immediately closed your eyes and moaned. He kissed you the way you’ve wanted all along: he kissed you like he wanted to fuck you. He squeezed your ass once more, and you fiercely kissed him back, biting on his bottom lip. Minho groaned and immediately picked you up. You wrapped your legs around him, and he carried you to your bedroom.

He tossed you on the bed and started attacking your neck. You whined and melted into his touch immediately. Minho nibbled and sucked on your sensitive skin, leaving a large purple splotch as a mark of ownership. He then reached down to touch your soaked panties, playing with your clothed clit.

“Minho!” you whined.

“God, you sound so cute, Kitten,” Minho said, his finger swirling around and then pinching your sensitive bud, making you moan loudly. His breath hitched, and he could feel his cock swell even more. “Fuck, you’re such a doll….always dressed up so cutely and willing to open your legs for me without question…”

You whimpered, getting wetter from just his words. Minho quickly took off your flimsy nightgown, revealing your tits to him. Then he hooked his fingers on your panties and easily slid them down your legs, revealing your soaking wet pussy to him. He sucked in a breath at the sight.

“Fuck, why did it take me so long to see this?” he said, “My messy Kitten…”

Minho then shoved his two fingers inside, immediately making you gasp and moan loudly.

“Minho!!”

He thrusted his fingers in and out, already at a rough pace. You immediately felt dizzy from the way his fingers were hitting your sweet spot. At that moment, you already knew that the three-month wait was fucking worth it. You moaned loudly and felt all the pleasure build up within your stomach.

“Goddamn it, Kitten. You’re sucking my fingers in,” Minho chuckled. He could cum in his pants just from scissoring you and watching your perky tits bounce with every thrust. “So eager like a damn slut.”

“Minho! I wanna cum!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Minho then pulled his fingers out of your pussy, ripping a whine out of you.

“Why, Minho?!—”

“Sorry, Kitten…” he said, almost mockingly. Minho brought his soaked fingers to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. His eyes rolled back as he moaned. “God, you taste like candy.”

Minho was then going to lean in for another kiss, but his eyes met the Leebit teddy bear that was across you and him. His mind immediately went back to the picture you sent him.

“Is that the Leebit plushie you used?” he asked.

“Huh?” Your eyes widened from the sudden question.

“The damn teddy bear. Did you use it in those pictures you sent?”

Your cheeks glowed pink, and you squirmed from the embarrassment.

“Yes….” you admitted.

Minho smirked and gripped your chin.

“Grab that teddy bear and hold it like you did in that picture,” he demanded.

“But why—”

“Do it.”

He sounded so firm. No room to argue. Your eyes widened, and your heart pounded. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and you did as he said. You crawled to the Leebit teddy bear and pulled it close to you. Your arms were wrapped around the plushie’s waist, and your legs were on its sides.

“Good girl,” Minho said, “Now hump it like you did in that picture. Make yourself cum.”

Immediately, you rolled your hips up against the Leebit teddy bear. You whined, feeling the fuzzy fabric rub against your clit, prompting you to move faster against it. But you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. It wasn’t enough. The plushie was too soft for your pussy to clench on. You kept humping the plushie, whimpering, and getting your slick everywhere on Leebit’s cotton tail.

“Minho,” you whined, “I can’t cum! It’s not enough.”

“Oh, come on, Kitten,” he encouraged, getting closer to you. “If you can do it in your nudes, then you can do it again.”

“It was just a picture!”

You groaned and whined and hitched a breath from the frustration.

“Minho, please….just fuck me!”

“Awww, is the Kitten desperate?”

“Yes, please, please, please,” you whined, tears beginning to pour down your cheeks. “I’ll be good, Minho, just fuck me, please, I beg!”

“Alright, alright.”

Minho immediately took off his shirt and then his sweatpants. Your eyes widened, and your mouth watered. Not only were his abs so delectable, but his cock was so fucking huge, fully erect and leaking with need. You squirmed, feeling breathless from just picturing it inside of you. Luckily, Minho was quick to push you down in the bed, Leebit being the only barrier between you and the mattress. Minho’s hand was tugging on your hair, gripping onto it tightly and making you wince. He even played with the pretty ribbons that kept some of it up.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Kitten,” he said, “Fuck you so good like the damn sex doll you are.”

You hitched a breath, and without any other warning, Minho shoved his cock inside you from behind. A moan was forced out of you. He was so fucking big, and you clenched around him like your life depended on it. Minho thrusted into you so roughly, hitting your sweet spot already.

“Minho!—”

“So fucking tight, Kitten,” Minho said roughly, pounding himself into you. “God, how you’ve fuckin ruined me with those pictures.”

You couldn’t even speak. Your mind was so clouded with pleasure, already getting dumb on just how big his cock was and the way the fuzz of Leebit’s cottontail was brushing against your throbbing clit. The only things that could come out of your lips were just gasps, moans, and whines.

“Already gone dumb, Kitten?” Minho teased, “Of course, a fucking slut would. My cute slut who likes to dress up for some dick. Bet you wouldn’t mind if I tied you up in those cute ribbons you always wear.”

He hit your sweet spot again and again, and your brain is already in the sky. Your eyes were rolled back, and you could feel the tightening in your stomach. You moaned and moaned, your body was trembling, and you were seconds away from losing it.

“Minho—” you moaned.

“Gonna cum, Kitten?” Minho asked, also already the tight coil in himself.

Minho thrusted two more times until you moaned and squirted everywhere, and just like that, he finally came too, releasing himself into your quivering walls. His hips stuttered a bit until he finally stopped moving. You were dizzy, but fuck, it still felt good. Minho’s chest rose and fell with every heavy breath; his heart was pounding, and he felt his cock soften a little. He looked at you beneath him, and he gently patted your shoulder.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Hmm?” you turned your head to look at him. “Minho?”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

And just like that, Minho’s politeness returned. You blushed and shook your head.

“You were perfect,” you said, “I mean….I’m still dizzy, but I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Minho leaned in to kiss your glossy lips. “You were perfect, too. My sweet Kitten.”

Minho carefully pulled out of you, leaving a complete mess of you and the poor Leebit teddy bear. Thankfully, Minho was already grabbing a towel from the nearest bathroom and cleaned up all the mess. Even on Leebit. He told you not to do anything afterward, letting him take care of everything. Minho helped you slip on a random pink lace nightgown, and he just put his sweatpants back on before cuddling you on the bed. You both just sat in silence for a good few minutes, coming to terms with the fact that you just had sex for the first time in your three-month relationship.

“Why did you hold back so much, Minho?” you asked, breaking the silence. “You weren’t really physically affectionate or even sexual before, so….why were you shy of it? Was I not attractive to you before?”

“Oh, Baby, I’ve always been attracted to you,” Minho said, “It’s just that….I was worried that I’d be too much for your cute ass. I mean you know just how rough I was. I didn’t think you’d like it. And I wasn’t sure if you were ready to take that next step.”

You giggled.

“Well, I’ve been ready, Baby. And, of course, I liked it. Sure, I didn’t think you’d be so rough, but I loved it.”

“Really?” Minho asked.

You kissed his lips sweetly.

“Yes. Really,” you said.

Minho smiled softly and pulled you in to kiss you back. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, your heart was singing, and your cheeks glowed pink like your nightgown.

“I love you, Minho,” you said.

“I love you, too, Kitten. My kitten in pink.”

Minho kissed your glossy lips once more, tasting the sweet strawberry vanilla. His hands landed on your waist, feeling the smooth pink satin of your nightgown, and you held him tighter than your Leebit teddy bear. It was moments like this when you’ve never felt so accomplished. Finally getting dicked down by Lee Minho was definitely worth the three-month wait.

———————————・❥・———————————

There’s a version of Bang Chan that everyone knows.

The leader who always listens. The one who smiles even when his eyes are closing from sleep. The one who says “you did well” even though his body’s been on autopilot for hours.

And then there’s the version you see when the cameras, the lights, and the “hyung”s are gone.

The one who looks at his phone ten times before opening any messages because he’s afraid he’s disappointed someone. The one who sits in silence before taking a shower, hands on his knees, breathing deep like he’s about to start a marathon. The one who, every now and then, goes too still.

Like now.

You don’t know exactly what time his day started going wrong, but you do know the moment it fully tipped over: when his text came in.

“Still at the studio, sorry… I’ll be late 😞”

What caught your attention wasn’t that he was still working (that’s almost routine), but that sad emoji he practically never uses with you. Chan edits out the bad stuff by default, so you won’t worry.

You answer quickly:

“Are you okay?”

You see the little “typing…” bubble appear and disappear three times. In the end, you only get:

“Just tired. I’ll be there soon, ok? Don’t wait up”

You picture him, hunched over the computer, studio lights carving the shadows even deeper under his eyes.

“I’m not sleeping until you get here, so come home safe 🐺”

You know the little wolf always pulls a tiny smile out of him, even on his greyest days.

This time he doesn’t reply.

The unease pushes you to get up from the couch. You turn on only the warm living‑room lamp, put water on to heat “just in case”, grab the blanket and leave his usual spot on the couch clear, almost as a superstition.

When the doorbell finally rings, your shoulders loosen.

You open the door.

Chan is there, black cap pulled low, mask down at his chin, backpack on one shoulder. He has “long day” written on his face: dark circles, cheeks a little hollower, jawline tight. His eyes, though, soften a bit when they see you.

—Hey —he murmurs, English dragged down by exhaustion.

—Hi —you answer quietly.

He stays on the threshold for a second, like he needs extra permission to come in. You don’t say anything, just lift a hand, wrap your fingers around his wrist, and gently tug him inside.

That seems to be enough.

He drops his backpack by the wall, toes his shoes off without even looking at them, and finally looks up at you. The moment he does, you catch the wet shine in his eyes, the one he’s determined to hide everywhere else.

—Very long day —you state, not really disguising the question.

He lets out the tiniest laugh that doesn’t really count as one.

—Very long —he admits.

The urge to ask for details is right there, biting your tongue. Instead, you open your arms.

—Come here.

You don’t leave him room to play it tough. You just… offer yourself.

Chan takes half a second to slot his body against yours.

He hugs you like you’ve been the only stable surface all day. His arms wrap around your back tightly, his forehead tucks into your shoulder, he breathes in deep, once, twice, three times, like he’s trying to drop back into his own body.

—You’re home now —you murmur, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck, playing with the flattened hair under his cap—. That’s the only thing that matters right now.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods slowly against your neck.

You keep him pressed to you for as long as he needs, not counting the seconds. When you feel him a little less stiff, he pulls back just enough to look at your face.

His smile is tiny, but it’s there.

—You look really comfy —he says, glancing down at your oversized pajama shirt.

—I’m in couch mode —you reply—. Ready to host a half‑broken producer.

A small laugh escapes him.

—Half‑broken, yeah —he admits—. I feel… worn out.

You carefully take off his cap, fingers combing through his cold hair.

—What do you want first? —you ask—. Couch or shower?

He thinks for a second.

—Couch —he decides—. If I sit down in the shower I’m never getting back up.

—Couch it is.

You take his hand and lead him to his usual spot. He lets you guide him without a single protest. He drops down, settles onto his side, like his bones already know the exact dip in the cushion.

You disappear into the kitchen for a moment and come back with a steaming mug.

—Here —you offer—. No coffee, I know you. Just something warm.

He takes it, hands wrapping around the ceramic.

—Thanks.

He stares at the steam for a few seconds before taking a sip. You sit down beside him, turning so you’re facing him, one leg folded up on the couch.

—Do you want me to put something on? —you ask—. Dumb show, soft music, white noise… or silence.

Chan takes his time answering, like even that decision costs a little energy.

—Soft music’s good —he says at last—. So I don’t have to… hear myself so much.

—I can be the noise —you offer.

He gives you a sideways look, a spark of curiosity there.

—Oh, yeah?

You clear your throat dramatically.

—La la laaaa… —you sing, deliberately awful and out of tune.

He actually laughs for the first time all night, low and real, hand coming up to his face.

—Please no —he begs—. I think I’ve suffered enough today.

—See? Now you’re not thinking about the studio, you’re thinking about my vocal talent —you point out.

—That’s true —he concedes, still smiling—. But maybe put Spotify on anyway, just in case.

You choose a mellow playlist, soft guitars and almost‑whispered vocals. The room fills with that kind of sound that doesn’t ask anything from you.

You just watch him.

He’s still holding the mug in both hands, fingers a little red from the cold. His shoulders are way too high, like he’s forgotten how to drop them.

You reach over and brush them lightly with your fingertips.

—Down —you whisper, applying the gentlest pressure.

He obeys. Sighs.

—Tell me when you want me to stop asking questions —you warn—. But until you say so, I’m going to ask an important one: how are you… here? —you tap his chest with two fingers.

He glances down at the spot you touched, then back up at you.

—Full —he answers after thinking for a bit—. Too full. Like I’ve got a hundred tabs open and none of them let me actually see the screen.

The image makes you smile, sadly.

—That sounds exhausting.

—It is —he exhales, all at once—. Nothing went… disastrously wrong. It was just… a lot. Meetings, decisions, changes, opinions. Everyone asking “what do we do?”, “is this okay?”, “can you look at this?”. And I feel like if I stop for one second, everything falls apart.

Your fingers stay on his shoulder, not squeezing.

—And then when I do stop —he goes on, quieter—. I realize it’s just me, sitting in a chair, trying to decide whether track three should go before track two. And I start wondering if I’m actually doing anything right, or if I’m just… pushing things along until they drop.

A knot forms in your throat. You swallow it down; it’s not your turn to cry.

—And what has your head been telling you today, exactly? —you ask—. What’s the sentence that’s been looping?

He doesn’t look at your face. He fixes his eyes on the mug like something might be written there.

—That it’s not enough —he murmurs—. That it’s never enough. That I’m not doing enough, that I’m not enough. That I’m going to disappoint someone, even if I don’t know who exactly.

You want nothing more than to grab those thoughts by the scruff and drag them out.

—That sounds really unfair to you —you say.

He blinks, thrown by the choice of word.

—Unfair?

—Yeah —you nod—. If someone on the outside told you all day, “you don’t do enough, you’re not enough”, you’d get mad, right? You’d say something, you’d shut them down. But because it comes from your own head, you just let it sit there.

Chan pulls half a face.

—I don’t know how to turn it off —he admits.

—You don’t have to turn it off alone —you answer, slower—. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?

You say it calmly, not as some grand promise. Even so, you see him swallow.

—Today I feel like… —he searches for the words—. Like I’ve been holding up a bunch of stuff all day, and now I’ve run out of hands.

You take one of his hands and lace your fingers through his.

—Then use mine for a bit —you say—. I’m not going to let everything crash down on top of you.

This time his eyes visibly grow shinier. He doesn’t cry, but he’s closer to the edge.

—I know it’s hard for you to come here like this —you add—. Without the “I’m fine, just tired” filter. I really appreciate it, you know.

Chan laughs, nervous.

—Why?

—Because it means you trust me with this too —you say—. Not just with the pretty parts, but with the parts where you’re tired of being strong for everyone.

He goes quiet. Then nods, small.

—I trust you more than anyone —he whispers.

You want to grab his face and yell that it goes both ways, but you do it gentler.

—Then let’s make a deal —you propose—. Tonight you’re not “Leader Bang Chan”. You’re not “the one who has to have all the answers”. Tonight you’re just Chan. What does Chan need right now, if he forgets about everyone else?

He stares at the ceiling for a few seconds.

—Someone to tell me it’s okay to stop —he admits—. And a long hug. And… food that didn’t come out of the studio hallway vending machine.

You smile.

—I can do that —you say—. The “it’s okay to stop” one I’ve already said, but I’ll keep repeating it until it echoes. The hug is standard issue. And the food… give me five minutes.

—You really don’t have to… —he starts.

You slap your hand gently but dramatically over his mouth.

—Shh. You’ve done enough bossing for one day. It’s my turn.

His eyes laugh over your fingers.

—Okay —he murmurs when you let go—. I’ll listen.

You gently push him back until he’s fully reclining. You tuck a cushion behind his back, pull the blanket over his legs.

—No getting up —you decree—. If you sit up too much, the VIP session is cancelled.

—Session of what? —he asks, genuinely amused for the first time.

—“Spoiled boyfriend with snacks” —you answer—. Premium service.

You head into the kitchen. Nothing fancy: a simple sandwich, some cut‑up fruit, a few cookies. A big glass of water.

When you come back, he’s exactly where you left him, fingers loosely intertwined over his stomach, eyes on some invisible point on the ceiling.

—You look like you’re under observation —you comment.

—I am —he says—. Under strict‑nurse observation.

You set the plate on his lap.

—Eat a little —you ask—. Even if you’re not really hungry. Your body’s worked all day, it deserves something.

He doesn’t argue. He eats slowly, almost in silence.

You take the opportunity to move closer to his head, and when he sets the plate back down on the coffee table, your fingers are already combing into his hair, still a bit messy.

—Do you mind? —you check, warning him before you start massaging his scalp.

—Please —he answers, eyes closing almost instantly.

You start with gentle movements, from his forehead to his nape, center to sides. You feel the muscles in his face start to let go under your touch.

—That… —he mumbles—. That shuts off like half the noise.

—Then I’ll keep going —you say, moving lower toward his neck, where you know he carries a lot of tension.

You stay like that for a while, not needing to talk. Every now and then he lets out a long sigh, the kind that sounds like a slow deflate.

—You know what’s the weirdest part? —he says suddenly, eyes still closed.

—What?

—That here I feel like… —his hand makes a vague motion in the air—. Like I’m allowed to stop doing.

—Because you are —you reply—. Here you don’t have to produce anything, or decide anything, or fix anything. You just have to exist. And let me be the noisy one for a while.

—Doesn’t that bore you? —he asks, with a sincerity that cracks you a little.

—Watching you relax bit by bit? —you shake your head—. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

He laughs, a sound that doesn’t feel as broken anymore.

—You’re too good to me.

—I’m not. —You smooth your thumb over his temple—. I’m being fair. The weird thing is how harsh you are with yourself.

Your fingers tangle back into a stray curl.

—Do me a favor —you say.

—Mm?

—Next time your brain starts with the “it’s not enough” track, picture me next to you telling it to shut up for a bit —you smile—. See if that turns the volume down.

He cracks one eye open to look at you.

—I already picture you —he admits—. When I start overthinking in the studio, sometimes I tell myself, “I’ll tell them later and they’re going to scold me.” And that… helps.

—Perfect —you nod, satisfied—. Long‑distance discipline mechanic.

He looks at you for another second, and in those tired eyes you see something you never see in fancams or lives: a kind of trusting surrender.

—You did more for me today than any three‑hour meeting —he says quietly.

—All I did today was let you be you —you answer—. The rest you’re doing yourself.

He lifts a hand and reaches it out to you. You grab it instantly.

—Don’t let go, okay? —he whispers—. Even when I’m hiding behind “I’m fine”.

You squeeze his fingers.

—If you hide, I’ll come find you —you say—. That’s the deal.

He doesn’t answer, but you see the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

Later, after he’s showered and changed into one of your oversized T‑shirts (“it’s comfier”, he claims, though you know it’s because it smells like you), you both end up back on the couch.

You put on a compilation of animals doing dumb things. Every time a puppy falls trying to jump or a cat miscalculates a distance, he lets out an “oh no” followed by a laugh that sounds a lot more like his usual one.

At some point, he glances sideways at you.

—Hey.

—Yeah?

—Thanks for not asking me for a full report of my day —he says—. And for not giving me a “everything’s going to be fine” speech when I don’t even believe it myself.

—You do motivational speeches better than I do —you reply—. I’ll stick to the basics: blanket, food, fingers in your hair.

—It works —he admits.

When sleep starts to hit him, half his body slumps onto your shoulder.

—Let’s go to bed before you knock out here all twisted —you suggest.

—Carry me —he jokes, voice thick.

—I’ll drop you in the hallway —you shoot back.

He chuckles and drags himself toward the bedroom, feet half‑shuffling. He falls onto the mattress with a long sigh, like he’s leaving all the layers of the day at the door.

You crawl in too, taking your place. He automatically turns toward you, seeking contact. His arm wraps around you, his forehead pressing against yours.

—You know what? —he murmurs, eyes almost shut.

—What?

—Today I kept thinking that if I fell, no one would be there to pick me up —he confesses—. But I got here and you were… here. And… —he breathes deep—. I don’t know. It changed the whole day.

You stroke his cheek lightly with your fingertips.

—You’ve got me —you say—. For the good days, the bad days, and the ones that are just grey exhaustion. You don’t have to hold it all by yourself.

—I’m learning —he whispers.

He closes his eyes fully, his breathing slowly evening out and deepening. He tightens his hold a bit more, like he wants to make sure you won’t slip away in the night.

You settle into that space that fits you perfectly, listening as, little by little, the noise of his day dissolves into silence.

Bang Chan doesn’t stop being a leader when he lets himself fall into your arms. And you don’t stop being you when you choose to hold him up.

You’re just two people, with too many mental tabs open, learning how to close them together when you need to.

And tonight, finally, he falls asleep with the certainty that even if tomorrow the world asks more of him than it should, there will always be a couch, a warm mug, and a pair of hands waiting for him at the end of the day, ready to press “restart.”

pairing: bang chan + female oc

wc: 70.4k (ongoing)

chapters: 14/?

tags:9th member fanfic, female original character, friends to lovers, pinning, a little of unrequited love, bang chan is bad at feelings, bad communication (we need to learn how to communicate better!), fluff and angst, implied minsung, angst with a happy ending, time skips (a lot of them), jealousy, bang chan is jealous a lot in this, so is the oc, oc dates around, idols, kpop industry sucks, bang chan is overworked, korean military enlistment is mentioned, oc is older than chan, johnny sue is mentioned, slow burn, im bad at tags but im trying, my first post in ao3, my first skz fanfic, just for funzies

a/n: ANNDDDD the fun begins. after this, its like the second part of the story and that's the one i'm most excited about!!! writing in english has been such a fun and demanding challenge, i hope whoever is reading this enjoys my story as much as i enjoy writing it :)