21 - -

21 - ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ -

ꜱᴀɴ/ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

pairing: pornstar! wooyoung x pornstar! reader (fem) x older pornstar! san

summary: you star in the tenth installment of “Stepdad Fucks Stepson’s Slutty Girlfriend.”

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: aged up! san, hard dom! san, dom! wooyoung, sub! reader, there’s a whole stepdad/stepson theme that’s alluded to but it’s a porn setting so it’s not actually real, daddy kink, pet names, name calling, voyeurism, oral (receiving), squirting, two spanks, humiliation (m receiving), unprotected sex, cumshot

a/n: dilf pornstar san <3 that's it. that's my entire note <3 also yes this is just me simping over san for an hour straight leave me aloneeee

FFF Masterlist

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On your way to your next shoot, you sat in the backseat of your driver’s car, staring off into space. It wasn’t until you felt your phone vibrate on your lap that you looked down at it, reading the text you received from the intern at the company you worked for. They sent you a link to the script, which you promptly opened. They usually just consisted of a really vague explanation of scenes, along with some basic dialogue. It was relatively easy to remember. Reading the small text on the first page, you realized that you’d be working with someone else besides your friend and coworker Wooyoung. It was Choi San. The Choi San. Not only was he aging like the finest wine available at a Michelin restaurant, he was quite the celebrity in the industry, known mainly for his stamina, his ability to stay hard for a prolonged amount of time, and the thing that initially got him noticed back in the 80s — his ability to pump out endless cumshots. Despite being older, he was still able to keep up with the younger men and even surpass them, able to work for hours with few breaks in between, and always having a lot of enthusiasm. Needless to say, he was a very, very busy man.

“Hey, Woo,” you spoke, turning your head to look at your coworker sitting in the seat beside you, admiring his shiny dark brown hair, watching it bounce slightly as the car drove over a particularly rough road. “Did you know we’re working with Choi San? He’s going to wreck us!”

“He’s going to wreck you. It’s a straight person porn.” Wooyoung looked up from the game he was playing on his phone, blowing a bubble with the strawberry gum he was chewing. “And yeah, they told us before we got in the car back at the studio. Were you not listening?”

“I mean, I heard that we’re playing a couple that gets caught or whatever...” You pursed your glossy lips, idly watching Wooyoung continue to play an RPG game you weren’t familiar with, before gasping, “Oh my god, is San going to play the step dad role? That’s actually everything.”

Wooyoung paused the game, unable to focus on the battle that was taking place on the screen. “Y/N,” he started with an attitude, brushing a bit of perfectly-styled hair out of his line of sight. “Do you even watch his films? He always plays the step dad.”

“Not always.” You sucked your teeth, your lips forming a slight pout. “He’s done a ton of solo stuff. And I also saw one where he played a professor cheating on his wife.”

Wooyoung chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle your hair, not wanting you to get pouty because you were upset. He’d rather see you be like that when you were begging for cock onset. “You’re right, Y/N. My bad…though in that one the husband was cheating on the wife with his stepdaughter.”

“Oh, yeah…” You looked down at Wooyoung’s hand when he lowered it to hold his phone again, your eyes slowly following a prominent vein that tracked up his forearm and eventually branched off in different directions, feeling a very familiar twinge of heat form inside your core. “Are you more excited about working with me or San?”

He didn’t bother looking up from his game, answering right away, “San.” In turn, you made a tiny hmph sound, unconsciously folding your arms across your chest.

Wooyoung smiled to himself, tapping and swiping his phone screen to wear down the enemy in his game, until he won. After emitting a small ‘yes’, he glanced over at you. “Come on, Y/N. I’m just kidding.”

“You’re not funny,” you mumbled in a pouty voice, suddenly caught off guard when he grabbed your chin and pulled you in closer. “What?”

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing at you with half-closed eyes, the tip of his tongue swiping near the beauty mark on his lower lip. “You don’t ask that every time we film with someone else, you know. The answer’s always you." Seeing your sheepish smile made his heart melt, though he had to be honest this time around. "But I think it might actually be San this time. I mean, just look at him," he sighed, already playing one of the man's latest films on his phone, sighing longingly at the sight of San pounding himself into a guy's ass, while his fingers were buried inside a woman's cunt.

"Wooyoung!" you whined, pushing on his shoulder. You stared at the clip, studying his intense lust-filled facial expressions, and admiring the way he just kept going and going, not showing any signs of exhaustion. "No, you're right. I'm with you on this."

Wooyoung smirked, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Thought so."

-

San was even more attractive in person. His angular face and sharp, chiseled jaw distracted you first, especially his Adam’s apple, watching it bob up and down as he took a few drinks from a water bottle. A few drops trickled down his freckled neck, disappearing inside his plain white button-up shirt. The one that was clinging to his broad upper body and becoming a little loose near his slim waist, though his Gucci belt kept it tucked in. He was expensive, and he didn't mind if everyone knew it, too. In fact, he preferred it when eyes were on him.

Wooyoung stood near you, sipping on a Red Bull through a bendy straw. “Y/N, are you just going to stare at him like that, or say hi?”

You put a hand up in front of his face, murmuring, “Shhh, I’m concentrating.” You were, to be fair, but you were also thinking about all the ways San could probably destroy you.

Zoning back in on the man, you focused on his striking dark eyes that gazed intensely through a pair of sleek black glasses at someone in the film crew that was speaking to him. Jesus, he was fine. You licked your lips at the sight of the crow’s feet that appeared underneath San’s eyes when he smiled at them. You needed him inside you sooner rather than later.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t watch this anymore,” Wooyoung announced exasperatedly, walking past you and up to San when he was done talking, tucking some hair behind his ear and pushing on the older man’s chest. After a few moments, he motioned to you and beckoned you in their direction.

San greeted you with a warm smile, holding his hand out to shake yours. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Wooyoung, Miss Y/N.”

“Oh, did you now?” you returned, giggling softly, placing a hand on your hip and trying not to smile too hard back. “What’d you hear about me?”

The man’s once friendly eyes darkened in front of you, his tongue rubbing over his bottom lip. “I heard you squirt a lot. I really want to see.” The polite image he portrayed just a second ago disappeared all together. It was so jarring that it made your knees feel a bit weak. “You’ll let me see that, won’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded almost right away, not even noticing that you were starting to drool when Wooyoung put an arm around you and quickly wiped it away with his thumb, distracting San when he asked, “Is it true that you once came for 2 minutes straight?”

-

Once someone counted down from five and gave you all the thumbs up, the camera framed the shot, capturing you and Wooyoung sitting on a leather couch in a living room, pretending to watch the tv playing an old football game. San sat in a recliner with an empty beer in his hand, not able to see the two of you unless he turned his head back.

With his arm around you, Wooyoung began to slowly pull down the thin strap of your tank top. “Baby, I’m so horny,” he complained, glancing down at your tits, idly flicking one of your nipples to make it stiff.

“Your stepdad’s right there…” You feigned embarrassment, pushing his hand away, only for him to position you so that you were sitting against his chest with the two of his hands working on your tits, kneading then in circles and rubbing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “Babyyyy, he’s going to hear us…”

Wooyoung pressed his lips to your ear, whispering loud enough that the boom mic captured his low voice, “He’ll only hear if you’re too loud, baby.” He slipped one hand into your loose non-existent athletic shorts, rubbing circles around your clit, his other hand pushing up underneath your tank top to grab at your tit directly, continuing to tweak your nipple. Delighted by your small, breathy moans, he rubbed his fingers up and down your dripping cunt, his fingers teasing your hole. “Mm, you’re so wet…”

Soon enough, Wooyoung was on his knees with his face in between your legs, three fingers deep in your cunt, and slurping on your clit like it was his life mission. The cameraman positioned himself in front of San, who was watching the both of you over his shoulder and fisting his cock, still able to capture the two of you behind him.

“It’s so good, baby,” you panted out, going between gazing down at Wooyoung and San, making sure not to acknowledge the camera at all. You fucked yourself on Wooyoung’s slender fingers the best you could, sinking further and further down the couch cushion behind you, your shorts hanging off one of your ankles and your top rolled up over your tits, all while panting and moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Cum, baby, come on, you can do it,” Wooyoung encouraged in a muffled voice, dragging his tongue up and down your pulsing clit, rubbing your g-spot in just the right way to make your hips stutter and your moans to raise in pitch. As soon as your warm arousal began to drip out, he moved his fingers rapidly across your clit instead, shoving his tongue inside you to fuck the cum out of you. “That’s it, that’s it, baby. Good girl. Gooood girl.”

Your coworker’s praise caused you to barrel over the edge, your orgasm so intense you let out a desperate, almost sob-like cry, seeing stars. You painted Wooyoung’s mouth and face with your squirt, some of the tiny clear droplets hanging onto his long lashes.

“You got a slutty little girlfriend there, son.” The older man finally stood up and walked over to the couch, sitting on his knees beside you, his hand still idly stroking his long, veiny length. “But she looks like she wants something more than just your fingers and tongue.”

Wooyoung gave your cunt one nice, long lick, before looking up at San with a curious expression, despite knowing what he’d say. “What’s that?”

“A nice big cock,” San replied, letting go of his own and letting it slap up into his abdomen, waiting for the cameraman to zoom in before he ran a thick finger up from the bottom of his shaft and along one of his prominent veins, slowly panning up to your surprised, but enticed face. “You want Daddy’s cock instead of your boyfriend’s, huh?” He slipped his fingers into your hair and brought your face closer to his cockhead, slapping it down onto your tongue a few times when you opened up. “Mm, I’ll take that as a yes. Now, open wide and show me what you’re made of.”

-

San’s stamina was no joke. It was well over two hours and you already filmed two deepthroat scenes, having to redo it after he pinched your nose for too long and you almost died choking on his cum, another solo jerk off scene for a separate catalog, and then he had to enter you in various positions, having to go slow, but stay hard, so that the photographer could take pictures for another catalog. Now, he was fucking you into next week for the camera. All the while, Wooyoung was able to cum a couple times, mostly on his own, but you were so gracious enough to lend a hand even when you were getting face-fucked.

Though, Wooyoung didn’t even bother jerking off himself at the point, knowing the camera wasn’t even on him anymore. He sighed to himself, idly running his hand up and down his abdomen, watching San fuck the shit out of you right next to him. He couldn’t be too upset. He already knew that the studio you were filming for was made for straight men.

You could hardly think straight, unable to even acknowledge Wooyoung sulking on the couch nearby. It wasn’t your fault, though. San was showing you what it really meant to get dicked-down. The man was like a well-oiled machine, pistoning his cock in and out of you like he was built for it. In fact, his cock was buried so deep inside you, you swore he was going to quite literally rearrange your guts. You wanted to tell the man all of that, but instead you spoke how you usually did during your films, “It’s so good, Daddy. You’re making me feel so full with your big cock in my tiny little pussy.”

“Mm-hmmm,” San nodded his head in agreement, pushed you further down into the couch, his solid body flush against yours. “Daddy’s fucking you good, huh? Much better than your pathetic little boyfriend. You want Daddy’s dick from now on instead?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you chanted in an obnoxiously whiny voice, each time he pounded into you, hooking your feet together around his slim waist, locking him in place. When the cameraman zoomed in on your face specifically, you emitted a few small whining sounds, making a small ‘o’ with your swollen lips, gazing at the older man with glossy eyes, your eyebrows drawn.

“Baby girl’s so fucked out for Daddy already…” San reached down in between your bodies to rub your clit, the camera now following his movements. The older man pulled his body back slightly, giving the camera a good view of him pounding into you so brutally fast and hard that you’d have no choice but to squirt for him. He knew it’d make a nice money shot.

“Fuck, Daddy, it’s so fucking good!” you yelled, almost growling the last few words out, digging your manicured nails into his broad back and scraping them downwards, making the man groan. This happened sometimes. You got so lost in the pleasure that it made you aggressive. Made you want to cum so badly that if you didn’t get to, you’d throw a fit. “Don’t you fucking stop!”

“I’m not going to stop until I made you squirt, princess.” San ran his tongue across his bottom lip, squeezing and thumbing your throbbing clit, shoving his cock into your aching cunt so viciously that he couldn’t help but let a loud grunting sound each time. “Squirt all over Daddy’s cock. Come on. Fucking do it."

Two rough slaps to your ass and one brutal thrust later, you tossed your head back into the couch, your face contorting like you were in pain, your jaw tensing up as you moaned, “Oh my fucking god.” San pulled out and moved out of the way, holding one of your legs up so that the cameramen could get in there, allowing him to catch a crystal clear view of your dripping hole clenching around nothing until a small amount of liquid began squirting out of you. “Oh my goddddd…”

To make you squirt as much as possible, San hunched over the couch and brought two fingers onto your extremely sensitive clit, rubbing it so quickly, your hips jolted away from his touch, encouraging him to hold you down with one strong hand on your nearest hip.

“Saaaan,” you choked out, tears spilling out of your eyes from how insanely good it felt. Your arousal started to spray out of you instead, covering your cunt and inner thighs, getting onto the leather couch, and of course, even wetting the cameraman himself.

San sighed to himself, admiring such a beautiful sight. “Fucking hell, you’re making such a mess, baby. Look at you.” Without wasting a single second, he got back onto the couch and sat on his knees, using your slick and his dripping pre-cum to lube his cock, jerking off so fast his shoulders were starting to tremble. “Gonna cum all over you, kitten. You want Daddy’s milk, yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded, gazing up at his dimpled smile, the small wrinkles underneath his upturned eyes, the pretty moles that decorated his strained neck. You couldn’t help but reach in between your legs to play with your pulsing cunt, rubbing the wetness around, making sure to spread your legs to give the camera a good view.

“Here it comes, baby,” San grunted huskily, pumping his hand slowly up and down his veiny shaft. “Oh, yeah that’s it…” He leaned his head down to look at your lewd face, forcing a long, thick rope of cum out onto your tits at first, making sure he covered the majority of your face in it, until he began working his way down your body. “Take Daddy’s load, kitten. Take all of it.” He continued to stroke the base of his twitching cock, the milky liquid splattering all over your tits and abdomen, some even landing on your mound and sliding down to your hole.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, swiping your fingers through the vast amount of cum on your sweaty body and popping them into your mouth to suck on them.

“You’re very welcome, baby girl.” He admired the messy painting he made on his pretty canvas, taking in deep breaths to slow down his racing heart.

Once you relaxed and melted into the couch, San grabbed your chin and pressed his lips to your cheek, then made you face Wooyoung who sat up straight and gave you his best pouty face now that the camera was on him. “Tell my pathetic stepson that you’ll come to me when he can’t fuck you right.”

“I’m going to let Daddy fuck me whenever your cock doesn’t satisfy me, baby,” you told your scene partner, reaching over to caress his cheek. “That’s alright with you, yeah?”

Wooyoung nuzzled your hand, nodding his head sadly. Even though he was acting, you still felt a twinge of guilt inside your chest. He was good. The cameraman zoomed out slowly, then lowered it and gave a thumbs up to the other staff in the room, causing them to sigh and split apart in their own directions.

San patted your head and gave you a bright smile, wiping some sweat from his forehead. "Great job, Y/N. You really gave it your all." When you gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, he leaned in, adding in a low voice, "It was fun watching you squirt. Maybe I can see it again sometime."

"Uh-huh!" you answered a little too quickly, your cheeks burning, making Wooyoung roll his eyes and let out a small chuckle at your reaction.

San turned to Wooyoung, pushing some of his damp raven hair back and fixing his glasses. "Maybe we can get a bit more involved next time. You seem like a brat. Makes me want to put you in your place."

Blushing, Wooyoung couldn't even form a sentence, too caught off guard by the older man's words. You shoved Wooyoung's shoulder a bit, knowing he was just as whipped for San as you were.

San found you both to be quite cute, but preferred to keep it to himself for now. "Mm, anyway, it was nice working with you two! Bye for now." He showed off his charming smile, accompanied by the dimples that he was known for, before walking off to find his clothes.

Once you both got cleaned up and dressed, you stood near Wooyoung who was checking his phone game, leaning on him, periodically looking over at San, watching him pop a few white tablets into his mouth and swallowing them down with water. "So, it's Viagra..."

"Huh?" Wooyoung mumbled, glancing up at you for a second.

"Why he's able to stay hard for so long, you know." You sighed, missing the feeling of being stretched out by him.

"That still doesn't answer why he's able to cum so goddamn much." Wooyoung paused his game, putting an arm around you, joining in on the fuck-me eyes you were giving San. "Ugh, I really wanted him in my ass. It's not fair."

"Why don't we try to get him to join us for that one upcoming shoot?" you suggested, nudging Wooyoung's ribs with your elbow.

"Are you talking about '2 Sluts 1 Cock?' " he asked nonchalantly, turning to look at you, idly licking his lips.

"That's the one," you chimed, your eyelids lowering slightly, gazing at Wooyoung for a while, until the two of you went back to eye-fucking San across the room, letting out long, lovesick sighs.

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

『paradise lost』

series mlist ｡

↳ A story of two people navigating life & love; the good, the bad, and the very, very ugly.

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader (other pairings per chapter)

『 genre 』 : friends to lovers, romance, heavy angst, explicit sexual content.

『 warnings (vary per chapter) 』 : heavy angst, drama, very bad decision making, selfish behaviors, substance use and abuse, language.

ꕥ 01: do you ever wonder?

ꕥ 02: passion

ꕥ 03: comfortably familiar

ꕥ 04: misplaced bitterness

ꕥ 05: pull the trigger

ꕥ 06: the words unspoken

ꕥ 07: nobody has to know

ꕥ 08: annihilation

ꕥ 09: compliance

ꕥ 10: chasing

↳ before the story…

ꕥ 05.5: the pros and cons of breathing

pairing: kim hongjoong x jung wooyoung

↳ after the story…

ꕥ interview with the littérateur:

pairing: kim hongjoong x journalist fem!reader

↳ non-canon spin-off…

ꕥ bad for the soul: 

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

this is a remaster. coming soon! ♡

REPLAY : Limbo

REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 3.3k | Lee Know x Reader

warnings: light angst, swearing, bullying/name calling between friends (this is meant as like...friendly roasting/teasing, no malicious intent), breakup mention, food

synopsis: Lee Minho was great at a lot of things; taking care of you being near the top of his list. As any best friend should upon receiving a distraught phone call, he sets off on a mission to comfort you as best as he can. But, as any best friend knows they should not, he's managed to find himself absolutely enamored by you. With you effectively comforted, the only question he has now is whether or not he should keep it to himself.

“I know it’ll change with just one word, the word I cannot say.”

Minho rushed through the aisles of the local grocery store - his mind on one thing and one thing alone; where the fuck was your favorite ice cream?

When he’d seen your contact name pop up on his screen, he’d answered almost too quickly - eager to hear from you after you’d been out all day with your boyfriend. Naturally, when he heard you sobbing instead of gushing about the date on the other end of the line, he’d shifted immediately into Best Friend Mode.

Stay put, give me a half an hour.

His instructions were simple, earning a broken affirmation from you before the call disconnected, marking the start of his countdown.

He’d already grabbed a small, plush cat and a copy of your favorite film - a disgustingly sappy romcom that he would never be caught dead choosing of his own volition.

But this was you Minho was doing this for. You needed this. You needed him.

He cursed under his breath as he scanned the freezer section, wondering when exactly they’d decided twenty flavors of a single brand was a good idea. Normally, it took more than excessive ice cream varieties to get under Minho’s skin, but he’d already spent five minutes looking for the sickeningly sweet flavor he’d always tease you about loving so much.

The urge to actually shout in excitement as he spotted a container of the gooey, chocolatey treat was strong. He snatched it up quickly, tossing it in his basket before speeding over to the drink aisle.

Water was next on Minho’s list. If the garbled state of your voice was any indicator, you’d likely cried out enough of your body’s water content to be on the verge of dehydration. He tutted under his breath to himself, voicing his concern outwardly despite not yet being there with you. He put a couple of bottles of water alongside the ice cream before heading to the checkout.

Minho nearly sprinted to his car once he’d paid for the items, not bothering to grab his change in his hurry to make it to you. Typically, he tried to keep a level head - not letting his emotions show one way or the other. This was different, though.

You were different.

His thoughts were on you as he got into his car, tossing his haul into the passenger seat before turning the key in the ignition.

This was not Minho’s first time assisting you through heartbreak. He’d tell you the same thing, each and every time.

“They didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

And he meant it, each and every time. You were…astounding to Minho. Soft despite the hardships you’d faced, but strong enough to pull through and stand up for yourself. Hardheaded. Strong willed. Although he’d frequently feign annoyance, Minho had always found your stubbornness extremely endearing.

Minho had always been completely honest with you. Your outfit isn’t flattering? He’d say something. You had food in your teeth? He’d point it out. He disliked your partner? You’d know about it.

The only thing he’d never been able to tell you was that he loved you.

Not that he’d never said those words to you before, having been your best friend for several years now - but this was different. 

This wasn’t an offhanded, platonic, “Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” as he’d normally say, rolling his eyes at your affectionate statement.

This was an, “I want to kiss you until I can’t breathe, hold you every night and never let go,” type of love. 

This was an, “It hurts me every time you give one of these jerks a chance, because I know I can love you better,” type of love.

This was a, “Despite my feelings for you, I am buying you all of your favorite things and coming over to comfort you after someone - who didn’t deserve you in the first place - fucked up,” type of love.

Minho sighed to himself as he spotted your apartment complex, pulling into park next to your car. He prepared himself to see your blotchy, reddened face and not blur the line between “concerned friend” and “madly in love.”

He grabbed the grocery bag before jogging up the steps, two at a time, and arriving outside of your door. 

Minho felt his concern growing as the door remained closed. He raised his hand to knock again, only to stop as he heard a faint sniffle followed by shuffling footsteps on the other side. 

When you opened the door, his heart dropped into his stomach.

Your eyes were swollen and red, glistening as though you’d been crying up until the moment you revealed yourself to him. You had your favorite blanket - a gift from Minho himself - wrapped snugly around your head and shoulders as if it were a hood. Your cheeks were flushed, and your nose was a startling shade of crimson.

“You look like shit,” Minho said bluntly, stepping inside and slipping the shoes off of his feet.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied dryly, sarcasm only broken by the slightest twitch of a smirk on your lips.

Minho handed you the bag wordlessly, making a quick detour into the kitchen to grab you a spoon before placing a gentle hand in the middle of your back and leading you to the couch.

He sat down, patting the spot next to him to urge you to do the same. You followed suit, finally looking into the plastic bag you’d been handed. 

“Water?” You asked him, your voice just sad enough to sound more pathetic, less unamused.

“As if you’d remember to hydrate in the midst of your crisis,” he rebutted immediately, raising a brow, “Drink.”

You unscrewed the cap, taking a small sip of the still-cold liquid. You hadn’t realized just how parched you’d become in the midst of your breakdown, immediately raising the bottle back to your lips for a more prolonged drink.

Minho nodded as you drank, content with the lack of resistance when it came to something as important as your health. After finishing a quarter of the bottle, setting it down on the coffee table, you peered into the bag once more.

You slowly pulled out the brown and white plush from the bag, smiling softly despite the heavy sadness in your heart.

“Looked like Dori,” he explained before you could ask, “Your apartment doesn’t allow pets, or I would’ve just brought her along.”

You nodded, setting it carefully in your lap. You’d always loved playing with Dori, the most playful of Minho’s children, and - despite being unable to play with the plush as you would’ve the real thing - you still valued the sentiment.

There was a ghost of a smile on your lips as you grabbed the next thing out of the bag, recognizing it by its shape and cold exterior before it had even entered your field of view.

“Brownie batter?” you asked quietly, sniffling once more.

“That better be the right one,” he warned playfully, “You need a new favorite brand, twenty flavors to search through is too many.”

That ghost of a smile grew increasingly closer to becoming genuine as you met his eyes, “I’m not choosing a new brand just because you’re lazy,” you tried to tease back, though it sounded a bit more like a whiny complaint in your current state. Minho chuckled warmly at your reply, regardless of how stuffy and downtrodden you sounded, “Besides, this flavor is the best.”

“Sure,” he quipped, rolling his eyes despite the overwhelming relief he felt to have you acting like yourself already. Seeing a smile on your face - regardless of how small - after having nearly panicked upon hearing you on the verge of hyperventilating on the phone soothed his heart. 

He watched you pull the final gift from his bag of heartbreak remedies, already steeling himself for what was bound to be a dramatic reaction.

“You didn’t buy this, I refuse to believe that,” you said, stone-faced as you held the movie in your hands, “You wouldn’t be caught dead purchasing this in public.”

“Yet here I am, delivering it to you personally,” Minho easily countered. He’d always been so quick with the counterarguments - something you’d once been bothered by, but now found hopelessly entertaining.

“Are you sure I’m the one who needs taken care of?” You raised a brow as you spoke, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, “I’m allowed to give a shit about you, yeah?”

You laughed softly as Minho offered you the spoon he’d grabbed from the kitchen, “Yeah, I guess I’ll allow it.”

“Good,” he deadpanned, turning his body until he was facing you directly, “Now, tell me what happened.” Your face fell, the smile you’d finally found dropping immediately at the reminder of your pain. This didn’t go unnoticed by Minho, however, as he attempted to bribe you, “You can eat your ice cream and I’ll watch this horrible movie with you afterwards.”

“It’s not horrible, you’re just a cynic,” you mumbled, avoiding both eye contact and giving him a direct answer.

“And you’re hoping I debate this with you to give you an excuse not to talk.”

Damn him for knowing you so well.

You sighed, shaking your head. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong - because that was exactly what you’d hoped for. A shaky inhale prefaced your next words, your throat tightening as you made your best attempt to explain without crying again.

You’d been seeing Jay for a few months now, and you’d truly thought things were going well. Naturally, you were blindsided by his sudden admittance of falling for someone else. Admittedly, you did prefer being told to your face to actually be cheated on - but, damn, it still hurt. 

Minho listened intently as you recounted the conversation, not interrupting even once - save for a hum here and there to show you he was still paying attention. When you finished explaining the reason for your blubbering phone call, Minho sighed softly.

“He didn’t deserve you, anyways,” just as you’d predicted, he’d resorted to his faithful response any time a man had played with your heart.

“How did I know you were gonna say that?” you whispered, a breathy laugh on the tip of your tongue.

“Because you know that it's the truth,” he said with a small smirk, reaching out to ruffle your hair. 

You pulled away, lips pursed into a frown, “Do you really think I’d keep getting into these situations if I knew they’d turn out this way?” You patted down your now-tousled hair as Minho shook his head.

“I suppose you’re right,” he mused, the mischievous glimmer not once leaving his eyes, “Be kinda dumb if you did it on purpose.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

Minho simply laughed brightly, taking the movie from where you’d set it next to you as he approached the blu-ray player. 

“You’re really gonna watch it with me?” you asked, genuine surprise in your voice as you opened the pint of ice cream.

“Mhm,” Minho replied, as if it would’ve been obvious. 

“You hate it, though,” you said softly, worried that he was putting himself into a situation he wouldn’t enjoy just for your benefit, “You said it was ‘so mushy you could throw up’ when I tried to show it to you before.”

“You are correct,” Minho said plainly, opening the case to put the disc into the player, “I do hate it.”

He made his way back to the couch, sitting next to you as he grabbed the remote from the table.

“Then why are you watching it, willingly, on purpose?” You questioned, suspicion evident in the way your voice slowed with each descriptor.

“Because I love you, and you love this gooey shit.”

His eyes were focused on the screen as he navigated the menu, for which you were grateful considering the way heat had prickled up your cheeks. It wasn’t as though Minho had never told you he loved you before, but you were typically the instigator in those rare moments of affection.

Of course, you couldn’t show him that his words affected you this way - you’d never live it down.

So you settled for the next best thing - deflection via humor.

“Now you’re so mushy I could throw up,” you nudged his side with your blanket-wrapped shoulder as you teased him, earning a scoff as he hit play.

“This is why I don’t do nice things,” he muttered as though he were annoyed - though the warm smile on his face showed you that he truly wasn’t all that bothered.

“Whatever, you love me,” you said back, focusing your attention towards the tv as the movie began.

“That’s what I said, yes,” Minho nearly whispered, watching you rather than the screen as the opening sequence immediately enraptured you. 

You didn’t see the way his gaze softened as he reaffirmed that he did, in fact, love you. Nor did you pick up on how serious he’d been when he’d said it in the first place. You’d figured he was just being nicer than usual because you were sad, nothing more, and had settled in to watch the movie with the pint of ice cream in your lap.

Minho was kicking himself internally. Why couldn’t he have just…clarified that he meant what he’d said. Why hadn’t he pushed a little farther, finally telling you that he loved you beyond the level which was acceptable between friends? 

He hadn’t expected you to notice his shift in demeanor, let alone point it out. Yet, here you were, staring at his furrowed brow after turning to catch his reaction to a particularly cheesy scene.

“You okay, Minho? You didn’t even gag at that,” your brow was raised as you put another bite of ice cream into your mouth. 

“Hm?” He asked before your words had fully registered, “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said with his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

The benefit to how brutally honest Minho was, was how painfully obvious it was when he was lying.

“Minho…” you urged, turning to face him, “Don’t lie to me, you’re terrible at it.”

He chuckled, glancing over to you as he shook his head, “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Too late.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I came here because I was worried about you, not for you to worry about me.”

Your lips tightened into a thin line as you stared him down, not budging in your desire to know what he was thinking, “Giving a shit about each other goes both ways,” you reminded him, casually using the terminology he had earlier.

Minho smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time around. He tilted his head as he met your expectant gaze, “Well, well, using my own words against me?” he inquired, raising a brow.

Normally, you’d humor him with a laugh - or at least crack a smile - but Minho appearing to be anything other than okay was a rare enough sight that it took every ounce of your attention - whether you wanted it to or not.

“You aren’t letting this go, are you?” Minho asked after feeling your eyes bore into him for several seconds. His tone had shifted from his typical lighthearted banter to something more vulnerable - something soft, and small.

“No, I’m not,” you confirmed, scooting a bit closer to him in order to place your hand on top of his, “You know you can tell me anything, Min.”

The look of genuine worry in your eyes was enough to send Minho’s heart into a frenzied pace, forcing him to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. 

“I love you,” he said softly, one corner of his lips curling up into a halfhearted smile.

You returned it in kind, squeezing his hand gently, “I love you, too, Minho. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

He laughed humorlessly, looking up to the ceiling before allowing his eyes to meet yours once again, “I just did.”

“What?” You were confused for a few seconds, what he’d meant going right over your head at first.

Until it didn’t.

It hit you like a ton of bricks that Lee Minho, your best friend in the entire world - the man who’d helped you pick up the broken pieces of your heart more times than you could count - just said he loved you.

And meant it.

You felt your eyes turn into saucers as you studied his face, looking for any hint of humor - any clue that he was just joking - as your lips slowly parted.

“You…you mean as more than just a friend, right?” you whispered, a sudden heaviness in your chest as you waited for his answer. Minho had quite the proclivity for pranking you, but something told you that this was definitely not one of those times.

“I thought that was obvious, yeah,” he answered, his snark coming through even in a moment where he was baring his soul. You didn’t blame him, though. You knew him well enough to know that it was only because of how nervous he must be feeling, revealing something so potentially catastrophic.

“This is your one chance to tell me if you’re fucking with me,” you warned, swallowing hard as you stared into his dark eyes - searching for any hint of doubt in their depths.

“I’m not,” he said softly, holding your intense stare with one of his own as he turned his hand over, lacing his slender fingers between yours.

“I swear to God, Minho, if this is some sort of sick joke I’m gonna lose my –” “Goddamnit, it’s not a joke!” he cut you off, his brows furrowing together as he took a deep breath to get control of himself, “I’m…I’m serious.”

“Oh my God…” you whispered, shock still written all over your face as you felt him squeeze your hand tighter, “You’re…you’re really not kidding, are you?”

“I’m really not kidding.”

“You love me?” your words came out slowly, tentative as you continued to search his face.

“Yes,” he answered, smiling softly - relief evident on his face the longer you went without freaking out on him.

“Like…love me, love me?” you pressed, blinking rapidly.

He scoffed, eyes lighting up with a strange mixture of affection and annoyance, “Oh my God, yes! I love you love you, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Minho?” you asked, looking down at your hand joined with his, grazing your thumb across his knuckles gently.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me?”

Minho hadn’t realized how much he’d craved to hear those words escape your lips until they did - sounding like the sweetest song he’d ever heard in his entire life. His free hand came up to cup your cheek delicately, a smirk on his lips as he - in typical Minho fashion - had to get the last word, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You didn’t even have time to so much as roll your eyes before his deceptively soft lips were capturing yours. Your head instantly felt light, as though you were floating, your own empty hand reaching up to rest against his chest. You could feel the hammering of his heart beneath your palm, though his mouth moved with a calm certainty against yours. 

When he finally pulled back, cheeks reddened and lips slightly swollen, he gave you a crooked smile - his eyes sparkling with the familiar mischief you’d come to adore.

You’d come to love.

“What?” you asked him, suddenly self-conscious as you laughed breathlessly.

“I think you were right,” he teased, his lips parting further to reveal a brilliant grin.

“About what?” your confusion must’ve been evident, bringing a light chuckle forth from his lips as they gently brushed yours once more.

“About that ice cream being the best,” he started, smirking as he licked the taste of it from his lips. He pulled back to look you in the eyes, clearly amused.

"Is that so?" You asked, an uncharacteristically flustered giggle bursting forth from your lips.

His smirk evolved into a full, bright, beaming smile before he said in a surprisingly serious voice, “Yeah, I think it’s my favorite now, too.”

permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

Aspen, my friend.

i know we spoke privately a lot and you have expressed a lot with me, but i just want you to know despite it taking me so long to finish this chapter today. it's so beautifully done. so full of emotions, descriptions that are beautifully done, perfect in their words alone, and i will forever be here to give you that peace if need be. my heart breaks for both mc and hyunjin. for mc is in pain, struggling to see the good in things and healing from a loss greater than any artist can understand. the feeling of wanting to create, a hyperactive mind that craves and thrive in the peace of it, and not being able to execute it in the way the mind and heart wants. it's a pain no one wants to experience. i hope mc can come to a place where she can find a different form of art for her art even relearning too. if warranted, my heart absolutely breaks for mc. for hyunjin, the poor boy who is looking at the person who helped him find confidence in doing his dream but not aware of it. i know things will come out sooner than later i'm sure but i hope he finds a place to be more patient with mc somehow. he seems as if he is gonna be good for mc. both seem to be good for each other. my heart is absolutely broken with the ending of this chapter in so many ways words are failing to come to me at this moment. i genuinely can't wait to read the next part my dear friend.

Part Two

prev | masterlist | next (soon)

warnings: ptsd/nightmares after an accident, general depression, ANGST, self-imposed isolation, themes of guilt/self doubt, swearing

wc: 8.99k

“You sure know a lot about color theory…” he mused as he added thin spokes between sections of the wheel, tilting his head at the canvas. “Mhm,” you said simply, chest already feeling heavy as you predicted what he’d say next. "You don’t just know it for fun, though, right?” he continued, still carefully adding the finest of lines to his piece, “You paint.” Your prediction was correct. “No,” you said quickly, any hint of softness you’d forced into your voice expelled the moment that question left his lips. Your lips were set in a hard line, though your heart thumped furiously against your ribs, “I don’t.”

a/n: hello, lovely readers. I'd like to start by apologizing profusely for how long updating this has taken me. I won't bore you with the details of my health - physical or otherwise - and will simply leave it at this; life is ROUGH sometimes. Thank you to those who have patiently waited for this release. I hope that it was worth the wait. I'm doing my best to get back into writing, and I assure you that updates will start coming for my other fics soon, too. I hope you enjoy this second installment of Desderium.

with love and forehead smooches (if you consent),

-Aspen

taglist: @findingjieunn @hyynee @hyunverse @dreamstarsandskz @linaliann permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

“Mother knows best.”

You’d never quite understood why that particular phrase had become so popularized. You’d assumed up until now that it was simply a scare-tactic that adults tried to drill into pliable, adolescent minds. A way to remind them to listen, even if they didn’t understand, even if they didn’t like it. 

Standing in front of the mirror dressed in clean clothes, hair still damp from a shower, you began to understand. 

Though you never would have chosen to pass along your knowledge of your own volition - and as much as you hated to admit it - teaching Hyunjin had forced you to take better care of yourself. 

You had no desire to impress him, by any means. If anything, it was the opposite. You’d found yourself beginning to hope that he’d grow weary of trying to communicate with you, as your company was far from being considered anything close to pleasant, and that he simply would not show up for the next session. 

Yet, here you were, brushing your teeth and tying back your hair. Not ‘just in case,’ or out of anything close to it, but simply because you knew better now. 

You knew better than to hope.

The day was a stark contrast to your permanent melancholia. It was beautiful, uncharacteristically warm for mid-May, with a breeze just cool enough to soothe any discomfort from the sun. Clouds straight out of a children’s book, fluffy and broad, were sparsely littered across the expanse of blue. Birdsong accompanied the scent of the nearby blossoming trees, filling the air with a whimsy you could imagine being a work of fiction.

However, you weren’t that lucky. 

The day, despite how perfect it seemed, still carried with it its own share of hardships. Flowers could bloom all they wanted, and the sun could continue to shine, but what did that really change? 

Nothing, because this was not a work of fiction.

You still had to go to the art school, you still had to teach Hyunjin, and you still had an angry pink scar atop your hand. Indeed, today was real - and, you’d go as far as to say it really wasn’t that beautiful at all. 

If you looked at the sky for long enough, those fluffy clouds would dissipate into amorphous blobs. If you listened harder, past the birdsong, you were sure to hear a couple fighting or a parent scolding their child. If you sat beneath the warmth of the sun for too long, you would burn. 

Today really wasn’t all that beautiful. Not at all. 

You watched the world move around you as you took a seat on the bench, waiting for the bus to take you to your choice of hell. The sun had lured more people than usual from their homes, the park across the street filled with more life than you’d seen in a while. 

Two children chased after each other, giggling and shouting in excited voices under their parents’ watchful eyes. You wished you had as easy of a time as they did, playing make believe. If you could, then maybe today could be beautiful. 

But you couldn’t. And it wasn’t. 

The scent of diesel in the air foreshadowed the bus’ arrival, urging you to your feet just as it appeared atop the hill. The bus driver, a man in his fifties whose name you’d never learned, gave you a curt nod as he opened the doors. He grumbled something resembling a greeting as you stepped up the two steps to the aisle, earning a tight-lipped smile in response. 

The bus was packed today - you blamed the day’s masquerade as lovely for this, too - and you found yourself having to choose which patron to sit next to for the next ten minutes. You quickly crossed off the snoring man with his head against the window and the heavily pregnant woman across from him - you didn’t want to end up a pillow for the former, your hesitance for the latter stemming only from good manners. 

You scanned the remaining seats, contemplating if it would be too terrible to sit next to a woman in business attire chattering away on the phone, until a gentle voice called out to you. 

“You can sit here if you want.” 

Your eyes darted to the source of the invitation, a man around your age with a comforting smile and welcoming aura. He held an earbud between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out likely to hear your reply should you have one. 

He didn’t seem like a terrible companion for the ride, likely returning to his music as soon as you answered. That was ideal, truth be told, not having to engage in conversation. Your decision was rushed, though, by the driver clearing his throat impatiently. 

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, sliding into the seat before sitting, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he urged with that same gentle grin, “Wouldn’t want you to end up drooled on,” he jutted his chin towards the man you’d decided against before, earning a scoff and a smirk from you as you settled into the leather.

He seemed disappointed that you hadn’t laughed, but that was likely because he hadn’t the slightest clue that he’d gotten closer than anyone else had in months. 

This kind-faced stranger must not have been too terribly broken up over it, though, putting his headphones back in properly and tapping play against the cracked screen of his phone. You found yourself strangely comforted that you could hear bits and pieces of the song - it gave you something to focus on without having a window to stare out of. 

You shut your eyes, then, as you tried to recognize what he was listening to based solely on the thumping of bass obscured by his ears. The man with the reassuring smile was humming along now, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to be bothered. You instead listened, not particularly invested though you welcomed the occupation of your mind. 

Squealing tires brought you to full attention, though you couldn’t open your eyes. Horns blared over the sound of crunching glass, screams overtaking the crunching of glass. The whooshing of your pulse in your own ears left the distinct groan of bending metal as nothing more than background noise. 

Your heart began to race, bringing an all-too-familiar panic to the forefront of your mind. You wanted to call out as the sound of sirens drew nearer, but you couldn’t speak. 

It was as though you were frozen in time whilst the world spun out of control around you. You wanted to call out, to tell someone that you were there, to beg someone to find you and pull you from the dark. 

“Can you hear me?” you could feel pressure against your shoulder, though the ability to form a response was nonexistent. 

You wanted to respond, to tell them that you could. To tell them that you were in there. To tell them not to leave you in the chaos - in the dark. 

You hadn’t realized the stranger next to you had stopped humming, nor that you’d dozed off, until you realized that it was his cautious hand patting your shoulder. 

You felt your eyelids shoot open, a pair of concerned eyes and furrowed brows staring down at you bringing you quickly back to the surface of consciousness. You felt sick, a thin sheen of sweat rising to your face quickly cooling the burn of the embarrassed heat that had crept up your cheeks. 

“You okay?” he asked then, the fear in your features registering with him the longer he looked at you.

You nodded, blinking hard as the look he wore pierced through your chest.

You had seen that look before - it was the same look your mother wore when she’d run out of tears to shed at your bedside. The same look Felix and Changbin would send your way when they dropped off their weekly bouquet - after they’d given up on trying to get any conversation out of you. The same look Ms. Park had as the nurse escorted her out as you screamed and cried.

The pity only felt worse coming from a stranger. 

You cleared your throat, finding your voice to be much smaller than you remembered it being, “I’m fine,” you assured him quickly, “Sorry if I bothered you.”

“Hey, no worries,” he spoke quickly, as though the thought of you feeling like a bother were something of importance to him, “Are you sure you’re okay, though? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” he wore that same carefree smile, though his eyes carried something akin to worry. 

Why did he care? He was nothing more than a stranger you’d met on the bus, someone who shared his seat with you out of courtesy. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hoping your voice would come out with a more believable strength this time, “I’m really okay.”

Not quite as confident as you’d hoped, but it would have to do. Less lioness, more housecat - but at least you weren’t a mouse. 

“If you say so,” his eyes darted to the driver, then back to you, “This is my stop.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ as it finally clicked in your brain that he’d been standing this entire time. You looked out the window, noticing that you were outside of the campus, “Mine, too, actually.” 

His brows shot up before he chuckled, gesturing grandly with the hand not holding his spare headphone towards the aisle, “Well, then, ladies first I s’pose!” 

You gave him your best attempt at a smile, though a grimace would be a much more accurate descriptor, before rising to your feet and walking towards the door. You mumbled a thank you and waved to the driver, who simply grumbled under his breath in reply. 

You didn’t blame him for that, though. You’d managed to hold up the bus twice in one day, effectively lengthening his workload. If you weren’t in such a haze from what you now knew was nothing more than a dream, you may have felt the need to call him out for his rudeness.

You ignored the irony of having such a dream, seeing as you’d wished your reality were just that - an unfortunate nightmare. You ignored the way your heart sank when you caught a glimpse of your hand when you waved to the grumpy driver, plunging deep into your stomach at the sight of your scar. You ignored the clamminess of your palms and how cold the once pleasant breeze felt against the moistness of your skin.

“You sure you’re alright? You really are a little pale,” your kindhearted seatmate spoke again from behind.

You wished you could justify ignoring him, too. 

“Yeah,” your voice quavered as you answered, turning around to witness that look - the look you hated, the one everyone seemed to send your way.

You weren’t surprised at the disbelief on his face, certain that you couldn’t have sounded less okay if you tried. You expected him to press the issue, forcing you into either running away or losing your temper - fight or flight, one could say. You expected him to act entitled to your story - your trauma. You expected him to push. 

“You in a hurry?”

You hadn’t expected that. You pulled your phone from your pocket, brows wrinkled in confusion as you noted the time - 9:30 - before shaking your head.

“C’mon, there’s a cafe on campus,” you knew that, of course, being alumni. The kind stranger, however, did not - and you were still too shocked to burst his bubble, “Want a coffee? Or tea? Whichever you prefer,” he rubbed the back of his head, visibly stiffening at his own awkwardness, “My treat, of course!” 

You hesitated, considering the possibilities. On the one hand, he was a complete stranger. Someone who you’d only just met moments ago, someone who could see how vulnerable you were right now. Someone who looked at you with that look you hated. On the other, he’d shown compassion and left you alone until he’d needed to wake you to get off of the bus. He seemed genuine in his concerns, though you wished he’d not noticed your distress in the first place. 

“You’re paying?” you reiterated, finally coming to the conclusion that one cup of tea wouldn’t hurt. 

He threw his head back then, a bellowing laugh coming from deep within his stomach before he got a hold of himself. He wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning from ear to ear, “Yeah, I’m paying. C’mon.” He tilted his head in the direction of the cafe, waiting until you started towards that direction to fall into step next to you. 

Hyunjin had taken extra precautions to ensure he would not be late today.

He hadn’t predicted just how annoyed he’d become with his past self, however, until he found himself reaching out of the shower to snooze an alarm - the third of five he’d set - interrupting his playlist. His irritation was short lived, fizzling out nearly as soon as it started. After all, how could he possibly stay upset by something so small? 

Today was a beautiful day. 

Hyunjin turned down the volume of the song that played, content to allow the trilling call of the sparrows outside to overwhelm the gentle melodies he’d chosen. Despite his earlier frustration, he found himself oddly at peace with the replacement.

As he packed his bag of supplies, his thoughts began to drown out the symphony coming in through the windows. His mind was on you - just as it had been ever since the two of you parted ways last week. Hyunjin wasn’t obsessed, at least not in a way worth any concern, but he did have questions. 

Why was someone who’d volunteered as a mentor so visibly discontent with their pupil? Was it because of Hyunjin himself? Had he done something to bother you? To accidentally offended you somehow? Why did you all but run from the art room? Why weren’t you painting alongside him to show him the way? Did you even paint? You had to, seeing as you were capable of fixing an issue Hyunjin had been dealing with for weeks in a matter of minutes. Right? 

Hyunjin shook his head, damp blonde strands tickling the apples of his cheeks. After his first alarm, he’d debated on whether or not he should even attend the session today. If he made you that uncomfortable, was learning a few pointers really worth it? Your pursed lips and glossed-over gaze were burnt into his memory and - after the initial joy of fixing the issue with his painting had worn off - he couldn’t shake the mounting curiosity they brought with them. 

In the end he’d decided that he couldn’t pass on whatever advice hid behind your icy exterior, though. He couldn’t pass on scratching that itch, the one your venom-laced words had given him. The one that could only be relieved by answers - answers which his intuition told him would not come easily.

He zipped up his bag, considering the routes he could take to get you to open up. His ideas weren’t terrible; asking the standard questions about family and friends, debating favorite artists, bringing up his own interests in passing…but all of these ideas held one thing in common that made Hyunjin feel very, very small.

They required you to actually want to speak to him. 

He glanced at the clock, then - it was only 9:45 - noting that he had enough time to swing by the cafe for an americano. Caffeine was, for all intents and purposes, a great way to sharpen his focus and lift his spirits. He could definitely use the boost. 

His mind was swimming with thoughts, worries even, about today’s session - about you - and for a moment Hyunjin wondered if you felt just as unsure about today as he did. 

Sliding a black cap over his slicked-back hair, Hyunjin slung his supplies over his shoulder and made his way out of the dorm building. He barely registered the waves and smiles his classmates sent his way as he walked across campus, responding to them in kind with a slight delay. His mind was too busy trying to unravel the tangled enigma that was you.

The birdsong was louder without his walls as a buffer, lightening the weight he’d been carrying by a little. He looked up to the sky, a soft smile tugging at his features at the way the clouds bloomed against the sky. 

The sight made his heart feel light, forgetting for a moment about his concerns regarding his new mentor. The sky felt like the joy he’d feel at the fair as a child, and he found himself comparing the clouds to cotton candy as they melted against the brilliant sky. 

Hyunjin knew what he would paint today. Before he could paint, though - coffee. In a matter of minutes, he was walking through the heavy mahogany door of the campus’ coffee shop. Passing through those doors always felt like an entirely different world to Hyunjin; the warm-toned lights mounted in metal, industrial-style brick with exposed pipes, and the scent of cinnamon and coffee grounds immediately seemed to cancel out the surrounding environment. The choir of birds was replaced by the clattering of ceramic and overlapping chatter, the gentle breeze now thick bursts of warm air from the kitchen door swinging on its hinges. Though this was definitely more man-made than the beautiful spring day he’d left outside, Hyunjin quite liked it here.

Stepping forward on the worn-down wood floors, he stopped at the counter and ordered his typical iced americano. He paid, leaving a tip before scooting to the side to allow others to place their orders as he waited for his own. He’d started to zone out slightly when he heard a familiar name called from an employee’s mouth.

Your name, followed by another that he recognized.

His head snapped up, scanning the room so suddenly that it was a wonder he hadn’t managed to give himself whiplash. His eyes landed on the carefree smile of Han Jisung approaching the counter from a booth in the corner - at which you were seated.

Hyunjin felt a pang of something akin to jealousy in his chest as he watched Han accept the drinks, surprised to see a soft smile on your face as the boy carried the drinks back to the table. His mind raced, out of his own control, as his eyes fell to the floor.

Up until now, Hyunjin had assumed that you simply just…didn’t like people, as a general consensus. Though seeing your calm smile as Han handed you a tea, he felt himself shrink. It wasn’t that you hated people as a whole, you just for some reason hated him. What had he done? Had he accidentally offended you in some way? Was his art not good enough? Were his aspirations annoying you? Was it just…him, as a person? The insecurity ran rampant as he peeked back up at the two of you, his chest aching. He’d truthfully been hopeful, hearing he’d have a mentor that had survived the same art program he was a part of now. He’d even spoken to his friends about how cool it would be to have a friend who could fully comprehend the pressure he was under.

It wasn’t that he had any problems with his current friends, it was the simple fact that all of them had majored in a different department. None of them were artists in the same sense as Hyunjin was, opting for theater or music rather than traditional art methods.

He was so excited to meet someone like-minded and artistically inclined. Beyond excited, even, his friends having called him out on how annoying he’d gotten as he counted down the days to meeting his new mentor. And, now, he felt stupid.

As he watched you sip your tea, your eyes alight with inaudible laughter at something undoubtedly stupid Jisung had said, he felt stupid. As he realized that, despite having so much in common, you’d so easily warm up to his friend; that this may actually be the first time he’d seen a ghost of a smile on your face, he felt stupid.

If he had to feel this way, the very least he owed his bruised ego would be the privilege to act the same way he felt.

Without a second thought, Hyunjin left his position against the countertop and strode with false confidence over to your table, plastering a grin on his face that he hoped would hide his distress, before sliding in next to Jisung. “Jisung,” he greeted warmly before casting his eyes towards you, watching as the light slowly left your eyes, “I see you’ve met my mentor.”

You imagined this is what crashing through thin ice during a leisurely skate would feel like. One moment, you were focusing on the offhanded quips coming from your new companion, the now-unfamiliar sensation of contentedness lulling you into a sense of security. You’d stopped thinking about what happened to you, not even noticing the slight tremble in your scarred hand when you’d lifted your tea. 

You’d been about to laugh, though perhaps out of pity for the awkward jokes Jisung had been spouting, but still…for the first time since the incident that had stripped away your joy, you were about to laugh just as you would before. Until your blood ran cold, nearly knocking the wind out of you. Before you now sat Hyunjin, staring straight into your eyes with a nearly imperceptible curiosity. Along with Hyunjin came the memories. Along with Hyunjin came the pain. Along with Hyunjin came the truth. You would never be the same. You felt your features fall into absolute blankness as you held his gaze, eyes darting to Jisung briefly before returning to Hyunjin. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Hyunjin continued, casually tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His statement seemed to pull Jisung out of his shock at his sudden arrival, the clueless grin he often wore finding its way back to his face. “Ah, we just met today!” He said cheerfully, pulling your attention away from Hyunjin momentarily, “On the bus.” You nodded, the air having not quite returned to your lungs enough to provide an auditory response. Hyunjin was looking at Han now, which helped greatly in your quest to find your breath, but your chest still ached.

Hyunjin looked puzzled as he turned to Jisung, a brow raised as he cocked his head to the side. He wore his disbelief plainly enough that the other man had no trouble understanding what the look meant. “She had time before a meeting,” Jisung looked between the two of you now, his expression shifting back into one of comfortability as he put together the pieces in real time, “With you, I’m guessing?” Hyunjin nodded, his brows still knitted together despite the small smile he wore whilst listening. You could tell, despite your short time knowing him, that the wheels were turning behind his calm facade. About what, you were unsure, but something about the neutral position of his features felt completely fabricated.

That alone was enough to keep your voice at bay.

“Small world, huh?” Jisung continued, his cheerfulness a welcome - though temporary -  distraction from the tension you felt radiating from Hyunjin. “Yeah, very,” Hyunjin replied, turning to face you once more. As his dark eyes met your own, it felt as though you were shrinking. If you could dissolve into the plush booth seat, you’re sure you would have. 

You should say something, right? Certainly, you knew that you should. Of course, engaging in conversation with him was something a normal person would do in this moment.

You, however, simply could not.

Despite the way Hyunjin looked at you expectantly, not much differently than a child waiting for instruction, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say hello. You felt smaller and smaller as your mouth ran dry, clutching your cup of tea tightly enough to indent the thin plastic cup.

You were saved as the barista called Hyunjin’s name, watching helplessly as he slid out of the booth. 

“Lesson’s in five minutes, we can walk together.”

Though you were sure he meant it innocently, the way he phrased it as a certainty rather than an offer nearly sprang you into a panic. Had Jisung not been present, you’d be searching your mind for any believable excuse - not wanting to spend more time alone with Hyunjin than was required of you. But Jisung was there, and Jisung was far from able to understand why, exactly, you had an aversion to spending time with his friend.

“Sure,” you managed, barely a whisper as you pulled yourself to your feet. You still held your tea, now in both hands, as you turned to Jisung. “Thank you, for the tea. And the bus.”

The man grinned up at you again, “Yeah, no problem. Have fun!”  You felt guilty at the fact that, despite his genuine encouragement, you knew you would be doing anything but. Regardless, you gave him your best attempt at a smile - though you wouldn’t be surprised if it came across as more of a grimace - before turning towards Hyunjin.

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, his expression still pleasant - if he’d sensed your mood shift along with his presence, he wasn’t showing it.

You simply nodded, casting one last glance to Jisung before following Hyunjin out of the building. He didn’t look back at you, not even once, as his long legs carried him effortlessly towards the studio. You quickened your pace to keep up, though it didn’t seem that Hyunjin noticed. The last thing you wanted to do was thicken the already awkward air - it was much easier to just half-jog behind him.

Even as he held the door open, his gaze still wouldn’t meet yours. It was impossible not to feel a bit grated by his sudden attitude. He’d interrupted your prior conversation, pulling you to the lesson alongside him, just to all but pretend you weren’t there.

Not that you were really complaining, seeing as you hadn’t the slightest intention of being buddy-buddy with the stark reminder of your own misery, but his sudden shift from the vibrant persona he’d exuded at your previous lesson still left an odd taste in your mouth.

Perhaps he’d finally gotten the message? Maybe, after your less-than welcoming attitude on day one, Hyunjin had given up on trying to weasel his way into your life aside from lessons? It didn’t seem as though that would be the case, though. Despite your sharpness, he’d still chosen to attend the lesson today…

Then, why? Why was his face lacking the blissfully ignorant smile he’d worn last time, even as you’d made it clear that you had no desire to befriend him? Why was the silence he’d once found absolutely necessary to fill left alone?

You hadn’t expected your questions to be answered so quickly, but as  you approached the door to the studio, pulling it open and stepping inside, Hyunjin finally spoke.

“Did I do something?”

It was such a simple question. Four words that, on their own, didn’t hold much weight - but spoken in such a small, genuine voice from your once-enthusiastic pupil felt like a punch in the gut.

Is that what this was about? You were teaching him, weren’t you? What else did he expect?

“What are you talking about?” you asked him, voice sounding filled with more disinterest than you’d intended as you set down your bag, having a seat on an empty stool.

“Did I do something to offend you?” He repeated again, remaining frozen in the doorway. He still wouldn’t look at you, studying his own shoes against the floor as though they were the biggest point of interest in the room.

It was painfully obvious that Hyunjin truly believed there was something he’d done to warrant your offputting behavior; from the way his shoulders hunched up to his ears to the way he shuffled in place. He looked like a child that had been scolded in front of his friends as he awaited your answer, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

“No.” Your response held much less weight at first glance than his initial question had. A single word, simple enough for an infant to claim as their first. Though, paired with the way it cut through the air - terse, leaving no room for debate - you didn’t doubt that Hyunjin had felt a sting. Hyunjin nodded, flinching at the word as if it were something much less innocuous. He swallowed hard before stepping forward, sitting on the stool opposite of you and pulling a blank canvas from his messenger bag. He set it on the easel with delayed movements, his eyes appearing glazed over - as if he were in a trance. “If I didn’t do anything,” he started, pulling out his paints and setting them up on a small table, “Then it must just be me in general, hm?” You raised a brow, ignoring the pang of jealousy you felt to the best of your abilities as he pulled out his brushes, twirling one around his finger delicately as he stared at all of his color options. How were you supposed to answer? It wasn’t as though you could tell him that your innate dislike for him came from his ability to do what was taken from you. It wasn’t as though you could simply say that you were sure he was a great guy, and that your quiet rage came from a place of envy. You simply couldn’t. Hyunjin already made it real enough, speaking aloud what had happened would only serve to twist the knife. He must have taken your silence as an affirmation, a laugh escaping his lips in the form of a whisper as he shook his head. He lifted a tube of vermillion before pulling out his palette, filling one of the divots with the rich shade before setting the tube down - letting it clatter noisily amongst the others. His foot tapped against the floor as though he were physically holding himself back from speaking, dipping the brush into the paint carefully. His body language was screaming anything but calm yet, despite this, his hand was steady as he raised the red-tinged bristles to his canvas. You watched as the single line he painted was joined by another, forming haphazard, angry angles. Scarlet against white. The heartache watching him create with such effortless movements was different than any you’d felt before. You averted your gaze as the dull ache grew into something bigger - something quietly furious, intimidating in its sheer density as it took up each crevice of your mind. Your attention seemed much less volatile as you focused in on your own hands, guiding your vision from your fingertips to your palm before turning your hand over. Your heart plunged into your stomach before you glanced back at Hyunjin’s canvas - now blended with different shades of orange and pink alongside the aforementioned red. You looked back down at your own angry, red line. 

Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, there weren’t any complimentary colors that could be added to lessen its impact. There was no gentle pink to soften it, no comforting orange glow.  Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, the angry red you’d been cursed with could not be changed into a sunset. The mood could not shift into something inspirational, it could not become something soothing on the eyes. It could not, and would never be a sunset.

Unlike Hyunjin’s canvas, you could not blend out the rough edges. You couldn’t simply feather out the red until it looked like it belonged. You couldn’t add or take away anything, there was no camouflaging the puckered evidence of loss that you were forced to wear.

Hyunjin’s words rang in your mind once more; it must just be me in general. It wasn’t that you necessarily felt bad about your feelings - those were your right, the only thing you’d earned from your tragedy. You did, however, feel a bit guilty about the collateral damage sitting alongside you, moving his brush along the canvas wordlessly.

You were right before. You couldn’t tell him why you felt this way, he definitely wouldn’t understand. Nobody would, after all, unless they’d been forced through what you had endured. There was, however, one thing you knew you could do.

“It’s not you.”

Hyunjin paused, moving his brush away from the canvas as his back stiffened. Your words weren’t soft, weren’t sweet, weren’t meant to be reassuring whatsoever. You’d stated them plainly, as if they were simply a fact you’d decided to share. As dark irises flitted over to you, curiosity filling their chocolate depths, you held your breath.

“No?” he asked before looking away, resuming his work after the initial shock of your voice had worn off.

“No,” you echoed, looking anywhere but his palette as he squeezed a bit of yellow into an empty space.

“Then what?” he asked, still focusing on his work. Though you weren’t looking, you could hear the whisper of bristles against vinyl. It was a beautiful sound, or at least it was before.

“I…can’t tell you that,” you mumbled, looking out the window at the students wandering campus. Two girls running into an embrace that nearly convinced you they could be lovers, a couple of boys doing that odd, handshake hug that men had somehow decided unanimously meant they weren’t in love, a girl beneath the shade of the old ginkgo tree sketching away.

Even absolute strangers held the power to remind you of loss, it seemed.

You looked back towards Hyunjin as he blended daffodil yellow into the sky he’d created, wondering if you’d be better off watching the girl outside.

“You can’t?” he hummed, setting his brush aside before grabbing one with thinner bristles, tucking it behind his ear as he reached for a tube of black paint.

“No,” you reiterated.

Hyunjin simply hummed in response, supposedly deciding against pressing further as he dipped the thin brush into the inky black.

He was bringing it towards the canvas when you sucked in a sharp breath, coming to a realization about what he may be about to do.

“Don’t,” you said quickly, causing Hyunjin to stiffen once more before turning his head towards you.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make a black silhouette,” you said simply, still shocked that you’d corrected him at all. It was almost funny that you’d startled yourself - you were supposed to teach him, after all.

Hyunjin slowly set the brush down, a single brow raised as he waited for you to explain.

“It’ll contrast too heavily with the backdrop, and it won’t look natural,” you mumbled, looking away from his expectant gaze as though you feared he’d read your mind otherwise, “Blend black into one of the shades you used for the sunset until it’s dark enough to mimic a silhouette.”

Hyunjin nodded, finally peeling his eyes off of you long enough to slowly add a bit of black to the purple tone he’d used before. He seemed almost scared as he held the palette out towards you, tentatively speaking in a voice so soft it was a miracle you heard him.

“Like this?”

You took a glance and nodded, looking away again right after. Hyunjin pulled the stained palette away slowly, setting it down before dipping the brush into the handmade indigo and beginning to add a shape against the glowing backdrop.

You looked up as he worked, fighting against your instincts as you watched him carefully craft a circle, the shape of a ferris wheel slowly coming alive against his beautiful skyline.

Hyunjin continued to work, and you continued to watch, the sounds of breath and brushstrokes filling the otherwise empty air of the studio. The discomfort was still there, still pushing against your lungs with every inhale, but it was no longer suffocating as you watched Hyunjin focus in on his work.

He looked so absorbed that you were a bit taken aback to hear him speak.

“You sure know a lot about color theory…” he mused as he added thin spokes between sections of the wheel, tilting his head at the canvas.

“Mhm,” you said simply, chest already feeling heavy as you predicted what he’d say next.

“You don’t just know it for fun, though, right?” he continued, still carefully adding the finest of lines to his piece, “You paint.”

Your prediction was correct.

“No,” you said quickly, any hint of softness you’d forced into your voice expelled the moment that question left his lips. Your lips were set in a hard line, though your heart thumped furiously against your ribs, “I don’t.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, sour enough to burn your throat.

How did Hyunjin manage to endlessly remind you that things were not the same?

You wouldn’t pick up a brush with a joyful smile again, creating to your heart’s content. The images and ideas that flew around your mind now destined to wither away there, never to be given life against a stretched canvas.

“But,” Hyunjin continued, painfully oblivious to the rising levels of envy and rage radiating from you, “There’s no way you’d know this otherwise,” his almond eyes stayed focused on his work as he spoke, never leaving the canvas even when he dipped his brush back into the deep purple shade.

You would no longer lose track of yourself - of time - as you became absorbed in manifesting images from your mind’s eye. Unique sights were no longer subject materials. Flowers were simply flowers, sunsets simply sunsets, ferris wheels simply ferris wheels.

“I said no,” you repeated, clenching your fists at your side as if you could physically hold the facade of being calm in place, “I don’t.”

And you meant it. 

You did not paint, not anymore. 

You would never again need to brush off complaints that you smelled of paint at parties, and your mother would not tut disapprovingly at the colors caked beneath your nails. You would not fill a mug with water to clean brushes. Coffee cups were just coffee cups, glasses just glasses, and jars just jars. “And last week,” Hyunjin added, almost as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “With the oil paints, that wasn’t common knowledge.” Your nails dug painfully into your palms now, sure to leave an indent when you let go. Your balled up fists trembled slightly with the sheer force you’d squeezed, your lips parting to reiterate your point until it happened. The white-hot sting, sudden and overwhelming, radiating from the marred flesh atop your hand. You hissed, pulling it quickly to your chest and covering it with its unsullied counterpart while you opened and closed your fingers quickly, chasing relief desperately. Hyunjin turned to face you now, his eyes widening as he caught a glimpse of your scrunched up features. He set his palette down hurriedly, not bothering with grace as it clattered against the table - a tube of paint falling to the floor in the process. “Are you okay?” You hated how genuinely he’d asked this, concern written across all of his features as he reached towards you carefully - as though you were a cornered rabbit he’d decided to help, despite its skittishness. Considering the evasiveness you’d insisted on keeping behind every word you’d said to Hyunjin thus far, you supposed that would be an accurate assessment. Teeth metaphorically bared at every opportunity, subliminally warning him to stay back - letting him know that you wanted him gone. Hyunjin didn’t seem to care, though, as his brows creased together - his eyes shooting to the hand you were cradling. He took a sudden step back when you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes with a ferocious mixture of rage and shame.

“I’m fine,” you snapped before grinding your teeth together, pulse whooshing in your ears as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. You didn’t want to discuss this with Hyunjin. You didn’t want to explain to anyone ever again what had happened to you. In that moment, you truly were the injured animal Hyunjin had approached you as - hissing as you were slowly backed further into a corner. Your only hope being that he would simply drop the matter - leaving you to lick your wounds alone. Of course, Hyunjin did no such thing. “Are you sure?” he asked, taking a single step back after registering the harshness of your tone. His widened eyes, brimming with genuine compassion and worriedness, quickly faded into nothing as you zoned in on a splash of red against his cheek. Red paint - cracking as it dried - against his pale skin. He’d likely wash it off later, perhaps even laughing about how clumsy he’d been to manage staining his skin in the first place. The red paint - blended beautifully with concise brushstrokes and complimentary shades - against white canvas. A gentle yellow that radiated warmth, peeking between periwinkle clouds to illuminate a perfectly captured carnival ride.

An angry, red scar - cradled desperately against your chest as it throbbed incessantly, ensuring that you would always remember your loss. Always remember your pain.

Your red couldn’t be cleaned off, washed down the drain and forgotten. Your anger could not be softened by colors more delicate, could not be blended into something beautiful. This line would not turn into a sunset, would not become the backdrop for nostalgia, would never become pretty.

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, causing Hyunjin’s face to pale. He backpedaled once more, only stopping when his thigh brushed the stool he’d been sitting on. Without uttering so much as another syllable, Hyunjin simply picked up his brush - continuing to paint.

The air was heavy with a wounded silence as Hyunjin worked on his piece. Your pain had dulled from a scream to a soft hum, searing heat turning into more of a prickle. You found yourself wishing your internalized wounds would settle as quickly as your hand. Certain broken things, it seemed, couldn’t be reset to heal accordingly.

It wasn’t until Hyunjin broke the silence, barely above a whisper, that you’d realized how much time had passed. “You’d be good at it, I think,” he’d said, setting down his brush as he eyed his work carefully, “Painting.”

You didn’t respond, not trusting your tongue at his sudden proclamation. 

You were good at painting once. You were really good. He couldn’t know that, enough people were aware of your loss. You often found yourself wishing that you’d simply stayed asleep, comatose after the accident. At least that way you wouldn’t have to deal with the pity-stained faces of those who loved you. It was strange, now that you thought about it. 

You weren’t sure you remembered what their eyes looked like before. Before you were broken. Before they felt sorry for something far beyond the reach of their own doing.

Before everything had changed.

“I actually didn’t start painting until recently,” Hyunjin continued, almost as though talking to himself, “I switched majors at the start of this year.”

You listened to his monologue, though you weren’t looking at him. You were watching out the window once more. The girl was no longer beneath the gingko tree sketching, and the groups of friends were nowhere to be seen. The campus was quiet as the sky melted into a replica of Hyunjin’s canvas - warm and soft, casting a golden glow on everything it touched.

It bothered you - it bothered you a lot - that Hyunjin hadn’t been serious about painting for longer than a few months. He didn’t realize how lucky he was, to be allowed to dream. To be allowed to pursue something you’d loved with your whole heart on a whim. 

You bit your tongue, not wanting to end up saying something you’d regret - something you couldn’t take back. You couldn’t control your past, of course, but you could make an effort to control your effect on the present.

Hyunjin continued on despite your lack of input - you were nearly convinced he’d have continued talking even if you’d left the room. 

“I’ve always liked art, though,” he insisted, adding a few highlights to bits of the wheel before chewing his lip in thought. He added a dash of a muted turquoise to the indigo silhouette as he continued on.

“I guess I was just inspired recently,” he mused, seemingly unbothered by your silence, “I actually tagged along to a gallery exhibit with my aunt. There was a piece there…” he took a deep breath as he painted, his lips parting into a fond smile as he recalled what must be a precious memory for him.

“It was so delicate,” he said quietly, setting his brush down to examine his piece, tilting his head at nearly a ninety-degree angle, “A hand holding onto a flower so loosely that I truly wouldn’t have been surprised if I watched it fall down the canvas.”

Your heart stopped before jumping into your throat to race uncomfortably.

No.

“The flower matched the pink of the knuckles and palm so perfectly,” he hummed, tilting his head in the other direction, “Everything was so muted, yet so…believable.”

You knew the exact pink he was referring to. You knew that the flower was a Chrysanthemum, and you knew that the petals alone had taken ten painstaking hours to complete.

No, no, no, no.

“It wasn’t inherently happy,” Hyunjin’s voice stayed level as he rambled on, “It wasn’t inherently sad, either…” he grabbed his brush again, adding bits of a golden highlight to the cool clouds.

You knew exactly what he meant, the loose grip on the stem chosen specifically to depict apathy - uncaring of whether or not the delicate bloom fell to the ground.

This cannot be happening.

“But, for some reason, it made me feel lonely to look at,” his brows furrowed then as he focused harder on his application, ensuring he wouldn’t muddle the colors as he added contrast, “I decided to switch majors so I could do that, too.”

You felt a knot in your stomach, the air becoming increasingly more difficult to pull into your lungs.

What the fuck?

Hyunjin stood from his spot then, taking a few steps back to look at the canvas from afar, “So I could tell an entire story without words or gestures. So I could make people feel.”

Even if you’d wanted to reply at this point, your mouth had gone dry long ago. Your hands began to tremble at your sides as he spoke.

What the actual fuck?

“I was kind of disappointed that the artist wasn’t there,” his lips were pulled into a frown now, his reminiscing cut short by visible displeasure, “I had so many questions…” he trailed off as he stared at his canvas, searching for anything he could alter to give it the exact feeling he’d sought after during its creation.

You already knew that the artist hadn’t been there. That the artist had been in a hospital bed, hooked up to machinery, with their hand wrapped in a bright white cast. You knew that the artist was surrounded by people who loved them, yet had never felt so empty and alone in their life.

How is this happening?

“Apparently, they go by Eclipse, so I’ve asked the gallery owner to contact me if another piece is put on display,” he approached the painting again now, sitting in front of it with a studious expression on his face, “Even if they wouldn’t answer my questions, I want to thank them,” Hyunjin picked up his brushes, one by one, and made his way over to the sink to wash the acrylic from their bristles.

This is actually insane.

Your breathing became ragged as you struggled to maintain your composure. It was your art that had inspired the very person you envied to begin to chase after your dream. It was because of your art that he’d even chosen to take painting seriously. How fucking ironic was it, that the event that had changed everything for you had done the same for another? 

You had lost, he had found.

“It’s thanks to them that I’ve discovered something I love so much, after all,” he mused, setting his brushes on a towel to dry neatly. He turned to face you, then, his eyes alight from his recollection. It wasn’t until his face dropped that you realized there was something hot running down your face.

Your vision had blurred the moment he’d mentioned the pink in the hands you’d painted, though you hadn’t noticed until just now. There were no tears falling, no - that would indicate singular, controlled drops. Emotion poured from your eyes in streaks, unending as they dripped down the edges of your jaw.

Hyunjin appeared panicked as he hurriedly dried his hands off, though he didn’t approach - not that you’d expect him to after your earlier outburst.

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” he asked, brows furrowing together as he recognized the trembling of your breath. 

Words evaded you as your throat began to close, your shaky hands gripping the sides of the stool as if that could somehow steady you. You shook your head, hoping that the dark bits of his outline you stared into were his eyes.

How could you blame him for being confused? “We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he said softly, his voice shifting from the calm and enraptured way he revealed his inspiration to a quiet, almost guilty tone.

“Okay,” you exhaled more than actually spoke, but Hyunjin seemed to hear you clearly as he nodded his head.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t think you’d –” he cut himself off as you held up your hand, signaling for him to stop.

“Don’t,” you managed between uneven breaths.

“But –”

“Don’t,” you repeated, finally releasing your vicegrip on the stool to wipe your eyes with your sleeves.

“I’m sorry, I just thought maybe…I dunno, I really thought you’d wanna give painting a shot…”

You shook your head, giving him a barely audible, “I’m not a painter,” before turning your head away, still wiping helplessly at the wetness on your cheeks.

“I–” he cut himself off, simply to nod once more. The atmosphere felt heavy as you sniffled quietly, doing your best to regain composure - hoping to at least be able to look him in the eye and speak clearly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated himself, voice still laced with regret, “I won’t bring it up again, okay?”

You pulled your bag up onto your shoulder, stepping towards the door as Hyunjin watched, the frown remaining etched between his brows giving away just how taken aback he’d been by your reaction. To anyone else, it would’ve been a nice, heartwarming story about a boy who fell in love with painting.

But you were not anyone else.

You were an inspiration to the boy who’d picked up your dream, claiming it as his own and thanking you for it with the same breath.

You were Eclipse, the one who’d painted the noncommittal hand and the carnation dangling from its fingers.

With your broken pieces Hyunjin had become whole. 

In any other circumstance, you’d have told him that you’d created that piece. You’d have asked him what questions he had with a smile on your face. You’d have felt honored to have inspired someone else to pick up a brush and create.

But this wasn’t any other circumstance.

And you did not feel happy, or honored.

You felt hollow.

You looked at Hyunjin then, his face not too different from how you’d imagine a deer caught in the headlights to appear. His full lips were parted, as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words he’d been searching for. 

You stopped with your hand on the doorknob, shifting your focus from Hyunjin to his canvas. Collecting yourself enough to give him critique was the least you could do - unwilling or not, you were supposed to be teaching him. You did your best to push back the pain, at least for long enough to do your job.

Nostalgia hit you in waves as you studied his piece, a comforting and child-like wonder encouraging your eyes to stop their leaking. The canvas as a whole felt warm like summer. You could swear you could hear children’s laughter and the crashing of waves in the distance the longer you looked. 

He’d done exactly as he said he wanted to. His work made you feel something, even amidst the confusing swirl of emotions you were experiencing. His work, because of you had stopped the flow of tears, at least for now. You pulled your still-watery eyes away, meeting Hyunjin’s. The clarity and calm your voice now held was a surprise - to you and Hyunjin both.

“It’s a beautiful piece, Hyunjin,” you said truthfully, casting a glance over your shoulder at the shell-shocked boy still stood by the sink, “Really beautiful.”

You meant it, too - his piece was beautiful.

A part of you had wanted to say more - to tell him in detail how it had made you feel.

But that part of you was gone.

That part of you had been broken off, picked up by Hyunjin himself.

And despite your desire to pretend it was still there, to thank him for the warmth of his work, you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t there, it belonged to him now.

With one last glance at his unchanged, startled expression, you stepped out into the hallway. You didn't know if he could hear you as you spoke your parting words - and you honestly weren't trying to be heard.

Yet, the words left your lips with an unlikely conviction - softened only by the thickness your tears had left in their wake.

"I'll see you next week, Hyunjin."

HOLD ON TIGHT — (18+!)

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his voice pronouncing those four letters.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me, doll.”

🎮 SYNOPSIS: You can't believe your eyes when you spot your rival at the video game convention that you have been looking forward to for months. You want to be furious, really, but what happens when he's suddenly totally kind and a little too flirty with you, after he realises the both of you are unintentionally attending the event in matching cosplays?

🍭 CONTENT INFO: felix x afab reader, enemies to lovers, rival felix, best friend hyunjin, smut/a little fluff, they are all gamers and nerds lol

👾 CONTENT WARNING: reader is cosplaying in a dress and wearing makeup, jealousy (reader), topics of unrequited feelings (not between felix and reader), smut tags under the cut

🔮 WORD COUNT: 8.5K

💜 SMUT: semi-public sex (bathroom), slight dom/sub dynamics, breast play, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, choking, praise kink, voice kink, name calling (doll, darling, baby, good girl, good boy)

“Hyunjin, pay fucking attention.”

You’ve had it today. Usually, you try to stay calm during games but your best friend has been harassing your last nerve for the past thirty minutes. The fight at work some hours ago adds to your tense aura, technically close to snapping by now.

“Chill, dude.”

His voice is quiet but sincere, traveling to you from across the room. Although you teamed up in an online match, it is nothing unusual for the both of you to meet up on Friday evenings, celebrating another end of a hard week of work with your favourite games, some delivery food and beer.

Since your job has been even more exhausting than your best friend is behaving right now, he allowed you to choose today’s dinner—pizza from your favourite place down the street.

“Watch out, it’s five_star_m1chelin at it again,” Hyunjin adds to the conversation, for once giving you a useful hint.

You’ve been thrown into games with this user tons of times before, it’s getting ridiculous. Sometimes he’s part of your team, sometimes he starrs in the rival group—just however AI decides to place him. Perhaps, he’s one of the few who has a similarly high elo rating in comparision to Hyunjin and you but nonetheless he annoys the shit out of you constantly.

Unfortunately, this has to happen on top of all bad things occurring to you this week—your boss yelling at you for something that your clumsy colleague did wrong, your heater acting up and making you sit here under four blankets in April since temperatures decided to drop down to five degrees again and Hyunjin going on a date with a cute girl he met in an art gallery. Yes. You may have a tiny little crush on your longtime friend but you have gained level platinum in hiding your feelings for him.

And additionally to that big lump of shit making your everyday life harder, user five_star_m1chelin is occupying your free time now with his stupid comments. The words stay written, until one of the other mates of your team decides to switch to voice chat—including the opponent group.

There is one tiny problem about it.

You feel pathetic even admitting it.

But apart from his absolutely disastrous behaviour and persistence in winning—even if it meant he had to betray his own grandmother—your rival’s voice has an addicting charm to it. You could listen to it twenty four hours, seven days a week. If it wasn’t filled with so much bullshit.

You have no idea what he looks like, most times of the day you don’t even care about it—but the deepness in the words spilling from his lips make your head spin around in circles.

“You good, bro?” Hyunjin asks when he notices you zoning out, after he makes sure to hit the mute button.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Just the usual.”

“They are annoying, I know. Do you wanna play something else?”

What Hyunjin can’t achieve voice-wise, he makes up with so many other factors—his plump lips basically draw your eyes on them, his bleached messy hair makes you want to tousle the peach-coloured strands, his pretty elegant fingers create unholy scenes inside your head–

“Earth to Y/N.”

His words are followed by a snapping sound, his middle finger colliding with the palm of his hand.

“No,” you start, needing another second to reminisce what Hyunjin asked mere moments ago until the information floods into your mind again.

“Let’s play one last round.”

Hyunjin chuckles and you hate him for that. You do. For two main reasons—you are in a bad mood right now and everyone experiencing opposite feelings automatically turn into your enemy thanks to your hot-headed nature and, apart from that, it reminds you of how adorable you find your best friend all over again.

“Ah, yeah. The famous promise that no gamer has ever kept.”

You don’t even pay attention to your best friend’s words anymore. Your head is a mess. Threatened by all the overwhelming thoughts running speed marathons in there. Nice. What was supposed to be a fun, chill Friday night turned into another episode of stress.

But today the one last round quote actually becomes true, when your rival’s comment turns into your final straw that makes the tower of annoyance crash down into a million tiny pieces.

five_star_m1chelin: why does this game always let us play against a bunch of noobs lmao

The audacity this guy has is unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve had enough,” you say immeditaly before the screen darkens, only enlightening eight letters in a bright purple reading GAME OVER.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just a game.”

Hwang Hyunjin, you better shut your mouth or the rest of the pizza will be flying into your beautiful doll face.

You, somehow, manage to regain sanity once you take a deep breath and turn off the computer in front of you. A large sip from your beer, as you empty the bottle, eases your mind further.

“Y/N, listen,” your best friend starts again. “I know it’s been some rough days for you. Let’s just take it easy and make the best out of this weekend, okay? You have been looking forward to the video game convention for months now.”

Yeah, until Hyunjin decided to invite his new flame from the art gallery date and include her in your longtime planned schedule.

This saturday was supposed to be filled with bestie-time—overpriced, greasy fast-food, sneaking in liquor in your bra, dressing up in matching costumes and getting as many free goodies as possible, all whilst test-playing the new DLCs and versions of your favourite games.

Hyunjin has noticed that your mood has shifted to something else—where once was anger, there is a shade of disappointment and sadness decorating your face now.

“Hey, angel, why don’t you show me your costume, hm? Did you manage to make the last adjustment?”

A smile welcomes your mimics now, especially when Hyunjin gets up from his assigned seat and takes a few steps towards you. His hand finds your own, fingers entangled with each other, as he helps you get up.

“Yeah, I did. I can show you.”

He softly nods, while his body disconnects with yours again when you walk towards your wardrobe. You get hit with a wide selection of clothes—all unorganised. Skimming through the different fabrics, your fingers catch the material they have been searching for—a dark, deep purple dress, shimmering even in the dim shade of your fairy lights that are shrouding your room in a warm colour.

The dress feels both so soft on the inside and a little scratchy on the outside, thanks to the billion particles of glitter attached to it. Hyunjin’s eyes widen, once you pull the costume out and carefully lay it on your bed so it doesn’t get creased.

“Woah, the colours are astonishing,” Hyunjin whispers as he takes in the full glance of the dress.

“Should I put it on?” You ask then, finding his gaze.

He nods, hastily, eager to see what it looks like, before he rushes towards the door, “Just tell me when you’re done.”

Oh, you get the hint now. But it feels very weird making Hyunjin leave your bedroom when the both of you have seen each other in swimsuits plenty of times. There’s no difference to underwear, right?

“Don’t play dumb. I’ll be quick. Besides that, I need someone to tie the strings at the back, I can’t reach them.”

Your best friend nods, before he turns around on his feet again but decides at the last minute to direct his head in another direction—out of respect.

Little has he realised that, now in front of the wardrobe, he can see your reflection very clearly thanks to the large mirror. But luckily, you’re standing the other way around, so he only has to withstand the picture of your bare back and your bottom covered in your panties, granting him a good view.

Fuck. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, physically. But, unfortunately, that’s all there is for him. You’re his best friend and he wants the connection to stay this way—sadly, his emotional desire for you isn’t strong enough for something serious to happen and according to the suspicions your shared friend Minho has (that you may have a little crush on the tall, peach-haired guy) makes him feel uncomfortably awful.

The more he thinks about it, the more he is drifting off in his own thoughts, regretting having invited Eunji to your long awaited convention weekend. He wasn’t really aware of it, not really taking it seriously and he hopes it’s not as deep as Minho makes it seem.

But all his doubts, all those contemplations vanish away when you turn around and he copies your motion. The glitter fills his whole vision and Hyunjin is at a total loss for words—the fact you’re cosplaying one of his favourite characters out of the game you have been playing for years makes this even better.

“You look… unbelievable.”

A smile finds your face, as you thank him for the compliment. You try everything to not let his words get to your head. Especially when you catch a glimpse of your own figure in the mirror, realising you really look as beautiful as ever.

Hyunjin’s eyes stay glued on yours, until a vibrating sound echoes from across the room. Your best friend walks towards where his phone is located, catching it between his fingers as his view lingers on the bright screen.

Your heart breaks a little when you grasp that the smile that’s on his face now seems so much realer. Fuller. More meaningful.

“It’s just Eunji asking where and when to meet tomorrow but I will just pick her up and we can collect you at the subway station. Is that alright?”

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

“Sure,” you exhale, taking a few steps towards your wardrobe again.

Once you’re out of Hyunjin’s sight—his whole face attached to his display—you get changed again, hovering the thin fabric over your head but struggling at the task of untying the strings at the back.

“Do you need help?” Hyunjin offers when he hears your grunts, turning around in the process.

“No, I don’t. I can do this myself.”

Your words leave your mouth harsher than intended and necessary. A well deserved scoff hits you next, followed by your best friend mumbling, “Jesus Christ, you’re extraordinarily bitchy today.”

This time you don’t answer.

“You should get going, Hyun.”

He gets the hint this time. Although, not completely. He simply believes it’s the piled up stress taking over your last nerve as he doesn’t realise what big role he plays in this chaos—unintentionally.

So, he walks towards the door of your room, softly laying his hands on your half-naked back, untying the strings in one swift motion and you let him.

“See you tomorrow afternoon,” he says, while his palm collides with the door knob. “Sleep well.”

A few minutes pass by, as you clean up the space in your bedroom—getting rid of the empty beer bottles and paper boxes. You have toned down the intensity of your fairy lights by a few levels, before you rush to the bathroom to begin with your nighttime routine.

Once you’re back in your usual habitat—in front of your computer—with a nice, hot cup of herbal tea, your eyes witness an unread private message from a few minutes ago.

When you take in the letters of the username that sent it to you on Discord, your eyes widen.

No way.

You gasp. Then you scoff.

And then you reread the text once more.

five_star_m1chelin [23:17]: sorry for the message earlier, this wasn’t supposed to be sent to the group chat

What is his intention behind that? On one hand it’s not that deep—it’s just a game as Hyunjin says—but on the other hand you feel like he owes you way more than this.

So, you decide to reply.

you [23:31]: and this makes it better?

The guy behind the other display really didn’t mean it this way—even though it’s absolutely hard to believe. But, well, as cliché as it sounds for a gamer and young guy working in IT business, his interactions with the opposite sex are rare. He always thinks that teasing gets him somewhere but he leaves out the misunderstandings texting generates in his calculations.

A quick sound tells you he sent another message.

five_star_m1chelin [23:32]: no, no but I still wanted to apologise in general. I can be a bit rude sometimes.

Oddly enough you relate to this a lot—especially on days like these when the glass is half full, waiting to be spilled all over the surface it’s standing on, once another droplet gets connected to the liquid inside.

You hesitate. You don’t really get where this conversation is supposed to get you. But, probably, it’s not even that deep. He just had the decency to apologise for something he did. You should really stop overanalysing every word people use around you. It’s not that deep, you are totally sure.

Until the screen reads ‘incoming voice call’.

For fuck’s sake, what does he want now? This is getting weird.

However, you pick it up without batting an eyelid.

“Hi. It’s me,” the deep voice echoes from your speakers.

“Yeah, no shit,” you reply impulsively.

The guy takes a few seconds, before a shy, almost embarrassed chuckle escapes his lips.

“Ah, yes. I’m already regretting this.”

You roll your eyes at his words.

“So you confess that you just called to annoy me more?”

He snickers once more, this time a little less timid.

“N-No, I wasn’t really thinking if I’m honest–“

“–nothing new.”

He lets out a breath, poking his cheeks from the inside with his tongue but you can’t see him. Fuck, there’s something about you being so direct, not thinking before you speak sometimes that makes him lose his mind.

“I deserved that a lot,” he says.

But you’re not in for a nice chitchat, especially not with him. Although it’s not a secret that you could listen to his voice on repeat, like a new song you are obsessing over, destined to shoot to the top of your most played tracks on Spotify.

“Listen,” you begin again, this time actually trying to sound nice, “I had a rough week and I really need to get some rest. I also have plans with my friend tomorrow and have to get up early.”

“That Jinnie guy?”

Yeah. Your bestie has the cringiest username out there. Jinnie_piscesboy. He created this account when he was thirteen years old, though, so he is excused.

“Yeah, him.”

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the male voice says. For some reason it fits him. You start wondering what he looks like again, until you regain power over your brain and you tell him your own name.

“Y/N…” he repeats with a husky whisper, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud and forgot to mute his speaker for a second.

Fuck. You’ve never expected a sound so pretty to spill from his lips. The way he repeats the syllables makes your head dizzy. If there is such a thing as being attracted to someone’s voice, you sure are when it comes to him.

“Well then, Y/N,” he speaks again, making you absolutely insane just with a few words. “Sweet dreams.”

Not quite in favour of the last piece of sanity in your body, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice this night, as the deep melody still lingers in your ears.

🎮

As expected, you wake up a little too late but still manage to meet Hyunjin and Eunji at the subway station on time. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they are already holding hands, expectantly waiting for you at the platform. Well, Hyunjin at least. Eunji has a very bored expression on her face. Although you can’t lie, she is very pretty. You get why Hyunjin might find her attractive.

“Oh, we brought this for you,” your best friend says, as he pushes the plastic cup of fresh iced coffee into your hand. You don’t question that he decided for a cold drink during these temperatures.

“Thanks,” you say, before your gaze switches towards the girl beside him.

“This is Eunji,” Hyunjin says then, pulling her towards him as he places his big hand on her shoulder and she whimpers a little at the sudden contact.

That’s when the spirals of absolute bullshit start running around in your head. You wonder if he has touched her like this before, if they shared a kiss or if his name spilled from her lips when he was possibly deep inside–

“You good?”

You hastily nod at your friend’s question, as you correct the way your long coat is sticking to your figure. The combination of iced coffee and a costume revealing so much skin underneath that thin jacket isn’t the best idea of the century, you must admit.

“Yeah, sure. Should we go?”

It’s once you’re inside the cramped wagon, that you realise that neither Hyunjin nor Eunji came in a cosplay to the event. Sure, your best friend never agreed on putting on some outfit like you did, but something tells you he didn’t do it because of her.

You saw the look on her face when she took in a glance of your glittery makeup. You’re not judging her, she seems like a decent girl but you’re not entirely neutral here. At least you notice your emotions before they can be set free this time.

It is definitely called luck that you purchased the full-day tickets in advance, when you spot the ridiculously long line of people waiting in front of the venue. Once you're inside, the three of you rush towards the cloakroom, letting the employee stuff away the clothing you don’t need.

And that’s when you notice the look on Eunji’s face—an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and judgement, as if she’s both admiring you for your bold outfit choice but is silently evaluating how her respect for you decreases with every square centimetre of skin that you are showing.

What a pity. You really wanted to like her.

“You okay, darling?”

If she wants to play this game her way, you are happy to adapt.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just… aren’t you cold?”

Translate as you look like a slut.

“Nah, I’m feeling quite hot, if you ask me.”

Hyunjin suppresses a chuckle. You, on the other hand, celebrate the mischievous smirk this situation causes to appear on your glittering face.

“Should we check out a few games?” Your best friend asks once the conversation comes to a stuck.

Eunji nods but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to say more.

You’re soon learning she’s not a girl’s girl. She is not here for support and it’s nothing personal towards you. The way her eyes travel down the form of so many other cosplayers, especially female ones in tight and revealing outfits.

Maybe you’re not doing her justice and creating an opinion too soon, but everything about her makes you uncomfortable.

This is beyond being jealous of her. If you think about it, you don’t really care about Hyunjin dating her anymore.

But what is a real thorn in your flesh is her general behaviour and attitude.

You wonder how Hyunjin picked her up at an art gallery when she has to make stupid comments on everything that crosses her vision. But maybe that’s just another cliché that fits. An hour may have passed by now, but the tension grew so much thicker, you want to cut it with a knife.

Although, the annoyed look on her face and the proud one on Hyunjin’s, whenever someone greets you and asks for a picture—probably adoring the same character of your favourite video game—gives you an intense confidence boost.

“We wanted to check out the merch counter, Eunji is searching for gifts for a few friends,” Hyunjin announces then and you wonder if that’s a hint that they need some time alone.

You don’t feel angry anymore, not even disappointed. It simply leaves you… sad. As if he is betraying you which he technically isn’t.

“Sure, I will get in line for the new DLC then. Whenever you’re ready you can just look for me and save some time this way while I’m waiting for you guys.”

Hyunjin pulls you into a quick but still tight hug, as he whispers, “You’re the best.”

And you want to combust at the furious look Eunji is throwing your way with a thousand tiny splinters. This is some kindergarten bullshit here. It’s getting ridiculous. You may have a small crush on your best friend—although you start doubting it more and more as if the feelings are slowly fading away—but you don’t have a chance with him anyway.

She should notice by now. It’s so incredibly obvious how deep you are in the friendzone, if there was one.

But for once you try to ignore all these thoughts since they aren’t getting you anywhere. You’ve waited for the video game convention for so long, she is not gonna ruin it.

Luckily, the line subsides faster than you expect, probably because the organiser put some logic in it, when they decided to create two of them. You’re getting so hyped up that you have completely forgotten about your two companions, when it’s finally your turn.

A little later you sit down next to the person who has been waiting in the other line, now occupying the computer next to yours, both at the same table, chairs mere centimetres apart.

You admire the look of his face and it sounds ridiculous but it’s as if his beauty is shining through the whole room, enlightening the venue in a warm light. His long blonde strands cling to his neck and the hairstyle reminds you of Hyunjin, although you have to admit it looks a little better on this guy. You take in every particle of his charms and elegance.

Until he opens his mouth to do some smalltalk with you, while the screens are loading.

“Finally, it’s been such a long time since they announced the DLC. I seriously can’t wait for the new version in a few years.”

The odds are so small. So pathetically small.

But out of all people, you are sure it’s five_star_m1chelin sitting next to you now.

You would recognise that voice out of a million others.

“Also, your cosplay is extremely beautiful.”

Yup. It’s his definitely voice. Doing parkour in your silly little head.

“Thank you, Felix.”

He stares at you.

You look back at him.

Until it clicks.

Felix.

Felix.

You dumbass said his name out loud.

“Y/N?”

Of course he recognises your voice in an instant as well. Not surprising.

But, however, what does surprise you is his next sentence.

“Excuse my choice of words but you’re even hotter than I have imagined you.”

There’s a part of you that wants to react in a way that shows him how annoyed of him you are. Until you realise… that his weird type of compliment actually does something to you. It boosts both your mood and confidence. And you’re done judging people on small little aspects.

“Thank you. You too.”

It’s just now that you realise, when taking a closer look at his own costume, that he is cosplaying the character that is being shipped with your own.

Oh, what a coincidence. This all feels as if you’re suddenly part of the video game—unreal and too good to be true. So good, that you almost forget who is sitting next to you here, until one of the organisers tells you your turns are over.

“Do you… maybe wanna grab something to drink together?”

He scratches the back of his neck while proposing his idea, getting all shy for a moment and you almost find him adorable. Almost.

🎮

It’s been a few hours now, the venue gets emptier and emptier with any minute but due to it being Saturday, the convention will at least be going on until midnight and Felix and you still have so much to explore.

By now, you are a team that works well together when it comes to other fans of your favourite video game wanting to take pictures of the couple you’re cosplaying. You could basically get hired for an acting job for the next version they will publish in a few years.

And from time to time even—you are sure it’s not the gin tonic that Felix paid for telling you this—it feels as if he is looking at you a little too long to solely blame it on your marvellous makeup skills…

“Look,” Felix exhales once you enter the next hall of the convention, as he points at a wheel of fortune, shining in all the colours the rainbow has to offer. When you spot the purple part, you realise it’s the exact same shade like your costume.

“Let’s go, we should spin it.”

Unfortunately, you’re never really lucky when it comes to games like this and today isn’t any different. So, Felix’s turn follows after. He positions his finger at the edge of the plastic surface, before pushing once and watching the colours spin at lightning speed. Your eyes follow the motion attentively, until it comes to a halt.

“Oh, we’ve got a first price winner!” The employee squeals, either indicating this hasn’t happened that often yet or she’s simply overdoing her job. In your opinion.

Felix gets handed a stuffed animal in the form of a baby chick. The way too big eyes are basically staring right into your soul but for some reason, you find it absolutely adorable. Almost as adorable as–

Wait, what?

“It’s for you,” Felix says then, dragging you out of your daydreams.

“Oh– thank you.”

He is cute. You can’t deny it anymore. In a way that is so opposite to how he has behaved online it makes you doubt they are the same person.

“No need to thank me, doll.”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually throws the nickname into the conversation. God, that guy has so many facets it makes your head spin all over again. Almost as fast as the fortune wheel when he spun it a few minutes ago. Almost.

Your face heats up so much but you’re sure, if Eunji was here she wouldn’t be able to accuse you of being cold again.

Speaking of the devil, it’s at this second that her and your best friend decide to come around again, showing up after what has been a few hours.

“There you are, Y/N. We have been looking for you,” Hyunjin says, relieved, as he pulls you into a hug. You can bet that Eunji has the same expression on her face again.

“It’s a big venue, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin nods, as he lets go of you, now standing beside his little fling again.

“Oh, sorry,” you speak, realising you haven’t introduced the guy next to you yet.

“This is Felix.”

The blonde men look at each other but you notice that Felix’s face is filled with a little more friendliness. Hyunjin isn’t judging him or anything, it’s rather as if he hasn’t… expected you to go and find someone else which is very weird considering he is here with Eunji and has basically ignored you for half of the day.

“Nice to meet you,” the smaller one says to your best friend, a smile being shooted his way.

It’s as if something in Hyunjin’s head clicks but the Hyunjin that he is, he needs another second to jump to a conclusion.

“You have a voice that… sounds so familiar. Do we know each other?”

Felix chuckles then, squeezing his lower lip between his teeth like on autopilot, before he finds the gaze of the other one again.

“Yes. It’s five_star_m1chelin. Nice to meet you.”

You can practically see a lightbulb shining above Hyunjin’s head now, as he puts two and two together.

“I’m Hyunjin– oh, this is Eunji,” he introduces his girlfriend or whatever then.

She just waves in his direction and you can read it in her expression—she’s impatiently waiting for your best friend to grant all his attention to her again and leave the both of you alone.

But Hyunjin’s mimics have changed a bit, too. You’re done reading too much between the lines, drawing conclusions where there aren’t any but when Felix lays his hand around your hips—which he has already done before, when waiting in line for your drinks—your best friend’s eyes shoot down to the spot where your bodies connect so innocently.

You get aware of it for a second, until Felix pulls you even closer and you almost drop Bbokkari—the plush chick—in the process. But he catches it, giving it back to you before his lips align with your ears, as he whispers, “Be a little more careful, doll.”

You instantly nod, until you realise again that you are still very much in public and very much standing right in front of Hyunjin and Eunji.

“Actually,” Hyunjin suddenly announces, “we were thinking about leaving. We’ve seen everything around here and we’re getting a little tired.”

You nod, once again, a little surprised about the abrupt plan of your friend.

“Sure, I guess… we will stay a little longer,” you say as if it’s a question but, luckily, Felix is on the same page as you.

“Okay, then I will bring Eunji home. I’ll call you, Y/N.”

There’s something in Hyunjin’s face as if he wants to say more but he can’t because the presence of his girlfriend or God knows what is holding him back from it.

Nonetheless, you exchange a hug—a little more rushed than usual—and tell them to stay safe and text once they’re home. You watch them leave the hall until they are out of sight.

“It seems as if you’re a little jealous, doll,” Felix says then, nonchalantly reaching for your hand as if he has done this a thousand times before.

You have learnt by now that the freckled boy is very touchy but you don’t mind at all—even though you usually don’t like it. It just feels so natural with him.

“But not as jealous as he is.”

You decide to ignore the second part of his sentence. It may seem weird and unforeseen, but after today it doesn’t really matter to you anymore. Hyunjin can go and spend as much time with Eunji as he wants—you’re glad to be here with Felix.

He’s actually giving you a good time and he’s listening to you. Felix doesn’t make you feel like a second choice and you would have never expected that the guy that used to get in constant fights with your last nerve would ever make you feel so… safe and wanted.

The last thing you want is Felix to think that there is something going on between you and your best friend. Yes, until twenty four hours ago you were convinced that Hyunjin is the man of your dreams but the more you spend time with Felix, the more those feelings seem to vanish.

Of course it’s a little early to jump to any emotional conclusions.

You may be delusional, but that’s where you draw the line.

However, you can say that Felix brightens up your mood a lot more than Hyunjin has achieved in all these past weeks.

Maybe, and just maybe, you have never had a crush on the latter but just fell in love with the idea of it—driven by familiarity.

Or maybe, and really just maybe, the chemistry between Felix and you is much more intense. You’re like two opposites finding each other, completing each other without being two halves. You may be wired differently—the sunshine boy (that is grumpy online) and the grumpy one (that is—mostly—a sunshine online)—but this only makes the attraction stronger.

But, again. There’s no need to interpret every detail now. What you are sure of is that Felix is making you feel good and that’s a reason enough to be honest with him.

“I am not jealous.”

He chuckles a little. As if he doesn’t believe you but also as if he doesn’t really care. Felix is here with you and the fact you have been spending the whole afternoon and evening with him, is enough he needs to know.

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his deep voice pronouncing those four letters so sensually, you’re embarrassed. After all, you’re still in public and he basically has you wrapped around his fingers with one stupid syllable he has used a few times tonight.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me.”

God, Felix, stop. You’re close to shattering the world record in developing a crush on someone within a few hours.

Calm the fuck down.

“I have never expected that you are capable of saying nice things from all the things you have said online,” you reply then, somewhat gaining control over both your thoughts and the conversation.

“I only say nice things when I truly mean them.”

Yeah. You have lost said control again.

But there’s no time to think anyway, when Felix grabs his hand and guides you towards another hall, finding something that amuses him.

“Another wheel of fortune,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction like a child.

“The odds for you winning again are so low,” you challenge him unintentionally. Maybe you are just not neutral regarding your bad luck with games like these.

“Don’t underestimate me, doll.” Felix counters then. He looks at you, pretending to be hurt until the both of you start laughing.

“How about a bet?”

“Sure,” you answer. “What shall we bet?”

Felix acts as if he is contemplating what to say but something in his expression tells you he has already got an idea.

“If I win the first price again, I’m taking you home tonight. How’s that sound?”

Oh, God.

You remember you are still very much in a public place and there is no reason for him to make your face heat up like fire just with a simple, not so innocent proposition.

But why should you play pretend when that’s all you have been craving this whole day?

“I’m all in, pretty.”

You swear you can see him blush at the nickname, his freckles almost hidden behind a pink layer. Almost.

“Good luck,” you say before Felix positions his hand at the wheel again, giving it a little nudge as he watches the colours merge into one another. When the spinning motion comes to a halt, the both of you have your eyes practically glued on it, patiently waiting for the result.

“What a pity,” Felix says when he realises it wasn’t enough. The employee gives him some type of candy as a consolation prize.

“I would have loved to take you home,” he adds.

Felix unwraps the plastic around the lollipop, before he guides it towards your mouth. As if he has flipped a switch on you, your lips part obediently, inviting the sugary treat in. When the flavours hit your tongue, they turn from sour to sweet.

The tension between the both of you grows thicker within half a second. Felix watches the way the candy disappears inside your mouth, until you open it a bit, entangling your tongue around the blue confectionery. He pulls the lollipop out, as it leaves you with a loud ‘plop’.

“What a pity indeed,” you say, licking over your sugar coated lips with your tongue that still has the blueberry taste on it.

Felix tries the candy then, squinting a little when it turns from sweet to sour.

“Hm, I guess those are the rules of the bet.”

His gaze is still fixated on your lips and the thin layer of sweetness on them.

And then the realisation hits you.

It’s not as if anyone is holding the both of you back anyway—you can decide how tonight will end regardless of what you agreed on two minutes ago.

“Well,” you start then, snitching the candy out of his hand, as you place the candy between your lips again. This time it doesn’t taste as sour. You guide your mouth somewhere else—right beside his ear.

As if you could get caught for what you’re about to say.

As if the venue isn’t getting emptier with each second.

As if the both of you have cared for the past hours in case someone sees you shamelessly flirting all in public.

“You simply said, you will take me home if you win,” the words leave you in whispers, although still audible for him.

“You can still take me somewhere else.”

Felix can’t help himself but blinks his eyes repeatedly when your sentence registers in his head. Then, the freckles hide behind a pink curtain again.

“Are you real or are you a dream?”

The little chuckle that follows from him is absolutely cute.

“I mean, there aren’t as many people here anymore. We can probably search for a more quiet place.”

That’s how you find yourself in one of the more spacious bathrooms a few minutes later, after you practically sprinted there and hastily locked the door behind you.

But before you’re able to start with anything, Felix reaches for your hand—as if he is about to make the most romantic gesture but it turns out he is just guiding you towards the bathroom counter this way.

He aligns his lips with your ears, just how you had been doing mere moments ago. His breath lingers on your skin and it feels as if this is already enough for every cell in your body to scream for more.

“A quiet place it is,” he purrs, “just so you know—I want you to be anything but quiet, baby.”

That’s it. With a single sentence—and everything that has happened so far—he makes sure you are one hundred percent ready to be ruined by him.

The next thing you sense are his lips attached to your bare neck, sensually drawing kisses on them, sucking roughly on your skin. You let out a moan then, out of reflex covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

But Felix has different plans. He carefully pushes your fingers away, while he is meeting your gaze with his own.

“Didn’t I tell you to not be quiet, doll?”

You nod, looking at him like a fawn that has been caught doing something forbidden.

“Words, yeah? Where are you hiding your boldness now?”

“Felix… don’t tease. Please just keep going.”

His eyes darken, playing in harmony with the mischevious smirk that is appearing on his face.

“That’s my good girl.”

Within a second, he hovers his lips all over your jaw, as his hand comes to help—in other words seizing around your throat all so slightly.

It’s ridiculous and you don't know what to blame it on—the gin tonic you had four hours ago that is probably not even working in your system anymore, the wickedness of being in this semi-public cramped space with him, the matching costumes clinging to both your bodies destined to be taken off.

Or a combination of all of the above.

Nevertheless you are sure about one thing: Felix is making you struggle to catch your breath, whenever his hands explore another part of your body—your waist, your hips, your ass, your tits. Unfortunately still all through the fabric of your cosplay.

You’re so deeply hypnotised, totally occupied in the way he is granting your body so much attention with so little effort.

Until a vibrating sound echoes through the room, coming from your back pocket.

At first you ignore it—concentrating on the pretty boy in front of you instead—but the noise repeats itself a few more times and you’re getting worried it’s important.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick.”

“No worries, darling,” Felix says, as he plays with your hair, watching you touch the screen of your phone.

“It was just a quick text from Hyunjin. I’ll turn it off,” you let him know, as you press the button on your device, before storing it in your back pocket again.

“What does he want?”

Felix wouldn’t usually ask such things but the fact you were practically bombarded with texts from your best friend creates an uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach.

Chill, dude, he tells himself. She isn’t your girlfriend or anything, slow the fuck down with your emotions.

“He says they are home and put a weird emphasis on the fact he is staying at her place.”

Felix scoffs. “No offense but that guy is weird.”

You’re getting second guesses now. Not because of Felix but because of the way this situation might appear to him.

So, you have to come clear about something first.

“I don’t want to make the impression that I’m thinking of you as a rebound.”

Felix’s face softens, as he brushes over your cheek with the back of your hand.

“I know that you don’t. Please don’t worry about it.”

You nod, “So, where were we?”

“Take a seat, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your waist and places you on top of the counter.

And in less than a second he has got you right under his spell again, when he this time aligns his lips with your own.

You can clearly say—apart from being drunk on arousal—that this is the most passionate kiss you have ever received in your life. Truly hypnotising like a hyperfixation on a video game release you have been impatiently waiting for.

Especially, when he carefully—in order not to wreck your cosplay—pull the part of your outfit aside that is covering your breasts. Well, not anymore. Felix’s lips are wrapped around one of the sensitive buds now, the other once pinched between two of his fingers.

But he doesn’t stay in this position for that long—he wants to explore every inch of your body, all of it. So, in a swift but sensual motion he sinks down to his knees, his head on the same level as your lower stomach now.

Felix’s hands are attached to your upper thighs, as his face is wandering upwars again to be squished between your tits for one last time before he slowly creates a path of kisses, going south.

He looks insanely beautiful like this. Perfect, almost. A really pretty boy between your legs, excitedly taking in the view of your body in the costume of his favourite character. This is truly a gamer’s wet dream come true.

“You’re so breathtaking,” he says then, as if he has been reading your mind and decided to turn the compliment towards you.

You could swear his voice is even an octave deeper now—if that’s physically possible—and you’re melting in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you cry out, when his hands slide underneath the skirt part of your costume. They brush over your clothed core next, applying soft circling motion at a steady speed that’s making you unintentionally say goodbye to all logical thoughts that are left in your brain.

“You like that, baby?”

You can’t do much more except for letting out a high-pitched moan, nodding to the rhythm of his movements. Felix uses both his hands to let your underwear glide down your thighs then, revealing your glistening cunt that is waiting to be devourt by him.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

He’s not really waiting for an answer this time. He has indeed been waiting too long. Instead of wasting any more second, Felix dives right in, as the tip of his tongue collides with your clit, before he adds a long, sensual stripe to it.

“You taste so good, doll,” he hums, as his saliva mixes together with your precum, making you even wetter than you already are.

“You like my voice, don’t you?” Felix asks and you’re very much surprised he’s only now dropping that question.

“Y-Yeah– a lot,” you chuckle, feeling caught.

“Hm, I’ve noticed, baby.”

His tongue can’t only be considered heavenly when it comes to speaking, he is in fact more than talented when it comes to those unholy circling motions he provides right where you need them the most.

And as if that isn’t already enough—enough stimulation, sensation, satisfaction—he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside your hole, feeling your walls immediately clench around them.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises when he witnesses your head falling back in pleasure, your hands holding onto the slippery counter for dear life. It doesn’t take you that much longer to fall apart—especially, when he curls his fingers inside you as his tongue keeps flicking over your sensitive bud, driving you over the edge completely.

Felix’s pace decreases then, while he helps you ride out your high and in an instant he is standing on his feet again, capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself but you don’t mind, particularly once his moans are transferred towards you and that deep growl makes you almost see stars again, untouched.

“If you were mine, I would make you walk around in this costume every day, fuck–“

Felix’s words are straightforward and you adore it, so you waste no time and find the hem of his pants, pulling them down with the underwear in one swift motion, freeing his hardened length.

“I wanna call you a nerd but I was just about to say the same.”

He chuckles and then kisses you one last time, before he spits in his hand and wraps it around his throbbing cock, smearing the saliva all over it. Felix watches you spread your legs for him and he almost cums there and then but manages to hold himself back.

“You ready, doll?”

His eyes find your own again, putting you into another scene of trance.

“Definitely.”

The tip of his cock grazes over your sensitive, almost overstimulated clit. Liquids get mixed together, combined into one, just like your bodies when he finally pushes himself into you. You need a second to adjust to the feeling and Felix pulls out, just to go all in this second time—now bottoming you out so deliciously, you’re afraid you might drool all over the costume.

“Better hold on tight, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your hips and starts thrusting into you with a slower, steady pace.

And it seems as if he can’t only go deep with his voice.

You decide to position your arms around his neck, pulling him closer from time to time so you can align your lips with his—the kisses mostly consist of teeth and tongue but you don’t mind.

The scene is so wild, so overwhelming in a good way, you’re for sure you will be thinking of this moment for the rest of your life. A shitty weekend doing a one hundred and eighty degree turn and transforming into the best time of your life anyone has ever granted you sexually—and emotionally, considering how well the annoying gamer of the rival team and you seem to get along in real life.

And, God, the way he is filling you up so deliciously, the way he is playing with your tits again and the way his other hand is drawing those addicting circles on your clit—he’s bringing you closer to that sweet relief within seconds if not less.

“Give me another one, baby, you can do it,” Felix orders, as if he is able to read your mind when in reality he simply feels you tightening around his pulsating cock.

You hastily nod, following his command. Your vision gets filled with stars and the sensation rushes through your body, this time even more intense and you cry out his name over and over again.

“Good girl, what an obedient doll you are,” Felix praises you once again, never stopping with pounding into your aching hole, although you notice him getting sloppier.

“I wish you’d let me cum all over the dress but I think that’s not the smartest idea, baby.”

You chuckle, “Hmm. I-I have nothing to change into here.”

“What a pity,” Felix says, picking up his pace as he is now fucking into you so mercilessly, you keep screaming out syllables that sound like his name.

“What a pity indeed,” you exhale.

“You can cum on my tits, though.”

Felix’s eyes roll back and he is questioning yet again if this is reality or just some fantasy that has been playing in his mind so many times before.

“But only if you ask nicely,” you add, when you notice his fucked out face.

“Fuck, you’re s-something e-else, doll,” he stutters, dangerously close to the verge of snapping.

“But please– let me– let me cum all over your tits.”

You’re done torturing him, Felix has earned everything he wishes for.

“Go on, be a good boy, baby.”

At the very last second, he pulls his cock out of you, directs it towards your tits as he leans over. In an impulsive moment, you reach for his length then, replacing his hand with your own, as you stroke him a few more times until he can’t take it no more.

Hot spurts of cum land on your bare skin then, painting your body so beautifully, Felix reminds himself to take a mental note of the view, storing it in his head to relive this sight whenever he feels the need to.

However, once the both of you have remembered how to breathe properly again, Felix helps you clean up as best as possible and gets the both of you dressed again. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, making you heart skip a beat.

You thought you were wired differently and maybe you are but that’s what makes the both of you complete—physically, mentally, spiritually and you can’t wait to learn more about him.

Felix pulls out his phone from his jeans pocket, unlocks it and basically holds it right under your nose.

“What’s this?”

You are a little perplexed, that’s your excuse for the rhetorical question.

“My phone, duh. You can give me your number, if you like. So I can invite you on a date.”

Felix is glad you can’t hear his heart racing as if it's doing a marathon and trying to win the gold medal.

But the anxiety fades away in an instant, when you smile at him.

“A very odd order of dating events but sounds like a great idea.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I swear I blame aespa’s song for this, it has been on repeat for the past week for me 💜 thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going.

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

only fools fall for you | hyunjin sm au

synopsis:

you’re excited to finally get a new start at university, majoring in the thing you love the most; dancing, and you’re positive that absolutely nothing can ruin the quintessential college experience for you.

that is, until you run into your lifelong rival, hwang hyunjin and to make things worse…you can’t seem to get rid of him.

pairing: dancer! hyunjin x dancer! reader

fic type: social media au + written parts

genre: college au, angst, enemies to lovers, smut, mature content, friends with benefits, some fluff, slowburn (!)

status: complete

if you’d like to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here! thank you so much.

masterlist:

playlist

yns squad

hyunjins squad

1. a fresh start

2. not a cat, minho

3. i need new friends

4. number one fan

5. a hopefully hot boy

6. bane of my existence

7. i blame felix

8. a beautiful dancer

9. did you just defend hyunjin

10. be more passionate

11. the enemy you know

12. should i be offended

13. is this even legal

14. the bar is so low

15. not a bad kisser

16. ready, ready baby

17. the morning after

18. what happened last night

19. showstopping

20. being sick

21. im gonna kill him

22. a pretty face

23. dramatic entrance

24. distracted

25. communication can help

26. the world would be a better place

27. get back at him

28. what i want

29. nothing to hide

30. you’ve matured

31. beautiful face but a terrible personality

32. one and done

33. you sound whipped

34. i want you to

35. does this make up for it

36. don’t say no

37. play with fire

38. weather forecast, wet

39. more important than ramen

40. you up?

41. not fighting anymore

42. english lit can wait

43. am i allowed to kiss you

44. red lights

45. the view

46. corn dogs

47. chaeprincess

48. i hate people

49. looking out for hyunjin

50. talk to yeji

51. how can you be sure ?

52. happy birthday han

53. everything okay ?

54. what happened in high school

55. happy for you

56. safe space

57. what’s kkami

58. yeji knows

59. moving on

60. you need to get out

61. unforgettable night

62. daisy

63. hatred is a strong word

64. not afraid to show it

65. hopeless romantic

66. not your business

67. have faith

68. little star

69. epilogue part 1 : the world is a better place

70. epilogue part 2: look where that got us