Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jisung thinks Minho might genuinely be the one .

He knows he’s said it before, but he plans to never say it about anyone else ever again. Because he really, really means it this time.

The thought strikes him as he sheds his denim jacket over the back of the chair and unearths his work stuff from his rucksack; piling the contents neatly onto the cafe table. He first lays out his notebook and pen, then his laptop, but his fingers skim hesitantly over his tablet. The realisation makes him pause.

Jisung had been hyping himself up to come to the cafe all morning. A decision he’d made somewhere between waking up to the kiss Minho had placed into his matted hair, his cheek still squished against Minho’s pillow, and rinsing out the mugs of coffee Minho had made that morning. 

Minho’s fingers had skimmed his waist as he did it, his nose somehow finding its way into the crook of his neck like its just always meant to be there.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Minho had murmured into his skin. And then, perhaps a little less reasonably, he’d pulled a way and pouted. “I hate it when you turn your back to me. I miss your pretty face.”

Jisung had scoffed out a laugh and grumbled something about object permanence issues; pretended he was irritated when Minho took to fumbling his ass instead, “ although, this is pretty too.”

It feels a bit hypocritical now, though, as he invades the corner booth seat in the cafe Minho owns — and prepares himself to spend an entire day working there. Just so he can be within Minho’s gravitational pull. All he needs is his bonsai and a few discarded monster cans and he’s basically packed up his entire work from home set up.

He finally gives in and adds the tablet and his digital pen to the pile and tries not to overthink.

At the counter, Jeongin has only just finished starting up the espresso machines, he places the specials board at the front of the counter and observes Jisung with a small quirk of his eyebrow. But he doesn’t seem as surprised as maybe he should be.

He grins and starts jabbing his pin into the till. “Jisung-ssi.” He sings. “How are you this morning? You’re in early. I’m surprised you didn’t come in with Minho-hyung first thing, unless he smuggled you in with the pastry delivery.”

Jisung laughs nervously, but Jeongin doesn’t seem to be slightest bit deterred by his awkwardness. “Vanilla matcha latte? I’ll bring it over to you.” he takes the prongs and fishes out a raspberry croissant as well.

Jisung rings the sleeves of his cardigan. “Um, great. Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

Jeongin raises another eyebrow (a trick Jisung wonders if he’s picked from Minho). “Jisung - hyung — ah, sorry. You’re 2000’s, right? Can I call you hyung? I feel like I’ll be seeing so much of you, that it’ll be weirder if I don’t.”

He doesn’t wait for Jisung to reply, or elaborate on how he knows Jisung’s birth year.

“Anyways, I think if I tried to charge you, Minho-hyung would take the money out of my pay check. So please, go sit down.”

Jisung decides to do as he’s told and shuffles back to his seat. In the few weeks Jisung had known Jeongin, his customer service skills seemed to have deteriorated significantly. But as he observes Jeongin greet the only other customer with a little bow and chirpy walks the older lady through the specials board, he decides to take it as a good thing.

It means Minho must talk about Jisung, even when he’s not here. He’s mentioned his birth year and what pastries he must like and given the impression that he tends to keep Jisung around long enough that Jeongin should call him Hyung.

Jisung kicks his feet a little giddily under the table. Minho must like him back.

Jisung takes in the ambience of the coffee shop, Minho seems to be knitted into every corner. There’s a cheese plant growing in one corner by a loveseat, which Jisung knows has come from a cutting of the one in Minho’s living room; there’s pictures of Minho’s three cats adoring the walls and Jisung wonders if the other customers think they’re stock photos. Jisung knows they’re not, because he’s met them. Several times now.

Minho – his new (almost) boyfriend. Who owns a coffee shop and has three little cats he refers to as his brothers and isn’t one bit bothered that Jisung can’t cook because he likes to do it for him.

Minho is, in every single way, a leading shoujo love interest.

Jisung wishes he could say they met here, swaddled in Minho’s very essence; where their eyes would of met over the perfect heart Minho had decorated in Jisung’s matcha. 

Less romantically, they’d matched on Grindr.

Jisung’s not really a frequent user of Grindr. He never really talks to anybody, instead preferring to scroll through men, match with them and never respond again. A 2am hobby he liked to cycle through every few months as a psychological reaction to Felix reposting his new sporty boyfriend Seungmin on his story, or after binge watching gay youtubers and being reminded that love is, unfortunately, real. 

But there had just been something different about Minho’s profile. Maybe it was the promise that he’d turn up with banana bread for anyone who managed to get out of the talking stage, or because instead of immediately sending Jisung an unsolicited dick pic he actually had made conversation. The bar was low, but…  

When Minho had turned up to the fancy restaurant he had suggested with a little tub of banana bread, Jisung knew it wasn’t a bad decision. 

Minho is,also freakishly good at sex. Or maybe he’s just a freak. Jisung thinks he’s an angel. 

Jisung doesn’t really know what it is about him that looks like he’s begging to be fucked against Minho’s kitchen table, but they were barely through Minho’s apartment door before Minho had him bent over. He trailed  feverous kisses down his neck, fingers burning imprints into his back as Minho pushed his back into an arch and used his free hand to bunch up Jisung’s nice shirt. He’d even ironed it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about creases anymore. 

Minho had nipped at his back before he dropped to his knees, started to work Jisung’s trousers down his thighs. 

“Are you clean?” Minho murmured, tongue hot against the back of Jisung’s knee. 

“Yeah,” Jisung had gasped. 

“Yeah, me too.” Minho panted, “I’m gonna eat you out, if that’s ok.” His hand reached up, squeezing Jisung’s ass insistently.

“Ah I thought - shit,” Minho’s teeth had found their way between Jisung’s thighs, finger nails dug into flesh as he forced them to part wider. “I thought you were a top?”

Minho’s head popped back up to Jisung’s side, eyes wide. He looked a little like a meerkat, and somehow in the most sexually charged moment of his life, Jisung still had a second to think he’s so cute. 

“I am.” Minho blinked. “Top, verse. I don’t mind power bottoming, though. I just wanted to be ready, in case you didn’t feel like bottoming, it’s a lot of work…I wanted to be ready for whatever you wanted.”

Jisung’s brain short circuited. Such a small gesture, but still. 

  I’m going to fucking marry him. 

 – So. The point is, they’re definitely compatible in that element. In the two and a bit months they’ve been hooking up, Jisung doesn’t think he’s came as much or as hard as he has. And that’s really saying something. 

Not because he’s having insane sex every weekend (Well, now he is). In reality, Jisung hasn’t had that many partners. Two serious relationships that he tries very hard to forget and he could count his hookups on one hand. 

But lack of sexual experience has never stopped Jisung from being a bit of a freak. 

The thought draws him back down to his tablet. He unlocks it to find that he’d left it on the last project he’d been working on, and hastily dims down the brightness. 

On the screen, there’s a half finished digital sketch of two men. One has their face smushed against a table, there’s a scatter of pastries littering the cartoon table, cakes oozing filling from where they’ve been smushed and deserts glistening, dripping. The man behind him is currently squirting a line of cream down his back, it makes a little, fluffy heart. Because Jisung might be a bit of a freak, but he’s also sentimental! 

“So sweet, Jagiya. Do you taste sweet, too?” 

Jisung blushes as he reviews the work, as if he wasn’t the deviant who had drawn in it, then his brow settles into a hard line. He notices the grip the top has on the bottom’s ass doesn’t look squidgy enough, and then the shadowing over one of the little cakes is off. 

Jisung may be horny, but he’s also a self critic. He is, in some ways, a professional. 

It’s a word he struggles to associate with himself. But it’s technically true. 

Jisung is a manhwa writer. Or more specifically, a Boy Love and occasional Girl Love author. He wouldn’t really say he’s got much of a following, but his friends seem to disagree. 

Hyunjin, who had been his roommate turned rival turned eventual (begrudging) best friend in Art School had once described it as a “ cult following that would only grow if you swallow your pride and draw Furry’s. ”

Felix seems to always echo that sentiment. They’d actually met on a League of Legends chat and clicked, Jisung had eventually revealed his secret identity of drawing LoL and Overwatch yuri on twitter. His origin story from 2019. He definitely hadn’t expected Felix to reveal that he was not only one of Jisung’s followers, but a fan. Jisung hadn’t even considered he might have fans. 

A few years later, he drew Felix AkaLynn yuri for his 21st Birthday. Felix had cried and called the literal porn the “ most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me”. The rest is history.

Felix and Hyunjin also happen to be one of the very few people to know about his hobby - or, career. His family still think he works as a Marketing Executive, even though it’s been almost a year since he handed in his notice to pursue writing full time. 

He has over 50K followers on twitter, and recently hit 20K on Pixiv. His webtoon following is a respectable 30K, maybe a little less than expected based on his other sites stuff - but then again, not much of his content could really be considered appropriate enough to make the Webtoon home page. 

Jisung’s scrolls to the next panel and tilts his head, and on that note tries to decide whether the precum leaking from the tip should have the same texture as the glossy icing, or more smooth like the whipped cream. This piece he’s working on is actually a thank you for reaching 500 patreon followers, featuring two characters from his mini series. 

He supposes it’s not bad, but due to the - nature - of his work, it’s not something he ever feels like he can bring up. And based on previous situations, not something he feels he can casually drop in on a date. 

So, Minho might also still think he’s a Marketing Executive. But it’s fine, it’s not lying - it’s just withholding the truth until Jisung can be sure about him. 

Because he really, really likes Minho. And not just because Minho lets him eat his ass back - but because he’s kind, funny and seems to get Jisung in such a different way, it feels like they navigate the same world for once in his life. Minho makes him feel a little less like an alien. 

And he is not going to let being a freak ruin this for him again. Not when everything could be just perfect.

A matcha latte is placed down in front of him and a warm hand finds its way to the back of his neck, the scrape of fingernails against his nape literally dragging him out of his thoughts. 

Jisung jumps slightly and quickly locks his tablet, looks up and finds Minho smiling back down at him. Minho’s fingers slip their way into his hair and tug. 

With his throat exposed; Minho leans down and plants a tender kiss on his Adam’s Apple before letting up and sliding into the booth across from him. Jisung’s surprised the table doesn’t tremble with how hard his heart is beating.

“You can’t be here.” Minho frowns, pouty. His ankle finds Jisung’s under the table and they lock. “You’re way too distracting. Who let you walk out the house looking like that? ”

“You did.” Jisung says automatically.

He glances over his own outfit, it’s hardly scandalous. He’s in an oversized red cardigan draped over an equally massive white t shirt. Although he’d gone home to grab his work stuff, it’s the same outfit he’d packed for Minho’s last night. The most amount of skin he’s showing is the slither between where his jorts stop at the knees and his pulled up socks start.

It’s like Minho can hear his thoughts or something. He uses his strong legs to pull Jisung further down into his seat so he can slide his hand underneath the table and toy with the hem of Jisung’s jorts.

"Mm, it’s all this oversized clothing.” Minho huffs, his fingers skim just under Jisung’s knee, making him squirm and giggle. “It leaves too much to the imagination, which makes it especially hard when you already know what’s underneath to stop imagining it.” 

Minho shakes his head gravely and gives the jorts a tug. “And these? You can’t walk around with your ankles out, you want me to try and serve customers when I’m thinking about your ankles ?”

“My ankles are covered, it’s only my calves on show!” Jisung giggles a little breathlessly.

Minho gives his leg one last squeeze and finally lets go. “ Hmm, Jisung’s calves.”

“You’re so weird!” Jisung splutters, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. It’s like it radiates off his body and bleeds into everything he does. “But I like weird.” Jisung pauses, casts an anxious thought back to his dissociation spiral. “…You think I’m normal, right?”

“Hm,” Minho taps his chin, pretending to consider. And then, equally as soft “But I like normal.”

The confession is bitter sweet. Minho likes Jisung as he knows him now, so he needs to be that, he needs to protect this version of himself for as long as possible.

“Drink your matcha before it goes cold. Do you like my latte art?”

Jisung looks down at his mug, there’s a white blob with two holes in its middle, two connecting triangles and a squiggly line.

Jisung takes a stab in the dark. “Soonie?”

“That’s clearly Doongie.” Minho deadpans. “Now, why’ve you set up camp in my cafe, hm? Are you moving in?”

Jisung takes a gulp of his latte so he can hide his blush behind the cup, blooming at the mention of moving in with Minho. “Uhm. I have a day in leu. From my job as a marketing executive.”

“So, a day off?” Minho cocks a singular eyebrow.

Jisung shrugs, the lie sticking a little. “Sure.”

Jisung in fact does not have a day off, it’s actually completely the opposite. He’s working on a tight deadline, needs to submit some drafts for a new concept he’d pitched in exchange for a series deposit by Monday, and none of its gone past his beta yet.

 Jisung has had the same beta reader since 2014, Chan, who had been the first and maybe only friend he’d really made in High School, after moving back to Korea from Malaysia. Chan had always been so supportive of his creative dreams. He can’t imagine sharing drafts of basically his brain with anyone else, but Chan has a fancy producing job now, and when he’s not being a workaholic he works normal Monday - Friday, with overtime. 

So he needs to get this over to him before Saturday, tomorrow , if he wants feedback. 

“What’s all this then?” Minho’s eyes land on the tablet and digital pen, his eyebrows knit together into a confused frown. “Sungie, I didn’t know you draw.”

Jisung takes a subtle, calming breath. Everything’s fine, he had prepped for this.

“Yeah, just something I do to pass the time.” Jisung chirps.

He doesn’t even wait for Minho to ask to see any drawings, he’s already got this base covered. He taps in his code and opens up a pre-curated folder filled with safe drawings of landscapes and cute animals. He passes it over to Minho. “You can flick through, if you’d like.”

Minho gives him a questioning look, but begins to slowly scroll through. “Hm, with how secretive you were when we first met, I didn’t think you’d be so willing to show me.”

Jisung blinks at him. He doesn’t think he’s been called that a day in his life. If anything, he’s a chronic oversharer. A terminal yapper.

“Secretive?”

Minho hums. “When you first came over, you mumbled about how my strawberry tea cups reminded you of Nana, and then acted like you had spilled a government secret…until I said that I had brought them because they reminded me of Nana too..” Minho’s lips twitched. “Then you yapped about it for an hour.”

Jisung flushes brighter. “It was not an hour.”

“It was definitely close, you didn’t even pause until my mouth was literally wrapped around - “

Jisung kicks him under the table, Minho still grins like he won. “My point is, you seem to be a bit guarded about your interests, that’s all.” He leans across and hands back over the tablet. “But I’m happy you’re sharing, I want to know all of you. And they’re really good, Sungie. Really pretty paintings, you’re really talented. I love the doggies.”

Jisung beams under the praise. He doesn’t confess that he’s already started a drawing of Minho’s cats, in fear of sounding too eager. It’s going to be an oil painting on a physical campus. He hopes to have it done by the time Minho’s birthday comes around.

“Thanks, Hyung. I thought I might spend the day here drawing, maybe we could get dinner after?” He hopes he doesn’t sound too eager. Then, a bit more desperately, “My treat?”

Minho snorts. “Your company is already the treat, Bug.” He pulls himself to his feet and presses a kiss to Jisung’s hair as he passes by. “It’s a date. Feel free to leave your stuff here if you want to wonder in and out, I can keep it behind the counter.” Jisung’s heart flutters a little bit at the familiarity. “Now, I better go and help Jeongin at the till, before he contacts his union about employer exploitation. Or child neglect.”

All it usually takes for Jisung to hyper focus is his noise cancelling headphones, a fun drink and a song that he likes that both encapsulates the vibe of the story he’s working on and makes his brain go brr.

Having Minho in his peripheral vision is a little distracting, but it’s a distraction that Jisung has decided he needs to get used to if he wants to keep being around Minho so much. He also needs to master the art of drawing subtly - especially this kind of art. He slinks a bit lower into his seat, probably not as inconspicuous as he’d hoped. He' chances a glance at Minho, for - motivation - and is immediately embarrassed when he finds Minho is already watching him. Arms crossed, waggling his eyebrows.

Jisung ducks his head back down. Instead of drooling over a man he’d literally just had shower sex with this morning, he starts skimming through his new draft. He’ll post the thank you art to patreon later, right now he needs to lock in on the pitch. 

The clock ticks 10am, it’s fine. He’s got this. 

Although, staring down at his own sketches does little to distract him from Minho. The figure on his tablet that stares back at him is very familiar. A distinct jaw set against softer strokes of tussled hair and soft eyes. Slightly round cheeks, pouty lips, starry eyes he’d spent hours trying to recreate in black and white.

Broad shoulders scrape across the page, a defined chest swelling underneath the creases of drawn fabric. A soft waist, strong thighs, and that same tilted smile dragged across his oc’s lips.

Jisung has told himself that his new oc is not Minho, and that right now he’s just studying the way Minho’s straight line jeans pull around his ass as he bends over - because its none specific anatomy study. But his brain can’t help but pick up on the way the denim strains as Minho crouches… or stop himself from erasing some of the lines gathering around his OC’s thighs to make them more defined. 

Jisung pulls his ipad away from his face and gives the drawing a once over. Fuck sakes, it definitely Minho. 

He knows he needs to change it. There is zero way if he gets this gig that he can send across these drawings of his lover. But, every time he tried to change the shape of the nose, or soften the lips, or dial back the thighs — his fingers betrayed him.

Every line pulled itself back to the same place.

Minho’s place.

If Jisung had been a normal manhwa author, then maybe this would be okay. The drawing of Minho is as flattering and handsome as the real life one - not that Jisung really thinks he can capture Minho’s beautiful aura. 

The incriminating part comes from scrolling down to the next panel, which connects his soft but defined torso and heavy thighs into what is, kinda obviously, his oc’s erect dick.

His tentacle dick.His long, glistening, tentacle dick - that Jisung had put great care into designing a split down the middle, like a two headed dragon where one shaft dives into one. He’s even gone as far as to put some blush overlay on the tip, which is dripping with more glimmering substance. 

The - oc’s - hand is wrapped around the joint shaft and squeezing leisurely, face drawn into a needy pout with his tongue peeking out, driven wild by the other love interest. 

This is hardly the first alien dick he’s drawn, and he’d be surprised if it was his last. But it is admittedly the first he’s ever drawn that connects to his ( nearly) boyfriend.

Jisung rubs his hands over his face and stifles a groan. God, he really is a pervert, isn’t he? It’s just that… from the moment the commission had come through, Jisung just couldn’t picture anyone else in the role.

One of the sites Jisung posts his mini series on had asked him to pitch for a new slot they had opened. A permanent, long series slot. Up until this point, he had been getting by mainly on fanart commissions and a few mini series. This would be his first chance at a weekly episode slot, spanning months. But, they had a specific slot to fill. 

“Omegaverse.” That had basically been the briefing. Not a particularly surprising request, given the sub genre’s current Renaissance. 

And Jisung certainly adverse to joining the cult movement. He’s written hybrids, aliens, predator and pray dynamics - certainly in his wheel house. 

Jisung’s already fleshed out the basics of the plot. It’s going to be set in a society where alphas and omegas have largely become extinct, and are more like hybrid creatures with varying anatomy to regular humans. Especially - down there. 

In the series, the omega lead accidentally messes up his black market suppressants and goes into heat in front of his cold, but caring, boss - who is also an alpha in hiding. And has a tentacle for a dick. For reasons. 

He’s quite proud of the premise, even if it's objectively insane. He likes to think he’s doing something new with it. Although, he often finds himself drawn to writing about hidden identity and othering. 

(He has no idea why, nope .)

Anyway.

According to his deadline tracker, he has to get over the first few pages to his editor by the end of the day. He needs to also finishing compiling a highlight folder for the portfolio submission, and he needs to make sure his write up plot summary is good to go.

He reads over the list again, the reality of how much work he needs to do today sends a pang of worry through him.

No, don’t panic. He tells himself. You freeze up when you panic. It’s fine, it’s all fine.

He takes a calming breath, turns on his playlist and forces himself to focus on his laptop. No matter what, this was sink or swim and he always swims - never drowns.

A few hours tick by uneventfully. Working at the cafe is definitely much more distracting than working at home, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He has to suppress his usual humming and rocking movements because he’s in public, and already drawing porn, so doesn’t want to draw anymore unecessary attention. 

His usual ability to hyper focus is definitely affected; he’s also conscious of Minho and Jeongin.

A little bit past the two hour mark, Minho comes back over to prod at him. He’s armed with another matcha latte, a plate of egg sandwiches and a bottle of water. Minho plants the small picnic  down in front of Jisung, his free hand finds its way back into his hair again, somehow.

"Where are your glasses, hm? You’re going to get a migraine without them on.”

Jisung puffs and grumbles, but still shoves on his chunky glasses. He doesn’t let himself think too much about the fact that Minho already knows him well enough to know about his aversion to wearing his glasses. Or, maybe Minho’s just a pervert who wants to see Jisung is glasses - he definitely hasn’t forgotten the way Minho had murmured in his ear, “ Keep them on, I like the way they fog up.” before drawing Jisung’s naked hips upwards to fuck into him hard, like, the other day. 

Not a helpful line of thought. Jisung shifts and takes a small bite of the sandwich and mumbles out, “ thank you, hyung.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “What would you do without me?”

Jisung hopes he never has to find out. He sneaks a hand towards his tablet and locks it, just in case.

“You look pretty intense for someone who’s drawing for pleasure. Is everything okay?”

Jisung snorts. “I’m intense about everything.” It comes out a little more defensive than he wanted it too.

Minho doesn’t look offended, but he just gives him that look again. The one where his eyes widen and his eyebrows raise. “Hm…I guess that’s true.” It doesn’t sound like he believes him. 

Minho gives his shoulder a squeeze and murmurs something about remembering to take breaks, hovers for another beat and then drags himself back towards the till. He looked slightly hesitant, like he was toying with whether he wanted to cross that line or not.

Jisung decides his concentration has definitely been broken, and takes the opportunity to pay attention to the nagging urge to pee and stretch his legs. Once he’s back from the bathroom, he can stick his headphones back on and focus. He’s eaten, he should of sedated the slightly over attentive Minho (Jisung secretly loves it), and there should be no more distractions.

He makes his way back to his table to find two massive distractions occupying the seats across from him.

“ There he is!” Hyunjin huffs. He pushes his beanie further up his head to try and accentuate his frown. “There’s the traitor. Remember us?”

Felix doesn’t look as upset, he locks eyes with Jisung and beams. “Jisungie!” he chirps, “Sick cafe, right?”

“Yongbokkie,” Hyunjin scolds, “don’t be nice to him. He doesn’t deserve our kindness.”

“Yo, Jisung.” Seungmin greets. Jisung hadn’t even noticed him hovering behind Felix’s chair. He pockets his phone and offers a nod in greeting. “You alright?”

Jisung is not alright. “No,” he tells him. He turns to Felix and Hyujin. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing!” Hyunjin huffs.

Jisung gestures to his stuff. “I am clearly working on commissions, Hyunjin.”

“But why here. ” Hyunjin drills his finger against the table. “You have never taken us to this nice coffee shop before, so you either hate us and want us to die - or you’ve only recently just found it.”

Jisung inhales. “I just found it. Randomly” He crosses his arms and tries to puff his chest out a little. “...No other reason.” 

Jisung can’t help but let his eyes quickly flicker over to the counter.

Hyunjin snorts. “Called it. He’s fucking the barista.”

Felix’s eyes go wide. “ Wait, does your Grindr hookup work here?"

Jisung slams himself down into his seat and reaches to smack Felix. “This is not the same guy.” He hisses, dropping his voice a bit lower. “We… we met here.”

“Bullshit.” Hyunjin glances over at the counter and jabs his thumb in the air. “That is definitely the guy from Grindr.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not!”

“Do you want us to go through the screenshots of his Grindr you sent in the group chat?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows. “We can go through the screenshots.”

“Minho!” Felix suddenly announces. He turns his phone and shows Jisung proudly the screenshot of Minho’s first picture, his name displayed and age. Felix leans back in his chair, “Seungmin baby, isn’t that the same guy?”

“I wish to remain a neutral party.” Seungmin deadpans. And, then, “but yeah. For sure.”

Jisung can feel himself begin to flush in anger. “How the hell did you guys even find me, anyways?”

“You have your location shared with us, so we got bored and just decided to follow you.”

“ What?!?”

“You’re the one who shared it with us in the first place! Remember? Ahead of your Grindr hookup.” Hyunjin swipes his finger against his own phone screen and shows Jisung a map. “And you went all quiet on us afterwards - yeah, it was fun guys lol. - Where was the 10 minute voice note with all the details? You send podcast length updates on the latest wildlife documentaries you watch. Where did our yapper go?” His bottom lip almost wobbles a bit, “we were worried. ”

Jisung rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, and then we noticed you’ve basically been living between two places for the past month.” Felix nods, as he flicks his finger across the map. “Between your Grindr hooks up house” Swipe, “And - this coffee shop.”

“So, we put two and two together!”

“I’m a victim.” Jisung groans.

Hyunjin scoffs. “Oh yeah, it must be so hard being Han Jisung. His best friends care about him, he’s a victim of being loved and cared for.”

“I’m a victim of stalking.”

“Oh please, you call this stalking? I have Changbin’s location turned on.”

“Yeah, me and Seungminie share our locations shared too.”

Seungmin blinks. “We do?”

“Yeah, I went in your phone and turned yours on.” Felix pats Seungmin’s hand lovingly. “I knew you didn’t know how to do it.”

Seungmin sighs. “I’m going to go get us some drinks so Jisung’s Grindr boyfriend doesn’t kick us out. Do you want anything, Jisung?”

“For the last time — “ he tugs at his hair and grits his teeth. “Just, a decaf iced latte.”

Seungmin dutifully makes his way over to the counter. Once he’s out of ear shot, Felix and Hyunjin crowd in.

“Why didn’t you want to tell us you were proper seeing this Minho guy?” Felix asks. Even Felix looks a little sad. Which makes Jisung feel like a dick, although he’s actually under no obligation to tell his friends about his private life.

But, they are right — he does normally tell them everything. He just can’t bring himself to admit that the entire thing feels so fragile that he just wanted to preserve it a little longer by himself before it’s exposed it to his clinically insane friends.

Jisung shrugs a little helplessly. “It’s not like that.” He grumbles. “Not yet, anyways.”

Hyunjin and Felix share a look, as if they’re having a silent telepathic conversation. Jisung hates it when they do that, they wouldn’t have ever even met each other if it wasn’t for him - why don’t they practice telepathy with him ?

They must have agreed to shift the conversation. “What are you even doing here, anyways? Besides perving on your fling in his place of work.” Hyunjin asks.

Jisung scowls and tries very hard not to take the bait and get overly defensive at the word fling. “I have to get my portfolio for the new webtoon slot over to Chan-hyung if I want to give him a chance to look over it before final submission on Saturday.”

They both look concerned. “Ah, Jisungie,” Felix begins carefully, “that’s a bit of a tight turnaround. Do you think it’s worth asking for a bit more time? You’ve got so much stuff to work on, I’m sure the website would be willing, especially since they approached you.”

Jisung shakes his head and grits his teeth. He always hates asking for accommodations, even when he needs them. “It’s fine. I can - I can make him work.”

Hyunjin doesn’t look like he believes him. “What’s this one about anyway? You haven’t even told us about it, and you always tell us.”

“Just the usual…” Jisung says too quickly. Felix and Hyunjin share another look. Probably because they know the usual means some crazy kind of hentai. 

Jisung spares a glance over his shoulder to watch Seungmin politely chat to Jeongin as he starts prepping their order. Minho doesn’t seem to be around,, thank god. He needs to try and devise a plan to get the little parade of nosey instigators out of the way before he reappears.

Jisung stares down at his cooling latte and makes a pact with himself – he’s not going to let his weird job fuck this up.

It’s not lying to Minho, not exactly. After all, it’s not like his job is really crazy enough to lie about anyways. He’s hardly spiderman. No, he’s just the perv who’d draw spiderman taking it up the –

Anyways. It’s not lying; he’s just being selective about the truth. Strategic, GDPR and all that. Finally practicing all those self preservation techniques Chan used to try and mumble to him about, when he would sob over comments calling his WidowTracer art mid .

He’s reflected and grown as a person and decided his pervy job is his business and his business alone.

He wraps both hands around the mug and interlaces his fingers like he’s sealing the deal.

It’s decided.

Minho will not find out about this.

“Is this suppose to be Minho-ssi? ”

Jisung had almost forgotten that Felix and Hyunjin aren’t aware of what boundaries are and realises too late he has made the mistake of zoning out and left them left unsupervised.

Across the table, Hyunjin is cradling against his knee what, horrifyingly, looks like Jisung’s tablet. A glance down at the empty case confirms his fears. He’d been too busy inner monologuing to notice.

 Felix crowds over Hyunjin’s shoulder, arm draped over the back of Hyunjin’s chair as he coos.

“ Guys!” Jisung hisses, “give that back!”

He’s ignored, obviously. Instead, Hyunjin presses his delicate finger against the screen and continues to scroll.

“Oh, Jisungie,” he pouts. “Have you really made Minho the lead in your new BL?”

“It’s not him! And keep your voice down!” Jisung spares an anxious glance toward the counter, then yanks his cap down over his eyes. “I just… I took inspiration, at most. Okay? Just—give it back!”

He half heartedly lunges for the tablet, but it’s a little pathetic as he’s too worried about drawing attention. Hyunjin easily dodges him, barely sparing him a glance.

Felix clutches Hyunjin’s shoulder dramatically. “Oh Hyunjinnie, he has a muse. Maybe Grindr can be used for good!”

“We didn’t meet on fucking Grindr!” Jisung hisses. He’s ignored, again, in favour of their scrolling.

He slumps into his chair and exhales through his teeth.

It’s fine. As long as they stop at the page break and don’t scroll the entire thing, it’s—

“ Jisung!” Hyunjin squeaks, clearly scandalised.

Felix gasps just as dramatically, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a yelp of laughter.

Well .

“I told you to give it back!” Jisung shrieks, desperately lunging this time. 

The table wobbles, his cold drink sloshing onto his own lap as Hyunjin leaps back and cradles the tablet to his chest, clutching his metaphorical pearls. 

“Jisung! Why have you drawn Minho-ssi with such a massive… massive…”He frowns down at the screen. “Actually, I don’t know what I’m looking at. What is that between his legs?”

“Hyunjin, if you don’t keep your fucking voice down – ”

“Yeah, Hyunjin! Don’t be rude about Jisungie’s hard work.” Felix snatches the tablet and squints at it like he’s at a gallery.

“That’s clearly a tentacle dick. With two heads.”

“Felix!” Jisung groans.

“It’s art, Hyunjin. Don’t be a prude.”

“I know it’s art, I wasn’t being critical!” Hyunjin huffs. “I was just shocked at the size, not the anatomy.”

He leans back across the table, eyes alight. “Jisung—for science—how accurate are to scale your drawings?”

Jisung’s eyes twitch, he can feel the nuclear heat from his cheeks creeping down his neck. “Hyunjin,” he warns.

“Well,” Felix shrugs, “they did meet on Grindr.”

“Who met on Grindr?”

Oh, fuck.

Jisung swivels around to meet his worst fears looking back at him, eyebrows raised and holding a tray of drinks. Seungmin hovers by Minho’s side and gingerly places Felix and Hyunjin’s drinks in front of him.

Minho’s eyes slowly travel along the scene. His eyes land on the way Felix clutches the tablet to his chest, and slowly sloop over Jisung’s desperately outstretched hands. Jisung slinks back istantly, flushing at being partially caught. His eyes then trail on the stain seeping into his lap. 

Jisung can feel his flush getting worse. “I haven’t peed myself.” He says quickly. 

Seungmin tries to hide his laugh behind a cough. Minho frowns and drops down into a crouch, he cooly slides Jisung’s drink down onto the table and takes the napkins to start dabbing at the stain. 

“ Minho - hyung, “ Jisung hisses, or maybe whines, “I - can, I can do it myself.” 

But Minho doesn’t stop fussing until he seems satisfied the stain has been mostly cleaned. He draws himself back up onto his feet and presses a kiss into his hair and leans across to fix his askew glasses for him.

“Ah, Bug. Starting rumours about me? Peeing on my furniture?” Minho teases.”You’re lucky your cute, otherwise I’d have to kick you out. 

Jisung smacks him away. He chances a quick glance at Felix and Hyunjin, who look somewhere between horrified and very amused. 

“This is Minho-ssi,” Seungmin introduces slowly, once it becomes clear Jisung isn’t going to say anything. “He owns the cafe and is, uh, seeing Jisung, so we didn’t have to pay for the drinks. Which is very nice of him.”

Felix pouts. “That doesn’t count as your turn for buying then, by the way.” Seungmin roles his eyes.

“You can call me Minho - hyung.” Minho says, although he still hasn’t turned around to face any of them yet. He’s too busy studying Jisung’s face and trying to tuck his fringe behind the glasses frames. “I’m sure we’ll see more of each other again if you’re friends of Jisungie’s.”

Jisung swallows as Minho’s delicate fingers brush slightly against his ear lobe and scratch, maybe a little purposefully. Despite everything, it still shoots a pang of heat through him. He feels insane. 

 He wiggles a bit in his seat and Hyunjin peers around Minho to glare at him.

Then Minho lets go and, to Jisung's growing horror, casually pulls up a chair next to him. His hand finds its way to Jisung’s thigh almost instinctively.

Normally, he’d want nothing more for Minho to come over and fondle him under the table for a bit, but this is becoming increasingly like a nightmare blunt rotation.

His almost boyfriend is sitting across from two people who have a life sentence worth of dirt on him and are accompanied by Felix’s new, indifferent boyfriend who just seems to say whatever will cause the most amount of drama. 

Jisung doesn’t even smoke, but this scenario plus his insane deadline pressure makes him wonder if he should start.

And, on top of that, Felix still has the fucking tablet.

Minho seems to want to prove he’s a mind reader, and uses this power to maybe just piss Jisung off. As he asks, “How’s the drawing going, Bug? Seems like there’s a lot of excitement going on over here.”

Hyunjin glares at Jisung expectedly, Felix juts his lip out and mumbles ‘bug’.

Jisung quickly leans across and successfully snatches the tablet from Felix. He had planned for this exact moment as well, but now finds himself very flustered, quickly dimming the tablet’s brightness to zero and scrambling to pull up the curated folder. He manages with frantic fingers to pull up his half finished digital painting of a cherry blossom scenery he’d been working on.

“yeah pretty good!” his voice comes out a little wobbly, he clears his throat. “I went to Toyko last year, so I like to paint scenery from photos we took every now and then.”

Jisung doesn’t need to look at Hyunjin and Felix to feel the hole that they’re burning into the side of his face.

Minho observes it with soft eyes and a little hum. “It’s so pretty, sweetheart.” Minho says. “what have you done today?”

Jisung freezes. “Huh?”

“Like, what have you been working on.” Minho tilts his head. “I mean, I can see you’ve already done the outline and a bit of the colouring. But I’m presuming you haven’t done all of this today, right?”

Jisung completely glitches. Fuck, fuck.

Why hadn’t he prepared anything for that question? Minho is so attentive, he seems so genuinely invested in anything Jisung has to say. Of course he’s going to want to know more than that.

“I - I’m trying to work out the, uh, texture overly for the blossom.” Jisung stammers. There’s a pause, and fuck, does Minho really want to know even more than that?? “I need the flowers to be soft, and… like, fresh, looking. With shadows and stuff.”

“And stuff.” Minho repeats back. “Technical terms, huh?” He teases, but his voice is lacking that usual edge. Almost a bit flat, suspicious. 

Jisung can feel himself sweating slightly. Is the lie - truth bending - already cracking?

But Minho doesn’t press more than that. He sits with them for awhile and everyone by some miracles manages to be well behaved enough to engage in just some casual chatting. There’s an odd tenseness between them, but Jisung wonders if he’s the only one who can feel it.

Minho eventually takes a peak at his watch and declares his break over.

“Make sure you eat lunch too, Minho-hyung. Okay?” Jisung grumbles. “You keep coming over and don’t bring any food.”

Minho’s ears tint pink, and he smiles like he just can’t help it. “I am, Bug. I promise I have a sandwich that I’m nibbling on every time it isn’t busy.” He gives Jisung’s neck one last squeeze and rejoins Jeongin behind the counter.

Jisung slowly turns back to his awaiting trial.

“Bug?” Hyunjin hisses, “Bug???”

“It’s just a pet name.” Jisung grumbles back.

“I think it’s adorable.” Felix turns to Seungmin and frowns. “Where are my cute pet names, huh?”

Seungmin snorts. “You know we can’t repeat those out in public.”

“I don’t think Minho should be calling Jisung Bug in public, either. Not with the way he looks when he says it - it looks like I’m about to witness a reboot of Hannibal.” Hyunjin dramatically wipes his hand down his face. “Where did that even come from, anyways?”

“It’s not weird! It came from when he - when he’s, like, uhm, towering over me - because, I’m on my back - you didn’t need to know that… well, I, apparently, look like… you know when you lift a rock, and there’s little bugs underneath? Because my eyes go all… wide…” Jisung tries to gesture with his hand, but trails off.

Hyunjin looks disgusted. “You’re his prey?”

“ That is literally not what I said at all, Hwang Hyunjin-ssi! You’re just making shit up.”

“Is this why your newest mini series is about a hunter prey relationship?” Felix gasps.

“No! I was writing that before me and Minho hooked up, you both know this!”

“Oh do we? So you admit that he’s your Grindr hookup? You know, that makes it worse, that means you manifested someone who somehow matches your freak and fulfills your coffee shop AU fantasies.” Hyunjin grumbles.

He pulls himself up from a slouch, like he’s been shot with a disgruntled shot of electricity. “Does  Minho-ssi not know about the manhwa submission? About his crazy hot tentacle dick drawing?”

“He definitely doesn’t,” Seungmin snitches. “I was chatting with him and Jeongin-ssi at the counter. He said he met Jisung on Grindr and then thanked God for modern cruise culture, because otherwise he’d probably never have met him — since Minho works in coffee and Jisung’s a marketing executive. And then he had, like, a mini revelation when he realised he didn’t actually know what you do marketing for , Jisung.”

Seungmin pauses to snicker. “And then he admitted he doesn’t actually cruise. And then Jeongin asked what cruising was . So Minho explained. In detail. Out loud.”

He pulls a face. “Which, ew, by the way.” Then he’s giggling again. “He just wanted to sound like a cool, casual hookup kinda guy in front of Jisung. Because he likes him so much.”

“Hang on,” Hyunjin interrupts, “are you telling me he doesn’t know you’re a manhwa author, at all?” Hyunjin waits, but the silence is clear enough. “ Jisung!”

“What? I was going to tell him eventually!”

“Were you?” Felix asks, voice deep with concern. “Or were you just hoping that maybe he’d never ask, and you’d never have to tell him?”

Jisung wraps his fingers around his drink and squeezes, a little hard. “Felix…”

Felix exhales through his nose. “Jisungie, you can’t do this again. You have to tell him”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers wrapped around the cup. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly,” Hyunjin sighs. “If you’re serious about him, Jisung-ah, you can’t hide this part of you. It’s not fair, for him or for you.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Jisung scoffs.

Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you make your money from doing galleries and exhibitions and shit. Like, you have actual presentable art that people pay to see. We all go and look at it together, and sometimes even your parents come too. You make art you’re proud of. You wouldn’t know the first thing about my situation.” Jisung growls, but his voice loses bite at the end. He mumbles the last part. 

Jisung’s a little shocked at himself. Had it really been bothering him that much?

Hyunjin doesn’t look angry, but hurt.

“Why aren’t you proud of your art?” He whispers. He only sounds hurt for Jisung.

“Why would I be?” Jisung asks helplessly.

The way all three of them are looking at him makes Jisung feel confused.

“Guys, come on.” His laugh is forced and self deprecating. “I draw literal pervy porn for a living. Straight up gooner shit.” Jisung says flatly. “And half the time, fuck, it’s not even that good. Why would I shout about that?”

“Because you’re a queer artist and writer with an insane cult following, completely self made, and who is able to navigate themes of identity, sexuality and crazy sex with both class and sensuality.” Felix says defensively, not missing a beat. He glares at Jisung with his arms crossed, as if he’s genuinely offended. “Please speak more eloquently about the artist who helped me discover my own bisexuality. And besides, even if it was just porn, why dos that discredit your work as art at all?”

Jisung blinks rappidly at him. “Lixie, come on. You’re not actually mad, right?” He tries to laugh it off. “You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.” 

“He hates it when you talk so badly about yourself, Jisungie. And so do I.” Hyunjin says sternly. “When you undermine yourself, you also undermine the person who I picked as my literal rival and standard in art school. You don’t get to talk shit about the art I used hold myself against, about the person who taught me how to draw people better and the guy who waltzed into my first lecture and told me “oh, I just do manga kind of shit.” and then wiped me in our fine art class. We worked so hard for all those years to try and destigmatise your own art to yourself. And I’ll do it again and again, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

Jisung blinks more. He can feel that awful, heavy feeling against his forehead, pressure building behind his eyes. Like his skull is a cracking dam, and the oncoming flood might leak through his eyes if he doesn’t fucking pull it together.

“Guys,” Jisung practically pleads. “Please, please can we not do this right now? I have to get this deadline to Channie - hyung if I want him to proofread over the weekend. It’s his only time he’ll have to do it before the deadline, and - and I can’t focus if we do this now. Shit, I’m so behind already. So can we save it?”

Hyunjin’s bottom lip tremors, but he still maintains his hard stare. “You can’t submit literal drafts of Minho - hyung without telling him, Jisung.”

“It’s just the premise pitch, okay? I’m just going to submit the draft plot outline, some lower anatomy shots and my portfolio. I’ll edit the character and Minho will never have to know.”

“He should know.” Felix says, “because it’s your work, Jisungie. You can’t expect him to respect what you do, when you don’t.”

“Lixie,” Seungmin sighs. “Come on, baby. You guys are winding him up. He’s said he’ll do it. Lay off, before he starts spiralling.” Seungmin sounds like he’s trying to be light hearted but even Jisung can detect the concern in his voice.

Jisung takes a deep breath, realises he’s practically crushed the middle of his drink. Hyunjin and Felix don’t necessarily look guilty, but maybe slightly apologetic. They grumble half hearted apologies. Jisung doesn’t mention that he didn’t actually agree to anything that Seungmin said.

They decide to leave him alone after that, Hyunjin half mutters that Changbin’s finished up his shift with no more clients for the day so he’s going home, Seungmin manages to lure Felix away with the Mario karts waiting for them back at their flat.

“Don’t work too hard, Jisungie.” Hyunjin sighs on the way out, “please ask for support if you need it. Powering through and trying to hyperfixate won’t do your health any favours.”

“They’ll extend the deadline for you, I’m sure of it.” Felix adds.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement and no one mentions Minho again, but he knows the conversation is far from over.

Once the chime of the door closing announces their full exit, Jisung finally braves a glance at the clock.

4:30 PM.

Fuck, he’s completely fucked. There’s even a check in email from Chan sent over 30 minutes ago declaring “ no rush, but I’ve packed up from the weekend whenever you’re ready :-).”

He had originally told Chan he would have the drafts over latest by 6pm. But as he looks at his work planner, he realises his schedule has completely crumbled.

He only has a third of the pitch written, has made no real amendments on Minho’s –  the protagonist's character design.

Yup, bent over the table and fucked raw.

The first thing he can bring himself to do is type a wobbly and frantic apology email to Chan, begging for more time. He’s met almost with an immediate response:

Of course, Sung. Whatever you need, I have no plans over the weekend. But is everything okay?

Jisung thumbs up the email and then shuts the whole application down. He puts his laptop in to not disturb and tries to get his hands to stop shaking.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He tries to remember the self study techniques he’d taught himself, separate the tasks until they’re manageable. But all of it’s blurring into one, he can’t even begin to remember the song he needs to put on loop, and no fun drink could ever fix this.

The minutes slide into hours as he desperately tries to get himself to focus, hopping from one task to the other. Nothing is finished and he can’t really get his thoughts to stop vibrating for long enough to know if any of it is even half done.

He almost jumps out of his skin when a little brown bag is plopped down next to him.

“Sorry, Hyung!” Jeongin says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Ah, no. Sorry for overreacting.” Jisung grumbles, reluctantly burrowing out from underneath his bulky headphones. He can feel himself shaking, and Jeongin’s eyes subtly track the movement. “Um, what’s this?” He tries to deflect.

“It’s some leftover savory pastries,” Jeongin points his thumb over his shoulder. “I just turned off the pastry tray. Sometimes those discounted food apps come to pick up what’s left, but I wanted you to take your pick first for your dinner… It looks like you might need a treat.” He adds on hesitantly.

Jisung rubs his temples and groans. “Thanks, Jeongin, that’s really kind but I’m actually taking Minho out for — “ Jisung eyes widen as he snaps his laptop open again.

6:35pm. The cafe is closing, Minho is expecting to go out for dinner, and Jisung is nowhere near done.

The pressure behind his eyes is pulsating now, his lip trembles almost in rhythm and his body shakes with the effort of trying to contain his panic. It’s like a storm erupting inside of him, and he feels hopeless to stop it from spilling over and drowning in it.

This opportunity is too big, too important, to miss. But he doesn’t want to let Minho down, either. He’s screwed up almost everything good in the space of a few hours.

“Woah, Hyung. Is everything okay?” Jeongin’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Where is Minho-hyung? I really need to speak to him.” Jisung says.

“He’s in the office outback, just cashing up.”

Jisung is on his feet and heading behind the till before Jeongin’s even finished his sentence.

The door to the office is left ajar, its small room with just a desk and chair, computer and a safe tucked in the corner. There’s a notice board with some flyers and a rota pinned to it, but Minho explained it was more tongue in cheek - the only employees are Minho, Jeongin and two teenagers who alternate at the weekends and a few days in the week.

“Innie needs the money, and he’s competent and polite - well, at least to the customers.” Minho had explained once, pulling a face. “He’s a little shit to me. But as long as he’s not going to be a little shit to those kids he wants to teach, once he can afford to get his Teaching Certificate. I guess I’ll deal. I don’t need much more help as long as Innie wants the shifts.”

Minho is so kind , is what he’d thought. He’s so kind and considerate to everything and anyone around him. He’d probably snap at a self check out machine and then grumble an apology.

Minho is currently having a disagreement with his calculator. He doesn’t seem impressed with whatever the money weighing machine is declaring against his own maths.

'“Right, listen here, you little shit. I paid real, adult money for you - out of my own wallet, so if you don’t buck your ideas up — oh, Jisungie. What brings you back here?” Minho spins around his chair and parts his legs and arms wide, wagging his eyebrows. “Do you like my lair?”

Despite the rising panic in his chest, Jisung can’t help but huff out a laugh. “Is your counting machine misbehaving, Min?”

“Mm, it doesn’t seem to respond as well to punishment as you do.” Jisung pouts, “I threatened to spank it and I didn’t even get a moan.”

“ Minho!” Jisung flushes, “you’re so weird.”

“And you love it, love it sooo much that you couldn’t even wait 10 minutes more for me to come find you.” He grins. “Where are you taking me, by the way? Somewhere fancy, I hope.”

Jisung’s heart drops and panic fills the space it leaves in his chest. “Minho-hyung..” he begins, but his eyes are already getting blurry.

Minhos smile drops and he’s out of his chair in an instant, hands rubbing slow lines down Jisung’s arms.

“Hey,” Minho says, voice soft. “You’re shaking. Talk to me, Bug.”

“I’m really, really sorry, but I can’t - I can’t take you out for dinner.” Jisung whimpers. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the shame of saying it, or the way it makes everything else snap loose in his chest. He tenses, breaking for impact.

Minho’s rubbing slows, but doesn’t stop. “Devastating news,” Minho nods in agreement. “But as sad as I am, I’m not sure it’s worth tears. What’s going on?”

Jisung wipes at his face with his sleeve a little roughly and Minho reaches out and replaces it with his own, dabbing gently. Their fingers meet in the middle and tangle.

“I messed up,” Jisung tries to find the words to explain, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“I…I’m way behind on my deadline and I’m so sorry, Hyung. I miscalculated, and I think I’m just going to have to work through the night.”

Minho frowns. “I thought you said you weren’t working today?”

Jisung takes a shuddering breath. “I… it’s complicated. I wasn’t technically on the clock, but there’s this project I have to submit and I’m behind so I wanted to take my day off and catch up. But I need to submit it before tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow’s Saturday?” Minho’s frown deepens.

“It’s just,” Jisung takes another deep breath to steady himself. “Marketing stuff.”

“More stuff.” Minho sighs, “You do a lot of stuff, huh?”

Jisung stiffens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minho’s eyes don’t narrow, exactly, but something shifts behind them. A flicker of something knowing, and then it’s gone. Instead, he shakes his head a little and squeezes Jisung’s hand, grounding him. “Nothing, Bug. Don’t worry about it, let's just get ourselves home and we can work it all out.”

Jisung sniffs again, confusion clogging his airways. “What?”

Minho squeezes his hand harder. “Please, Jisung-ah. Let me take you back home. I know you have work to do, and I know you’re really stressed, but I’m worried about you.” Minho’s eyes go wide again. “Maybe tit’s selfish, but I don’t care. I’d feel better if you just let me take you home and take care of you”

“But, I’ve ruined the evening.” Jisung tries.

Minho shakes his head. “No evening could be ruined if it’s spent with you.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. Minho guides Jisung to sit on the swivel chair whilst he finishes cashing up, sitting on the little fold up chair. Jeongin pokes his head in to confirm he’s done with the close and teasingly yell “have fun at dinner!”, Jisung feels a wave of guilt but it's subsided by a quick kiss from Minho and his hand finding its way back to Jisung’s thigh.

Minho locks up with one hand still holding Jisung’s, like he physically can’t get himself to let go, and then drags Jisung into his car.

He plants the bag of pastries Jeongin had left in Jisung’s lap.

“Snack on these,” He instructs, “I’ll make you something proper for dinner when we’re home.” 

“Hyung, I’m really not sure I’m going to have time to eat. I’ve really fucked up.”

“We’ll make time.” Minho says, certain.

The drive home is mostly silent. Jisung is handed the aux, because Minho has told him it’s his job from the first time he picked Jisung up, and the car is filled with soft lo-fi beats and indie music.

“You know,” Minho begins, breaking the silence. “Whatever’s really going on, you can tell me. I want to help.”

Jisung tenses. “It’s… I told you, it’s just marketing stuff.”

Minho exhales through his nose. “Okay, but when you’re ready for it not to be that. I’ll still be here.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything back. 

When they shuffle through the door and their shoes have been kicked off, the first thing Minho does is plant his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and steer him towards the shower.

“Minho - hyung,” Jisung tries, but Minho cuts him off.

“Shower first, you need a break and to clear your head.” He’s already stepping into the shower to test the temperature, leaving no room for argument. Once he’s happy, he turns back around and begins to gently help Jisung peel off his outfit. Almost like he's unwrapping a delicate gift.

It doesn’t feel as charged as their usual showers do together. But even so, their lips can’t help but find each other.

Jisung litters Minho’s shoulder blades with open mouthed kisses as he starts fussing over what shower gel they should used, and when Minho unhooks the shower head so he can run it across Jisung’s scalp he ducks down to graze his teeth against Jisung’s collarbone.

Jisung can feel the familiar pool of arousal simmering, half hard as Minho’s fingers skid his hips. But it’s less urgent than how it usually feels, more just a nice warmth than a burning need. As if his body just can’t help it when he feels the touch of Minho’s skin.

It’s not until he’s being wrapped up in a big towel does it dawn on him.

“We didn’t have sex.” Jisung points out.

Minho tilts his head. “I thought we were on a deadline?”

Jisung shakes his head. “I just meant, I don’t think we’ve ever showered together and someone didn’t cum.”

Minho breaks into giggles. “I mean, at one point you looked a bit close.”

“You were kissing my chest.” Jisung huffs. “You looked like you were about to cum.”

Minho hums in agreement and crouches down so he can tickle Jisung’s sides. “ Mmm, Jisung boobies. ”

Jisung squeals, kicking out his feet until Minho finally lets go.

“I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better, Bug.” Minho says softly.

Jisung nods and lets himself be led into Minho’s bedroom, dressing him like a rag doll in Minho’s sweats and an oversized t-shirt from dance academy Minho attended, the logo fading and flaky.

The anxiety is still pulsing, but it’s not as suffocating as before. He tries not to look at the big wall clock when Minho deposits him on the sofa.

Doongie and Soonie had been lounging on the other side of the sofa, they get up and make their way over to him to paw in interest. Minho pads back into the room with a blanket from the bedroom and some extra cushions. He fusses around Jisung, fluffing them and propping them up behind him, balancing the blankets over his knees.

“You don’t have to do all of this.” Jisung mumbles, but makes no attempt to stop him.

Minho huffs in satisfaction as Doongie drapes himself across Jisung’s lap. “Aw, he’s nesting with you.”

God. Did he have to use that word? Nesting. Jisung wonders where his life took such a wrong term that vaguely omegaverse related terms could send him into a panic spiral.

“Work for a bit, see how far you get, and then we’ll check in at dinner.” Minho plops himself down next to Jisung and squeezes his knee. “We’ll make sure there’s regular breaks. How’s the lights? Dim enough, not distracting?”

Jisung nods a little numbly. “Yeah, s’good.”

Minho turns on the TV and puts it on mute. He pulls up some anime Jisung vaguely thinks he might have also seen.

Jisung turns back to his work.

Everything suddenly seems so much clearer, despite the fact the sun has already set and Jisung can’t quiet shake the feeling that he’s invading Minho’s personal time. He has to keep reminding himself that Minho asked him, well, begged him to come back here.

Jisung sinks into the cushions and lets his mind meld with his work. He manages to order his priorities, get the pitch document finished to send over to Chan and ensure that the anatomy shots and portfolio are polished. He can spiral about the fact he’s accidentally inserted Minho into an omegaverse, hybrid penis piece later. He doesn’t know how much later but, future him later.

Minho gets up for a bit at some point and returns with some kimchi fried rice.

“It’s just left overs, I’m afraid. It’s a bit late to make much else.” 

Minho seems prepared to shut Jisung’s apology down before it can even pass his lips. He blocks it with a spoonful of rice. “C’mon, small break time. Eat.”

Jisung pulls himself away from the screen, blinking the fuzz out of his eyes as he lazily wraps his lips around the spoon and gently laps the rice up into his mouth, making sure the spoon is clean before he pulls his lips away. It’s tasty and warm.

Minho blinks rapidly at him. “I think you’re gonna have to feed yourself if you want to keep focussing on your work. I’m on a water meter, I can’t keep taking cold showers.”

Jisung can’t help but giggle. 

He eats quickly but thoroughly, and then turns back to his work. He barely registers Minho’s pottering around him as he cleans away dishes, feeds the babies their dinner and does other mundane tasks.

 At some point he slots himself back down against Jisung and rests his head against his shoulder. Jisung stiffens at first, automatically going to lock the tablet and dim his laptop screen. Minho sighs beside him, he clearly has noticed. But when Jisung tries to sneak a glance out the corner of his eye he realises Minho’s eyes are still trained on the silent TV.

There’s a pang of guilt, entirely different to the low simmering one. Minho isn’t prying, he’s deliberately trying to not look at what Jisung’s doing, but his body language gives away that he's hurt all the same. 

“Bug,” Minho whispers at some point, “it’s getting really late, baby. How’s it all going?”

Jisung glances down at the monitor clock.

12:09AM.

He’d sworn they’d only just eaten.

Minho’s blinking up again at him, but its like his lashes are heavy with sleep.

“Minho - hyung, I’m so sorry. I’m keeping you up.” Jisung groans into his hands. “Shit, you have work tomorrow, Hyung…”

Minho shakes his head. “Mm, I just want you to calm down and feel better.”

Minho begins to stroke his hair, he keeps it up until the action seems almost automatic. 

About 15 minutes after the check-in, Jisung is finally ready to send the documents over to Chan for final review. He writes a rather rambly and panic driven apology with his email. Chan, concerningly, replies almost immediately to reassure him it’s okay and he’s excited to review. Jisung decides he’ll interrogate why Chan was checking his emails past midnight, and why he hasn’t questioned what Omegaverse is yet (suspicous), tomorrow. 

For now, he takes a deep breath and finally closes down his laptop. 

Minho perks up immediately and stretches his back out like a cat. 

“All done baby?” He asks, his hands rubbing small circles into Jisung’s thigh. 

Jisung nods his head. The feeling of Minho’s finger pads against the fabric on his thigh is driving him crazy, but the insane need is dripping into his subconscious all gooey and thick. He needs Minho’s lips on his, now, before the goo consumes him. 

So he does just that, he presses Minho’s hand more firmly against his thigh and swings the other one to straddle him. He takes Minho’s face into his hands and leans down to kiss him, deeply. 

Minho melts into him, unquestioning. The gasps a little as Jisung nips insistantly on his bottom lip, opening wider like the good boy he is for Jisung. Fuck, Jisung wants him so bad. 

He rolls his hip down as their tongues slip together, like his whole body drags forward with the moment. The hand that isn’t anchored to Jisung’s thigh hooks around his waist and squeezes his hipbone. 

“You’re so tiny here,” Minho groans into the kiss, his finger nails dig more instantly. “Such a strong body, tiny little waist. You fit so well in my arms.”

“Sap.” Jisung breathes against his lips, but there’s zero bite behind it. 

Minho takes advantage of the break to swing their positions around, planting Jisung to lie gently into the sofa cushions. His nest. 

“Baby,” Minho mumbles, his nose attached again to his collarbones and inhaling Jisung’s sent. He nips and bites in between his words, hips still rolling into Jisung’s thigh. He can feel how hard Minho is, the faint dampness through his sweats. Fuck, is he not wearing underwear? Jisung feels giddy. 

“Baby,” he says again, a little more lucid. “Can I get you off?”

“Where are your babies?”

“I’ve shut them in the kitchen, all their bed bits are in there for them to sleep.” Minho supplies. “Don’t worry, we won’t traumatise them… again”

Jisung smiles bashfully at the memory, and then nods enthusiastically. “Uhuh,” his voice goes breathy when Minho’s thigh slots in between his, the pressure on his dick maddening. He groans as he pushes a little on Minho’s chest to try and get him to budge up. “I think the douche is still under the bathroom sink, it’ll only take me a few – ”

“I didn’t mean like that, Bug.” Minho pulls away to look at him, brushing Jisung’s sweaty fringe out of his eyes. “I can eat you if you want, but I don’t need to fuck you.” Minho quips his lips. “We don’t really have time, baby. I just want to make you feel good so we can knock you out and get you snuggled in bed.”

“You sound pathetic.” Jisung tries to scoff, but there’s zero bite and his bottom lips wobbles a bit. God. 

Jisung loves that Minho is usually a little rough with him, and doesn’t seem to be afraid to be. Jisung had been pretty clear from the first time what he was okay with, stumbling through together to naturally slot into a more submissive role against Minho’s more controlling side. He likes that Minho can manhandle him, pin him against things, feel small against him even though their frames aren't that different. 

He’s been drawing that shit for years and years, self projections slipped into all shapes and sizes across the page. And now he finally has it and he can’t get enough of it. 

But with Minho looking down on him now, gently rolling his thigh between his legs and stroking his cheek with his thumb in tandem, the same feeling alights inside of him. 

“Please?” Minho’s eyes glisten in the low mood lighting. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Jisung says breathlessly. 

Minho rolls his eyes. “Careful,” he pushes Jisung’s t shirt up and immediately nips at his peck. Jisung gasps in surprise, back arching like he’s a puppet and Minho’s pulled taught on the strings. 

Minho grins, “Told you, don’t get cocky.”

With that, he starts mapping out and down Jisung’s body, his fingers scraping down his back to squeeze his ass and up again, tongue digging into the slight fold of Jisung’s stomach as he crumbles forward at all the sensations. Minho’s tongue is hot and his blunt nails sting slightly in a way that blurs into pleasure, he’s touching nowhere that Jisung actually needs him too but everywhere in between. 

“I - I thought this was about getting me to wind down?” Jisung whimpers as Minho squeezes his peck again in response and flicks his nipple. He bites down on his hip bone, taking advantage of Jisung flinching to use his spare hand to squeeze Jisung’s ass properly. His fingers slip in between and ghost at his hole and rub, a blunt and silky pressure through his - Minho’s - boxer shorts. 

“Agh. ”

“Fuck,” Minho growls. “You smell like me and you. It’s so fucking hot. Throw all your clothes away, only wear mine from now on.”

“You - you can just sent mine instead.” 

Minho’s head pokes up and he blinks a few times. “Huh?”

Horror washes over Jisung, “Uh.” He says intelligently. Fuck sakes. “I… don’t know.”

Minho blinks at him again. “You say some weird things sometimes, Sungie.” 

Jisung flushes in embarrassment, but then Minho is tugging insistently at the shorts. 

“Never fucking stop,” He accentuates his words with a firmer tug. Jisung’s dick comes free and slap against his tummy, hard and already wet from all the leaking. 

Minho, like the freak he is, licks his lips. Jisung wants to smack him and tell him he’s weird, but he’s already got a hand around his shaft and is spreading the wetness expertly down from the head. 

“ Shit.” 

“You smell so good,” Minho praises, he ghosts the tip and then he smacks it gently against the plush of his bottom lip. “You get so wet for me, baby. I can smell how wet you are through your clothes.” 

“ Jesus Christ." Jisung moans. “Please, Min, please - just, anything. Come on” 

“So sweet when you beg, so cute you think it’ll get you anywhere.” Minho raises himself back up so he can lean over Jisung, smear another kiss across his parted lips. “But, I do want to get you all comfy, get you all nice and soft for me.” He makes his way back down, “lets get you there, yeah baby?”

And with that as a warning, his soft lips wrap fully around Jisung’s dick and sucks. The heat is overwhelming on his calling skin, the way Minho’s tongue maps out the length and moves against the tip in time with his lips rolling up and down and down – 

It’s overwhelming in a way that has Jisung hiccuping on a sob and scrambling for purchase underneath him. His fingers go to Minho’s hair, he tugs a little hesitantly until Minho reaches up to plant them more firmly. 

He pulls and scratches at Minho’s scalp, almost like he’s trying to steady the rhythm. But Minho is relentless, the pace isn’t fast but its consistent, the slow drag of his lips bob over and over. He pulls off sometimes just to kiss up the shaft and nip again at his groin, inhale his smell, before he’s back with his cheeks hollowed around Jisung. 

Jisung can feel his arousal pulling deep from his hips and coming forward, like Minho is slowly pulling it out of him. It feels heavy, the sort of pleasure that will break and slowly seep through his body in drawn out waves. It scares him how Minho is able to play his body like an instrument, control his pleasure from quick and explosive to the bone deep kind he clearly wants Jisung to feel now. 

“Hyung,” he whimpers, voice cracking on another throaty moan. “Min, Minho, baby, baby. ”

Minho comes up with a little pop but he keeps working his hand steadily. “Yeah baby, come on. You going to come for me?” Jisung nods frantically. “Good boy, remember to tell me.” 

Jisung hiccups again, tiny whimpers escaping with every breath. “Going to come, Minho - hyung. Minho, Minho, going to come.” Minho ducks down one more time to suck hard and slow, his tongue flat almost against his entire length.

The feeling snaps inside Jisung, and his orgasm floods his body. “ Coming, hyung, coming now. Now.” 

He comes deep down Minho’s throat, Minho squeezes his hips as his back arches and makes sure Jisung stays anchored in his mouth. He barely even splutters when the cum hits the back of his throat, just drinking Jisung down and milking him through it. 

Jisung collapses back against the sofa, after shocks rippling through his body as Minho keeps gently licking him through it. 

Minho licks another stripe up the inside of his thigh, sucks gently just beside the crease, and then slowly, lazily slides back up Jisung’s body until they’re pressed together again. His hand strokes Jisung’s tummy, rubbing idle, sleepy circles across the swell.

Jisung feels like his thoughts are crawling over his skin. They’re still there, alive and gnawing. He thought getting off would exorcise the nerves, but all it did was take the edge off. 

Minho shifts. His lips brush Jisung’s collarbone.

“You feel okay, Bug?” he murmurs.

Jisung nods. “Mhm.”

“Mm.” Minho’s voice is already sleepy, too warm and honest. “You still seem tense.” 

Jisung blinks up at the ceiling. “Do I?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…” Minho pauses, then tightens the arm around him slightly. “It feels like you're trying to hold something in, like you’re really afraid of me seeing it.” Minho breathes in his hair. “I’m trying really hard not to get in my head about it.”

“Why would you?” Jisung bites, “I told you, it’s work stuff. That’s it.”

Minho exhales. “There’s that word again, stuff. ” He snorts. “It’s like I can see your nose growing every time you use that word.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “It’s not that deep.”  he mumbles. “I just don’t want to drag you into it. It doesn’t concern you.” A lie. 

Minho hums, unconvinced. “I’m not asking for everything. But I’ve been watching you all evening, fuck, all day. And you’ve sent yourself into almost a mini breakdown over something work related you refuse to name, even though you’d told me you were just drawing. And now I’ve had to coax you into a shower and food and trying to desperately make sure you don’t get a migraine –  “

“I didn’t ask to come here, you practically begged me.” Jisung snaps. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything but kiddy excitement when he thinks of Minho, but right now something dangerous and ugly is bubbling in his chest. Defensive, sharp. The kind of anger that only grows when you know you’re in the wrong and don’t want to be. 

Minho goes still behind him. His hand, which had been rubbing soft lines into Jisung’s waist, stills completely.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Minho says after a beat, voice quiet.

Jisung groans and covers his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I know. I’m just—I’m tired. Can we just not do this right now?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Minho replies, and he sounds so calm, which only makes Jisung feel worse. “I just wanted to understand. You’re so open with me about everything else. But when it comes to your art—or your job, whichever it actually is—you shut down.”

“Maybe take the hint, then,” Jisung mutters, more bitter than he means to be. “Not everything has to be shared.”

Minho goes quiet again. He shifts slightly, like he’s about to sit up, but then thinks better of it.

“I get that,” he says eventually. “I’m not trying to pry, Bug. I just thought—I don’t know. That you trusted me.”

Jisung feels it like a slap. His stomach flips, and he hates himself for the way it stings.

“I do,” he says, barely audible.

Minho nods, but it’s hard to tell if he believes it.

They lie there for a moment longer, the silence thick and heavy between them. The warmth from their earlier closeness is still there, but it’s dulled. Distant.

Jisung doesn’t know how to fix it without making it worse.

Minho finally pushes himself up. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

Jisung nods but doesn’t turn around. The sound of footsteps and the bathroom door clicking shut feels disproportionately loud. 

He pulls himself off the sofa alone and forces himself towards Minho’s bed. Under the covers, the anxiety from earlier has stopped crawling over his skin and instead burrowed into it. 

He’s fucking this up so bad, maybe beyond repair. If it's this fragile when Minho doesn’t know the truth, he doesn’t want to have to imagine if he did. 

“This doesn’t concern you” he’d spat, as if it's not literally Minho’s cartoon face attached to a two headed tentacle dick. 

Jisung presses his face into the pillow and tries not to think about how he can feel it getting damp. He’s already stressing Minho out this much when he hardly has scraped the surface of context. What would Minho think when he saw all of Jisung laid completely bare, hentai dicks and all? 

He’d probably realise Jisung is a crazy pervert, profiting off cringe, and politely get the fuck out of here. 

Sometimes, Jisung just feels like there’s too much of him to love. Too much to have to look past to stick around, and that no matter how hard he’ll try he’ll always be this version of himself - a little weirdo, with weirdo hobbies he can’t untangle himself from, and without even the emotion stability of someone you’d expect spent years perving and yearning over BL and GL. 

A loser. 

The light switch to the bathroom clicks off. Jisung can hear Minho pad into the living room to put his babies to bed, and then he slips into the dark bedroom. 

He doesn’t say anything, but his arm does still snake around Jisung’s waist and he pulls him closer, although the movement is hesitant. Jisung thinks Minho kisses his hair, but he’s not entirely sure because the movement is so faint. 

When morning comes, Minho isn’t beside him and Jisung can’t really blame him. He almost expects him not to be. 

It’s an immature thought that once the cloggy sleep headache eases up, after a few minutes of solid blinking, he’s able to connect reality to Minho’s absence. 

No, Minho has not dramatically stormed out of his own flat and left Jisung for dead. He lives here, for a start.

 Jisung groans and smacks his hand around onto Minho’s side of the bed, feeling the fluff of the duvet but nothing else. Pulling himself up onto his elbows, he blearily can see something left on the pillow next to him. 

It’s a little key looped around a key ring with some magical anime girl doing a peace sign. There’s even a little note, because Minho pretends he's standoffish basically for fun but is secretly a romantic. 

I hope you feel better this morning. My apartment is old and crappy so there’s no lockpad, it requires this ancient relic (key). This is my spare, lock up behind you and you can keep it for next time. 

• Min. 

Next time. 

Fuck, can he even let there be a next time without completely humiliating himself?

  Jisung has secretly been commending himself that he hasn’t yet cried in the past 24 hours over this situation. But he’s getting really fucking close. 

Instead of bursting into tears, he presses his hands against his eyes as hard as he can, and stumbles towards the shower. He doesn’t use Minho’s fancy shampoo that smells like baby powder, or borrow his expensive moisturiser even though Minho has insisted over and over again that it’s okay. Because none of this feels okay right now, or his to share.

Jisung knows he’s prone to spiralling, and maybe right now he should try his best to stop and emotionally ground himself. But he doesn’t feel like he has time for that. 

Right now, a reality where he somehow fixes this by sitting Minho down and going, “How do you feel about tentacle penises, in proxy to your likeness?” Feels unreachable. It never fully did feel like a reality he was going to face, but especially not after hurting him. 

No, Jisung needs to get himself out of this situation. Before the humiliation drowns him. 

He finds himself at Minho’s cafe a few hours later. He’d slept in so long it’s almost lunch time, so he’s able to duck behind the customers queueing and shield himself with his cap. 

By the time it’s his turn to serve, he thinks he could throw up from the anxiety. 

Thank God, there’s some teenager behind the counter. 

“Is Yang Jeongin here?” He manages to spit out. 

The kid looks a bit startled at Jisung’s tone, and probably the lack of formality. 

“Uh, I can grab him?”

“Please.”

She stumbles back from behind the counter to wave Jeongin down from where he’s collecting up some mugs. 

“Jisung - hyung,” he greets, brows pulling together in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Jisung stuffs his hand into his jeans pocket and fishes out Minho’s spare key. “Can you give this to Minho?”

Jeongin’s frown deepens. “He’s only in the office, I can go grab him – “

“ No. ” Jisung snaps. Jeongin flinches, he makes an effort to soften his voice. “No, thank you Jeongin. Just, say I brought it back to him.”

Jeongin looks uncomfortable, but still nods his head. “Okay, Hyung. Sure.” He agrees. 

Jisung forces out something he hopes sounds like an apology and stumbles back out of the cafe. 

He only recognises he’s nearing his bus stop when the feet on the pavement become denser, he’s had his head down the entire time. That felt like a very final, irreversible decision. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. He’s chosen to be a coward once again.