hello baby 🥺 i humbly come to request a nourishment for the deep dark corner of my lil filthy soul - unless it is too much to ask... may i please with utmost respect beg for this prompt with whumper hannie? pretty please 🥺
I have one more unhinged draft for this but the plot slipped out of control so for now have this instead
Jeonghan x Reader // WC: 0.6k // G: Hurt/comfort, yandere!Jeonghan, mafia!Jeonghan // TW: Graphic descriptions of injures, kidnapping, human trafficking, obsessive behavior
Normally, he found nothing more beautiful than when bruises coated your skin in all hues of purples, blacks and yellows. Nothing more beautiful than the tears running down your cheeks and the sounds of your whimpers and cries.
But that was when they were delivered by him. Right now they brought him nothing but anger, making his jaw quiver and knuckles turn white as he entered the small room.
You were curled up in the corner, chain holding you close to the brick wall. You flinched at the sound of the door opening and then cowered when it was filled with light from the outside. The room alone had no light source, not even a bulb, and most definitely no windows.
They were so stupid. So fucking stupid. They might have kidnapped you, but they had no idea how to handle you. So you sat there, blocking the outside world away. Flinching, but not broken. Isolated and apathetic. That was nowhere close to what your potential was. To what he could make you into when he could have his way with you.
He could make you obedient. Pliant. Happy, even, grateful for the abuse, eager to get yourself beaten up just for a speck of attention. They had no idea what wonder it was to see you like that.
“Is this the one?” the man next to him nodded towards you indifferently.
“Indeed.”
“Just hurry, I don’t want to have anything to do with you again” he muttered.
Jeonghan didn’t hurry.
He approached you, a bit carefully, like one would encounter a wild animal. His hands found your face and you flinched away before the recognition set in and your eyes widened.
“Who did this to you? That guy?” he nodded towards the excuse of a handler, still standing in the entry and looking impatiently at the watch on his wrist. You didn't speak. But you shook your head. No matter. There were more of them upstairs, the people who played with fire by taking what’s his, and he didn’t care enough to tell them apart.
“J-Jeonghan…”
“Shh. You’re safe now.” You weren’t scared of the bruises he would give you to erase these disgusting ones, were you?
He unlocked the shackles keeping your wrist in their steel embrace. Then, reaching to his pocket, he pulled out something else. A velvet collar, small, black thing, not enough to hurt or pull you around by, but your eyes glistened at the familiarity. What were you feeling, was it fear? Hope? Relief? He hoped to see all of them again soon.
He fastened it around your neck and your eyelids closed. Oh, darling. You couldn’t even stand on your own with how beaten up you were, so he gathered you in his arms.
It was alright now. He would take you away from here.
The two of you passed by other cells like your own, some filled with cries, some others – with silence. He didn’t feel much.
He was rushed out of the mansion as soon as he made it back upstairs. Nobody wanted to get in his way, but it was clear they wanted the whole ordeal over. He took his time. They couldn’t really do anything about it.
Seungcheol’s men were already gathered outside, waiting for a sign; the boss’ courtesy – he knew very well what punishment was appropriate for bringing harm over his family. They served as Jeonghan’s bodyguards on the way here, making sure the traffickers don’t step out of their line.
But now, they had just one last job to do.
When the fire opened and the mansion stood in flames, he was already in the car back to his own place, with you cradled to his chest, running soothing circles over your arm and humming something you vaguely recognized. He often hummed for you.
He would make you beautiful for him, once more. Soon.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Summary: Somebody had been texting you about some group project and kept calling you “Cheol” for three days straight. You told the stranger he probably had the wrong number, but the stranger insisted he had the correct one. With that, the two of you started exchanging things about each other, unaware that neither one of you was as far away from each other as you originally thought.
Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!reader
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, eventual smut, fluff, smidge of angst, romcom, college au, non idol au, best friend!Joshua & Wonwoo, Joshua calls the reader pipsqueak, strangers to friends to lovers, sexting, phone sex, masturbation, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking weed, shotgunning, having sex while high (but it's consensual), protected & unprotected sex, dom!Jeonghan, pussydrunk!Jeonghan, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (f receiving), multiple positions, couch sex, face sitting, they text a LOT, Jeonghan is a horny bastard.
A/N: LOL YOU GUYS THOUGHT I'D POST IT MID MAY. I lied. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, and I'm sorry it took me a month to write... wish me luck for my exams tomorrow, and as always, this is not how I depict the idols in real life! This is fiction!
Word count: 19.1k (I yap too much)
Dividers from @saradika-graphics & @chrisssiren
Your phone had been buzzing every two minutes, a message notification coming from an unsaved number appearing on the top of your screen. Your best friend glanced at the device before looking back at you. “Aren’t you gonna check who’s been blaring your messages for the past twenty minutes?”
“We’re in the lab right now, Shua. I’m not going to check my phone while I’m in the middle of perfecting a blood smear. Speaking of which, give me your finger, I’ve jabbed myself enough times already.”
You grabbed his hand only for him to swat yours away with a soft hiss. “Take Wonwoo’s hand, I’m not sacrificing myself for your experiments.”
“It’s a blood smear. We’re supposed to do this in pairs. And you’re my pair, by the way,” you deadpanned, grabbing your friend’s arm as he whined when you pricked his finger for some blood. You carefully placed the small drop of Joshua’s blood into the glass slide, grabbed the second slide and placed it at a 45-degree angle before your phone buzzed again, causing you to lose your focus and fail to do your task once more.
Taking a deep breath, you tried not to crash out and scream as you grabbed your phone, unlocked it, and checked your messages from the unknown number.
???: Cheol.
???: Cheol, check this out.
???: [sent 1 attachment]
???: I got sushi from that one place just outside campus. I was thinking we could go.
???: Cheooooooooooooooool
???: dude, stop ignoring me 😐
You: I’m not Cheol, and you have the wrong number.
???: There’s no way you’re not Cheol. This is literally the number he gave me.
You: You must’ve saved the wrong number then. Please stop texting me.
???: Why?
You: Uhhh, because I’m not your friend?
???: I mean, we could be :))
You snorted at the logic the stranger you were texting was showing. Glancing around, you continued to text the unknown number while your PI was busy with other undergrads.
You: How?
You: For all you know, I could be a 64-year-old creep.
???: You see, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were actually that old.
???: Plus, no old man would be able to text as quickly as you do.
You: Fair enough.
You: Still, you don’t know me, and you shouldn’t really be spamming a random person’s number.
???: I thought you were my friend, so 🤷
???: Anyway, new friend!
???: What are you up to?
You: I’m in a lab right now, actually.
???: As in you’re a scientist?
You: Undergrad in the Biology department.
You: How about you?
???: Now, now… It won’t be fun if I reveal everything about myself now, will it?
You: You’re so strange.
You: I’m gonna block you now. Nice meeting you, stranger.
???: WAIT WAIT
???: I’m a journalism major. I’m assuming we’re from the same uni?
You: Why would you assume that?
???: Idk, hunch.
You: Okay… I need to go. I don’t want to get in trouble with my PI.
???: Does that mean you won’t block me?
You: I’ll think about it.
You turned off your phone, shaking your head as you grabbed Joshua’s arm again. “One more time.”
“You pricked my finger in the same spot like four times! How consistent can you be?!” Joshua complained as he held his “tortured” finger, as he called it, after you had pricked him four more times during lab. The two of you were walking from the lab towards the exit of the Biology department building to grab lunch at your usual hangout spot, which was the campus cafeteria.
As you shrugged, you shook your head at your best friend and his antics. Your thoughts were too preoccupied with the stranger whom you had texted earlier, wondering what they were up to at the current moment. Deciding to pull out your phone, you checked if they had texted you, but there was nothing.
“Waiting for prince charming to message you?” Joshua peered over your shoulder, which he immediately regretted when you elbowed him.
“I don’t even know if he’s a guy or not.” You rolled your eyes as you pocketed your phone, walking ahead as your friend followed.
Joshua grabbed your phone from your pocket with ease, unlocked it, and checked your messages. “Totally a guy. No girl would message like this.”
“How do you know?” You muttered as you snatched your phone back from your best friend, smacking him gently as you looked through the messages again. He was right. A girl would typically not text like this, and it was just pretty obvious that a guy was texting you, but you didn’t want to assume.
The two of you continued to banter until you got to the cafeteria to meet up with Wonwoo, who had to leave earlier because of a student council meeting. Once all of you had your food, you sat down by the windows and placed your trays on the table. That’s when your phone buzzed, prompting you to check, only to get disappointed when it was an email from your professor about your data analysis report for Statistics.
Wonwoo raised his eyebrow at Joshua, who just shrugged with a fond smile before digging into his food. You noticed the glance your four-eyed friend was giving you and gave up on staying quiet.
“A random number kept texting me these past three days,” you grumbled, taking a bite out of your food. Chewing and swallowing, you continued, “And I just replied to them today during lab.”
Wonwoo raised his brows, intrigued by your situation before speaking. “So… You just ignored them for three days straight?”
“...yes?” You sounded uncertain as Wonwoo hummed, thinking before shaking his head. “What? You thought of something, tell me!”
“No, nothing. I just thought it was strange that you’d ignore them rather than just block them.” He shrugged, and you blinked at his words, realising what he meant.
Right. You usually did block random numbers, but that was when they called! And this guy did not call, so you didn’t feel obligated to block him. Plus, you were pretty curious about the mysterious texter who wanted to “befriend” you.
“Do we know any journalism majors?” You suddenly blurted out, causing Joshua to look at you with a cocked eyebrow.
“Uh, Seungcheol is a journalism major with his friend—what was his name…” he muttered, trying to recall the name of Seungcheol’s friend. “I don’t remember his name, but why?”
You shook your head, trying to dismiss Joshua’s growing suspicions. “Nothing, nothing… It’s just that he said we might be from the same uni.”
Joshua groaned at that, and you knew what that sound meant. You chuckled awkwardly, knowing it was probably a bad idea to meet up with this person without getting to know them first, but hey, at least you were trying to socialise, right?
“You are not going to meet him! What if he’s some serial killer?” You rolled your eyes at your friend’s tendency to exaggerate everything, but Wonwoo seemed to agree with him. A sigh left your lips before raising your hands, as if to say you were forfeiting the idea. For now.
“You should get to know this guy first before meeting him. Stranger danger and all,” Wonwoo murmured while cutting his pork katsu into bite-sized pieces. “We don’t want you to get into unnecessary danger.”
Your eyes softened at your friend, understanding that they were only looking out for you. Taking another bite of your food, your phone buzzed once more. Expecting another email, you unlocked your phone only to see that the unknown number sent you a picture.
???: [sent 1 attachment]
???: Lunch 😋
You: Huh.
???: What?
You: We are from the same uni, after all.
???: So, my hunch proves to be correct!
???: What are you up to?
You: I'm also in the campus cafeteria, with some friends.
???: OoOoh
You: ??
???: Nothing, nothing.
???: I'd say let's meet, but that's a little too early for that 😉
You: My friends and I were actually just talking about that.
You: Stranger danger, so… what's your name?
???: Wouldn't you like to know? What's yours?
You bit your lower lip as you looked up from your phone to check any students in the surrounding vicinity who were on their phones—almost everyone. A sigh left your lips before you typed out your name and hit send.
???: Cute name
???: I'm Jeonghan. At your humble service.
You: Jeonghan, huh? You know I could just search you up in the student files on the uni website, right?
Jeonghan: But what would be the fun in that, sweets?
You: ‘sweets’?
Jeonghan: You sound sweet, so sweets 🤷🏻
Jeonghan: Anyway, let's set up some rules!
You: For what???
Jeonghan: Since we're from the same uni and all, we're bound to bump into each other.
You: The journalism department and biology department are on opposite ends of campus.
Jeonghan: We could share classes, you never know, sweets.
Jeonghan: Anyways, rules! One, you're forbidden from searching me up on the school website and vice versa. It's more fun if we don't know what we look like for now.
Jeonghan: Two, no asking around people on campus if they know who we are. That'd be cheating.
Jeonghan: Three, we update each other on our day-to-day to get to know each other better until we're ready to meet. And wanting to meet needs to be mutual, so if one doesn't want to, we can't meet.
You: So, you want this to be like a game?
Jeonghan: Kind of? It'll be fun :)
Jeonghan: So, what do you say, sweets?
You: What if I say no?
Jeonghan: Then I will never text you again, and we will go on with our lives as strangers.
Jeonghan: But I know you're interested, so please say yes.
You: Whatever, sure.
Jeonghan: Perfect. I knew I could count on you 😗
You: Don't ever send that emoji again, or I'm blocking you.
Jeonghan: Got it 🫡
“Having fun texting the stranger?” You almost jumped out of your seat when Joshua spoke up, prompting you to smack him.
“His name’s Jeonghan.” You glanced back at your screen to check if he had sent anything else, but there was just a gif with confetti. A soft snort left your mouth at that before you shook your head. “He's strange, but I'm only a human, and humans get curious.”
Joshua rolled his eyes, finishing his lunch as he stole a fry from your tray. “Just eat your food, you've been texting the guy for the past ten minutes. We have Statistics after this.”
A groan left your lips at that, disliking Statistics out of all of your lectures for the day. You'd rather have lab all day with your strict PI rather than Statistics with your notoriously annoying professor. You finished your lunch quickly and said goodbye to Wonwoo, who had a different lecture from you and Joshua.
“Who's got you smiling like that, dude?” Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan as the latter cleared his throat before pocketing his phone.
“No one, what are you talking about?” Jeonghan shoved a couple of fries into his mouth, pretending like he wasn't just giggling to himself like some moron after texting you. His best friend raised his eyebrows, unimpressed as he sighed.
“You were texting her, weren't you?” Seungcheol noted the way Jeonghan glanced away, neck and ears burning as he sighed. “Dude, I gave you her number so you could introduce yourself! Not that you could convince her you had the wrong number.”
“I did introduce myself, kind of…” Jeonghan muttered, looking back at Seungcheol with a pleading glance. “I made this whole thing—I'll get to know her through texting, and we'll meet each other once we're ready—”
“Or you could just stop complicating this for yourself and introduce yourself to her like a normal human being?” Seungcheol deadpanned, crossing his arms as Jeonghan groaned. Only if it were that simple.
Jeonghan didn't have the guts to approach you and talk to you as he usually would with other people. He wasn't sure why, but something was stopping him from acting like himself—maybe it was because he didn't want to give you the wrong first impression? He couldn't figure it out, but what he did want was to get to know you better, and this was one way to do it.
He was so surprised when Seungcheol mentioned that he knew you, having taken some classes together during freshman year. He was even more surprised when Seungcheol told him he had your number. That's what got him into the situation he was in—texting you without you knowing that he was just one person away.
“Seriously, Hannie… She'll like you. You're funny, and she's a simple soul, she's practical, and if you play your cards right, she might agree on a date.” Seungcheol looked at his best friend with a sympathetic smile, but Jeonghan was convinced his way was better.
And he'd go through with this plan until he was ready to actually reveal himself.
Statistics was as boring as ever, but you promised yourself you'd actually focus this semester. While writing down your notes in your notebook, you couldn't help but feel someone's gaze on you. You turned your head in the direction you could feel the gaze from, and met someone’s eyes before they hurriedly looked away. Strange.
That’s when you noticed the person he was sitting next to. Seungcheol.
You turned back to your notes, curious about the guy sitting next to the friend you had made during freshman year. They were both probably journalism majors, so maybe they knew Jeonghan. Not like you could ask—it was a part of the rules of the game your next textmate decided to make up.
When the lecture ended, you decided to walk up to Seungcheol and his friend, telling Joshua to go ahead, and that you’d catch up with him later.
“Hey, Seungcheol…” You greeted awkwardly, not having seen him in quite some time due to your busy schedule.
The man in front of you immediately perked up when you came up to him, greeting you back with a hug. “Hey, it’s been a while! This is my friend Jeonghan—augh…”
“He meant Jung Han. My name’s Han. Hi,” Jeonghan murmured after elbowing his friend in the rib before shaking your hand with a smile. You gave him a small one back, letting go of his hand after a beat.
“Nice to meet you, Han. I guess, uhm… I’ll see you guys around? I still have to head to the lab to check on my samples—”
“Hannie can walk you there! He has, uh, he has a class not too far from there, yeah.” Seungcheol nudged Jeonghan forward, making you blink at both of them. You weren’t really against the idea, and Jeonghan was quite the looker.
You decided and hummed, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
The two of them looked at each other, as if they were communicating with each other telepathically, before Jeonghan smiled at you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
The bold action caused you to snort and take his arm, telling yourself that you could get out of your comfort zone just this once.
“So, Han,” you started, and he hummed, looking down at you as the two of you walked arms linked with each other. “How’d you and Seungcheol meet each other?”
“Hmm, I think it was kindergarten. Why?” He asked back, and you just shrugged, seeming to be curious about the guy you were currently walking with. Jeonghan had this charm to him that you couldn’t place, but he seemed to be a little awkward, even when he was just walking with you.
You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask questions you normally wouldn’t have. Jeonghan was just that type of guy you’d want to actually get to know for some reason. Usually, you wouldn’t even be this touchy with a person you just met, putting them at arm’s length, but he just made it a bit easier to open up to.
So, you talked. Asked questions about him like the curious researcher you were, noting everything down mentally as you listened.
When you got in front of the Biology department building, you unlinked your arm from his before smiling. “This is me… Thanks for walking me here. You really didn’t have to.”
“Nah, it was my pleasure. It was fun talking to you, swee—I mean, uhh… yeah, fun talking to you.” He scratched the back of his ear, giving you an awkward chuckle. “See you around!”
Jeonghan gave you a salute before he turned and hurriedly walked away. You faltered, wanting to call out for him to ask for his number, but he was already out of earshot. A soft sigh left your lips before you decided to head into the building to check on your precious samples in the lab with a giggle.
“Stop fucking giggling like an evil scientist,” Joshua muttered from behind you as he smacked you with his clipboard. You frowned, rubbing the back of your head as you glared at your best friend. “So, who was the guy you had your arms linked with~?”
You rolled your eyes, knowing Joshua would want to know about what he saw. “Nothing, Seungcheol offered him to walk me, and I agreed.”
“Just like that? You? Agree for some guy to walk you all across campus?” He raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Jung Han,” you murmured, and Joshua’s eyes widened.
“Jeonghan? Like the guy you’re texting?”
“No, no—Jung Han. Two separate people. His name’s Han.” You explained, and your best friend made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth before furrowing his brows and grumbling to himself. “What?”
“I was sure Seungcheol’s friend’s name was Jeonghan, though, but eh, I must’ve misheard.” Joshua tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue softly before dragging you into the lab room, where a few people were already conducting their research in their own workbenches. You didn’t linger on your friend’s words, focusing on the bacterial samples you had in the small lab refrigerator instead.
Twenty minutes into conducting research and writing your thesis, your phone buzzed, distracting you from your task as you glanced at the device before looking back at your laptop. You contemplated whether it was worth getting distracted, glancing around as Joshua seemed to be preoccupied with sending you random memes on Instagram. So, you decided to abandon writing your thesis to check whatever Joshua might’ve sent you before seeing a message from Jeonghan.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: The sunset’s pretty.
Jeonghan: Like you probably.
You: Are you flirting with me?
Jeonghan: uhhhhhhhhh
Jeonghan: If I am, would you let me?
You: I don’t know.
Jeonghan: wdym you don’t know? :(
You: If you send me one more sunset pic, I’ll consider saying yes.
Jeonghan: [sent 7 attachments]
Jeonghan: Are these enough?
You stifled a giggle, covering your mouth before replying to his message. You found Jeonghan entertaining, so you indulged in whatever he was trying to do.
You: You’re weird, you know that?
Jeonghan: Yes, you’ve called me strange before, I know
You: [sent 1 attachment]
You: I’m in the lab conducting research right now.
You: Lowkey bored :// My best friend keeps sending me reels instead of helping me.
Jeonghan: That’s cute
Jeonghan: The Sanrio sticker on your laptop, I mean
Jeonghan: Who’s your fav character?
You: Cinnamoroll.
Jeonghan: Noted 😉
You: For what?
Jeonghan: That’s a surprise for the future, sweets.
You: What if I don’t like surprises? What then?
Jeonghan: Ehhh, I think that you do like surprises, you’re just trying to throw me off my game
Jeonghan: But that won’t work! Because I can foresee the future.
You: And that future is?
Jeonghan: You and me on a date :)
You: Right. I’m blocking you.
Jeonghan: NO— WAIT PLEASE
Jeonghan: I was too forward. I apologise.
Jeonghan: One more chance, I beg of you, sweets.
Jeonghan: No date. Unless you change your mind.
Jeonghan: Sweets?
You decided to leave him on read with that, wanting to cackle to yourself. Instead, you settled with a slightly off-putting giggle, prompting the people around you to send you side glances, which also happened to be your best friend. Joshua threw a pipette at you, hitting you square in the forehead, pulling you out of your weird state.
“Stop giggling to yourself like that, weirdo. You’re creeping me out.”
You flipped him off, grumbling to yourself as you dove back into your research with a soft smile on your lips when you glanced at the Cinnamoroll sticker on your laptop.
It was late when you got back home to your apartment, tiptoeing inside so as not to wake your roommate—Minghao—up. It had been a long day, and you were exhausted, so instead of scurrying to your bedroom, you crashed on the leather couch you and Hao had bought last year, deciding to invest in a good couch instead of keeping the old, ratty one that was provided by your landlord.
Your phone buzzed, surprising you. It was 1:04 AM. Why was he still up? You unlocked your device and pressed the notification.
Jeonghan: u still up?
You: Why are you up?
Jeonghan: Couldn't sleep 🤷🏻
Jeonghan: You?
You: Just got back from the lab.
You: I worked on my thesis and didn't realise it was late.
Jeonghan: Ahhhh, I see..
Jeonghan: Do you wanna play 20 questions?
You raised your eyebrow at that, sitting up and leaning against the backrest as you thought about it. Jeonghan was a complete stranger to you—but you just continued indulging him because he was interesting. You thought about the other Jeonghan—or Jung Han, as he insisted, but you couldn't really take it seriously. Probably coincidental that they had the same name.
You: What the hell, why not?
You: Who starts?
Jeonghan: You can :)
You: Were you serious about that date?
Jeonghan: Oho, straight to the hard questions, huh? I can't say I don't like it.
Jeonghan: Maybe… Why?
Jeonghan: U interested? 😉
You: Those two count as two separate questions, so I'll answer them and get two questions myself.
You: Nothing in particular, I was just wondering if you were serious or not, and no, I'm not interested. Not yet anyway.
You: What’s your favourite colour?
Jeonghan: 👀
Jeonghan: Woah, woah— backtrack, little lady
Jeonghan: wdym “not yet”??
You: I don't know you, so.
Jeonghan: Fair enough..
Jeonghan: Oh, and my favourite colour is black.
You: Hm.. why would you want to go out with me? You don't even know what I look like.
Jeonghan: Does it matter if I do?
Jeonghan: Don't count that as an actual question; it was rhetorical
Jeonghan: And to answer your question—why not? You're interesting, and I find texting you quite fun, even when you threaten to block me or text like a robot sometimes.
You: I do not text like a robot! 😡
Jeonghan: Sorry to break it to you, sweets, but you do, painfully so. But it's part of the charm that tugs me towards you 😉
You: Your turn.
Jeonghan: Right. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Jeonghan: Oh! What's your favourite movie?
You: I, uh… 27 dresses. And How to Lose a Man in 10 days. Both romcoms, yes.
Jeonghan: That's cute
Jeonghan: Will be sure to watch them and tell u what I think about them
You: What are your hobbies?
Jeonghan: Hmmm.. That’s a difficult question. But I like playing football (not the American one, I'm a little too unqualified for that), sleeping and taking care of my pet rock ^^
You: You have a pet rock?
Jeonghan: That's two questions, sweetheart, but yeah, I do.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: Its name is Doljjong :)
You: That's…
You: That’s cute.
Jeonghan: Thanks
Jeonghan: How about you? What are your hobbies?
You bit your lower lip at that, contemplating whether or not to share something so close to your heart with a stranger. Deciding not to linger on it, you typed out your answer.
You: I like to read.
Jeonghan: Just that?
You: And, uh, I guess I like to draw sometimes.
Jeonghan: Okay, okay, cool
Jeonghan: Can I ask a more personal question?
You: Uh, sure.
Jeonghan: Do you have a boyfriend?
You: No.
Jeonghan: Why not?
You: Too busy.
Jeonghan: Would you like to have one then?
You: Good night, Jeonghan.
Jeonghan: Worth a shot
Jeonghan: Night, sweets.
You sighed, chickening out before the questions got too intense, not wanting to reveal too much, too soon. Your cheeks couldn't help but warm at the incessant flirting from Jeonghan, unsure why he was so interested in your love life when he barely knew you.
“He's so weird…” You muttered to yourself as you lay back down on the couch.
“Who’s weird?” You shot back up when you heard Minghao’s voice, seeing him getting a bottle of water from the fridge.
You shook your head, dismissing his question with a wave of your hand. “Nothing, just muttering to myself.”
That seemed to satisfy Minghao's fleeting curiosity as he padded back to his room, leaving you alone once more, your head hitting one of the throw pillows while you thought about your new contact and Jung Han.
“Seriously, you’ve been texting the guy for five days now, and you're thinking about meeting him already?”
Joshua shook his head, still disapproving of the idea of you meeting your phone pen pal. You had been texting Jeonghan for almost a week, and you enjoyed talking to him more often than you didn't. You found yourself liking his free personality, the way he seemed to just be himself through the phone, open with you as he shared little moments of his life without revealing too much. And you did the same; you gave him a piece of your peaceful life, sharing small stories about your experiences at the lab or just talking about your day-to-day, just like you agreed upon.
You found yourself truly befriending the guy who accidentally texted your number.
A groan left Joshua’s lips as he sighed. “Give it more time, get to know him better before you actually agree to something serious. I don't want you coming home crashing out because he wasn't the guy you expected him to be.”
“What guy?” You suddenly hear a voice behind you, turning to see none other than Jeonghan Han. Your expression seemed to change when you saw him, your face a little brighter as he sat down beside you.
“Oh, uh, nothing. Just the guy I’ve been texting.” You shrugged as he rested his arm around the backrest of your chair before stealing a fry from your tray.
You and Jeonghan had also been spending some time with each other, getting to know each other as you talked through Instagram DMs. He sent you funny memes and made sure to remind you to drink water. He was friendly and charming, but not in the same way as the Jeonghan you’ve been texting over the phone.
Jeonghan felt bad for lying to you like this, wanting to come clean, but he was in way too deep within his two personas he was showing—the strange charmer over the phone, aka the real him, and whatever this ‘Jung Han’ persona was. It was baffling how you couldn’t connect the dots. He shook it off as he glanced at you with the usual look he always sent your way—yearning and admiring. Even Joshua could notice it, your best friend clearing his throat and coughing.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I don’t feel like third-wheeling. See you during lab.” Joshua got up from his seat, giving the two of you a wave before leaving with his tray. Jeonghan chuckled awkwardly at that, while you just hummed and continued eating your food in soft silence.
“Tell me about that guy you’re texting.” Jeonghan suddenly blurted out, prompting you to pause and look at him. He seemed curious, his eyes darting around before looking back at you.
“I… I mean, he’s nice. I like talking to him. He’s a little strange, but I guess that’s the part of his charm,” you murmured, smiling as you took a bite of your food, chewing and swallowing before continuing, “He’s asked me out about three times, but I turned him down since it’s only been five days. But we do have a few things in common.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan’s heart seemed to clench at how enthusiastically you talked about him to him, feeling jealous of his own self for knowing more about you and not being able to voice it out. It was ridiculous.
“I know I shouldn’t want to meet up with him, but I really want to. I want to see him and talk with him about all the things I talked about. Do you… Do you get what I mean?” You fidgeted with the napkin on your tray, glancing at Jeonghan as he nodded. You didn’t seem to notice how he tensed up, his jaw clenching before he relaxed.
Jeonghan then decided to tuck a few strands of hair away from your face, making you blink and flush when he leaned in. “You like him that much?” He sounded a bit hurt, eyes softening as he continued, “What about me?”
“Wh–what about you?” You mustered out, not moving away as his fingers found your shoulder, gently touching.
“Nothing, nevermind…” He chuckled, but it sounded strained as he moved back, ruffling your hair. “I have a lecture soon, pretty, I’ll see you later, okay?”
You faltered, confused as he got up and grabbed his bag, leaving you all alone at your table, your thoughts filled with nothing but his words. What about me?
Jeonghan wanted to scream into his pillow—well, Seungcheol’s pillow. He was currently in his best friend’s dorm at Beta Sigma Tau’s fraternity house. They were supposed to be writing an article about some topic Jeonghan had already forgotten, focused on his phone instead.
“You should just tell her, man. Stop being a wimp.” His best friend turned to Jeonghan as he sighed at his whining.
“I tried, Cheol… But something in me just flaked out, and I couldn’t bring myself to break it to her. What if she hates me for it?” He sat up, hugging the pillow as he checked your messages—both on Instagram and on his number. Nothing. He wondered if you had figured it out and decided to actually block him—
Ding!
Jeonghan immediately unlocked his phone to see that you had sent him a picture.
He almost fainted on the spot.
It was you in a pretty, baby blue sundress that ended at your mid-thigh, the sleeves puffy, making you look like a modern-day princess. Your face was covered by your phone, obviously not wanting to reveal it yet, even if he knew what you looked like, but this was the first time you’d sent anything remotely involving your looks.
You: Does this dress look okay?
Jeonghan: Yes.
You: Woah, that’s a serious response.
Jeonghan: Sorry, I was just so uh
Jeonghan: Surprised, ig?
Jeonghan: But you look very pretty, sweets
Jeonghan: Are... are you going on a date, mayhaps?
You: Maybe.
You: Jk, I’m not, I just wanted to know what you thought of the dress.
Jeonghan’s heart almost dropped when he saw that first message, before you followed it up with the second one. He didn’t realise he was holding in his breath as he let it out, making Seungcheol side-eye him, but he was too focused on texting you.
Jeonghan: I think the dress is lovely
Jeonghan: Will you wear it on our first date?
You: Maybe.
Jeonghan: You and your ‘maybe’s, just say yes or no, baby
You: Pffft
You: Ask me out again.
Jeonghan: Are you fr right now?
You: If you don’t do it in the next 10 seconds
Jeonghan: Sweets, sweetheart, will you go out on a date with me?
You: Yes.
Jeonghan got up from Seungcheol’s bed, startling his best friend as he re-read your answer before screaming, “SHE SAID YES—”
“What?” Seungcheol grimaced when Jeonghan’s voice cracked as the latter started jumping around like some madman.
“She said yes, dude, I’m going out on a date with her—fuck.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, already thinking of the plethora of things he wanted to do before coming up with a whole idea of where to bring you and whatnot.
This was going to be the perfect date.
Your heart was beating out of your chest. You said yes. You said yes. To a date with Jeonghan, a stranger you just met five days ago. Usually, your instincts told you to run in the opposite direction, but this time, it was telling you not to run away. Like this was meant to happen.
The two of you had agreed that you’d see each other on Saturday, which was four days away, giving the two of you some time to prepare. Prepare for what exactly? You weren’t sure, but you definitely needed the time.
You were currently on your way home, listening to music as you managed to bump into Jeonghan. He seemed as surprised as you were; his face was slightly flushed as if he was in a rush. He murmured your name as you took your headset off.
“Hey—”
“Hi—”
The two of you said in unison as you paused and smiled with a soft giggle. Jeonghan scratched the back of his ear—something he did when he was nervous, as you noted a couple of days prior.
You spoke up first, your expression full of wonder. “Where were you headed from?”
“Oh–uh, from Cheol’s place. We were supposed to do this one article, but I forgot the topic.” He chuckled, standing there as he put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I’m guessing you were going home from the lab?”
“Bingo.” You did finger guns, also pocketing your hands into your jacket. Your thoughts lingered on that moment you had in the cafeteria earlier that day, but you didn’t bother mentioning it.
Jeonghan seemed to hesitate, but spoke up after a beat, “Do you want to come over to my place?”
He blurted out, prompting you to pause. You checked your watch before looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late. My roommate wants me to eat dinner with him and his friends. We’re having Chinese. Maybe next time, though?”
“Oh—uh, yeah, sure…” Jeonghan smiled, hiding his disappointment and understanding that you had prior plans. That’s when he remembered about the party that was going to be hosted at Seungcheol’s fraternity.
“Hey, wait,” he managed to grab your wrist before you could leave. “There’s a party at Cheol—I mean Seungcheol’s fraternity this Friday.”
You blinked at him, pursing your lips slightly before cracking a soft smile. “I’m not really the partying type, Han.”
“I–I know! But we don’t have to stay downstairs. I’m sure Seungcheol won’t mind if we stay in his room. We could play Uno, or something.” He rubbed his neck, looking at you hopefully.
You thought about it for a second before sighing softly and nodding, “Yeah, I’ll go. Just don’t leave me alone there, alright? I’m sacrificing my precious Friday lab plans for this.” You joked as Jeonghan let go of your wrist, letting you leave as he found himself groaning when you were out of earshot.
You, on the other hand, were groaning for another reason. Not only were you sacrificing your precious time at the lab, but you were also juggling between two guys at this point! You felt guilty, but at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt to go, right? You were going there as his friend.
Shaking your head, you decided to stop thinking about it as you headed back to your apartment so you could eat with Minghao, Jun, and Soonyoung.
“I’m home!” You shouted from the front door as you slipped your shoes off, padding over to the kitchen to see Minghao cooking, while Jun and Soonyoung were trying to beat your record in Mario Kart in the living room. You could smell the aroma of the food Hao was cooking, going over to the stove before grabbing a spoon from one of the drawers and trying the soup.
Your roommate smacked your hand before you could grab another bite of the meat. “It’s not done yet, you impatient—”
Soonyoung, who called your name from the couch, cut Minghao off from cursing you out, and you smiled innocently at him before heading over to where your roommate’s friend was. “I beat your record! Give me the crown!”
“Oh yeah? Watch me beat your record—” You were about to grab the console from him when your phone buzzed. It was Jeonghan. An involuntary smile formed on your lips as you sat down on the armchair, not too far from the couch, before unlocking your phone. Soonyoung looked at Minghao, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: I miss you, sweets
You: Are you in the bath, Jeonghan?
Jeonghan: Uhhhhhh
Jeonghan: Yes?
You: I—Okay…
You: Also, you can’t miss me.
Jeonghan: Why not?
You: We haven’t met yet?
Jeonghan: I can miss my future girl, yk
You: Bold of you to assume I’ll be your future girl.
Jeonghan: You already agreed to go out with me.
Jeonghan: No take-backsies
You: Yeah, yeah. I know.
You: Have you planned out the date or…?
Jeonghan: Ofc I have, sweetheart
Jeonghan: Don’t worry your pretty little head abt it
You: If you say so.
You: I trust you.
You then contemplated whether or not to tell him about the party he Han invited you to. Shrugging, you decided to tell him, not thinking much of it.
You: Also… There’s this party I’m going to.
Jeonghan: Oh?
Jeonghan: My sweet geek is going to a party?
You: I am, yes. Surprising.
You: A friend invited me, so.
You: Would you like to come?
Three dots appeared and disappeared as Jeonghan typed, making you feel anxious. Was it a good idea to invite him when you were supposed to hang out with the person who invited you? You shook your head, focusing when Jeonghan finally replied to your message.
Jeonghan: Sorry, sweets, but I’ll be busy this Friday ://
Jeonghan: As much as I wanna meet you faster, I’d rather see you during our date, having fun instead of getting wasted
You: Valid point.
Jeonghan: I do hope you have fun with your friend though :))
You: I mean… we’re probably going to his friend’s room and play Uno or something since I’m not a party person.
Jeonghan: So your friend is a him.
Jeonghan: Cool.
You: Jeonghan, it’s not like that.
Jeonghan: 🙁
You: Jeonghan, you can’t be serious.
Jeonghan: MY FUTURE GIRL IS ALREADY CHEATING ON ME 🙁
You: I AM NOT.
Jeonghan: Gotcha
Jeonghan: You agreed that you’re my future girl 😍
You: I’m literally gonna block you.
Jeonghan: No you won’t <3
You sighed and shook your head, unable to stop yourself from smiling as Soonyoung gently nudged you with his foot. “Yah, why are you smiling like that? It’s creeping me out—Hao, why is she smiling like that?”
“She’s got a boyfriend.” Minghao rolled his eyes as you glared at your roommate. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
“He's not my boyfriend!” You argued, huffing softly as your roommate scoffed out a laugh.
“Right, and you don’t text him almost every day when you have free time.” He deadpanned, causing you to groan and threaten to throw a pillow at him before he sent you a glare back. “Plus, you bought that new dress when we went out, which means that you’re probably going to meet him soon—I’m presuming Saturday?”
“I—” You sputtered before clenching your jaw, kind of expecting this from Minghao. He just knew things, forces of the universe or whatever. Before you could even linger on the fact that he knew about your date, Soonyoung and Jun were tackling each other over the last pocky stick.
When dinner was ready and served on the table, the four of you dug in, but not before you took a picture of it and sent it to Jeonghan Han’s DMs.
You: [yourusername sent a photo]
You: Dinner with the goofs :))
Hannie 🩷: Have a good dinner, pretty :)
You: thank you, Hannie :3
You: Have you had dinner yet?
Hannie 🩷: Yeah, I just got out of the shower and made some ramyeon
You: I’d say you should have more than just convenience store ramyeon, but we are broke college students.
Hannie 🩷: Exactly, pretty
You: What time should I come to the frat house?
Hannie 🩷: Oh! I’ll just pick you up from your place, if that’s okay with u
You: Yeah, I don’t mind :))
Hannie 🩷: Perfect :)) I’ll pick you up at 8, since the party starts at 9
You: Alright, I've got to go, my roommate is glaring at me.
You turned off your phone before you could see Jeonghan’s reply, and avoided eye contact with Minghao before he spoke up again. “Who did you send the picture to?”
“Han from Journalism…” You grumbled, and your roommate’s eyebrow cocked in confusion.
“You mean Yoon Jeonghan?” He asked, and you shot him a puzzled look. “That’s the only Han I know from Journalism. You know, Seungcheol’s friend?”
That made you pause. Jeonghan. Han. Seungcheol. Cheol. Cogs turned in your brain until everything clicked. Han was Jeonghan. You agreed to go on a date with the same person who asked you if you wanted to go to a party with him. That’s why he declined your invitation.
You groaned at not being able to realise it sooner, but you didn’t want to do anything about it for now. Jeonghan must’ve had his reasons to keep this from you, so you let it be for the time being.
You got up from your seat, Jun perking up and furrowing his brows slightly. “Did Hao say something wrong?”
“Oh—no, I just figured something out,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as you muttered to yourself. Before Soonyoung could add anything, your roommate shushed him.
“Leave her be, she probably figured something out about Jeonghan.”
You decided to call Joshua about this about three hours later. It was late—11:09 pm—and you couldn’t sleep. You were wearing a face mask, typing along on your laptop, when your best friend answered your call, also in the middle of his skin care routine.
“Jesus Christ, I thought you were a ghost,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes at his eccentric comparison. “What is this about? You said it was important, but you just seemed bothered by something.”
“Jeonghan is Han,” you mumbled, and your best friend made a face, not being able to understand you.
“What? Can you repeat that? You literally mumbled it, and I’m not Superman, by the way.” He sassed, putting on his moisturiser. “Jeonghan is who?”
“He’s Han! Like—Like Han, Seungcheol’s friend!”
You explained everything to Joshua, filling him in on everything, and by the time you were done with your rambling, your best friend was done with his skincare routine, and you were removing your sheet mask.
“That’s a lot to unpack, pipsqueak.” He sighed, shaking his head as he sat down on his office chair, propping his phone up against something while probably opening his laptop to write his thesis, just like you. “What do you wanna do about it?”
“I don’t know! I mean, I like him, but which one is the real him, you know?” You groaned softly as you buried your face into your hands without realising what you had just said.
“Wait, go back. What did you say?”
“Which one’s the real him–?” You looked at your phone screen, confused.
“No, dumbass, the other thing.”
“That I liked—oh. Oh.” You finally got what he meant, realising that you liked Jeonghan.
You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more, but you liked him all the same. It made you realise that in the past few days, you’ve known Jeonghan as Seungcheol’s friend and as your phone pen pal, you’ve liked talking to both versions of him. The awkward dork side and the more flirty side of him.
“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Joshua repeated himself, looking at you with a knowing smile.
“I’m gonna go to that party and tell him how I feel?” You sounded unsure, feeling your insecurities grow. Jeonghan knew what you looked like all this time, but you still felt like you weren’t going to be enough for him. You also felt a bit betrayed at the fact that he knew who you were, but you didn’t know who he was—not fully anyway. But that didn’t really matter right now, your priorities set on the fact that you’d confront him during your date and not during the party, not wanting to ruin your chances with Jeonghan by cornering him.
Joshua noticed your conflicted expression and sighed. “You’re going to spiral if you overthink this, pips. And damn right you’re gonna tell him how you feel. If you get cold feet, you have to buy me those Prada sunglasses I told you about for my birthday.”
“Dude, your birthday just happened!” You whined, knowing there was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted a dent in your bank account anyway.
Sometimes you felt like you called the wrong person when asking for advice, but Joshua was always real with you, and so was Wonwoo. But you didn’t want to impede the latter with your love life problems when all he did was game when he had the time with his busy schedule as both a biology and engineering major. It was surprising that he had time to get lunch with you and Joshua every time.
You continued to talk to Joshua until you finally decided to head to bed, bidding your best friend goodnight and ending the call. A soft sigh left your lips as you took a quick picture of your desk and sent it to Jeonghan’s phone number.
You: [sent 2 attachments]
You: Shit.
You: That second picture wasn’t supposed to get sent.
Jeonghan: Fuck, sweets
You: DON’T LOOK AT IT??
Jeonghan: YOU LITERALLY SENT IT??
Jeonghan: You look hot, though
You: I—thank you.
Jeonghan: Is it weird to admit that I got hard?
You didn’t reply to that, as you wanted to scream your lungs out into your pillow, but it was late, and Minghao would smother you with said pillow if you didn’t shut up. You were experimenting—it was supposed to be something you kept in your gallery and then deleted when you looked too hard at it.
It was you, after your shower, posing a little too riskily for the camera, on your knees in front of your full-length mirror, wearing nothing but a tank top with thin straps, and shorts that were a little too short for your liking. Your face was covered by your phone, but it was obvious that it was meant to be for Jeonghan. You were just too much of a wuss to send it to him now that you knew who he was.
You looked back at your messages, groaning at the fact that you couldn’t turn back time and be more careful with sending pictures from your gallery.
You: That’s rather a bold statement.
Jeonghan: Okay, good you’re back
Jeonghan: Thought you died from embarrassment
Jeonghan: Though there’s really no point in being embarrassed, pretty girl
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Oh, fuck. It was a picture of Jeonghan—wearing his sweats and a loose t-shirt that rode up from the position he was lying in. Bulge prominent in his pants.
You: Is that a current pic?
Jeonghan: Yeah
Jeonghan: I don’t send shit like this to anyone else, pretty
You: Do you really think I’m that hot…?
Jeonghan: Don’t do that
You: Do what?
Jeonghan: Belittle yourself. You’re pretty, hot and everything I could ever want, sweetheart.
You: Stop—
Jeonghan: You got me hard for fucks sake
Jeonghan: Do you want me to send myself jerking off just to prove it to you?
You: …
Jeonghan: Too far?
You: Send it.
Jeonghan’s breath hitched when he saw the message. Send it. Fuck. Were you really serious? He bit his lower lip as he palmed himself while looking at the picture you had sent, feeling like some creep for planning to jerk off to such a pretty photo of you. But he’d rather be sure as he typed on his phone with one hand.
Jeonghan: U srs?
You: Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?
Jeonghan: Idk, ppl usually don’t ask for dick pics, let alone someone jerking off…
You: You offered, I accepted it. Now send it, coward.
Jeonghan: You’re so mean to your boyfriend 🙁
You: Future boyfriend***
Jeonghan: I’ll take it
Jeonghan: Brb
Jeonghan shimmied his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock as he hissed softly at the cold air hitting his sensitive tip. He bit his lower lip as he opened the camera app, his cheeks flushed behind it as he hit record.
He touched his cock, stroking it gently as he rubbed the leaking precum all over his thick girth, grunting and whining softly as he imagined it was you and your pretty mouth sucking him off. Jeonghan groaned out your name as he closed his eyes before they fluttered open once more, so he could focus on recording himself fucking his fist, imagining your breasts that almost spilt out of your tank top and the short shorts that probably barely covered your ass.
“Fuck—” He grunted, feeling himself get closer as he teased his tip, but ended the recording before he could cum, just so he could edge himself. He quickly wiped his hand with a tissue from his nightstand before nervously sending the video to you.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: There—
You: Holy fuck.
Jeonghan: ?
You: Nothing…
Jeonghan: Sweets, I just sent myself jerking off to you, speak up
You: It's embarrassing!
Jeonghan: More than me sending a video of myself?
You: …
You: I'm soaked
You: Like, I didn't know I could secrete so much slick
Jeonghan: Abandoning the punctuation marks, that's a sign
You: Aren't you gonna ask me for anything?
Jeonghan: Not unless you're comfortable with it, sweets
You: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan physically groaned, seeing the picture that you'd sent—bent over, your ass facing the mirror as you took the picture from your bed. He could see the cute posters and knick-knacks you had in your room, but he was zeroed in on your panty-covered mound, slick coating your inner thighs and your panties were soaked.
Jeonghan could feel his cock twitching, and more precum leaked out of his tip. A strangled grunt left his lips as he went back to stroking himself, and making sure he reached his release with the sight of you.
Jeonghan: so fucking pretyy
Jeonghan: gnna bust a nut
You: Jeonghan, I wish you were here…
That was what unravelled him, a choked-out moan leaving his lips as spurts of hot cum shot out of his shaft, coating his lower abdomen and his hands. He embarrassingly snapped a quick photo of it before sending it to you in a post-nut haze.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
You: Is that because of me?
Jeonghan: yws
You: ??
Jeonghan: Sorry, yes, I was typing with one hand
Jeonghan: Did you really mean it?
You: Yeah… I'm soaking wet, and I don't know what to do.
Jeonghan: fuck.
Jeonghan: Call me.
You bit your lower lip as you read his message over and over. Call him. Your stomach fluttered at hearing his voice through the phone, even if you knew what he sounded like, but this would confirm everything.
You hastily slipped off your panties, getting comfortable in your bed as you dialled Jeonghan’s phone number. He answered almost immediately, sounding strained and breathless.
“H–hello…?” You murmured, your phone pinched between your cheek and shoulder as you worked on teasing yourself, rubbing your inner thighs with one hand and tweaking your nipples with your other.
“Fuck… you sound so pretty.” Jeonghan's voice sent a jolt to your clit. It was him. Your theories were confirmed, but all you could do was whimper softly when you brushed your fingers against your slippery clit.
“Jeonghan—” You mewled, earning a soft groan from him as you teased yourself. “Need help…”
“I know, baby, I know… What are you doing?” He rasped out, hearing him shift on his bed.
“Teasing myself,” you mumbled, and Jeonghan hummed, listening along with your soft gasps when you rubbed your clit. “Rubbing my clit—”
Another soft grunt left Jeonghan’s lips as you started hearing soft fap fap sounds coming from the other side of the call. “Okay, baby, keep teasing your cute little clit, spread your slick…”
“Okay—hngh…” You mewled, eyes rolling back as you teased and rubbed yourself, your hole fluttering around nothing. “ I feel so empty, Jeonghan—”
“Fuck—put… put your fingers in, fuck yourself with two, scissor yourself, baby. Imagine they're my fingers trying to stretch you out for my cock.”
You whimpered at the command, doing as he said as you inserted two fingers into your sopping cunt, your toes curling as you started pumping your digits in and out and scissoring yourself as he told you to. You imagined him being in your room, talking you through it like he was now, touching you and whispering into your ear.
“Curl your fingers up for me, sweetheart. Come on, it’ll feel good, I promise,” he cooed, and you listened, curling your fingers up to that spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled, and you gasped, wanting to squeeze your thighs together as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers. The heel of your palm grazed against your clit, making you whine as you felt the knot in your lower belly forming.
“I'm close, Jeonghannie—” You whimpered out, while Jeonghan grunted over the other side of the line, the slick sounds of him stroking his cock getting faster and a bit louder. It made you imagine the video he had sent—how big and pretty his dick looked, how he moaned out your name. It was dizzying.
“Keep doing what you're doing, baby, you're doing so well for me,” he murmured, praising you as you got closer to your orgasm. “This really wasn't the way I was expecting us to do this, but fuck, this is hot. You're hot.”
You flushed, mewling his name once more before the band in your stomach snapped, and you let out a whiny moan as your walls convulsed around your fingers, coating them with your release. Your legs trembled as you panted, your vision blurry.
“Baby, you still there?” Jeonghan crooned, and you let out a soft “uh-huh”, still recovering from the intense release you had just gone through.
“I… holy shit—” you gasped as you pulled your fingers out of your slick hole, feeling how soaked you were everywhere; you probably ruined your sheets from coming so hard just now. “I—I think I soaked through my sheets.”
“Fuck, don't say that when I'm not there—” Jeonghan sounded whiny, hearing his pout through the phone as you giggled tiredly.
“It's… It's nice to finally hear your voice,” you murmured, your eyes softening as you closed your trembling legs. Jeonghan hummed, shifting in his bed as he put his sweats back on. You moved to the less ruined side of your bed before grabbing some clean panties from your wardrobe and putting them on.
Feeling slightly awkward, you were unsure of what to say to him now that you were done getting off. “Uhm…”
“Sweetheart, you sound tense. Is it awkward to put a voice to the text message?” Jeonghan chuckled, and you let out a soft huff in reply. “As I said earlier, I… I didn't expect to do it like this.”
“Do what?”
“Have phone sex? I'm more of a hands-on person.” He admitted blatantly, causing you to inhale sharply as you imagined Jeonghan’s hands all over you. He caught on to the silence on your end, a soft chuckle leaving him as you trembled at the sound.
“Now, now… Pump your brakes, little lady. We'll get to that point. Let me buy you dinner first.” He teased, and you whined, rolling your eyes but smiling either way.
You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, listening to his soft breathing before speaking up, “I'll see you Saturday?”
“Yeah, pretty. I'll pick you up, hm?”
“Mhm… goodnight, Jeonghan.”
“Goodnight, sweets.”
After that, you hung up, still trembling, but not because of your orgasm, but because of the excitement of seeing Jeonghan on Saturday and the dread of seeing him on Friday, pretending that you hadn't had phone sex with him. You groaned, the post-orgasm haze wearing off as your logical thinking came back.
Friday came faster than you’d expected. You were pacing around your living room like a worrywart while Minghao and Joshua played old maid. You were wearing a baby blue blouse and a white denim mini skirt with white sneakers, wanting to somehow look pretty to the party you were going to without overdressing or looking like a hooker.
Joshua groaned when you kept walking back and forth, having had enough of your worrying. “Dude, stop worrying. You'll confront him about it when you're ready.”
“What if he figures out I know?! What if I blurt it out or something—”
“You're worrying about the stupidest of things, you know that?” Minghao deadpanned, drawing a card from Joshua as the latter groaned when he lost. “The two of you are fucking idiots.”
“Hey—” you were about to argue, but the doorbell rang, prompting you to pad over to the front door and check the peephole to see Jeonghan. Unlocking and opening the door, you greeted him with a smile and a quick hug.
“Hi,” you squeaked, earning a raised eyebrow from him as you grabbed your purse and keys. “I'm leaving!”
You called out to your friends, and they bid you goodbye. “Don't get her near alcohol, she's a lightweight!”
Joshua warned Jeonghan, and you groaned, flipping your best friend off as you closed the door and started walking. Jeonghan offered his arm, and you gladly took it with a soft laugh.
“You look pretty,” Jeonghan murmured, his eyes softening as you flushed under his gaze. Was he always this handsome up close? Your heart couldn't help but flutter, and your body heated up a bit.
You could handle this. Maybe.
The two of you got to the frat house about fifteen minutes later, entering the loud establishment—music boomed from the speakers, and the place was packed with drunk college students, dancing and shouting at each other to hear what the other was saying. Jeonghan led you up the stairs, opening the door to what seemed like Seungcheol’s room.
“He lives in the dorm by himself?” You looked around, surprised to see only one bed, the rest of the vast space filled with a beanbag and a small couch, along with a desk in the corner by the windows.
“I mean, we used to live together before I decided to move out. And since he's the chapter president, he gets to have a dorm to himself.”
Jeonghan shrugged, humming uncommittally as he sat down on the bed, patting the free space beside him, causing you to gulp. Act natural.
You sat down beside him, pretending like the brush of his knee against yours didn't just ignite your skin on fire. He was acting fine, so you should too, right? You technically didn't know Jeonghan was Jeonghan, after all. Your hands were on your lap, and you sat there as Jeonghan looked around the room to see what the two of you could do while the party got crazier downstairs, the music getting louder, and students got rowdier.
“Do you have anything we can do—”
“We can play Uno if you want—”
The two of you said in unison, looking at each other before bursting into soft laughter, and that seemed to break the ice almost immediately. You nodded at the idea of a game of Uno.
“What does the winner get?” You asked, and Jeonghan looked up as if he thought hard about it.
“Hmm, how about a kiss on the cheek?” He offered, and you squinted your eyes at him playfully before he added, “And snacks.”
“You drive a good bargain, Han…” You murmured, touching your chin as you thought about it, humming and making a face that made him laugh.
“I'll take it. The winner gets a kiss on the cheek and snacks!”
At the start of the game, you seemed to have been taking the lead, managing to get to one card first before Jeonghan just smirked and shook his head.
“You underestimate my skills, sweetheart,” he cooed, the nickname sending a jolt down your spine as the memories of last night came flooding back before it got cut short when Jeonghan placed a wild draw four card on the deck.
You groaned, pouting slightly as you picked four cards from the deck, not having any colour Jeonghan had announced as he placed a blue eight. You picked another card, managing to place a red eight as he clicked his tongue. Your body froze when he shook his head again, placing a red skip card before a red draw two card, which caused you to retaliate with a yellow draw two card, and he clicked his tongue again.
“You sure you wanna play this game, pretty girl?” He tutted, and you looked at him with growing dread as he placed a blue draw two card, forcing you to pick up six cards, leaving him with five cards and you with ten.
Both of you went back and forth until you managed to get three cards left while Jeonghan had two. You bit your lower lip as you looked at your cards—a blue four and a red draw two card. The deck currently had a red eight card, and you were thinking whether or not to place the draw two card or to just pick another card from the deck.
Deciding to take a risk, you place the draw two card, glancing at his reaction. He kept a straight face before sighing. “Sometimes, I wonder if the forces are working against me.”
“Uno, Jeonghan. Your move.”
He picked out the first card from the deck before pausing and glancing at you. You held your breath as he picked out the two cards, having nothing to place in retaliation. He had five cards while you had one. Not like you could place the one you had, so you had to pick another card. A yellow stop card. You wanted to groan, but kept it in as you watched Jeonghan’s moves.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He looked at you with a pensive expression before he apologised, making you look at him confusedly.
“Huh–?” That’s when he placed two wild draw four cards, two wild cards and a blue reverse card, ending the game with your loss.
You just lost.
You lost Uno—the only card game you were probably good at—to Jeonghan.
“A kiss on the cheek is owed to me, my lady,” he teased, grinning as you groaned, rolling your eyes before leaning in and kissing his cheek. Jeonghan hummed at the action, and you couldn’t help but linger in his vicinity as you looked at him up close.
Jeonghan seemed to notice how you were looking at him, and his grin softened to a soft smile. “Careful, sweetheart, I might think you have a thing for me.”
That made you reel back with a flush to your cheeks, hitting his shoulder as he snorted out a laugh. That’s when he stood up, confusing you before he motioned towards one of Seungcheol’s drawers.
“He keeps his snacks here. We can eat them since he’s probably just hoarding them for when he feels like it.” He took out a bag of chips and a box of strawberry pocky. You grabbed the pocky and opened it, while Jeonghan continued to snoop in Seungcheol’s drawer before whistling lowly.
You looked at him with a quizzical brow, and he took out what looked like a blunt of weed. “Is that—”
“Sure looks like it…” Jeonghan murmured, glancing around the room before finding a lighter. “Wanna smoke it with me?”
The question hung in the air as you looked at Jeonghan. He seemed chill about the whole thing, probably had smoked weed before, but you never tried to in your four years of uni. He sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, tilting his head to the side before offering you the blunt.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t smoked weed before.”
“I haven’t.” You admitted, and Jeonghan’s eyes softened. “But I’d like to try.”
Jeonghan lit the blunt soon after your approval, taking a drag out of it and handing it to you to try. You awkwardly held the blunt between your fingers, taking a drag before you started to cough, handing the weed back to him as he patted your back while you tried to recover from the burn down your throat.
“I—fuck, I underestimated the strength of it. Sorry,” Jeonghan apologised softly, still rubbing your back. “How about I shotgun you? It’ll be easier on you, but the effect will be weaker, so…”
“Y-yeah, I think that’ll be better.” You nodded, looking at him with teary eyes after practically coughing your lungs out. “How do we do it?”
You asked, and he glanced away awkwardly before patting his lap. “You’ll have to get close, sweetheart. I will be exhaling smoke into your mouth after all.”
Ah. That made sense. Something in your stomach flipped as you looked at his lap before back at his face, and you made your way to straddle him, slightly hovering.
“Inhale when I exhale into your mouth.” Jeonghan took another puff out of the blunt, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb, prying your mouth agape before blowing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he said and inhaled, taking in the smoke as you felt the weed affecting you already due to its potency.
With a couple of more exchanges, and you could feel yourself getting high, sitting snugly on Jeonghan’s lap while he talked about something random from his childhood, while you fed him pocky. The two of you had probably gone through half of the blunt before Jeonghan decided to place it down on the ashtray he had found earlier. His hands found your hips, and you didn’t mind the touch one bit as you fed him another pocky stick.
“Play the pocky game with me,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as you hummed and agreed without a second thought. You placed one end of the long pocky stick between his teeth while you started biting the other end, getting closer and closer to his lips.
When your noses bumped against each other, and you were about to take the last bite, Jeonghan took the rest of the pocky stick into his mouth before stealing a kiss from you, prompting you to gasp. He didn’t seem to be sorry as he bumped his nose against yours.
“Was that okay?” Jeonghan whispered, and you nodded gently, already leaning in for more as his grip on your hips tightened. “Tell me, baby.”
“Yeah, Hannie, I liked it…” You murmured back before pressing another kiss to his lips, forgetting all about the pocky as your hands travelled to the back of his head and you tangled your fingers in his hair.
A groan left Jeonghan’s lips as he kissed you back, his hands roaming around your waist down to your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. “Fuck, is this okay?”
He muttered against your lips, fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, his eyes searching your face for any hint of disapproval. There was none, and you only tugged gently on his hair.
“Touch me, Jeonghan…” you murmured, and a soft noise left him as you said his name. He was too high to realise, and too focused on pushing your skirt up to your hips to care.
When you ground yourself against him, he panted, his dick stirring in his sweatpants as he watched your panty-clad cunt grind against his growing erection. A curse left Jeonghan’s lips when you ducked your head down, kissing his neck as he guided your hips.
“Just like that, sweetheart, mnh…” He grunted as he saw the wet patch forming against his pants, and your panties were probably soaked from the stimulation. He leaned his head back against the headboard, dizzy with pleasure and the weed working through his system. “I want to fuck you so bad, but I can't—”
He choked out, and you whined. “Why not?”
Jeonghan's hazed brain cleared for a moment, knowing that he didn't want this to happen this way—not when you didn't know who he was yet. Not when he was pretending to be someone else.
“Jeonghan, please…” You nosed his jaw, and that's when he realised that you were calling him by his name.
“I– how did you—” He faltered, groaning when you ground down against him once more, his grip on your hips tightening once more to halt your movements. “Baby, tell me.”
“Minghao told me… I kind of confirmed it when we called that night.”
Jeonghan grunted, moving your head from his neck as he made you look at him. “You're… you're not mad?”
“Why would I be?” You murmured, a puzzled expression forming on your face. “You probably had your reasons, and I'm not going to get mad over you hiding your identity. I'm more mad at myself that I didn't figure it out sooner.”
You pouted, moving your hands from Jeonghan’s hair to his face, caressing gently. “Can you fuck me now?”
A choked-out noise came out of him as he faltered and got flustered by your blunt request. He shook his head in disbelief before shifting slightly to sit better against the headboard.
“You're something else, sweets…” He muttered, stealing a quick kiss from your lips as his hands travelled to the gusset of your panties and tugged them to the side to see your glistening slit. His cock throbbed at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be inside your sweet cunt.
Jeonghan opened the nightstand drawer to grab the box of condoms Seungcheol usually kept, seeing that there were two condoms left. He gently lifted you so he could shimmy his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh, his cock leaking and hard.
You watched as he clumsily opened the condom and put it on himself. Once he was done, he tossed the empty foil and tugged you closer, positioning you above his aching dick. He paused as his tip teased your entrance, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“You sure you want—” Jeonghan cut himself off when you sank down on his shaft without warning, a moan leaving his lips as your wet heat clamped around him snugly.
He watched as your thighs trembled when he bottomed out, your hips pressed against his as he raised you up and gently slammed you down, causing you to make such sweet noises that had him immediately addicted.
“Jeonghannie—” you whined, riding him slowly as he guided you, rolling your hips just right as his tip nudged against spots you wouldn't be able to reach with your fingers. “S'good—”
You looked down at him as he seemed to be focused on watching his cock disappear into your warm cunt, a groan leaving him before looking up at your face. You looked so fucked out, and Jeonghan loved it, his hips starting to meet your downward motions, thrusting up into you.
“You're perfect, sweets… everything I ever wanted—fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. You like that? Being everything I want?” He panted as he pressed soft kisses to your jaw and neck, slamming you down harder on his cock as he fucked you faster, not being able to help himself.
You felt wrecked, getting fucked so good by the same person you’d texted for over a week in his best friend’s dorm room. It was something out of a fantasy, and you couldn’t help but whimper when Jeonghan’s thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the nub as he tried to lead you to your first orgasm.
“Jeonghan, fuck, I’m gonna cum—” You squeaked, feeling how your cunt got slipperier and the knot in your abdomen got tighter.
Jeonghan only grunted at that, his assault on your bundle of nerves not stopping as he kept thrusting up into your tightness. “Cum for me then, milk my cock for what it’s worth, hm? Come on—”
You cried out when his hips snapped just right, his tip kissing your cervix as your orgasm came crashing down on you like a wave. Your thighs trembled, but you continued to bounce on Jeonghan’s cock until he blew his spend into the condom he was wearing.
“Too hot…” You grumbled, tossing your blouse onto the foot of the bed, leaving yourself in your black lace bra. Jeonghan also shed himself of his hoodie and t-shirt, revealing his lean body. He pulled out of you as he tossed the condom into the box before grabbing another one. You were surprised how quickly he got hard again, not expecting it at all.
Jeonghan flipped the two of you over, so that he was on top of you this time, kicking off his pants while undoing your skirt to toss it into the small pile of clothes that you had made on the floor. Your bra and panties joined the pile soon after, leaving both of you naked. You panted softly as he ground his cock against your slippery folds, his cockhead nudging your pudgy clit before he pushed into your wet hole once more. His grinds were slow and lazy, but Jeonghan filled you up just right as he took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, managing to hit deeper spots from this position.
A soft grunt left him as he watched you mewl and whimper under him, your arm covering your eyes as your breasts bounced back and forth with each thrust. “You look so pretty,” he murmured, moving your arm and pinning it above your head, seeing your eyes glazed with tears as he cooed.
“Why are you crying, baby? Is it too much—” He almost sounded panicked, and you shook your head, not wanting him to stop.
“No–no, it feels so good, Hannie, I just—fuck, it feels so good—” You whined as your back arched off the bed, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but lean down and press soft kisses to the valley of your breasts, worshipping your body as he continued to fuck you slowly.
Jeonghan relished the way your pussy clamped around his thick shaft, sucking him in and milking him with your gummy walls. Soon, his hips started to move a bit faster, feeling his release building up with each second of being inside your needy cunt.
“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped out, his pelvis rubbing against your clit with every rock of his hips as your velvet walls continued to spasm around him with increasing vigour, signalling that you were close as well.
It didn't take long for the two of you to reach your orgasms, with yours hitting you first and triggering Jeonghan’s as the two of you moaned softly.
“One more time, Hannie—” You keened out a whine when he pulled out, noticing how sweat sheened from his skin. He was softly panting, still holding your leg over his shoulder as he pressed a gentle kiss to your calf.
“Can't… We don't have any condoms left—” He crooked out, but you only tugged him closer when he threw the used-up condom into the box once more. His cock was still half-hard, and you were aching for more. Jeonghan murmured your name softly, chiding you when you angled your hips, so that your entrance would nudge against his bare tip. “We can't—”
“Hannie, please… I'm on birth control, I just need you inside me one more time, please.”
You begged, and Jeonghan was weak for you. He probably always had been, even when you didn't know him back then. He sighed, praying that his stamina would last one more time. “One more time, and we're done. I'm not gonna last much longer…”
He admitted, and you just nodded. He didn't have to last long, you just wanted to feel him—feel what it was like to have him raw and creaming your pussy instead of a condom. Jeonghan clenched his jaw as he pushed his tip into your bare hole and hissed softly at how wet and snug you felt without any barriers.
“Oh, fuck… I'm definitely not gonna last—” He grunted, filling you up with ease from how slick your walls and inner thighs were. “Fuckfuckfuck—”
Jeonghan groaned, his pace hasty as he drove his cock into your spasming cunt, gripping and sucking him in like a vice. His cock molded your insides, his cockhead abusing your cervix with each thrust as you squealed.
You could feel your release building up once more, the heat in your abdomen unbearable as you clamped down on Jeonghan’s shaft, the band snapping and releasing hot slick around his length. The pleasure felt like hot lava against your skin, burning you as your back arched off the bed, making a mess out of Seungcheol’s sheets. Your pussy milked him, a milky ring forming around the base of his cock, and Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in anymore.
A guttural groan left his lips as his hips stuttered, movements stilling as he came inside you in hot spurts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not being able to hold in your keen whine as he filled you up to the brim until both of your mixed releases were leaking out of your used cunt to your ass down to the already messy sheets.
Once Jeonghan recovered, he pressed a soft kiss to your throat, pulling out as he watched his cum and your juices leak out of you before pushing it back in with his fingers. The action made you whimper, but you let him do what he wanted, watching him with lidded eyes.
“We made such a mess…” He grumbled with a soft chuckle, “Cheol’s gonna kill me for fucking you on his bed.”
“Future us’s problem,” you murmured, groaning deliciously at the ache of your body as Jeonghan grabbed some tissues to clean you up before crashing on top of you. “You’re heavy—”
You complained, but Jeonghan was out like a light, his breathing heavy and rhythmic as you sighed with a soft smile, drifting to take a nap as well.
At about 3 in the morning, you could hear banging outside the door. Jeonghan stirred first as he groaned, grabbing his pants from the floor before tossing his t-shirt for you to wear. You put it on, along with your panties, and when Jeonghan saw that you were fully covered, he opened the door to see a disgruntled Seungcheol.
The disgruntlement immediately switched from shock to disbelief at the sight of his bedsheets. “Dude.”
“Cut me some slack, you invited me to this party. Plus, I didn’t expect we’d fuck…” Jeonghan murmured, sheepish as he glanced at you with a soft smile and a wink that made you flush in embarrassment.
“You smoked my weed!” Seungcheol hissed, groaning as he looked around his room, noticing the half-eaten snacks, the almost-smoked blunt and the messy sheets you were currently sitting on. “Man, I was saving that pocky…”
He sulked as you looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Seungcheol.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s his—” He pointed at his best friend with a glare before rubbing his face. “I’m crashing at Mingyu’s. I’m not going to sleep in my room for the next week. It reeks of sex and weed in here.”
Seungcheol grumbled as he grabbed a few clothes from his drawer and opened the window before muttering something along the lines of “unbelievable” and “fucking in my room”. He closed the door after himself, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, stifling your giggles as Jeonghan covered his hand with his fist. “We should clean his room and head back.”
Jeonghan nodded at that, and you put your skirt on, still wearing his t-shirt, while he put on his hoodie before the two of you started tidying up his best friend’s room. Once you were finished, you held your blouse in your hand, leaving the room with a ‘sorry’ note with it.
Walking back to your apartment, you and Jeonghan had your arms linked together, giggling and talking about random shit. When you got to the bottom of your apartment building, he unlinked your arms, but didn’t let go of your hand just yet.
“I’ll see you later for our date?” He asked, looking at you hopefully, and when you nodded, he sighed in relief. You cocked an eyebrow at that before he spoke up again. “I thought you wouldn’t want…”
“Jeonghan, I just had the best sex of my life. I think I’d want to still go on a date with you.”
“Just because I’m sexy? Or because you actually want to date me?” He pouted, teasing you as you rolled your eyes.
“Can’t it be both?” You compromised as Jeonghan hummed and pursed his lips, pretending to think about it before nodding.
He pulled you closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. “Both is good, sweets. I’ll see you later.”
You smiled softly, letting go of his hand before waving him goodbye and heading up to your apartment, still wearing his t-shirt.
“That’s one hell of a fashion statement.” Minghao deadpanned as you jumped once you closed the front door. You turned around to see your roommate, your two best friends, and Jun in the living room, visibly waiting for you.
“What does it say?” You entertained Hao’s sarcastic remark as you tossed your blouse into your room before coming back to where they were.
“It says, ‘I was clearly laid, ask me about it because I’ll definitely brag’. It’s quite obvious.” Joshua chimed in, watching as you grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his face. Your best friend let out an ‘oomph’ sound before throwing the pillow back at you.
You huffed at them, irked at the fact that they were all gathered in your apartment. “What are you guys doing here anyway? I get Hao, he’s my roommate, but you three? Wonwoo, how’d you get dragged into this?”
Wonwoo shrugged, pointing at Joshua, “He told me what happened, and as your friend, I came for support. So, are you going to tell us what happened during the party or what?”
“This is my sex life we’re talking about.”
“And? You’ve shared worse stuff, pipsqueak. Spill the tea.” Joshua seemed the most interested in the gossip, while Minghao just sat there, looking unbothered when he was lowkey listening. Jun and Wonwoo were too busy fussing over a game on the latter’s phone, but they were tuning in as well.
You sighed, sitting down on the free armchair by the sofa, before you started telling them about what had happened during the party. Deciding to leave out the three rounds of sex, Joshua was awestruck, Minghao was subtly judging, but at the same time, he was happy for you, while Jun and Wonwoo were still busy with the game on their phones.
“Now, get the fuck out of my apartment. I need to get some sleep before my date.” You pointed at the door, and Joshua whined but dragged your Wonwoo and Jun out of your apartment, but not before Wonwoo could say something.
“I hope he doesn’t break your heart, or he has four guys to deal with.” Your best friend offered you a smile before closing the door. You smiled at the thought of your friends beating up Jeonghan if he ever fucked up, and it warmed your heart, thankful to have such good friends.
After 6 hours of sleep, you woke up around 9 am, your phone buzzing being the reason why you woke up. You checked the notifications bar, seeing Jeonghan’s name on top.
Jeonghan: Good morning :))
Jeonghan: Can you come downstairs? I have something for you, sweets.
You: How are you downstairs???
You: We literally saw each other six hours ago.
You: I’m still in my pyjamas.
Jeonghan: Perfect. Could I come up then?
You: Yeah, I’ll open the door for you.
You got up from your bed with a soft grunt, looking at yourself in the mirror as you felt the soreness between your legs. A soft sigh left your lips when your intercom rang, prompting you to rush towards it and open the door for Jeonghan downstairs.
When he finally got upstairs, you opened the front door, seeing him holding two cups of what seemed like coffee and tea in one hand and breakfast from your favourite bakery. “Surprise?”
“You didn’t have to—” Your eyes softened as you let him in, closing the door as he took his shoes off after handing you the bag with your favourite pastries from the bakery. “How’d you know I liked these?”
“Well, uh…” He trailed off, his cheeks dusting pink as he strided towards your couch, looking around your space a little better. “I might’ve had a crush on you before the whole wrong number ordeal.”
You blinked at him, surprise filling you as you connected the dots further—the way he seemed to be awkward and nervous around you during the first few meetings when he was pretending to be Han and his flirty behaviour over text.
“No way—” You shook your head, sitting down beside him, surprise evident in your tone. “We didn’t even know each other back then!”
“Well, you didn’t know me, I knew you. We took Statistics together last year, too.” Jeonghan scratched his cheek awkwardly when you continued to look at him with an astonished expression. “I didn’t know Cheol knew you until a few weeks ago, and that was when I gained the guts to ask him for your number and message you, pretending that I had the wrong number.”
The explanation baffled you, but it made sense at the same time before you scoffed out a laugh.
“Jeonghan.”
“Mmm?”
“You couldn’t have made it any harder for yourself.” You snorted, and he groaned before laughing softly along with you. “Like, seriously. You could’ve walked up to me and talked to me.”
“It wasn’t that simple!” He covered his face, embarrassed, but he kept smiling, a little glad that you found the situation humorous. Jeonghan sighed softly when you finally stopped giggling, shaking his head at how cute you were before noting that it was quite quiet in your apartment.
“Is your roommate not home?” He asked as you hummed, taking a bite out of the pastry in the bag.
“Minghao usually goes to the gym before going for a three-hour nature walk around the campus park. He also takes his time to meditate by the lake, so he’ll be gone for a while. Why?”
Jeonghan just shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched you enjoy your food. He could get used to seeing you like this—dishevelled after sleep, face bare and hair sticking out from multiple ends. It was cute, and he’d been dreaming of this day.
You noticed his soft gaze on you, making you feel a little self-conscious. “Is there something on my face?”
“Huh-? No, no! I just… I’ve been kind of dreaming of this day, he murmured, smiling softly.
You tilted your head to the side, puzzled, before Jeonghan continued. “You know, uh, seeing you like this—dishevelled and whatnot. Just you.”
You swallowed the food in your mouth, blinking at him. “So, my usual grouchy morning self?”
“Yes.” He nodded, leaning back against the sofa.
“You’re even weirder in person, you know that?” You grumbled but cracked a soft smile. “I can’t say I hate it. Being my boyfriend and all.”
Jeonghan blinked at the words you just said, causing you to look at him with a confused expression once more. “What?”
“Say that thing again.”
“I can’t say I hate it..?” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure, before Jeonghan shook his head and made a circular motion with his hand as if telling you to rewind.
“No, the other thing.”
“Being my boyfrien—oh.” Your cheeks flushed, looking down at your lap as you tried not to explode on the spot for saying that. “Is… Is that okay?”
“Is— Is being your boyfriend okay? Are you hearing yourself?” Jeonghan huffed softly before grabbing your shoulders and shaking you, “Of course, it’s okay. More than okay, actually—perfect, more so.”
You grabbed his arms and stopped him from shaking you, “Okay, okay—I get it!”
Jeonghan let you go and sat back down on the couch, grabbing his coffee from the coffee table before taking a long swig from it, and placing it back down as you finished your food. Once you were done, you crumpled the paper bag, and he wiped off the leftover crumbs from the corner of your lips.
“So…” You started, curious about what he had planned for today’s date, “What are we going to do today?”
Jeonghan only smiled, winking at you as he leaned back, “That’s a secret you’ll have to unfold later, sweets. I’m not fond of ruining surprises.”
A groan left your lips, too impatient, but knowing Jeonghan, he’d stay true to his word and not reveal anything until the date. You pouted slightly before taking a sip of your tea, humming at the hot beverage filling your system.
“Not even one hint?”
“No. Not a chance, sweetheart. Stop trying to ruin your surprise.” He squinted at you before flicking your forehead, prompting you to retaliate, but he didn’t let you as he grabbed your wrists.
“What if I don’t like surprises?” You argued and tried to tug yourself away from his grasp, and he rolled his eyes, keeping you close.
“Not my problem, sweets, you’re not getting any spoilers.”
Even with your insistence on having Jeonghan give you at least one hint, he only gave you one, very vague hint, which went somewhere along the lines of “you’ll love it” and “it’s something you really like”.
That hint didn’t really help, since he asked you to wear something casual yet pretty, so you were stuck between a white sundress adorned with tiny pink flowers or a loose V-neck sweater and jeans.
Deciding on the former, you put on the dress, matching it with your white shoes, before heading back out to the living room, where Jeonghan was waiting. He was scrolling through his phone when he glanced up and saw you standing there, your hands behind your back as you awkwardly rocked back and forth.
“Stop staring like that—” You huffed, feeling awkward as he gaped at you before snapping out of it.
“Sorry—fuck… I, uh… You look pretty.” He got up from the sofa, walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Like, really pretty.”
Jeonghan leaned down, nosing your cheek. “Wondering if we should go on that date right now or—ow, okay, okay, sorry.”
He snickered when you smacked him, grinning as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. That's when you heard a groan behind you, prompting you to turn around and see Minghao with squinting eyes.
“The two of you better not fuck on the couch,” He muttered accusingly before heading to his room, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more. A giggle left your lips before you patted his chest.
“Let's go on that date, shall we, my lady?” He offered his arm for you to grab, and you smiled as you took it before heading out the door.
The two of you walked to one of your favourite bookstores near campus, which you hadn’t expected for your first date with him. “Bookstore date?”
“That’s not all, sweets.” Jeonghan grinned, opening the door for you as he let you enter the establishment. “I decided to ask the staff… And they let me rent the place out for two hours.”
Your eyes widened at his words, surprised at the fact that Jeonghan managed to rent the bookstore for a whole two hours. When you entered, you saw Kimmy—one of the workers in the store—by the register, winking and giving you a thumbs-up before waving a small green flag she held by the counter to promote books with green-flag men.
A soft giggle left your lips as Jeonghan led you to the small reading nook the owners of the store had agreed to make for you since you came by so often, and it was far from the main hall of the bookstore itself, so you had some privacy. The table you had there was set with a candle, and some food—takeout from your favourite Chinese joint that you frequented with Joshua.
“You thought of everything for this date, haven’t you?” You looked at him with a fond smile, and he hummed before grabbing a baby blue bag from behind one of the chairs.
“That’s not all. Sit down and open it.” He pulled the chair back for you, prompting you to giggle once more as you sat down comfortably and pulled out what seemed like a cinammoroll plush keyring. You glanced up at him with a slightly ajar mouth before he added, “Oh, there’s also an envelope, open it.”
Without another word, you grabbed the envelope and opened it to read, “Here’s my card. You have ten minutes to look around the store and five minutes to grab the books you want. Winky face, your boyfriend.” You looked at him, dumbfounded as he only chuckled.
“We’ll do it after we eat, it’s better to eat Chinese when it’s still hot.”
The two of you ate and conversed, giggling about the stupidest things as you reminisced about the things that happened a couple of hours prior. Jeonghan seemed to notice your flushed expression, grinning slightly. “You’re thinking about what happened last night, did you?”
“Shut up—” You squeaked, stealing a dumpling from his container, and he let you as he leaned his chin on his palm, looking enamoured by the sight of you. Feeling flustered, you took a sip of your drink before clearing your throat. “I’m full, so let’s do that thing, hm? I have a few books I’ve been eyeing, and I know the layout of this building like the back of my hand.”
“I’m going to be broke, aren’t I?” Jeonghan sighed with a soft laugh when you nodded, taking one last bite of his food before getting up and taking your outstretched hand, excited for whatever activity you had planned.
After the timer ended, you managed to snag about 8 books, two of which were textbooks, which made Jeonghan raise an eyebrow at you, but books were expensive as fuck, so if you had the chance to monopolise someone else’s money, you’d use it. The other six paperbacks were romance novels, with genres ranging from romantasy to standard romcom tropes.
“You sure like romance novels, huh?” He teased, looking through one of the books’ synopses, curious about the contents of the paperback, and opening a page where the main characters were having rough sex. Jeonghan whistled softly as Kimmy snatched the book from him, rang it up and put it in the paper bag. You thanked her as you waved goodbye while your boyfriend held the bag with your haul. “Are you sure you’ll manage to read all of these? Six novels are a lot, you know?”
You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s the weekend, Jeonghan. I have a whole Sunday free, and my Mondays usually consist of theoretical science that I can miss because the professor sends video versions of the lecture anyway. I’ll manage to binge these in a day.”
That’s when you noticed Jeonghan’s slight pout, prompting you to raise your eyebrow at him before he sighed dramatically.
“Why are you pouting?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, still pouting. “My girlfriend would rather spend time with books for the whole weekend instead of her boyfriend—” You smacked him, cutting him off as he stifled his chuckles. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I mean, I could kick Minghao out for the day, and we can hang out in the living room without him side-eyeing us.” You shrugged, not thinking much of it, as the two of you walked towards the cafe, where you bought your tea from and bought some drinks before heading to the park to sit down by the small pond.
“How are you enjoying our little date so far, sweets?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. You shrugged, causing him to gently nudge you. “Come on, tell me.”
“Honestly?” You looked at him with a soft yet happy smile, “It’s the best date I’ve been on in a while. You’ve outdone yourself, boyfriend.”
Jeonghan grinned, clearly happy with the praise, before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, surprising you. “Perfect. How many boyfriend points do I get?”
“Boyfriend points?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, like… If I get enough of them, I get a prize or something.” He shrugged, making you blink at him.
“Jeonghan, we are not doing that. What are you, a toddler?” You snorted, and he made a face which you almost smacked him for again, but refrained. “We are not doing that.”
“Worth a shot.”
After your date, Jeonghan walked you back home and gave you a goodbye kiss that made you feel like you were on clouds. You felt all giddy, and you were giggling to yourself on the way up to your apartment.
Once you entered the apartment, you saw Minghao lounging around in the living room, watching something on the TV. He glanced at you before sighing, “How was the date?”
“Perfect,” you chirped, still smiling, which made your cheeks hurt. “I think he’s actually not real from how perfect the date went.”
“I’m sure you’re itching to tell someone the details, so spill.”
“You’re the best roommate ever, do I ever tell you that?” You sat down beside him after placing your paper bag with your new books on the dining table.
“I’ve been told once or twice, yes.” He rolled his eyes, but Minghao was genuinely interested, wanting to know how your day with Jeonghan went.
“Okay, so…”
After talking about your date with Minghao and Facetiming Joshua and Wonwoo in the process, you managed to get some good night’s sleep. You couldn’t kick Minghao out for the day, so you had to cancel your plans with Jeonghan, but the two of you called for about three hours before you had to end the call because you needed food in your system.
While you prepared dinner, you found yourself texting your boyfriend, sharing memes or just talking about random messages.
Jeonghan: Whatcha cooking, good looking?
You: Just some cream pasta.
You: Reading was quite slow today. I only read 50% of the first book.
Jeonghan: That’s still a lot, sweets
Jeonghan: It’d take me about 3 days to get halfway through a book :/
Jeonghan: So, be proud of yourself for reading so much in one day
You: If you say so 🤷
You: Anyway, what are YOU up to?
Jeonghan: I’m playing video games with Cheol
Jeonghan: Kinda boring ngl
Jeonghan: Would rather talk with you ;)
You: Pfft, okay.
You: Play your silly video games with him.
You: And apologise about the weed.
Jeonghan: Just the weed?
You: And the pocky.
You: I don’t regret the sex, you know.
Jeonghan: Oh, I know ;)
Jeonghan: I’d so do it again even if we weren’t high
You: You’re evil.
Jeonghan: You like me so 🤷
You: Fair enough.
Jeonghan: I gtg
Jeonghan: Text you later?
You: If I don’t get immersed in reading, then yes.
Jeonghan: Okay, love u
You reread the message, trying to make sure you weren’t seeing things before turning as red as a tomato. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He meant it as a goodbye and not an actual ‘I love you’? You screamed into your hands, confused and flustered as hell.
On Jeonghan’s end, he was also screaming into his hands after sending you that last message, Seungcheol, looking at him with an ‘Are you fucking serious right now?’ expression. “Dude, you’re overreacting. It was just a text.”
“You don’t get it, Cheolie…” Jeonghan groaned as his best friend was more focused on the game he was playing rather than Jeonghan’s insistent whining. “I said ‘love you’ and not ‘I love you’ because I’m a fucking coward. And I wanna say it to her face, not over text.”
“Then do that?” Seungcheol paused his game, sighing softly.
Jeonghan only groaned, throwing his phone on his bed before rubbing his face from slight frustration. He wanted to do it so badly, but he felt like he’d be pushing it. “It’s too early for me to do it! I don’t wanna scare her off.”
He grumbled, and his best friend could hear his pout without even looking at him. “When did you become such a loser, Hannie?”
Seungcheol teased, and Jeonghan glared at him, throwing a pillow at his friend.
“Shut up.”
A few days passed, and everything between you and Jeonghan was going smoothly, going on quick cafe dates in between classes, sharing lunch with your friends, or just spending time together in general.
You were getting used to the whole boyfriend/girlfriend ordeal, not being used to having someone in your space besides your roommate. But you found yourself enjoying it more than you expected, liking the comfort of having someone to lean on for once. It felt lighter to have someone who could carry your burdens with you and vice versa.
It was a Friday afternoon, you had finished most of your lab work early and decided that Minghao had to go for the day because you wanted Jeonghan to stay over, and he just gave you an obvious look that meant ‘I know what you’re planning to do and I’m letting it slide’.
You were huddled up in a blanket, cuddling with Jeonghan on top of you while you played with his hair with one hand and read a book with the other, occasionally moving your hand from your boyfriend’s hair to flip a page.
A soft grunt left your lips an hour into reading, prompting Jeonghan to move his head from your chest. “What is it?”
“Nothing… I mean, not nothing, I just don’t wanna move at the moment,” you grumbled softly as your cheeks burned. You didn’t want to ask him for it. No way.
“Do you need to pee or something—”
“No, no! It’s just…” You trailed off, your cheeks and ears dusting red as you tried to spit it out. “There’s a sex scene I don’t really get.”
“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured, causing you to flush further from embarrassment, before he tutted softly, “Well, that can’t do, can it? What’s the scene? Read it for me, baby.”
“O–oh, uh, okay…” You cleared your throat. “Harlan angled my hips, spreading my legs wide, teasing his cock against my slit before pushing in—”
“Okay, I got the gist of it, geez. I forgot most of those romance books of yours are in first person,” he grumbled before taking the book from you and placing it down on the coffee table before shifting slightly between your legs. “That’s just simple missionary, sweetheart. Why are you so confused?”
“Because there’s more, Hannie. Let me finish, will you?” You huffed, grabbing the book once more, and he chuckled before nodding.
You cleared your throat again and continued, “Pushing in with one easy thrust, my pussy squelched from how wet he’d gotten me. I whined, trembling like a leaf as I pawed my enemy’s chest—”
“They’re enemies?” Jeonghan cut you off, gasping dramatically as you rolled your eyes and continued reading.
“—looking up at him so fucked out and dazed. He pumped his shaft into me a couple of times before flipping me around to my stomach without pulling out, burying my face into the pillows of my bed. He grabbed my hips up and started fucking me harder while muttering the lewdest things into my ear.”
You finished reading the part of the page, Jeonghan’s eyes half-lidded as he licked his lips. “I got the gist of it. You wanna…?”
Your thighs clenched around his hips, signalling him that you indeed wanted it. A soft groan left his lips as he slipped off the blanket from your bodies, his hands starting to roam along your hips and waist, pushing up the t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare breasts. He expected it, since the two of you were home, but he still enjoyed the sight.
A whine left your lips when he leaned down, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, suckling and gently biting while he rubbed your other nipple with his thumb, switching between them so neither would feel neglected. Jeonghan continued his ministrations until you were panting and your nipples were wet, coated with his spit and aching with pleasure.
“Gonna fuck you better than what that dumb book described, mmkay?” Jeonghan crooned against your neck, yanking your shorts and panties down your legs, and throwing them on the floor. His hand ghosted over your wet slit, teasing you as he spread your pussy lips open, watching as your tight hole clenched around nothing and gushed with slick that drooled down to the leather of the couch.
“Hannie, please…”
“Hmm? What is it, pretty baby?” He cooed. “You need to be patient. I wanna take my sweet time with your sweet little cunt this time.”
“But–but, you were gonna show me—”
Jeonghan shushed you softly. “I said I’m going to fuck you better than what was described in your book. So, be a good girl and take what I give you, hm?”
You moaned at that, nodding as he touched you with reverent caresses, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before pushing two fingers into your wet heat, scissoring your sopping cunt as it squelched lewdly at his movements. Jeonghan stretched your inner walls, feeling them snugly flutter and wrap around his digits. His palm grazed your clit just right, pulling soft whines out of you as your thighs tightened around his hips.
Once he was satisfied playing with your sweet pussy, he pulled his fingers out before shoving them into his mouth and let out a groan. When he finished sucking off your juices from them, he smiled at you. “So sweet…”
Jeonghan didn’t waste any more time, shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He looked at you, begging and reaching out for him, so he decided against looking for condoms, and it wasn’t like he had any with him to begin with.
Lubricating himself with your slick, his cockhead nudged against your bundle of nerves a couple of times, causing your legs to tremble and twitch before Jeonghan finally lined himself up against your entrance. Due to how slippery your hole was, he easily slipped in, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he felt your raw cunt around his cock once more.
“Fuck, fuck—you feel so good… Your pussy is sucking my dick in so good, sweets.”
“Hannie—Jeonghan, fuck—I, I, hngh—”
You whined out, grasping the material of the oversized hoodie he was wearing before he quickly shed it, so that he could feel your nails against his skin. You nailed his upper back, causing Jeonghan to hiss in both pleasure and pain from the sharp sting. He then started gently rocking his hips into you, each deep thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.
Your boyfriend’s eyes darted down to where the two of you were connected, and the sound of his cock bullying into your cunt was enough to make him grit his teeth and think of basketball statistics to prevent himself from coming way too quickly inside your spasming hole.
Jeonghan groaned your name softly, peppering soft kisses all over your neck and jaw before he flipped you onto your stomach without pulling out, just like what you had read in your book. Something about him easily manhandling you made your stomach flutter and your walls to squeeze around his dick as he pulled your hips up towards him, your ass up, while your face got buried in the throw pillows.
“This is what you wanted, right, baby? Getting fucked from behind like a pretty little thing in heat—” Jeonghan grunted softly as he grabbed the globes of your ass, the fat dimpling under his grip as he spread your cheeks apart to watch how his thick length filled you up.
You could feel how his dick twitched inside you when he saw the messy white ring forming around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting slightly sloppier and harder as he licked his lips. Your moans were muffled but still loud enough to spur Jeonghan on and made him drive his cock deeper into you—hitting spots you couldn’t reach yourself. The way his tip grazed against your cervix made you squeal and push yourself back against him, your back arching slightly from pleasure.
One of Jeonghan’s hands let go of your ass cheek, moving down between your legs to rub on your neglected clit, making you keen out a whine and your hole to clench around him tightly. Your toes curled as the heat in your gut expanded and licked at your tingling nerves.
“Jeonghan—I’m… I think I’m gonna—”
“Let go, baby, let go for me.”
You whined at that, letting go as you let your orgasm crash through you, making your back arch further as you pushed yourself closer to him, as Jeonghan’s hips stuttered when your velvet walls milked him for his cum.
A choked grunt left his lips as he stilled his motions, burying himself deep inside you as he spilt hot, thick spurts of cum into your messy cunt. Air was knocked out of your lungs as you recovered slowly, hearing your heartbeat in your ears as your vision was slightly blurred from the overwhelming pleasure.
You whined in protest at the loss of Jeonghan’s cock when he pulled out. Turning your head, you saw him panting softly, watching your leaking hole as he pushed his cum back into your used cunt. That was when he tugged you, turning you around as both of you were leaning against your heels. He caressed your cheek and kissed you softly, leading you to sit on his lap as he leaned back against the couch until he was lying down, before pulling away.
“Sit on my face.”
The request caught you off guard, unsure about sitting on his face after he had just come inside you. But he seemed set on you sitting on his face, gently yanking your hips, causing you to grind on his abs accidentally. Your sensitive clit grazed his skin, and Jeonghan moaned at the mess you were making on his abdomen.
“A–are you sure-? I don’t—”
“I’m sure, sweets, ride my face. Let me clean that cute little pussy up.” His grip on your hips gently tightened before letting go, so that you could crawl over and hover your dripping cunt over his face. Before you could even stabilise yourself, Jeonghan pulled you down, his mouth latching onto your sensitive cunt immediately. He didn’t care about your mixed juices, only wanting you and your sweet wetness.
A moan left Jeonghan’s lips as he lapped you up, tongue flat against your slit as he messily made out with your cunt. You grasped onto his hair, tugging and gripping for support as you started to grind yourself against him, his nose nudging against your clit just right, your release building up faster than the last as soft mewls left your lips as your boyfriend cleaned you up. His grip on your ass tightened, eating your pussy out with increasing vigour as he felt you clench around his tongue.
Your orgasm hit you like a wave, toes curling as you wailed in pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed as your hips stuttered against his face. Once Jeonghan was done with drinking up your juices, he easily lifted you from his face, shifting you onto his lap before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.
“I guess we broke the rule about fucking on the couch.”
The two of you went over to your room after the situation on the couch. Jeonghan was peacefully napping on your bed while you were silently admiring your boyfriend, playing with some strands of his hair. Noticing your sketchbook on your desk, you decided to grab it along with your pencil and eraser before you started to sketch.
Before you knew it, you had a sketch of Jeonghan with some details, smiling to yourself, and not noticing him stirring awake.
“Whatcha smiling about?” He rasped, his voice groggy after his nap. “Are you drawing?”
He seemed curious, so you showed him the sketch. Jeonghan’s eyes softened at the sight, in awe of the piece of art you had done in such a short time. “You’re talented, sweets.”
“Thank you… It’s something I took from my mother.” You smiled as you flipped through the pages, showing him more sketches, mostly of him, which surprised Jeonghan, but he was secretly very pleased.
After giving him a glimpse of your sketchbook, you closed it before placing it on your nightstand and huddling close to him.
Jeonghan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, happy in your arms. “I love you.”
The confession was soft, but full of meaning, and you couldn’t help but hug him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
“I love you too, Hannie.”
“No take-backs. You love me.”
You could feel his grin against your skin, which made you roll your eyes before giggling.
— synopsis: you're alone in the woods following the tail-end of a very bad live-action rendition of the walking dead and you're in jeans of all things: but welcome to kim mingyu's early post-apocalyptic guide to falling in love. in three days, no less!
– genre: strangers to ??? ; post-apocalyptic au (think very, very early post-apocalypse) ; angst, fluff, mild smut.
— pairing: architect!kim mingyu x fem!reader
– word count: 42.1k
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing. mentions of zombies, though it's really not that serious or pertinent to the plot once they start spending time together. mentions of death, porn, wattpad...and essentially, they're fucking stupid. smut warnings: virgin!reader (so essentially mildly unrealistic but i do what i want) ; mingyu consent king because i said so, unprotected sex (it's the apocalypse where are they gonna find rubbers??), mild choking (f.rec), clit play, 'just the tip' (was not just the tip), fingering (f.rec), brief oral (f.rec), jokes during sex because i can't be serious to save my life, dirty talk, begging?, creampie (ew!!), pet names (baby, sweetness, slut (whoops)) and i think that's about it.
— what to listen to: sweetness - elliot james reay ; my kind of woman - mac demarco ; remedy - adele ; piece of my heart - janice joplin ; love at first sight - kylie minogue ; anyone - seventeen.
– author's note: welcome back to haologram. i want to preface that i don't know jackshit about zombie apocalypses but i know a lot about camping and angst! apologies for any typos, and thank you to @aeristudios for beta-ing this before i put in the smut (i am a woman of many talents, but smut is not one of them!) as always, thank you to @/saradika-graphics here on tumblr for these daisy dividers & this behemoth is dedicated to none other than @gyuswhore. to emberly: happiest birthday & congratulations on your graduation. i love you eternally. ♡
YOU HAVE NEVER KISSED A BOY.
It’s the only thing that crosses your mind as you sit in the middle of the forest, your hands covered in wild blackberry juice and blood from a gash on your palm, cause of the thorns. It sounds stupid, for that to be the thought that crosses your mind – but it means something to you.
You run your tongue over the gash, the metallic taste of blood mixing with the sweetness of the berry juice in a gross cocktail on the back of your tongue.
It was one of your hidden secrets.
One you talked about only to your pillow, not even bothering to waste precious gel ink on confessing it into your journal. You hid behind your hair in classes; you barely spoke up at your part-time job – letting your hands do the talking. You spent your hard-earned pennies on cool lip gloss: sparkly, shimmery, sticky and smelling of berries, vanilla, even mint. You were meant for more, you thought – your life couldn’t be all studying and entitled customers demanding half off their service.
You kept to yourself, and you had been close with two people: Lee Jian and Jang Jieun. Your best friends all through high school and college, glued at the hips like gum to shoes. They, too, knew of your lack of...boy kissing. Jieun had dated Jian’s cousin Hyunjin for three years before they broke up when he went abroad, and Jian had dated around through most of college – so neither of them had this problem.
And now, as the world continued to crumble around you, neither would you – it was unlikely. Eventually, almost surely – you would also succumb to the brain-melting that turned you into one of those undead things. Rotting, your flesh practically falling off the bone as you lost all sense of coordination and eventually, hopefully, got taken out by one of the surviving, merciful humans.
You lean your head back, scrunching your nose as your hair gets caught in the rough bark of the oak tree. You don’t bother complaining as you straighten again, rummaging through your backpack limply when you hear the familiar crunch of twigs. Your uninjured hand freezes, your shoulders tense as you peer over the edge of the ratty brown JanSport bag.
If it was slow, you could easily outrun it. You could climb one of the trees, you could kill it from a distance—
Your breath hitches as the rustling stops, and you look up through your lashes to see a very tall man looking down at you. He doesn’t look like he’s running; rather, walking – donning nice olive-green cargo shorts, a brown t-shirt paired with well-loved hiking boots and thick white socks. He wears a black watch that blinks 3:32 PM, and a silver chain peeks out from the collar of his shirt. Your fingers tighten inside the bag as you see him adjust the white cap on his head, and he raises a brow at you.
“It’s kind of counterproductive to hold a knife in your hand if you’re just going to...sit there.”
You glance down – your hand is gripping a red box cutter you’d taken from an abandoned warehouse you slept in a few weeks back. It had been a solace for a few days, until you heard the familiar chittering of the stupid, rotting bodies surrounding the building. You bolted out, leaving behind a rather large stockpile of bread and water – but you were alive, and you didn’t care.
Your bag was almost empty now; aside from the box cutter, some rope, a jar of honey you were almost too frugal with, half a sleeve of crackers, an extra pair of ratty socks and underwear, an unscented bar of soap...
And a stupid, unused tube of sparkly lip gloss that smelled like sickly sweet bubblegum. You didn’t even have a bra, the one you left with stolen by a fucking raccoon of all things.
“Are you hurt?”
His eyes are probing, and you remain silent as you nod slowly.
“Can you show me? I have—”
“Do you have any food?”
His eyes glimmer with amusement as he nods, and he tugs the packed rucksack off before crouching next to you. You push your own bag out of the way, pressing both your hands into your dirty jeans as you peer over the opening. The bag holds a netted pouch of oranges, apples and carrots, and there are tons of scattered plastic sandwich bags – not holding sandwiches, but what seemed to be dehydrated meals. Your eyes widen at the three biggest bottles of water you’d seen in weeks, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow. You’d run out the day before, hardly wanting to risk it with the streams.
“Can I—”
“Let me see where you’re injured, first. And we can wash your hands, too.”
You huff, sitting up on your knees and showing him your bleeding palm. The gash is still trickling, and he shakes his head as he fishes out a plastic first aid kit. You furrow your brow, watching as he pops it open to reveal it freshly stocked – and you move back slightly, eyes narrow.
“Where are you getting all this stuff from?”
He shrugs, “my family has a cabin in these woods. About a hundred miles north, give or take a few detours. But they’re gone, so. Yeah.”
Your heart sinks a bit for the too-friendly stranger, but you don’t let it tug too hard.
“...So, what are you doing out here? If you have shelter, I mean?”
“Looking for people to take back. You seem...alive. No undead freaks try to eat your brain yet?”
You try not to look offended at his questioning of your consciousness, but you can’t find it within yourself to say anything as he carefully pops open a bottle of antiseptic. He holds his hand out for yours, your eyes running over the healed calluses on his palms. You’re not as wary as you normally are and it worries you, but you place your own hand palm-up in his with a restrained tremble.
He’s cool to the touch. Almost as though he’d just run his hands through a stream, or the less possible option (for you, at least) — a nice, cold bath.
“How long have you been on your own?” He asks, and you’re easily distracted from the sting of antiseptic by his conversation. You shrug, watching the dirt and blood and sticky berry juice melt away as he wipes at your hand with a pinch in his brow.
“Since the beginning,” you mutter, your chest tight at the acknowledgement. Jieun and Jian had been amongst the first to go, and you’d narrowly escaped their attempt at infecting you by climbing out the window of your shared apartment after barricading your bedroom door. The entire ordeal had been so terrifying that you didn’t really remember it, much less how they got infected – but it wasn’t like you could do anything now.
You’d been on high alert since – your muscles tense as you prowled the streets alone. Your phone had been long dead, tucked in the very bottom of your bag. You tried payphones, but you grew more and more fearful of any sounds in your vicinity. The city was seemingly abandoned at that point; the chitter of the undead was the only thing you could hear for miles – and you missed the cicadas.
The man frowns, nodding as he smears a thick gel onto your palm. A roll of bandage is rummaged out of the bottom of his bag, and he carefully wraps your hand before tearing the end with his teeth and tucking it in place.
“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” He mumbles, shoving the kit back into his bag. You shake your head eagerly, and he smiles inwardly before pulling out one of the bottles of water. He uncaps it for you, the click of a new bottle soothing to your ears. “Careful, you’ll throw it up if you drink too fast.”
You take the bottle gingerly, holding it awkwardly as you drink. It’s smooth down your dry throat, your eyes fluttering shut as you slump slightly against the oak tree. He chuckles softly, and you hold the bottle to your chest tightly with a pout on your lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve needed that.”
“You also need a bath—”
“Will you shut up? I’m already down, don’t kick me anymore.”
He snickers, reaching into the rucksack and retrieving several bags.
“You have a name?”
“Obviously,” your tone is uninterested; eyes fixed on the bags in his hands. He glances up, wiggling his fingers to get your attention. You tongue your cheek as he tilts his head.
“Well, what is it?”
“What’s it to you, guy?”
You bite back a grin as he snorts, “cute. Fine, have your secrets.”
He holds up a bag, “this is something you can just soak in the water. It’ll be cold but it’s a meal, there’s rice—”
“That’s great and all, but I do not care. I’ve been surviving off berries, honey and a sleeve of crackers for three days. Just give it to me, please.” You hold your hand out, your exhaustion settling on your shoulders, making his eyes soften. He fishes out a thermos from his bag, placing it in your hand. You unscrew the top, warmth floating up to your face as you sniff it – your eyes never leaving him as he provides a spoon.
“Porridge. It’s plain, but—”
You don’t bother listening, your hand reaching into your bag and pulling out the honey jar. You take the spoon and shove it into the porridge, before thrusting the honey into his hands, open, please.”
You kneel closer to his bag as he pops the lid, your fingers wiggling through the netted bag and prying an apple out through the opening. Wiping it across your shirt, you sink your teeth into it and take a bite, holding it in your mouth before grabbing the now-open jar of honey from his hand and carefully tilting it into the thermos. A soft drip of nature’s gold swirls into the porridge, and you stir it in carefully before taking the apple between your fingers to spoon some into your mouth. It’s warm and sweet with the crunch of the apple, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as you lean your head back against the rough bark of the tree again. Your eyes close as you chew, a hot tear streaming down your cheek that you wipe away haphazardly, before practically inhaling the porridge as though it were your first meal ever.
Which...it kind of is, but that’s none of his business.
The guy just coos, watching you eat as he carefully repacks his bag and you adjust to fold your legs beneath you. The apple core is held between two of your fingers; the large bites subsiding as you scrape the bottom of the thermos for the last bit of porridge. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the items. He smiles inwardly, shaking his head as he holds his hand out for the thermos and spoon. You shovel the last bite into your cheek, coughing slightly around the last chunk of apple in your mouth as he screws the lid back onto the dish and shoves it to the bottom of his bag.
“Feel better?” He leans back on his hands, and you swallow hard around the porridge before reaching for the bottle of water. He takes it before you can, unscrewing the top and you mutter something adjacent to a thanks before carefully taking a sip. You hiccup slightly but fix your posture once more to sit with your back against the tree trunk.
“I missed hot food.” You admit, watching his hand spin the lid back onto your jar of honey. He slides it back into your bag, and you pull the ratty thing to your chest and look over at him. “Thanks for...helping me out. Uh, you didn’t have to.”
“Oh, it’s no problem.”
“You should get going. I’m sure someone else could need your help, too.”
He snorts, shaking his head, “I’m on my way up to the cabin. I don’t know how I missed you on the way down, but there is literally no one else in these woods aside from the occasional bear and deer. Have you ever had deer? Delicious.”
“No, I haven’t had deer. Are you always this talkative with strangers? Don’t you worry—” You cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes as you scoot back slightly, “aren’t you worried about stranger danger?”
“Stranger danger became a thing of the past when that loser in those downtown chemistry labs released that stupid experiment upon the general public. If you were so worried about me, you wouldn’t have eaten the porridge, drank the water, or let me bandage you up.” He shrugs, before giving you a pointed look, “you’re injured, hungry, in jeans of all things and you’re lost.”
“I am not lost.” You huff, and he raises a brow as he speaks, “yeah? Which way is North?”
“That way.”
“That’s left, my friend.”
“And it’s about time you do just that, guy. I am not your friend, either.”
“You’re quick with it. I like that.” He laughs, before gesturing at the bottle in your lap. “You can keep that, and we can refill it along the way.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere—”
“Again, you’re hungry, you’re lost and you’re dirty. I have food, I know this place like the back of my hand, and we can get you a nice bath if you just chill out.”
“Did you just call me uptight?” You scoff, crossing your arms as he bites back a smile, shrugging one shoulder as he zips his bag closed, hiking it over the other and standing carefully. He dusts his hands of debris, giving you a lopsided smirk.
“I said no such thing.”
“You implied it.” You hop to your feet, and he only smiles down at you. The warmth in it makes your stomach settle slightly, but your brows remain furrowed as he leans down and picks your bag up by the strap. He hitches it over the same shoulder holding his own, before moving forward.
“Come on, stinky. We’ll get you cleaned up, and you can joint he rest of the people I’ve found at the cabin.”
“I do not stink! How dare you—”
“Come on, princess. There’s a spring deeper in the forest. When was the last time you took a bath?”
You reluctantly follow behind him, your fingers gripping the water bottle before he takes it and tucked it into the netted pocket of his rucksack. You tongue your cheek, wrapping your arms around yourself and tucking your fingertips under your sleeves as a breeze blows softly. Autumn would set in soon, and maybe the end of the despair, too.
“Did you hear me?” He prods, and you kick a patch of grass behind his boot. He snickers, swatting his hand behind him and brushing your elbow. You smack the heel of his hand, his fingers pulling your fingertips before you twist them out of his hold.
“Three days ago. I finished the last of my water cleaning myself up, I don’t trust the streams.” You mutter, wrapping your arms around you tighter as you move to his side. He bumps his hip to yours with purpose, and you spare him a glance to see his soft smile. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m clean.”
“I’m not some weirdo, you know. I know these woods, and I wouldn’t put you in danger. You have to have some inkling of that, too, because you’re following me.” He raises his brows at you, and you only roll your eyes, kicking more twigs and pebbles.
“Yeah, right. I don’t even know your name, guy.”
“Well, it’s—”
You throw your hand up, the bandaged injury brushing his shoulder as you shake your head.
"Don't tell me. You'll get attached and I fly solo."
"…Right. Totally, princess. There's a spring this way—"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Well, it's not like I know your name, right?" He smiles cheekily, and you bite your tongue as you move ahead of him. Your back is damp from sweating in the sticky August afternoon, but you hold your head high as you keep trudging forward. This guy seemingly took pleasure in bugging you like his life depended on it; granted, you'd been in these woods for almost a month and a half and hadn't seen another living soul…you can't really blame him.
But because you'd been alone for so long, you also couldn't really blame yourself for not wanting to get attached. Who knew what lingered in these woods — bears, mountain lions…more of the undead, and creepy crawlers that would kill you without a second thought. All you could do was hope that he wasn't one of those.
"So," He starts, and you almost want to punch him in the face as you curl your fingers into your palms and tuck them under your armpits. He only chuckles at the visual, "what did you do before the world started crumbling?"
"I was an architecture student with a focus on interior design. Three months from graduation and with a first-class ticket to to Germany where I scored a major internship." You grouse, your eyes still glued to the forest floor. You kick a bigger rock out of your way with the tip of your canvas sneakers, "I was top of my class. My models were outstanding. I was displayed all over my professor's lecture hall. I would've been great. God, I would've been so fucking great. Stupid outbreak."
"Isn't surviving on your own for this long also something you could consider greatness?" He questions you carefully, almost as though you're a ticking bomb with no timer. You only shrug.
"That just means you're great, too."
"You don't think I'm great?"
"I think you're annoying. God, is this spring actually close or are you just gonna lead me down some ridiculous winding path?"
He snorts, his fingers cool against your skin as he carefully tilts your face to the left. The spring is down the hill, seemingly man-made and lined with big boulders. Your eyes widen, and you swat his hand away as you make your way down. He follows closely behind, your excited cheers being heard all throughout the woods as you slide down the hill, crouching on one of the boulders and sticking your hands into the flowing water. The water is slightly warm from the high sun but refreshing to the touch as you press your wet fingers against your neck, a sigh slipping from your throat as you dip them below the collar of your shirt.
"God, that's good." The sigh of relief from your lips must be amusing, because you hear a soft chuckle from the top of the hill. You quickly untie your shoes, ripping them off your feet and stuffing your socks into them. You dip your feet in, sore and blistered from days of walking as he slides down the hill.
"You should…take a dip. I can wash your clothes down the stream."
You scoff, "that's vulgar. A stranger washing my intimates? Please."
"You can wash your pink panties yourself, princess. I'm talking about your shirt and jeans. I have a change, if you want it." He rolls his eyes, tugging at hem of your shirt over the belt loops of your jeans. You swat his hand away, "go away! I can wash my own clothes! And I have a change, too!"
"Whatever you say, princess. I'll be down this way…enjoy. Holler if you need me." He shrugs, standing abruptly as you scoff inwardly. You cross your arms as he crunches leaves and twigs beneath his heavy boots, and you nibble on your lip as you stare at the water. A groan leaves your lips.
"Are you sure this water's safe!?" You call out, hearing an annoying chuckle from a few feet away.
"Do you want me to get in with you, princess?"
"Ugh, men." You grumble, tonguing your cheek as you stare at the water. You weren't a camper or anything, and your family never frequented hiking trails or the great outdoors all that often…but if he fed you, and he led you there, and he had experience in these woods…he had to know something, right?
Hesitantly, you peek over the boulders to see him holding a rag in his hand, his bag still hitched over his shoulder as he plucked berries skillfully from a bush. Blackberries, you think — but not too much as you strip yourself of your top and jeans, folding them neatly on one of the boulders before glancing over your shoulder again. He's kneeling now, still carefully sorting through brambles and thumbing berries as you cross your arms around your chest, ignoring the heat radiating off your cheeks as you remember that your underwear is in fact, pink, and only turning darker as the water soaks into it.
You're not gonna let a man you don't know see your intimates!
You wade into the water, cool against your skin as you reach about neck deep. A sigh falls from your lips as you lean your hair back into the water, refreshing against your scalp. Your eyes are closed as you swim through the water, working away the ache in your shoulders from your backpack straps being too tight.
"Feels good, huh?"
Your eyes immediately fly open, your arms wrapping around your chest as you look up to see the guy setting his bag down…with his eyes closed. He's set down the berries on the boulder where your clothes are, but they're not blackberries. They're red, and kind of enticing as you try your best to quietly swim over. You lift yourself up slightly, covering your chest with your arms still as you touch one with your wet hand.
"What are these?" You pick one up, piercing the flesh cell with your fingernail as he shrugs, eyes still closed as he expertly digs through his rucksack. You throw the berry at him, hitting him square in the chest and making him tongue his cheek as he shakes his head.
"Thimbleberries. You can eat some if you want, they're pretty good. I use the bark to make soap, which is what I'm going to give you here in a second."
"Bark to make soap? Incredible." You murmur, eyeing the berry in your hand. You run it under the water, wiping at the flesh carefully with the pad of your thumb before taking a tentative nip. The juice is sweet in the forefront of your mouth but tart on the back of your tongue, a hum from your throat catching his attention.
"Good? I like it as spread. Sometimes we make wine back at the cabin, or those fruit leather strips." He nods, eyes still closed as you throw another berry at him. "Stop that! You're wasting berries and I worked hard to pick those!"
"Open your eyes, dude. You can't see anything from where you are." You roll your eyes, and he lets out a huff as he tentatively peels open one eye. You give him a pointed look, holding out one of the washed berries as he pouts, plucking it from your fingers and stuffing it into his cheek as he speaks.
"I'm just trying to be respectful."
"And I appreciate that, but I'm sure you've seen boobs before."
He rolls his eyes, "that's not the point."
"The point, guy, is that I don't care. You've seen boobs and it's not like you're gonna do anything to me, so what the hell. We can be adults about this." You shrug, shoveling another berry into your mouth. "Now, what's this bark soap shit you're talking about? How does that work?"
"You've warmed up to me really quickly, haven't you?"
"The worst you could do is kill me. You don't have the guts, and I'm faster than you."
Your voice is confident as you take more berries in your hand, making him shake his head in amusement as he digs into the bag one more time. A flash crosses his eyes, and he pulls his hand out to reveal a small bottle with a pink cap.
"Here it is!" He holds it out to you, popping the cap to waft the smell into your face. You crinkle your nose, backing up slightly when he rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! It smells nice!"
"It smells like eucalyptus and despair, and I can taste it. I hate that, bleugh." You make a disgusted face as you bite into another berry to erase the scent from your palate, and he frowns.
"It's either eucalyptus and despair or you stink for the next two days."
"I do not stink!"
He snorts, and you reluctantly hold your hand out for it. He drops it into your palm, "I wouldn't recommend…being in the spring while you wash. You'll contaminate it."
"So what do you suggest I do, genius? Give myself a little sponge bath?" You scoff, only for him to nod as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You give him a deadpan look, slapping the boulder beneath your arms. "How the hell would I do that?"
"Uh, you step out and scrub yourself with a washcloth, then rinse until you're clean? The point of hiking is to enjoy nature while preserving it, princess."
"This is surviving, guy. Not hiking for fun!"
"Still. You may be faster but I'm stronger and I have no problem fishing you out myself." He shrugs, and you suck your teeth as you stare up at him. He doesn't budge, his eyes stern as he gestures you to get out.
"I don't like you, guy." You mutter, and he only snickers as you make your way to a lower boulder to pull yourself out. He looks away, digging in his bag quickly before pulling out a soft washcloth and handing it to you blindly. You snatch it out of his hand as you pull yourself onto the boulder, making a wet plop sound as you sit on the edge.
"I'll…give you some privacy. Just give me—"
"A holler, yeah. Scram, guy."
He does just that. You do as you're told, peeling your soaked underwear off and scrubbing yourself silly with the stinky soap and washcloth— unfortunately, feeling a lot cleaner than you had in months. Your scalp tingles as you haphazardly scrub the soap into it, and you feel almost insane as you keep looking over your shoulder to see him nowhere to be found. You rinse yourself off with the bottle of water he'd given you, glancing over to see he's left his rucksack and your backpack next to you. You grab yours, fishing out the pair of clean underwear and pulling it over your legs before ringing your hair out.
"Uh, hey, guy? Do you have a shirt in this thing?" You call out, glancing over your shoulder to see him jerk his head up from under the berry brambles. He quickly shuts his eyes as you cover your chest, your cheeks warming as he stutters.
"Y-Yeah, yep! Uh, just…dig around!"
You do just that, holding your arm over your chest as you root in the bag, pulling a brown shirt out and quickly pulling it over your head. You dip your feet back into the spring, "Thanks, I got it! We're good!"
"Great, great." He stumbles back over, holding the rag of berries in his hand before clearing his throat. "Are you…you're not gonna walk around like that, are you?"
"Well, I was kind of hoping to wash my clothes and just…lay here until dusk. Then…fall asleep in a tree or something." You shift, and you glance over to see him trying to hold in either a fart or laughter. You guess the latter as a smile breaks through, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he turns his face away.
He clears his throat, letting out a suspicious cough as you narrow your eyes.
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm not, promise."
"You're a liar."
He lets out a breath, corners of his lips upturning involuntarily as he smooths his shorts with his hands. "I am not. You're just…funny."
"So you are laughing!"
"This is bear country, sweetness." He manages, clearing his throat again and fighting back his smile. "We can't stay here. Bears climb trees, bears maul you, then you're dead before the world's back in order. Wouldn't want you to miss that internship."
"Yeah right, internship's as dead and gone as any idea of society rebuilding itself after this. At this point we'll have to repopulate—" You cut yourself off, looking at him to see his eyes wide and cheeks red from the hot sun. "Uh…I just don't have very high hopes for that. So, I'm just going to take it day by day, I guess. If I die, then I die."
"Except you won't, because you have me! So, get up. There's a cave we can camp in around here, trust." He rolls his eyes, flipping through his rucksack before producing a pair of shorts and holding them out to you. "…Seriously, you're not gonna walk around in your underwear, right? You'll get eaten alive by the mosquitoes."
"Not true, guy. The DCA—"
"You wanna trust the DCA right now?"
He gives you a look of disbelief, and you shrug.
"A study in 2014—"
"That was a decade ago, sweetheart."
"I'm not your sweetheart, and who cares? Eucalyptus oil was approved as an effective mosquito repellent. If I get bit, I'll put my jeans back on. Not a big deal."
"What if that virus is zoonotic?" He argues, shaking the shorts in his hands as a way to emphasize his point. You raise a brow, crossing your arms as you jut your hip out.
"This ass is hypnotic, so at least I'll die knowing I gave it my all."
"I have another pair, just put them on. You're not being serious right now."
"Take a look if you want, pervert." You scoff, before crouching to gather your dirty clothes. You stuff them into your bag, before peeling your socks out of your shoes with a discontented sigh. There's a hole in the toe, but the other socks have suffered the same fate. You sit on the boulder to pull them over your feet anyway, before his hand wraps around your ankle and he snatches it out of your hand.
"Stinky, worn thin and one, two, three holes. Good grief, princess." He mutters, tossing it onto your lap before grabbing a fresh pair and a little box from his rucksack. You have half a mind to pull your leg away, but something about the cool feeling of his fingers around your hot skin makes you sit still as he cracks the box open. "These are moleskin bandages. We'll change them every night, because your shoes are horrible for this."
He touches the side of your pinky toe, hearing you hiss before examining the sole of your foot with a frown. He pads at it with his thumb, tonguing his cheek as he sets it on his knee to look at the other.
"You'll need insoles. I'll have to see what size boot you wear when we get back to the cabin, these are no good." He reaches over to grab your sneaker, peeking inside to see the soles worn and thin. He shakes his head, "maybe I should just carry you. This really won't do."
"I'm not a baby." You spit back, and his hand on your foot squeezes, making you wince. You kick him gently, only for him to pop your toes with one hand as you squirm.
"Not a baby, my ass." He moves to tend to your foot silently, even reaching into his bag several times for different ointments and oils before your feet are covered in slivers of moleskin bandages. He shoves the socks on, rolling the ankles as you realize how thick they are. He puts your shoes on for you, double-knotting the laces before glancing at the shorts.
"You sure you don't want them?"
"Good God, man. If it makes you feel better, I'll wear your stupid shorts."
"Well, now I don't want to give them to you." He sniffs, grabbing the shorts by the pocket as you loop your fingers into the waistband. "My shorts are not stupid."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, shorts. I'm so sorry your owner is restricting—"
"Shut up!"
"Good, now you know how annoying you are." You suck your teeth, yanking the shorts out of his hand and pulling them over your legs quickly. You tuck the drawstring until they're snug, before standing and pulling your backpack over your shoulder. "Now, move it, guy. I'm tired and I want to rest without feeling like I'm gonna die."
You shove past him, marching off with no direction as he snorts behind you. You hear him behind you; the rustle of his bag being thrown over his shoulder. You keep walking aimlessly, before crossing your arms on your chest and talking over your shoulder.
"What did you do before the world decided to end?"
"I thought you said you didn't wanna get attached, princess?"
You scoff, "yeah, that's why you don't need to know my name. That's how people keep stray animals, you know. They say they'll only take care of them until they're healthy, then they name the thing and suddenly that animal is getting scraps off the table and it sleeps at the foot of the bed."
He chuckles, his stride lengthening to end up next to you. He tilts you slightly to the left, to a different pathway than your original wandering.
"That's a good point, I guess. But like animals, people are won over by personalities. We could have things in common, shared experiences and the like."
"I doubt you and I have anything in common, guy." You quip, shaking your head and feeling your damp hair brushing your neck. You swipe it back, behind your ears as he hums.
"You sure?"
"I won't like you anyway. You're annoying and invasive, you know that?"
"Annoying and invasive got you clean, fed, and is now finding you a place to sleep. I'd watch that mouth if I were you."
You don't like the way your stomach flutters at his tone, but you scoff anyway.
"Throwing it in my face only shows you're doing it to make yourself the good guy."
"Or it's me reminding you that you don't know me, and I don't have to do this."
"See my previous statement, guy."
He only clicks his tongue, shoving his hands in his back pockets as he shrugs.
"So what did you do? Were you always a professional loser?" You loll your head back, looking up at him as he runs his tongue over his lip.
"You're mean, you know that?"
"You'll learn to like it."
"No doubt about that, princess."
He pushes you behind him as he steps in front of you, a rockier path leading downwards appearing a few feet ahead. He reaches back, his fingers brushing your hip before you instinctively give him your hand. He grips it carefully, his other hand reaching back to hold your hip as he leads you down the unstable terrain.
"I was an architect with a Master's degree in interior design. I completed my degrees in three years because I was an overachiever, but that got me chances to design three buildings downtown and a few apartment buildings in the outskirts. I was working on a house before the outbreak started." His voice is straight, almost a bit solemn as he kicks a few rocks out of the way. "It was for my family, but you know how the wind blows."
You feel your chest tight as you reach the bottom of the terrain, his hand slipping off your hip, but you don't let his hand go as he moves to pull it away. He glances down at you, and you clear your throat as you drop his hand, rubbing your palm on the back of your shorts.
"I'm sorry for your loss…guy."
"Life goes on, princess."
You hate the way your heart sinks as he shrugs, before his hands tilt your shoulders to the right. You force one foot in front of the other, clearing your throat again and staring up at the trees surrounding you.
"How do you feel about mahogany?" You blurt, tucking your hands behind your back as he carefully maneuvers your shoulders to move you in certain directions. He snorts, "mahogany? The wood?"
"Yeah. Let's have a conversation."
"You feel bad now, don't ya?"
"Never fucking mind."
His laugh is full bellied as you stalk forward exaggeratedly, your shoes kicking pebbles and twigs out of the way as you worm your way along. He catches up to you in two quick strides, the heel of his boot nudging the back of your sneaker as you stop to climb over a fallen log.
"Stop that!"
"I like mahogany, but mostly for flooring, staircases and doors. Not so much for anything that's eye level or above, I think it's too heavy. It's too rich of a color to be so high, I think."
You feel your lip twitch as you manage to get over the fallen log, crossing your arms defiantly as you glance over your shoulder to see him doing the same.
"Hm."
"Disagree?"
"No."
He smiles inwardly, but you quickly face forward once more as a clearing comes into view. Running water can be heard in the distance, and you try to walk confidently as the path becomes muddy.
"How do you feel about…elm burl?" You try, any nonchalance escaping your throat as he hums next to you, his lips pursing as he shakes his head.
"I love the patterns on it, but I don't think it's ethical to use it. It's so scarce and deforestation is a problem as it is, I can't imagine using it willynilly. Or willingly, actually. There are better materials."
You blink up at him, your cheeks warming as he glances down at you. His brow raises, "what?"
"Nothing."
"It's something. What, you like burl?"
"No, I actually hate burl. I don't think it's worth the time it takes to harvest, and I don't like the fact that people think the scarcity makes it more beautiful. It feels superficial and it grosses me out when I see homes that have it because I just know they paid up the ass for it. I know it's a great wood for homes in terms of durability and even super moisture resistant but it's frustrating to see the ignorance go over people's heads." You huff, crossing your arms tighter as he nods slowly, a quick hum from his throat as you look away.
"Sorry."
"No, I like it. You've got passion."
"Whatever." You roll your eyes, feeling your ears grow hot as he scoffs, his hip bumping yours with purpose. You swat at him, his hand grabbing your wrist and pushing it away as he speaks.
"It's good that you're like that! I knew so many people in the industry who didn't care. You don't know how frustrating it is…or maybe you do, depending on who you know." He grouses, his lip jutted out in a pout as you stop at the edge of the path. Lower is more muddy terrain, but you're too in awe of the beautiful waterfall to even care.
"Woah." Your arms fall to your sides, your eyes wide as he stops next to you.
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Will you judge me if I cry?"
"Yes."
"You suck," you shove his arm lightly, before wrapping your fingers around the straps of your bag tightly. You watch the water flow, before feeling his hand on the back of your head. He turns it slowly, and you see a series of boulders leading up to the waterfall.
"Wanna see it up close, princess?"
You don't get a chance to respond as he takes your arm anyway, pulling you down the terrain and around the water. You try your best to keep up, carefully maneuvering over bigger rocks and shaking your arm out of his grasp, only for him to reach back again and you slide your hand into his.
Like it's normal.
Because it is.
"Be careful, alright? These are slippery." He pulls you in front of him as the boulders appear in front of him, moving your hands to hold onto the dry edges. You wedge the tip of your shoes into the gathered rocks beneath it, and he grips your hips to hoist you up easily.
And you ignore the stupid flutter in your stomach again, standing up straight and moving out of the way as he pulls himself up with ease. You flicker your eyes away from the bulge of his biceps against the fabric of his shirt, swallowing hard as you carefully make your way up the boulders.
The spray of the waterfall is cooling against your warm skin, your eyes wide as you watch it cascade over the rocky ledge. You carefully put your bag down as he reaches your side, your fingers poking through the running water. You crouch down, running your fingers along the jagged edge of the platform you're standing on.
"How'd you find this?" You voice is full of air, only to hear him hum behind you, the weight of his rucksack hitting the stone as he sets it down. You glance over your shoulder to see him staring at the water, head tilted to the side as he shrugs.
"I found it on the way down, actually. It was pouring and I couldn't risk sleeping in one of the trees or in one of the tents. I used to play a game on Nintendo that had a world with a cavern behind a waterfall and when I saw this one, I looked around. The cavern, I mean, and there's no bears or anything. Lots of stalactite, though; it's pretty cool." He nods, looking down at you. You must look amused, because he scoffs. "What's so funny?"
"You play Nintendo games?"
"I was a boy once! A teenager!"
"What game was it? Super Mario Odyssey? The first world has a waterfall. Actually, a couple of them do, I think." You turn your attention back to the water, only to feel him crouch next to you. He wraps his arms around his knees, sticking one hand into the water as he clicks his tongue.
"It was, actually. Nerd."
"No way, loser."
"Way," he chuckles, pressing his wet fingers against his neck before carding them through his hair. "I'm gonna check out the cavern, make sure nothing's in there. I'll catch a fish or something and we can eat before we turn in for the night."
"Oh, I'm not all that hungry—" Your lie is cut off by the grumble in your stomach, and you give an exaggerated cough to cover it up before he nudges you with his elbow. He has a knowing look on his face, rolling his eyes at you as he stands up straight. He turns on his heel, and you watch over your shoulder as he takes a flashlight out of the pocket of his bag. He clicks it on, whistling to himself as he ventures fearlessly into the cavern.
You let your shoulders relax as he disappears, a breath falling from your lips as you sit on the ground. You tug your shoes off, tossing them to the side before laying on your back next to the water with your knees bent, crossing your arms on your chest. Closing your eyes, you let the anxiety of trusting a stranger seep out of your bones — because had he wanted to harm you…he would've done it already.
Some people are good!
Your nose burns as tears line your lashes, but you find an odd comfort in the sound of the waterfall paired with crickets you hadn't heard the entire time you were alone. Practicing vigilance, constantly being on edge…lack of sleep from almost falling off tree branches definitely left your body in fight or flight mode. You don't remember the last time you cried, either — likely even before the outbreak, if not the day you found out you got the internship in Germany.
"Fuck," You mutter, covering your face as you remember the letter you left on your desk, the envelope practically shredded from your excited hands. You'd even bought a frame to hang it over your desk, but it had been left dismantled for days while you called everyone who knew, while you celebrated and recovered from the gnarliest hangover you'd ever had. And it stayed there, when you escaped your roommates by a hair and fucked off into the woods.
Your mind races with what ifs.
What if you hadn't gotten out? What if you'd come home later like you'd planned to, having been asked to dinner by one of your group mates to compare notes? What if you'd been more prepared — the university had done everything to keep the students calm, promising a safe, virus-free environment. You'd packed a bag haphazardly, anyway, leaving it propped on your windowsill should you ever need it. You practiced constant distancing, staying two feet or more away from anyone at all times.
The outbreak at the University started with the football team. A nice boy named Jaehyun was in the wrong place at the wrong time, only to trail his way back onto campus during a tailgate and infect three other people before he was taken out by two cheerleaders with a crowbar. At least, that's how you remember it before you practically sprinted your way back to the dormitory, finding Jian and Jieun along the way and telling them what had happened. They immediately u-turned with you, and you all packed your bags that night. T-shirts, tank tops, underwear…snacks and water.
Eventually, you'd be the only one to use yours. Shirts ripped from snagging on tree bark; snacks finished within three weeks of your escape. You rationed water so carefully that you were in a constant state of dehydration, until you found the stocked warehouse. There was only one person there, and she never spoke to you — ducking out of the facility within hours of your arrival. You gorged yourself on the bread and canned foods, spearing them open with your box cutter and drinking all the water you could reach for.
Until that place was raided by those things, and you once more narrowly escaped.
You'd been in the woods since. Alone, tired, hungry. Cold on some nights, having lost your only sweater to a tree branch tearing straight through it when you fell off. Your jeans were wearing thin, and the summer heat only made surviving all the harder — but for whatever reason, despite your pessimism, you couldn't bring yourself to give up.
You were meant for more.
"You alright?"
His voice startles you, making you jolt up. You clear your throat, running your hand through your hair as you nod almost too quickly.
"Yeah. Yep, fine. Is uh…are you good?" You curse yourself for stuttering, staring at the scar on your knee from when you fell off your scooter as a kid. He crouches down next to you again, facing you before you hear the click of the flashlight. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, his own glued to your face.
"You're not a very good liar, you know that?” His voice is softer, but you scoff as you tilt away.
"I'm a great liar, thank you."
"Tell me a lie right now."
"You're cute."
You roll your eyes as he gapes, shoving your knee with the end of his flashlight. "You take that back! I'm very cute!"
"Sure, guy." You snort, before tilting your head towards the rucksack. "Aren't you tired from carrying that thing? Don't you have like, shoulder pain? Shouldn't you lay down?"
"Worried about my well-being, princess?" He teases, and you raise a brow at him, an almost disinterested look crossing your features as you nod.
"Yeah, who else will lead to me safety? If you're exhausted, you'll make all sorts of mistakes—"
"It would actually kill you to be nice, wouldn't it?"
His voice is still lighthearted, eyes warm as you turn to look at him. You run your eyes along his face, taking in his features before you blink slowly, meeting his eyes once more with a shrug of your shoulders.
"It might, I don't know. I've never tried it."
"Might be a good time to start, pretty."
"Shut up," you roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the ground and grabbing his flashlight. You tug your shoes on haphazardly as he snickers to himself, and you feel his eyes follow you as you flip the flashlight in your hand. You click it on, shining it into the cavern as he gets up to follow behind you. Your eyes widen as you flash the light up to the hanging stalactites, your lips parting with a soft woah.
"Nice, isn't it?"
"Beautiful. It's shimmering, the salt. Do you see it?"
"It's even prettier when it's warmer light. We'll light a fire in here in a bit, you'll see."
You nod, carefully trudging forward, "do you think any animals have ever lived here? Bats, even?"
"If that were the case, I think we'd be surrounded by bat shit."
"Bat guano is actually very important for some cave-dwellers. Lots of animals eat it."
"Taking the phrase 'eat shit' to another level, huh?" He makes a sound of disgust, only making you chuckle as you shake your head.
"Well, the animals who eat it are inherently gross to the average person, anyway. They're detritivores, the bugs and stuff that eat it. They're eaten by spiders, and pseudoscorpions. Ever seen a pseudoscorpion? Cutest little dudes."
He doesn't reply, making you glance over your shoulder to see him smiling inwardly as he looks at the ground. You narrow your eyes but move your attention to the pebbled floor beneath you. You run the light over it, seeing the toe of your shoe incredibly close to an otherwise blind pseudoscorpion. Your eyes widen as you crouch, your fingers gently pinching its round body as you turn to him.
"Look! See? Pseudoscorpion; claws like a scorpion, but he's just a little guy." You smile widely, holding the light above the small arachnid. "Not dangerous to humans at all, either. Very helpful, they eat bugs and pests, which makes them…"
You trail off as you notice how intently he's looking at you, his hands clasped in front of him. You clear your throat before quickly setting it down and watching it scurry away. "Anyway, uh. Yeah, so there was likely a bat colony here at some point. Maybe a couple big spiders, but they won't do anything to us if we don't bother them."
You nod, pressing your lips into a thin line before turning on your heel and venturing deeper into the cave.
"Why do you do that?" His voice rings out behind you, and you stop walking, glancing over your shoulder.
"Huh?"
"Why do you stop yourself from talking about things you like? Or get embarrassed by it?"
Your cheeks feel hot as you turn fully, but you keep a straight face as you tilt your head, opening your mouth to say something when you see him hold up the pseudoscorpion you'd put down. He holds it out to you, taking the flashlight from your hand and lowering the brightness to create a spotlight of sorts as you take the animal in your hand. He shines the light on your hand, eyes expectant and…warm.
"They're…uh, so they're synanthropic, or synanthropes. Like raccoons, that means they're technically harmless to us, but they've developed in environments near humans for so long that they can benefit from us without being a bother. Generally, that is." You nod slowly, before gesturing at the spindly arms the arachnid is holding up. "Their pinchers have venom they use to subdue their prey, usually smaller bugs like ants or mites, but it's not enough to cause damage to a human. They also have spider-like silk glands in their jaws, which helps them stay safe during winters. There are more than four thousand species of these things."
You clear your throat, "my father was an entomologist. He and I were really close before the outbreak, and he liked arachnids most. He was covered in tattoos of bugs, but he had one of these on his wrist for me, and he had a sequin spider on his chest and a peacock parachute on his arm for my mother. When I asked why I got this one, he said it was because I was half of him, and half of my mother; but that's a story for another day."
Pressing your lips together, you carefully place the arachnid back on the ground, watching it pinch at a passing ant. You let a smile cross your face, before feeling the heat of his eyes on you.
"I don't like bugs, personally." He starts, bringing the brightness back up on the flashlight and handing it to you. "I think my biggest fear is actually wasps."
You nod, biting back a smile as you shrug, "wasps are the Devil incarnate, so I don't blame you. Such angry things."
"Exactly! How is it my fault that I have to go outside? Should I just cease to exist for them?" He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as you chuckle, tapping the flashlight against his arm before slipping past him.
"Let's get outta here, I'm starting to feel itchy." You say, carefully maneuvering your way back out of the cavern with him hot on your heels. The air outside is sticky, warmer than inside the dark cave, but it's welcome as you flick off the flashlight. "I'm getting tired."
"I'll get started on dinner, then." He nods, and you don't get a chance to say anything before he stops, looking at you over his shoulder, " and I'll listen to you any time. So just…talk, yeah?"
Your eyes widen, but you can't reply as he makes his way down the boulders, pulling something shiny out of his pocket. You hear a click as he reaches the edge of the water, and you peer over the ledge to see him crouched, his hand stuffed in his pocket before pulling out a palm full of what looks like to be seeds. His eyes are concentrated as you lay on your belly, using your elbows to prop yourself up and watch him toss the seeds into the water.
Almost instantly, the surface ripples with fish — a quick flick of his wrist pinning one of the poor fish in place on the rocky spring floor. The rest scatter, his jaw tight as he reaches into the water from the shore and plucks the fish out, pulling the knife out and rinsing it in the water. He clicks it closed, shoving it back into his pocket before laying the fish on one of the boulders.
You watch him repeat the process twice, from different angles around the spring until he silently returns to the boulder with his pile. You keep watching as he examines the fish carefully, running his fingers over the scales and tosses one into the woods behind him with a tick in his jaw. He stills suddenly, looking around before meeting your eyes. The tips of his ears tinge pink as you blink at him, his voice clear as he speaks to you.
"Are you just watching me?"
You don't respond verbally, only nodding as a smile creeps onto your lips. He shakes his head, muttering to himself as he descales the fish quickly. Your eyes are low as fatigue begins to sink into your bones, before you hear his voice again.
"You're real pretty up there, but you'd be prettier if you gathered some wood. Hop to, princess." He calls, using his knife to gesture around himself. You scowl as he looks up, a toothy grin on display as he waves you down. "I can't have you falling asleep just yet, you'll miss dinner. Come on."
Scoffing, you ignore the heat in your cheeks as you push yourself off the ledge, carefully making your way down the boulders. You land on the ground with a crunch of twigs beneath you, making faces at him as you start picking sticks up. You hold them against your arm, examining them and plucking any remaining leaves off before you come across the fish he threw behind him. You glance up, seeing his back muscles tense beneath his shirt as you leave it where it is, his silver chain sparkling in the sun; picking up the sticks around it and covering it carefully.
"Why'd you kill it if you weren't going to eat it?" You ask as you near him, holding your collection in your arms. Your shoulder brushes his arm as you peer at the fish in his hands, "how do you know what fish is okay to eat?"
"You kind of just have to trust your gut and also, fully cook it. We've never had advisories around here, and there's no salmon in these areas. If you see a bear with tapeworm around, it's usually from the fish in the waters. Therefore, don't eat the fish." He says pointedly, carefully clipping the fins of the fish off, "you'll know what to do depending on what the conditions are. You have to be alert and pay attention to your surroundings."
"So, why'd you kill it?" You ask again, watching him look away as he sliced the head clean off with a shudder.
"It's either sick and dying or getting ready to die. It was bloated around the kidneys; it likely had disease. It wouldn't have spread to the other fish, but it's always best to put them out of their misery." He nods, before grabbing the head and throwing it as far as he could into the woods. You hear it land somewhere, but don't look away from his hands as you clear your throat.
"Have you ever killed anything else?" You ask softly, and he glances down at you with concern.
"Not people, if that's what you're asking."
Your face must show relief because he lets out a laugh of disbelief. "There's no way you think I'm capable of that. I have morals."
"I don't know that, guy."
"Well, now you know. The biggest thing I've ever killed was a trout when I was sixteen, and I cried the entire summer. I couldn't eat it, either; my mother made me soup for three nights." He rolls his eyes, and you look at the fish in his hands, holding out one of the sticks. He takes it, stripping it of the bark with his knife before spearing the fish on it.
"Then how do you know deer is good?"
"I'll only eat it if someone else takes it out. I'm good at a lot of things but I can't kill anything. Fishing is the closest I get to it, and even then, I'm only doing it out of pure survival. I've never been a good hunter; it makes me sad and…queasy."
You nod, watching him behead the other fish before looking up at him.
"So, what about those undead things? Would you kill one?"
"I've had the pleasure of never coming across one. I think, morally…"
He trails off, spearing the fish with the stick before tossing the other head into the woods. He sighs, looking down at you.
"They're already dead. Out of survival, you have to do it if you're in danger. It's the only way I can justify it, if it were the case." He holds the stick of fish out to you, scooping the wood out of your arms as you take hold of the stick. "I have a lot of morals and values that I'm not willing to give up, even out of survival. I believe things should happen naturally, but I also don't believe anyone should suffer. That fish was suffering, and likely in pain. Those things…they're rotting from the inside out, they're suffering and in turn, making others suffer. Full death is the only option."
You nod silently as you both climb the boulders, his hand on your back at an arm's length from behind to catch you if you slip. You both make it back to the ledge, and you glance over your shoulder to see him looking into the forest before scooting into the waterfall.
"The sun is starting to set, so we'll have dinner and then you can get some rest. I'll stand watch for a bit." His voice is a little flat as he makes his way towards you, and you feel a bit of guilt settle in your belly.
"Sorry if that conversation made you uncomfortable." You murmur as he walks by, and he waves you off as he slips into the cavern, only taking three steps into it before answering you.
"It doesn't. It's good to talk about what you think, even if you're not sure when you'll go through it yourself. Death is an uncomfortable topic for everyone, but there is growth in that discomfort. Death is not the end of life, or love, for that matter, but it is inevitable." He shrugs, putting the pile of sticks down before separating a few. You peek in, before he appears in front of you and flips open a pocket of his rucksack, procuring a box of matches.
"Morals, values, it's all growth. Both to keep them, and to release them. Death is only temporary, because you live on in those who knew you. That's why I'm trying to stay positive in these days, you know? It's hard to be sad when you're making yourself look at life from a different angle."
He kneels, striking a match and tossing it into the pile of sticks as you slink into the cavern. The crackle of the wood is soothing to your ears, and the flame grows bigger within a few seconds.
"If you always think, why not me? Or even, why me? You'll get nowhere. Those aren't answers you're supposed to have, because if it was meant to happen to you, it would have. You just have to keep your head up." He nods, skirting past you as he slips his matches back into the rucksack. He picks it up, along with your backpack, and pulls them closer to the fire. He pulls out a few washcloths, before untucking the sleeping bag he'd had strapped to the back of the bag.
"Here, sit." He unzips it, laying it flat on the ground before taking the fish from you. You glance down at it, watching him sit cross legged on the other side of the fire. You look at him for a second, watching the way he props two stones on either side to hold the stick of speared fish in place. Toeing your shoes off, you lay them off to the side before kneeling onto the bag. It's cool against your skin, and you almost lie down but keep your arms rigid at your sides as you clear your throat.
"Do you think that's easier for you because you have your life more figured out?" You ask, and he glances at you with an amused look.
"You keep talking like I'm just this experienced guy," he snorts, carefully balancing the speared fish over the flame. "I've had one job my entire life. I've had the same group of friends since I was a kid, and I've kissed one girl."
"Well, yeah but you've already done so much more than I could ever imagine. You've designed things and actually saw them come to life, you've helped people," You shrug, poking the fire with a stick before tossing it in to hear it crackle. "For example, I've never even kissed anyone. Now that the world is ending and all—"
"The world is not ending, princess. You're being negative." He interrupts pointedly, and you give him a glare.
"Yeah, well…I should be allowed to complain."
He only smiles inwardly, turning the fish over once. The smell is beginning to fill the cavern, your stomach growling loudly; your arms wrapping around you as he snickers.
"It'll be ready in a bit, don't worry." He says, tentatively pausing before you feel his eyes on you. You glance up from the fire, his gaze shamelessly falling over your face and shoulders as you lean back.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You bring your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them before wrapping your arms around your shins. He just shrugs, shaking his head before leaning back on his hands.
"Why haven't you kissed anyone? Just…didn't want to?" His head is tilted to the side, and you feel your cheeks grow hot as you stare up at the stalactite around the curve of the cavern.
"…I mean, I had chances. I just kind of kept dodging them." You say slowly, picking at a loose thread in the shorts you're wearing. "I've been on dates and stuff, and they'd always lean in, but I just wasn't that into them. And it's not like I value abstinence or anything, not that there's anything wrong with that but it's just not my vibe. I've…felt lust, and shit like that. However, I feel like a kiss should mean something, and if I'm not attracted to them enough, then…"
"That's one less step towards a kiss. Okay. I get it." He nods, "if it makes you feel better—"
"Don't try to relate to me right now. I'm sure you had girls throwing themselves at you." You scoff, and he rolls his eyes.
"Again, just the one girl, and I was with her for three years." He holds up three fingers, and you tongue your cheek before shrugging.
"Why'd you break up?"
He seems hesitant to answer, nibbling on his lower lip before looking up at the stalactite. You take the moment to peer at him in the flickering light of the fire, and you really look at him — soft lips, slope of his nose…paired with sharp eyes, and strong brows.
Pretty.
"She wanted to get married." He says quietly, kicking at a bit of rubble. "I was fresh out of school, and I'd just started designing my first building…I wasn't going to have time to dedicate it to wedding planning. I wasn't sure if I would have time for her, but I tried my best. We got engaged anyway and I was always busy. It just didn't work."
"Who broke up with who?" You ask, leaning forward nosily as he tongues his cheek.
"I broke off the engagement." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't easy, but it also wasn't working. Sometimes I wonder where I would be if we had gone through with the wedding. Would I be a dad? Would we have fought as much as we did towards the end of it all? Just…so many questions that I also can't bring myself to care about because I'll spiral over nothing. It was two years ago, life goes on."
"Do you want to be a dad someday?" You grab another stick from the pile next to you, poking the flame as he takes the fish off. He shrugs, staring at the fish tentatively. He turns it gently, watching the flame lick at the skin of it before answering your question.
"My future wife has to want kids for me to be able to make that decision." He clicks his tongue, "no use in me wanting something when she's the one bearing them. I'd just…you know. It's not fair to make that decision on my own."
"You think you'll get married? If the world doesn't end?" You continue messing with the fire as he turns the fish again.
"I mean…I hope. I made a bucket list on the first day of my freshman year in university, and it was the third or fourth thing I had on there." He carefully adds two more sticks to the bottom of the fire before glancing up at you. "Do you want to get married? Have kids?"
You dig your chin into your chest, smiling inwardly as you give a weak shrug.
"…I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I think I should focus on actually kissing a guy, first. Imagine if this outbreak hadn't happened. Maybe I'd be getting lots of dudes hitting my line in Germany." You roll your eyes, before sighing.
"I think I just want to fall in love one day. I was very focused on my studies my entire life, I've been to two tailgates, and I've been drunk twice in my life, and one of those was when I found out I got the internship. I've never kissed a guy, and I've never been a girlfriend, but that was my choice. And now, I don't have that choice, because the universe has just decided that it is fate for me. It's not like romance has ever been my top priority. I was loved by my friends and my family all the same, and the only love, or passion, or desire I truly had in life was design and architecture. God, I used to dream of my buildings being part of skylines and I went through a phase where I'd conjure up dream homes for my friends. I even promised that one day I'd build them, and I'd help decorate to their style…and now they're gone. They're gone and I'm here, with a stranger and in a cave complaining about the fact that I'll now never get the chance to fall in love or kiss a guy; when neither will they, because they are gone."
You close your eyes momentarily, tucking your chin into your chest before you blink up at him. He's looking at you with a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he shifts back on his hands, a slight tilt to his head. You maintain eye contact, nibbling on the inside of your lip and poking at the fire with the stick in your hand.
"Tell me your name."
"Y/N." You speak plainly, making the choice to lay down and toss the stick into the fire. You cross your arms on your chest, closing your eyes. "Not princess, sorry to burst your bubble."
"Y/N what?" He leans over slightly, and you feel a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. You open your eyes, catching him staring down at you. He doesn't look away, his eyes incessant as you turn your head slightly so he's not upside down in your vision.
"What's it to you, guy?"
"The curiosity will kill me, princess."
"I literally just told you my name, you don't have to keep calling me that."
"I like watching you squirm, it's cute." He shrugs, carefully pulling the stick off the rocks and out of the fish, laying it flat on a washcloth and slipping out his knife. He sinks the blade into the flesh of the fish as you turn to rest on your side, your eyes heavy as he holds a piece of the fish on the blade out to you. "Careful, it's hot."
You lean forward slightly, biting down on the piece of fish with your teeth before pulling it into your mouth. It's hot, yeah, but it's juicy and even a bit sweet as you chew.
"Good?"
You only nod as you hold your hand out for another piece, the sound of the crackling fire making you sleepier by the minute. You both eat in silence, with him grabbing the end of the sleeping bag and pulling you to his side of the fire so he doesn't have to keep reaching over to give you pieces. You pick it off yourself, still laying as you eat despite him telling you it's bad for you.
"Is the sun down yet?" You mutter, wiping at your eyes lazily. He glances over his shoulder, the sun peering through the waterfall and creating a pattern on the walls of the cavern.
"Almost. Come on, I have to put the fire out and let the smoke air out. You can sleep in a little bit."
"You've said that twice now, guy."
"Sue me for wanting to spend time with someone." He scoffs, "and my name is—"
"No, don't tell me. You'll get attached." Your sentence is almost interrupted by a yawn, but you force yourself off the sleeping bag, lazily dragging yourself towards the entrance of the cavern when you hear the hiss of the fire dying under the bottle of water he dug out of his rucksack. You hear the crinkle of the plastic before rustling, the smell of burnt wood wafting out of the cavern as he appears next to you with the sleeping bag. He spreads it out for you again, and you lay on your stomach as he moves to the side. He sits next to your head, a rag in his hand as he pulls the knife out of his pocket once more.
"What're you doing?" You ask tiredly, leaning up on your elbow to watch him.
"Just cleaning the knife. If my math is right, we'll be at the cabin in two days if we don't get any rain. If we do, it's three or four. I've got to ration things properly." He nods, and you peer at the knife. There's a corkscrew on it, and you forget the name of the style of knife but you smush your cheek with the heel of your palm as you point at it.
"Why do you need a corkscrew?"
"Do you always ask this many questions?"
"Well, guy, it's not every day we're being hunted by the undead, you know." You say pointedly, tapping his knee as he scoffs.
"Mingyu."
"Hm?" You look up at him with tired eyes, and he glances down before shaking his head with a sigh.
"That's my name. Mingyu."
"Okay? What am I supposed to do with this information?"
"Pft, I don't know. Maybe stop calling me guy?"
"And what, build a foundation of trust? You'd kill me if I got bitten by one of those rotting things." You huff, a hint of humor in your voice as you move to lay on your side.
"Uh, yeah. You'll be dead anyway, princess."
"I don't like your attitude, Mingyu."
"Sucks to be you, sweetness." He shrugs, and you let out an annoyed huff. You fold your arms under your head, using your bicep as a pillow. You blink at the running waterfall in front of you, the sun's rays bleeding through when you speak again.
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"Probably right here. I'm just gonna zip you up later, because it gets kind of cold in the cavern."
"Won't you be cold?"
You feel him shift next to you, your eyes looking up at him as he shrugs. "I can handle it. You already have goosebumps."
It's silent for a while. You watch the sun continue to set from behind the waterfall, the moon rising and illuminating the water. You blink tiredly, your body sore from the day but your fingers tap his knee gently as you push yourself up. He looks down at you, leaning back on his hands with a gentle smile on his lips.
"Yes?"
"Can we go to sleep now?"
"Yeah, you can go to sleep."
You shake your head, "that's not what I said."
He snorts, "what do you want from me, princess?"
"I want you to sleep! That bag is so heavy, I know you're probably sore all over and you're not admitting it to save face or something." You point an accusatory finger at him, and he purses his lips, nodding his head as if in agreeance.
"Wow," he says incredulously, "you're quite the mind reader. What else can you see? Can you tell my shoulders hurt real bad, too?"
"Mingyu!"
"You're so freaking cute, actually."
"Fine, freeze." You huff, laying back down and flipping the rest of the sleeping bag over your shoulders. You face into the cavern as he chuckles, patting the sleeping bag over your shoulder.
"I'll sleep soon. Just gotta keep you safe for a little longer." He admits softly, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before sighing. You don't respond, curling your knees to your chest and hugging yourself in an attempt to sleep. The last thing your eyes catch before you close them is the time blinking on his watch — 9:42 PM.
You manage to doze off for a bit, your back popping as you stretch your limbs slightly; only to feel Mingyu has disappeared from next to your head. You lean up a bit, the moon in a different part of the sky now before feeling the heat of his body on the ground. He's snoring softly but shivering, still wearing his boots but his watch is slipped off and next to his head. You grab it: 2:09 AM.
Groaning, you move to shake him awake when he jolts up on his own. He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes slightly bloodshot as he squints at you.
"Are you okay?" His voice is raspy, and you shake your head as you run a hand over your face. He shifts to sit up, when you drape the folded-over part of the sleeping bag out onto the floor and point at it.
"Lay down." You pat the bag, before sitting up on your knees and tucking your mussed hair behind your ears. He blinks at you, silently giving in and sprawling across the bag. You crawl towards his feet, untying the laces of his boots quickly before yanking them off.
"Leave them on," He mumbles tiredly, but you just pat his knee.
"You're shivering, you're tired and you're sore. Just take them off to sleep well." You murmur, bringing the boots up to his head and sitting them next to him. You tuck the watch into them, before laying back down on your side of the bag. "Good night, Mingyu."
You try to ignore how his name feels on your tongue, only to hear him whisper behind you as he turns onto his side, his breath hitting the back of your neck.
"Mmh. Good night, Y/N."
THERE IS A MOP OF HAIR UNDER YOUR FINGERTIPS AS YOU STIR THE FOLLOWING MORNING.
It's slightly chilly, your skin prickling at the soft breeze that blows through the waterfall, but the rest of you remains warm as you wiggle slightly. Your hips are achy as you strain your neck to see Mingyu's head laid on your chest, his arms wrapped around you like he was trying to protect you from something. Your legs are hooked at your ankles around his waist, holding him flush to your torso. Your hand in his hair is nothing to the one dipping below the neck of his shirt, imprinted with the pattern of his necklace and absolutely not comparable to his on your hip – under your shirt.
"Mingyu." You pat his shoulders, the man not stirring in the slightest. You pat harder, only feeling him inhale deeply, but not wake up. You let out a huff of annoyance, making a fist and hitting his shoulder with the side of your hand. He jolts on reflex, waking up almost instantly as his hand shoots up to rub at his shoulder.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you hit me?!" You refuse to let the rasp of his voice distract you, and you force yourself to focus as you scowl and measure the distance between you with a pat to his chest and yours.
"You're on top of me, dimwit. I'm practically roasting." You wipe sweat from your neck, the sleeping bag sticking to your damp back. His eyes widen, and he glances down at the hand under your shirt. He rips it away, pushing himself off you almost in a tizzy before clearing his throat, kneeling above you.
"I, uh—"
"If you're gonna say you're sorry, just save it for when you actually fuck up."
"Still, I'm—"
"Mingyu." You hold your hand up, watching the guilt flash through his features as you point your fingertips at him. "I genuinely don't care. I'm just concerned about the fact that you radiate so much fucking heat. Aren't you sweaty? Jesus."
You sit up, grimacing as you feel your shirt stick to you. You reach into his boot, fishing his watch out — 6:07 AM. You tap the face with your nail, "we should get moving. If today is anything like yesterday, I need to get up before I lose motivation and leave myself out on a platter for the undead."
"Even in the mornings, you just say the most insane shit." He mutters, rubbing at his eyes before sitting back on his feet. "Are you hungry? I made more porridge before—"
"Will you catch another fish?" You ask quickly, sitting up on your knees and clasping your hands together. He gives you a deadpan look, and you jut your lower lip out in a pout, "come on, buddy! Just one fish, please? Please, please—"
"Don't beg, I haven't even processed your question." He grumbles, wiping at his eyes again, before stretching his arms over his head. His eyes are squeezed shut, a sliver of skin peeking out from his untucked shirt. "What if I just teach you how to catch one? It's easy."
"Or…you can just catch it for me while I start another fire." You wiggle your brows, and he lets out a sigh as he stretches again. "C'mon! You've gotten me used to a certain lifestyle—"
"Okay, okay." He lets out a sigh, rubbing his face before standing up. "Alright, checklist. Fish, porridge, bath. Oh, and changing your bandages…what else? Oh! Laundry, too. We might get out of here closer to nine."
He shakes out his legs, marks from the sleeping bag imprinted on his skin. He takes his watch from you, slapping it on his wrist before lolling his head back.
"My back is killing me, I can't wait to get back to my bed." He huffs, twisting from side to side and you wrinkle your nose at the sound of the joints popping before his eyes widen and he glances down at you with an accusatory look. "For the love of God, please stretch before we head out today. You were kicking the shit out of me in your sleep last night."
"Is that why I woke up being melted into the sleeping bag?" You chide, and he just rolls his eyes before running a hand through his hair.
"Shut up."
"Mmh, I don't think so."
You giggle as he scowls down at you, and you stretch your arms over your head as he grabs his boots. He shakes them out, making sure no critters crawled in during the night before shoving them on. You reach over before he can bend, tying the laces quickly before patting the tip of the boot and pointing to the spring.
"Come on, fisherman. Bring me home something good."
"You're lucky you're entertaining."
"You can say I'm cute."
"And why would I lie like that?" He muses, chuckling as he skirts past your swatting hand and grabs his cap off the rucksack inside the cavern. He stretches his arms over his head one more time, letting out a pained grunt before rolling his shoulders back and making his way down the boulders. You peer over the side of the waterfall like you did the day before, sitting with your legs hanging over the ledge as you watch him pop his knuckles before crouching at the edge of the spring again.
You'd never admit out loud that watching the way his brain works is a little…intriguing. The seeds, the quickness of his reactions, the way his eyes never lost focus despite the movement of the waters. Really, this is nothing that should impress you as much as it does — but you've also been alone for so long that the most entertainment you have is your brain replaying The Breakfast Club spottily as you roamed the forests aimlessly.
"What happened to starting the fire?" He calls from the same boulder he stood at last night, hand on his hip as he looks up at you. You shrug, pointing at your socked feet, "can't find my shoes."
"You mean you didn't look for your shoes. I moved them to the entrance before I went to sleep. Put 'em on, princess."
"What if I wash your clothes for you while you bathe? Will you gather the wood then?"
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he guts the fish and beheads it faster than he did the day before. He looks around, finding a stick at the edge of the spring and spearing it through. You watch with a bitten smile as he makes his way back up the boulders, holding the fish out to you with a feigned look of annoyance on his face as you take it.
"You're so annoying, stop smiling like that." He mutters, turning around as you chuckle.
"Thank you, guy!"
"Stop calling me that!"
You only laugh harder as you get up, propping the speared fish on the side of the cavern and pulling your shoes on. You grab your bag, opening it carefully and slipping your jar of honey into the pocket of his rucksack before digging out your dirty clothing and the bar of soap you had. You roll your intimates into your shirt, staring at the bunched pair of jeans at the bottom of your bag before pulling them out. You shove it all under your arm, glancing over the boulders to see Mingyu already climbing back up with his arms full of wood.
"Need some help?" You call, and he shakes his head, making it back with a tick in his jaw. He drops the wood, rolling his shoulders back slightly before clearing his throat.
"You should probably bathe; the fish can wait. Plus, then I can take your clothes," you hold your hand out, and he nibbles on his lip.
"I'll make the fish first, then I'll bathe. I don't want it to sit out for too long. You can wash your stuff first and lay it out in the sun so it can start drying. Use the bottled water, I've got a filter and we can fill up before we leave." He nods, almost to himself as you put a hand on your hip.
"At least give me your shirt and socks, guy. You're not going anywhere, anyway, you're gonna make the fire right here." You shrug, holding your hand out as he raises a brow.
"You just wanna see me strip—"
"I'll fucking kill you, actually."
He laughs, dodging your attempt at hitting his arm swiftly. He gathers the sticks carefully, piling them together as you set your stuff down before moving to shake out the sleeping bag. You roll it back up, tucking it under the straps of his rucksack before plucking at his shirt.
"Give it here, fella."
He snorts, flicking his cap off before tugging his shirt over his head. You take it, your eyes not missing the deep bruising on his shoulders from the weight of the rucksack. You chew on your cheek as you take a closer look, your fingers floating over the skin when he clears his throat.
"The bag is heavy, but it's fine. I'm fine, plus we should be home by tomorrow night. Don't worry about it." He says softly, and you involuntarily let out a noise of distress as he unties his boot laces to hand you his socks. You take them, huffing as you make your way to the second boulder down — the biggest one, and you soak each item individually in the higher end of the spring water. You barely dip your underwear, not wanting him to see the lace in your hand.
Your knees dig painfully into the boulder beneath you as you lather soap all over the clothes, the smell almost sterile as you rinse them and wring them out repeatedly. The knee pain only stops when you tug your shoes off to wash your socks. You wring your underwear out the most, wanting it as dry as possible so the sun can finish drying it faster than the rest of the clothes. You lay everything out, the morning sun hitting the boulder just right as you manage your way back up to the cavern.
Your eyes linger on the bruises on Mingyu's shoulders, spanning down his back. You crouch behind him, tossing your shoes to the side and examining the purple and yellow splotches before you feel his hand reach back and pat your thigh.
"Stop it. You're making me self-conscious."
"I'm just admiring your back muscles." You blurt, his laughter immediately ringing out as he swats at your leg.
"Seriously, stop. Just come eat your fish, princess."
"What will you eat?"
"Don't worry about me." He says pointedly, before standing up and grabbing his rucksack. He digs through the front pocket. He procures a bag of what seem to be toothpaste tablets, and two toothbrushes (one used, one new) are seen through the plastic. Your eyes widen, and you almost topple over as you stand to hold your hand out.
"No please or thank you anymore, huh?" He snorts, pulling the bag open to give you the packaged toothbrush. You tear it open as he holds out two tablets, "chew them. They have fluoride so I wouldn't recommend swallowing it, but…you do what you do, you know?"
You do as you're told, chewing the tablets until a paste forms and you scrub at your teeth for what seems like twenty minutes before the foam gets too much. He only bites back his smile as he does the same, before his eyes widen in realization and he pulls more bandages out of the bag. He holds his toothbrush in his jaw, grabbing your injured hand and peeling the wet bandage back. Your gash seems to be healing fine, but he dries the skin out with an alcohol pad before wrapping new bandage around it.
You end up swallowing your toothpaste like a lunatic, giving Mingyu the toothbrush to put away before plopping in front of the fire that has now slightly charred the side of your fish. You flip it over, waiting for Mingyu to sit with you as you speak.
"I used to be a masseuse, you know." You nod, and he seems interested as he nods, sliding everything but the moleskin bandages back into his pack and pulls out the same washcloth he used for the fish last night. He sits next to you, pulling the fish off the fire and sliding it in front of you before taking your foot in his hand, stretching your leg over his thigh.
"Were you? Was that your part-time job?" He asks, carefully peeling the bandages off your feet. You wince as he presses the pad of his thumb into the arch of your foot, nodding as you wave his hand away from your foot.
"I did it for three years, I think. Almost four, I made pretty good money, but I almost always needed a massage, too. I quit when I found out I got my internship," Your voice is soft, almost as though you're trying to butter him up for something. He seemingly catches on, pressing his lips into a thin line as you pick pieces off your fish to feed him and yourself.
"You don't have to do that for me, you know. Don't feel like you need to repay me or anything, I'm helping you because I want to and it makes me feel useful. Just let me do it." He says sternly, carefully sliding a bandage over the top arch of your foot. He wraps another on the side, your fingers holding a piece of fish to his mouth. He takes it, chewing almost angrily as you sigh.
"Don't you think that you should let people help you, too?" You ask, "I mean, what if it makes me feel useful? I may not know you all that well, but it doesn't mean I want to see you in pain."
"I'm not in any pain. It's just uncomfortable, it'll go away."
"Mingyu."
"Please, just drop it."
You huff, tucking your foot under you as he gestures for you to give him the other one. You glance at the watch — 7:03 AM, or something similar because his hand keeps moving as he wraps bandages around your feet.
"We're making pretty good time, I'd say." You nod at the watch, and he glances down at it with a semi-impressed look. "Maybe we'll be out of here by eight instead."
"Maybe. Eat up, I'm going to bathe." He murmurs, patting your knee before he slips away, taking a netted bag with him that you hadn't noticed him take out. You watch the way his back is stiff, the bruising patching up to the curve of his neck. His biceps are just as tense as he disappears around the waterfall, and you lean back on one hand as you pick at the fish in front of you. You sip your water diligently, hearing the soft running of the waterfall amongst the buzzing of flies and bugs.
The morning is quiet aside from the sounds of nature. You finish your breakfast, putting the fire out with the little water you have left in your bottle before reaching over to his rucksack and fishing out one of the apples in the netted bags. You wipe it across your shirt, sinking your teeth into it and holding it between them as you lay on the ledge with your foot hanging off the edge.
Mingyu returns shortly, hair dripping before he shakes his head like a dog, spraying the side of your leg as he makes his way up the boulders. The sun is significantly hotter now, so the spray doesn't bother you nearly as much, but you still kick the side of his thigh with your eyes closed.
"Come on, princess. We've got to get moving, and we only have one water bottle left so we gotta fill up before we leave."
You don't open your eyes, blindly feeling around for your empty water bottle and tilting it to the waterfall. The sound of water falling into the bottle is enough confirmation for you, earning a chuckle from Mingyu as he does the same. You can feel his presence around your head, before he takes the bottle from your grasp and finishes filling it for you.
"Can you get the clothes? I'll filter these while we walk."
You peel your eyes open, looking up to see him donning a form-fitting, sleeveless white shirt that nearly makes your eyes bulge out. You sit up quickly, almost choking around the last bite of your apple before you push yourself off the ground and scramble down the boulders, tossing the apple core far into the woods as you reach the clothes. They're surprisingly dry, almost hot to the touch as you fold them quickly and stuff them into your backpack. You hold your socks in your hand as you pull your backpack over your shoulders, tightening the straps before making your way back up to the cavern. You practically throw his socks at him, not catching the furrow of his brows when they land on his arm (and then, the ground.)
"What's got you so frantic? Take a deep breath."
"Nothing. Just…excited to get the day started." You speak through your teeth, shoving your feet into your socks, not bothering to shake out your sneakers before pulling them on. You lace them up haphazardly, before looking into the cavern. There's nothing, but you still pat the side of the opening in gratitude before making your way down the boulders. "Uh, you take your time. I'm just gonna…roam."
"Like hell you are, stay put." He scoffs, screwing a contraption on each of the water bottles before setting them down and grabbing his bag. You look away, focusing your eyes on the forest ahead of you and the sunlight spotting through the trees. "You need sunscreen."
"No, I don't."
"Being stubborn gets you nowhere with me. Get up here."
"Can't, sorry. Already said my thanks to the cavern, means I can't go back."
You shrug, feigning nonchalance as you imagine the irritated look on his face. You dig the toe of your sneaker into the ground beneath you, kicking at the dirt when you hear him move around behind you. His arm brushes your shoulder as he skirts past you, the bottles of water held tightly upside down by the straps of his rucksack as he grabs your shoulders and makes you face him.
"There's no trees for about ten miles with the route we're taking. If you don't put on sunscreen, you're gonna get a sunburn and I don't have anything to soothe it." He says flatly, his fingers covered in thick sunscreen as he presses them to your face. You let out a groan, rolling your eyes as he works it into your cheeks and forehead, trailing his fingers down your neck. You can feel your pulse pick up a bit, and you're hoping he doesn't as the tips of his fingers breach the collar of your shirt.
"Arms and legs. Sit." He makes you sit on the edge of the boulder, a scoff leaving your lips as he rolls up your sleeves slightly and spreads more of the sunscreen all over your arms and fingers, even working it into your cuticles. "Mingyu, I'm gonna be all sticky."
"Sticky beats blistering sunburn, plus this dries faster when you're not complaining."
"I'm not complaining!"
"Yes, you are, but I can handle it. So just let me take care of you, damn."
He rolls his eyes as he crouches, pushing the shorts up high on your thighs before wrapping his arms around your ankles. You glance down at him, and you must have some sort of look on your face because he holds the sunscreen up to you.
"Is this fine or do you want to do it yourself? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"You're not making me uncomfortable. I'm just not…used to this."
"Yeah, princess, no one is." He says pointedly, almost slowly as if he's talking to a child. You scoff, crossing your arms as your cheeks turn hot.
"That's not what I'm talking about." You grumble, your fingernails digging into your arms as he uncaps the sunscreen again, taking some in his hand before shaking his head.
"Then what are you talking about?" He slathers the cream on your shins, dipping slightly under your socks as you chew on your cheek. He reaches your knees, reaching behind them to coat the back of it before tapping the side. "Answer my question."
His fingers brush the inside of your thigh, your hand shooting out to grab his wrist as you take the sunscreen in your hand.
"The touching. I'm not used to the touching, okay?" You mutter, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you quickly cover your thighs in sunscreen, "you're so casual with it and I don't know what it's supposed to make me feel, and I don't want to think about it right now."
You cap the cream, shoving it into his chest before standing up and fixing your clothes to cover you. He blinks down at you, confusion and concern coating his gaze before he clears his throat.
"I didn't—"
"It's fine, Mingyu. I'm not uncomfortable, you're not in any trouble, nothing like that. It just makes me think too much. Now, let's fucking move." You gesture to the woods behind you, and he nods slowly, slathering the rest of the sunscreen left on his hands on his arms. He seemingly doesn't know what to do with his hands, crossing his arms on his chest before walking into the forest.
The first few minutes are silent. Just crunching of leaves and twigs under your shoes, his posture rigid as he tries to hide how often he rolls his shoulders back. You keep your eyes on the ground; your own arms crossed on your chest as he keeps about a foot of distance between you. His shorts are navy blue now; a cute little flower embroidered on the pocket with baby blue thread and the letters KMG.
"What's the K for?" You ask, and he glances at you over his shoulder.
"What K?"
"On the pocket of your shorts. KMG. MG is for Mingyu, right?"
You gesture at the embroidery with your pinky, and he reaches his hand back to touch the pocket before a look of understanding crosses his features.
"Ooh. It's Kim. Kim Mingyu." He shrugs, patting the pocket before crossing his arms on his chest again. You nod, "Lee Y/N."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Lee."
"Nauseated to meet you, too, Mr. Kim."
You miss the way he smiles inwardly; your eyes focused on the caps swinging from the back of his bag. You notice they also have his initials embroidered, as does his rucksack on the bottom left corner.
"Why is all your stuff labeled with your initials?"
"I went a little crazy when the outbreak happened, and all the things at the cabin that I took there in case of something like this look exactly the same. So, I hand-embroidered my initials on everything that was mine, and then everything else with whoever has it. There's a handful of guys up there, but you're the only girl I've come across thus far. When we get there, you'll get some clothes and a towel, and we'll pick a color and put your initials on them, and you can stay as long as you want."
He shrugs, your chest warm at the idea of having community again.
"As long as I want?"
"As long as you want, sweetness."
You bite back your smile, nodding to yourself, "do I get my own bed, too?"
"I believe so. If not, I'll just make some of the guys room together so you can have your own space." He glances down at you, "you can be happy about it, you know. You must've been very lonely out here by yourself. Don't think I didn't notice how tired you were, you were practically stiff from all the stress in your back."
"It was just…I felt a little pathetic." You start, "I wasn't prepared, but who truly is for something like this? We speculate, but we never actually think or hope it will happen. I was so sure I'd be in Germany, I thought my life was set in stone for me and I'd be…well. Yeah."
"This idea you have that you can't be great because you didn't make it to Germany is a little concerning to me." He speaks softly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "I think you're being too hard on yourself. You've made it on your own for this long, I think that shows resilience. I don't necessarily commend you for making it this far with such little food sources, because that's dangerous but things are scarce and you're alive. You're still kicking, so who says you can't do bigger things? Better ones?"
"You should be a life coach."
"I was a cheerleader in grade nine, I know a thing or two about spirit."
You snort, "I was a cheerleader, too. I only lasted six weeks because I broke my ankle during a standing back tuck. I ended up having to get surgery; it was the worst pain of my life and my mother was furious about the money we shelled out for the uniform and summer camp."
He bites back his laughter, shaking his head before clearing his throat. "What other things did you do besides school and work?"
"You mean did I have any hobbies?" You tilt your head, trilling your lips and sucking your teeth, "I was pretty good at playing guitar. Electric, bass, acoustic…my mom taught me. And piano, she loved piano, all that classical mumbo jumbo but she loved rock. I was also an incredible masseuse, you know—"
"You just don't let up, do ya?"
"You're asking me questions, I'm just answering. I was a master assembler of furniture, I was also good at baking. I made a cake or a pie for me and my roommates every week. I'm an ice cream connoisseur, specifically Ben & Jerry's and my favorite flavor is Cherry Garcia. I also really like soup and stews. Soft tofu stew? Absolute gas, my man."
There's a soft glimmer in his eye as he hums, "anything that you wish you could do right now?"
"Listen to the radio. I'd sit in my room with my mom's favorite station on odd days and my dad's on even. Rock on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays and dance pop on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then I'd alternate on the weekends. My dad loved Kylie Minogue, my mom was super into Janis Joplin."
"What's your favorite song? Of all time, and not your parents'. Yours." He looks around, carefully slipping in front of you as another hill is in your way. He starts reaching his hand back but quickly pulls it back to his side as he skillfully makes his way down, looking over his shoulder at you. You glance at his hand stuffed in his pocket, giving him an odd look before holding onto his elbow and making your way down.
"Of all time? Can I do top five?"
"Sure."
"Safe and Sound by Capital Cities, Ooh My Love by Stevie Nicks, You Don't Know My Name by Alicia Keys, You and Me by Lifehouse, Look On Down from the Bridge by Mazzy Star." You nod along as you speak, still holding onto his arm as you make your way through a vast field.
"You have a very 'divorced dad that's still in love with his ex-wife while trying to fit in with his kids' type of music taste."
You laugh as you register what he says, your fingers tightening around his arm as you shrug, "my parents used to sing together like they were going through a million and one divorces. Instead of fighting, they sat at my mother's piano and sang until they got over it. What's your favorite song? Top five?"
"Hm, I don't know. I liked a lot of different genres, but I think one of my favorite songs was definitely My Kind of Woman by Mac DeMarco. I listened to it a lot when I was in high school, almost on loop on days I had exams. I haven't heard it in a while." He nods, before clicking his tongue. "In fact, I think the last time I heard it was on the drive back to my parents' house after things ended with my ex-fiancée."
"Oh, boy." You wince, "what was she like? Was she nice?"
"Oh, the sweetest, really. Got along well with almost everyone. Smart, reliable, dependable…" He trails off, shrugging his shoulders with a tick in his jaw. "She was great."
"So why didn't you try harder to make it work?" You ask softly, "I mean, if she was so great, and she sounds almost perfect…what happened?"
"I wish I could tell you." He lets out a sigh of defeat, clicking his tongue, "I felt like a jerk, and I constantly wondered if I'd done the right thing. I would get calls from her, and I was cruel to answer, knowing things wouldn't change and I was drowning myself in work to avoid my feelings of guilt. We stopped talking a month or so after, because I stopped picking up her calls. She moved to Taiwan just before the outbreak, she got a really good job out there working with the Society for Wildlife and Nature and I'm here. I abandoned the house project for my family because I needed time to process everything, and though I'm over it now and I'm moving on…the guilt of never finishing that house eats away at me now."
"You're just a mess, huh?" You chuckle softly, patting his arm before shaking your head.
"We live with so much guilt, humans. We feel guilty about the things we do, the things we don't do, the things we think about and the things we don't. It's a never-ending cycle, and someday…it ends. Yeah, your family isn't here anymore to enjoy that house. But you can still finish it, you can bring new growth there. You'll marry, you'll have a kid or two and that golden retriever that everyone seems to want…and you'll heal because you'll see the space used for what you intended it for, you know? Togetherness, love, care and caution. Someone will trip up the stairs, and you'll have anticipated it. Someone will get shoved into a hall closet by their sibling and you'll have already pictured it because that's what a home is. Memories, good and not-so-good, tangible and in the mind, alike; because you are your family. And they live through you, still, and whatever you put into the world."
He doesn't speak for a minute, your hand still holding onto his arm as you both keep walking in the field. The silence is comfortable but thick, like one of you said something the other wasn't expecting and it's still suspended in the air, processing. You stare at the ground, watching your feet go in front of each other as the sun beats down on your backs. Mingyu rolls his shoulders back silently, and your fingers slip off his skin as you move to slip your hand into your pocket.
His fingers dart out of his own pocket, grabbing yours and interlacing them. Your fingers are stiff for a second, and you lean forward slightly to look at him — only for him to turn away. You frown, but curl your fingers around his hand…
And you ignore the way your heart quickens stupidly in your chest at his thumb rubbing circles into your skin.
The walk continues without much conversation, minutes turning to hours but his hand never letting yours go, even as he rolls his shoulders back and winces in discomfort. You feel a pang in your chest as he does it repeatedly, the sun moving overhead and making your skin grow hot. You ignore the fatigue settling into your thighs, leaning your head on Mingyu's bicep when he glances down at you.
"Your hair is scorching hot." He presses his free hand to your face, before reaching behind him and pulling one of the water bottles off his bag. He looks at it, the water clean on one side and the filter blinking green. He lets go of your hand, twisting the filter off and standing in front of you. "Close your eyes, this is gonna be cold."
"No way you're soaking me with that right now."
"I'm not, but your head is hot, and I have an extra cap. It's just to cool you down. I'll even give you a carrot if you just let me do this."
"Do I look like a horse—"
He sprays you with the bottle mid-sentence, an unimpressed look on his face as you scowl. He does it again, and you just close your eyes as he runs his fingers through your hair. The water drips down your shirt, soaking through as you move your arms to cover your chest. He tugs a cap off the back of his bag, pulling it over your head before moving to tuck your hair over the backstrap in a makeshift ponytail. He swings the bag off, flipping it open and handing you a carrot. You stare at it, tonguing your cheek as he pulls the bag back over his shoulders.
"I'm literally soaking wet."
"The sun'll dry you out, don't worry. And you'll bathe later, so it's no big deal."
"Sure, no big deal. What about the carrot?"
"Eat it." He shrugs, holding the bottle of water in his fingers as he blindly feels around for your hand. You let him take it, rolling your eyes as he bumps your fingers with his thigh in every movement. You glance at the carrot in your hand, sucking your teeth before holding it up to him.
"You didn't breakfast."
"I wasn't hungry."
"Bullshit. Eat it."
"You eat it." He sticks his tongue out at you, but you give him a stern look that makes him roll his eyes, his hand coming to grab the carrot and he bites a piece off with his teeth. You take the water bottle from his hand, swinging it on your side as you keep your eyes trained to the trees in the horizon, your dripping hair keeping you cool in the beating sun.
"What are your hobbies?" You kick at the grass patches, and he hums as he chews.
"Well, I was just very go-with-the-flow. I liked cooking, I did almost all the cooking when I lived in the dorms with my roommates and when I moved in with my ex. I also drew a lot, I designed a few album covers for a few of my friends that were underground artists in college. I also play guitar, but just electric. I have a shit poker face, and I can't lie to save my life; so, I know better than to gamble with my friends, but I'm very hands-on. I like embroidering things, if it wasn't obvious, but I overall just like using my hands to do something. It keeps me busy and the end result is almost always something I'm satisfied with."
You nod silently, before clearing your throat.
"What was her name?"
"Mina. Jeong Mina."
"Mina and Mingyu…M&M." You mumble to yourself, your fingers around the water bottle tightening slightly. The trees seem to be getting closer, and you stay silent for the rest of the walk, even when it feels like hours. Your hair dries slowly, your shirt drying even slower as you limply trek the last few miles with your hands linked between each other. Your back tenses as you hear a noise in the distance, but you see nothing as you look around slowly, even stopping Mingyu before walking into the shade of the trees. You glance around, your skin prickling but nothing catches your eyes until you hear Mingyu whisper in your ear.
"Don't move."
Your eyes dart around the field behind you, before you catch a sparkle less than half a mile away. You try to focus, but Mingyu's hand is pulling you slowly behind him as you realize that it's an animal, a bear. The sparkle is the eyes staring straight at you in the high afternoon sun as your breath hitches in your throat. You watch it move slowly, preparing to run as Mingyu's foot crunches something, and you both freeze as it keeps gauging your every move.
"When do we start running instead of standing here like idiots?" You speak through gritted teeth, now fully behind Mingyu and moving deeper into the trees.
"They're not usually around these parts, the bears stay closer to the water…so if there's one, there could be more." He mutters, his hand tightening around yours as you pull on it. "Don't let go, okay?"
"Mingyu!" You grit, pulling harder as you turn to face into the woods. Yet another dilemma lays ahead — a mountain lion, watching you from the trees. Emerald eyes are set on your face, ears are set back, black-tipped tail flicking as you make eye contact. You must stop moving because Mingyu bumps into you, glancing over his shoulder to see the large cat's claws dig into the bark of the tree.
"We have a better chance with the lion that we do the bear. At least she'll give us a head start," you're breathless, not wanting any sudden movements to make it pounce. You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as the lion glances down before making contact with your eyes again. You dare yourself to look down, seeing a deer carcass laying on the forest floor.
"Bear is turning around," Mingyu's voice trembles slightly, but you mention nothing as you stare up at the lion with the most courage you can muster. For whatever reason, you put your hands up, carefully skirting around the dead animal that makes your heart sink in your chest. It's nature, you tell yourself as Mingyu keeps himself close to your back, pressed into you so hard that you can feel his chest rising and falling with every quipped breath. The lion follows you with every step, occasionally glancing at the carcass beneath it as you make it to the other side of it.
"We're leaving now," you say to no one in particular, and the lion stares you down, lowering its head as Mingyu's fingers dig into your arm, his hand in yours tightly squeezing. You watch the lion's tongue peek out to run over its snout, before a lazy yawn guarantees your temporary safety. Mingyu pulls you deeper into the forest, but you don't turn around, even as the lion closes its eyes.
Your grip on Mingyu's hand is almost bruising as you turn slightly, a shiver running down your back as he lets out a breath. You don't want to seem weak — because you're not. You're strong, you've done this for months alone.
Emotions are not weakness.
"I think I'm gonna throw up," you mumble, your breathing shaky as Mingyu pulls you into his chest. His fingers are warm against the back of your neck, squeezing softly as your forehead rests against his shirt — you can feel how fast his heart is beating as his necklace digs into your face, hearing him try to regulate his breathing and wrapping his arms around you tightly. You swallow a sob, but he just pulls the cap off your head, resting his cheek on top of your hair.
"It's okay. We're okay, we're alive." His voice is full of air as he squeezes the back of your neck again, your eyes watery as you squeeze them shut, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as you let a breath out. He keeps you close until you've stopped trembling, his hand squeezing your arms and neck, running up and down your back. "God, that carcass made me so nauseous."
You let out a snort, the reality of it all hitting you in the face. You're actually in this world right now, surrounding by things that the government created to hurt its own people. You're in the woods with this stranger named Kim Mingyu, who is annoying to the point that it's slightly endearing, and you can feel your breakfast unsettled in your throat. You let out a humorless laugh, your shoulders shaking as the laughter takes over your body.
"What the hell is so funny?"
"I should be in Germany. That's what's so funny."
You pull back, wiping at your eyes as another hysterical chuckle slips from your lips. "I should be in Germany! Instead, I'm letting a man I don't know take me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere and opening up about myself when I could be falling in love and being successful in Germany!"
He nods, his hands moving to hold your cheeks. His thumbs stroke the skin of your face gently, before he lets go and tugs your cap back on. He grabs your hand, taking the water bottle from your other hand and slipping it back onto his rucksack.
"Come on, we're a few miles out from another cavern." He mumbles, holding your hand tightly as he pulls you flush to his hip, his eyes alert as you both move through the forest tensely. Every footstep is too sudden, your hands tight around each other and you mouth a silent prayer to whatever God is out there to calm you the hell down. Mingyu is in no better shape, opting to constantly glance down at you when he thinks you're not looking — but he doesn't break eye contact when you meet his. He only blinks at you, gaze roaming your face before turning back to the unmarked forest floor.
"Are you upset with me?" His voice is soft, meek even; your hand squeezing his lightly before you lean your head against his arm with a sigh.
"Never," you shrug. "It's scary. I'm scared, and you're just as human as I am. I could literally feel your pulse going crazy. We're fine. You don't have to be brave all the time, you know? Fear is human."
"You're like a quarter. Both sides different, but still the same coin." He sighs, lolling his head back before rolling his shoulders, not letting you question him about what that meant. "My back fucking hurts."
"Thought you said it didn't."
"Yeah, well sometimes I lie."
"To save face?"
"Absolutely." He nods, rolling them back once more. "I can't be a wimp in front of a pretty girl; it's like shitting my pants."
"That's a bad analogy, whatever the fuck you were trying to say."
"That it's embarrassing, princess."
"That's such a horrible analogy, Mingyu." You wrinkle your nose, choosing to will the flutter in your belly away as you reach a shadier part of the woods. He keeps you close to his hip as he peers ahead, your cheek beginning to stick to his arm as you both sweat. You can only imagine how much his back hurts, the heavy rucksack moving with every roll of his shoulders. You glance down at his watch, the blurry face reading 4:53 PM.
"We still have so many hours left to our day." You groan quietly, feeling his thumb rub at the side of your hand in attempts to comfort you. "How long until we get to this cavern?"
"An hour or so. Don't worry, you can lie down as soon as we get there." He nods affirmingly, and you sigh as you force your eyes to stay open, the heat making your exhaustion set in much faster. You remind yourself that Mingyu is just as tired, if not more, and in pain as you put one foot in front of the other for what feels like an eternity.
Eventually, another slight clearing appears. Your eyes widen as you take in the height of this cavern — seemingly man-made but ancient. The trees have grown around it, warping around the entrance and mosses have overtaken the exposed rock. There is yet another spring below, but you can't bring yourself to bathe. You're too tired, and unfortunately, still very shaken up – even as Mingyu's touch grows increasingly comforting.
And confusing to your wildly beating heart.
"Here it is," he says plainly, pulling you in front of him as you both make it to the steps. "This was made hundreds of years ago, passed through generations before the last owner died and left it to the people that live in the cabins up in the colony. We opened it to the hikers; there's a sign on the north hill for it. It's just kind of a refuge now; it's kind of an unspoken rule that we have to keep it clean and tidy if we want it to stay usable."
You nod along to what he's saying, your thighs burning slightly as you make up the stone steps with his hands on your lower back. The entrance has a battery-powered lamp hidden inside the corner, and Mingyu grabs it, turning it on and illuminating the entire cavern. There isn't much to see — some dying potted flowers in the corner, a small window with glued sticks as a muntin. As you step in; a hinged door, oddly shaped but perfect for the entrance. You step inside cautiously, your foot landing on a soft rug. It's almost like a small apartment, except there is dust everywhere and you're certain there is a spider in the upper left corner of the wall. You glance down at the rug; a large sun embroidered in orange thread staring back up at you as you look at Mingyu.
He's not looking at you; his eyes are closed as he leans against the entrance of the cavern – a weary sigh falling from his lips as he forces one foot in front of the other, stepping inside and letting his bag fall off his shoulders. He reaches to close the door, a wince crossing his features as he manages to drag the locks in place quickly.
"Hungry? I can go catch something, it'll be quick." His tone is pained as he rubs his shoulder with a grimace, and you just shake your head as you toe off your shoes, dropping your bag onto the ground with a stretch.
"Maybe later, I'm not that hungry." You let a shudder fall off your frame as you kick your shoes into the corner, grabbing the rucksack and hauling it against the wall. You tug the sleeping bag out, unzipping it and laying it out on the ground as Mingyu sits on a milk crate that's next to the lamp, fiddling with the brightness as you toss the cap on top of his bag. You pull the water out of his bag pockets, reaching into the main slot and pulling out two oranges.
"I thought you said you weren't hungry?" Mingyu's voice rings in your ears as you kneel in front of him, pulling at the laces of his boots. "Let me go catch something—"
"Can you shut up?" Your voice is gentle, holding no malice as you tug his boots off one at a time. You toss them to the side of the room, watching him lean against the wall of the cavern with an uncomfortable sag to his shoulders. You pat the sleeping bag, "come. Lay down, I'll peel an orange, and you can sleep."
"I can peel my own orange."
"Or you can just let me do it for you."
He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you move out of the way, patting the sleeping bag again. He reluctantly slides off the milk crate, and you take his place as you sink your nails into the orange skin. He turns uncomfortably, grunting softly as he lays on his side, looking up at you. You raise your brows, smiling softly before crossing your legs at the knee.
"Something on your mind?"
"I didn't reapply sunscreen every two hours and we didn't stretch properly. Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, gosh." You roll your eyes, carefully keeping the peel together as you move around the orange. He sits up painfully, "but—"
"No buts, Kim Mingyu. I'm okay." You nod affirmatively, before pointing your pinky finger at him, "it's you I'm worried about. You and your back. I watched you walk down the boulders this morning, you hold a lot of tension in your traps and deltoids, and even a bit in your acromion."
"It's like you're speaking Klingon to me right now, princess." He blinks up at you with drowsy eyes, resting his chin in his palm as you roll your eyes.
"Your back, you hold a lot of tension in your upper back from the fucking bag." You jerk your thumb in the direction of the brown rucksack, but he just shrugs as if it doesn't make him want to stiffen forever.
"I'll just take a hot bath when we get back to the cabin. I'll be fine." He mutters as you split the orange in half, and you slide off the milk crate onto your knees in front of him. You offer a slice, only for him to open his mouth lazily. You slip it past his lips, before eating one yourself with a shake of your head.
"Hot bath is not enough, you need a cold one, too. Maybe even a massage, and I can help with that." You say pointedly, and he rolls his eyes again, turning away from you defiantly. You chuckle, leaning over his broad frame and holding another orange slice to his lips. He takes it, chewing carefully as you hold another in front of him. "What are you so afraid of? Relief?"
"Nothing, I'm just not used to the touching." He repeats your words back at you, and you scoff.
"You had a partner!"
"Two years ago, I had a partner two years ago. And what if I moan or something? Isn't that embarrassing?"
"That's literally normal. It's only weird if you make it weird, tons of people moan during massages. Even I've done it."
He pouts, his lip touching the side of your finger as you tap the orange slice to his mouth. He takes it, and you pat his shoulder. "It'll bring you lots of relief. I wouldn't offer if I didn't know what I was doing, you know. I'm not going to hurt you, not on purpose, anyway."
"I know." He mumbles, picking at a loose thread in the sleeping bag.
"Let me just work out a few knots," you whisper, hearing him groan exaggeratedly as you lightly tap your knuckles into his back. He sits up, meeting your eyes with a tired look in his, "what if you're a bad masseuse? What if you're just talking up your skills? I won't even know until my back still hurts in the morning."
"At least try me out, damn." You scoff in mock offense, shoving an orange slice in your cheek as you pluck at his shirt. "Take it off. Lay down on your stomach, and you can put your arms under your head if you want."
He tongues his cheek, "what if it hurts?"
"It's going to hurt a little bit. You're already in pain, but this will be more of a release pain. Not a pent-up pain," you shrug, before tilting your head towards his bag. "You have any oil or lotion in that bag? Even the sunscreen is fine, too, if you don't."
He shifts, thumbing at the hem of his shirt before sighing. "There's a bottle of almond oil at the bottom. It's in a bag so it wouldn't make a mess."
You nod eagerly, crawling over to it and flipping the bag open. You dig around through the items, your eyes widening at the hidden pistol at the bottom. It's covered with a sheath, seemingly never used as you hear the thwip of Mingyu's shirt being pulled off. You shake your head slightly, spotting the oil in a bag and grabbing it before closing the bag. You turn to see Mingyu's teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he stretches his arms behind him.
"Stop stretching, fool. Lay down." You nudge his thigh with your foot, and he swats you away as he reluctantly does as he's told. You open the bag, taking the oil out to read the front, almond oil. "Oh, this is gonna smell so nice. At the place I worked, we'd heat this up and the rooms would smell for days."
You kneel next to him, popping the cap of the oil as he shifts slightly "We can stop any time, just let me know, okay?"
"Are your hands cold?"
"No, they just smell like oranges."
"Great, now all the bugs are gonna want me."
"At least someone does," you snort, earning a swat from his hand as you snicker. You pour a bit of oil on your hands, warming it in your palms as you lean over him. "Tell me about your life. Anything."
"What happened to not wanting to get attached?"
"Sometimes I lie."
You don't show any emotion on your face as he turns his head to look at you, only giving him a raise of your brows before tapping the side of your hand on his ribcage. "Go on. Talk to me."
He looks a bit skeptical, settling his head back on his arms as you slide your slicked hands onto his skin. He flinches slightly as you lightly dig your fingers into the tense muscles, running up the marks of the bruising. "Uh…so I used to play football. That's how I got my scholarship."
"What position did you play?" You wrap your hands lightly around his shoulders, squeezing softly as he tries not to squirm, "I was a wide receiver for the first year, then a quarterback the rest of my time on the team. I would've made captain but I graduated early."
"Athletic, smart, hardworking…and ridden with guilt. What a dreamboat." You tease, digging your thumbs into his shoulder blade. He scoffs, almost a grunt, "shut up. I'm sure you've got your own demons."
"Skeletons in my closet are few but sentimental," you admit, your skin prickling as you hear a soft gasp fall from his lips as you work through a small knot. "But we're not talking about me."
"Fine," he huffs, the heel of your palm digging just under his shoulder. "What do you want to know?"
"Whatever you wanna tell me. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Do you think you're a bad kisser? Do you have a favorite color? Ever considered modeling?" You shrug, all the questions nonchalant as he hums, "what would you do with your life if you weren't an architect?"
"Well, I'm not an architect anymore, so I'd probably be doing this." He says pointedly, biting down on his lip as you press your thumbs into his lower back. You tap the skin softly, making him jolt as you snicker, "what about the rest of my questions?"
"Well, let me get to them!" He squirms as you slide your hands deeper, your thumbs settling in the dip of his spine comfortably.
"You've got back dimples. Cute."
"Shut up."
"They're cute. You're so cute."
He doesn't reply, but you watch the tips of his ears turn pink as he buries his face into his arms.
"You fluster easily?" Your voice has a coolness to it that you've never heard, but you don't care as you watch the flush crawl down his cheeks. "Oh, you're adorable."
"Will you stop that?" His voice is whiny as you laugh, softly digging your fingers into the skin. "I like red. The color."
"Is there any other red?"
"You know what—"
"Shh, just answer my questions." You smile inwardly as you slide your hands back up, finding another knot under the bruises. You work your fingertips into the muscle gently, watching his brow furrow as he clears his throat.
"Ice cream…I like strawberry. Sometimes vanilla, but strawberry is usually the contender. There was a creamery I used to go to a lot as a kid, and I never chose the flavor because the auntie who worked there gave me strawberry the first time I ever went. So, I got it every time until we got an ice cream maker at the cabin, and we just started making our own." He sighs as the knot slowly starts to give, your palms hot against his skin, "as for the modeling, I did a bit of that too, for money. I posed for the photography students, and I was semi-nude for the art students for a semester."
"Semi-nude? You're so scandalous," you chide, smoothing your palms over his shoulders once more. He sucks his teeth in response, opening his mouth to say something but you hear his breath hitch as your fingers slide under the necklace, squeezing the sides of his neck. You lean down slightly, "so, are you a bad kisser?"
"You can't ask me that. It's in poor taste."
"Oh, you're such a bad kisser."
"What would you know, virgin?"
"Hey!" You pout, squeezing the back of his neck lightly, digging your thumbs into the skin as he bites back a groan. "I told you that in confidence!"
"Last I checked, we're here alone, sweetness. And you didn't tell me that, I just confirmed it." He grunts into his arm, a muttered fuck falling from his lips as you run your hands down his shoulders tightly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, shifting on your knees as you clear your throat.
"Yeah, well. It's one of my only secrets, so I expect you to guard it with your life." You grumble back, rubbing your hands down the length of his back with slight pressure. You squeeze his side, your fingers coming to pull at his necklace as you lean down further, "did you hear me, Kim Mingyu?"
"Yeah," his cheeks are burning red as his voice comes out a bit breathless, turning his head to face away from you. You lean over his body, finding his eyes open as he glances at you out of the corner of them. You give him a pointed look, making him huff as he closes them. "Yes, I heard you."
"Thank you."
"It's not like I was going to tell anyone, anyway."
"I don't know that," you say, leaning back onto your legs and patting the dip in his shoulders. "Feeling better?"
"I feel tired." He mutters, wrapping his arms tighter under his head as your tongue peeks out to wet your lips. He lifts his head up, giving you a defiant look with pursed lips before clicking his tongue, "you're pretty good, I guess."
"You guess?" You snort, tapping his side. "I can keep going until you fall asleep, if you want. I'll turn the light off, too."
"What about you, though?"
"What about me?" You question, dropping the closed bottle of oil into the bag and sealing it, putting it aside as you peer at him through your lashes.
"Aren't you sore? Tired? Shouldn't you sleep, too?"
You shrug, "my bag isn't as heavy, and I just need to stretch a bit. I'll do it in the morning, probably take a bath, too. I'm just offering because you're actively in pain, more than I am. Just take it as a thank you."
"You don't need to thank me."
"But I want to, and this is the only way I can."
"Tell me about yourself instead. I'll take your thanks that way."
"Nope." You shake your head, untucking your legs from under yourself and stretching them out. You take your socks off as he sits up, a pout on his lips as he gets in your face.
"Come on! You asked me all those questions and I answered!"
"You answered because you have no self-preservation skills. That's a problem."
"I've kept you alive for two days!" He shoves your shoulder lightly, and you turn your head to look at him, glancing at the spot where he touched your shoulder. He swallows carefully, fixing the sleeve of your shirt where his fingers wrinkled it. "Sorry."
"I kept myself alive for much longer, but fine," you roll your socks, squeezing your calves with your hands as you bend at the waist. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around your knees and bringing them to your chest. "What do you want to know?"
"Whatever you wanna tell me."
"You suck at this."
"You're so mean." He huffs, resting his cheek against your shoulder. You try not to stiffen, opting to continue running your fingers down your shins as you clear your throat, "Mingyu."
"Fine." He shifts, instead resting his chin higher up. "What's your favorite color? Have you ever considered modeling? Do you think you'd be a bad kisser?"
"You're so unoriginal." You snicker, making him scoff. "Fine, why are you braless in the middle of the woods?"
"First of all, a raccoon stole my bra, like, two weeks into this mess! That's not my fault!" You gape, your brows furrowing as you turn to face him. He's really close, his eyes boring into yours as you wrinkle your nose at him, "you're such a man. Of course you'd notice."
"Or, I have my chin on your shoulder, and I don't feel the strap."
"I could've gone strapless."
"There's no support in those things."
"You saying I need support?"
"I'm saying you seem like a reasonable person, and no reasonable person likes strapless bras." He rolls his eyes, and you bite back your smile as you turn away from him. "Are you going to answer my questions or not?"
"My favorite color is green. I was a nude model for a portrait class last year and no, I don't think I'd be a bad kisser. There is skill in the yearning." You shrug the shoulder he's not perched against, and he gasps in feigned shock.
"Fully nude?"
"Fully nude. It was a bunch of girls, and most of them were my friends, anyway."
"But you called me scandalous for semi-nude?"
"I'm a woman, it's different. Women have this gravitational beauty that men just don't possess. It's the same feeling you get when you look at, I don't know, the Northern Lights, or the moon, or the ocean." You quip, turning to face him again. "I'm sure you'd agree."
He tongues his cheek, eyes burning into yours before he shrugs. "I would but that's just—"
"Shut up."
"But I have more questions."
"Then ask them, loser."
He leans his cheek against your shoulder, eyes round and wet as he stares up at your face. You raise a brow, your gaze pointed as he wrinkles his nose at you.
"What is your dream partner like?" His voice is soft, his arms crossing on his bare chest; the face of his watch blinking at 9:43 PM. You hum, your tongue darting out to wet your lips again. His eyes follow the movement, before shamelessly looking back up at you.
"I don't know, actually." You admit, "I just hope he's sweet. A nice guy, but he has to be nice to everyone, you know? The aunties, kids, animals, too, because I don't like assholes. Uhm, I like lip gloss, so he'd have to be okay with me wearing it, and I like it when they dress nice. Also, when they smell nice. And I like a man that can eat, too. I don't know."
"You wear lip gloss?" He's gentle as he asks, and you move away carefully. You grab your bag, leaning back with it in your lap. He lingers behind you, and you move back enough and bring your hand up to rest his cheek on your shoulder again. He goes without resistance, watching you open your bag and pull out the folded clothes. You reach into the bottom, taking out the sparkly pink tube of bubblegum lip gloss and holding it up to the light.
"I used to collect them before the outbreak. I had at least two in every bag, all sorts of flavors and colors. I don't like this one all that much, that's how you can tell I wasn't really expecting this to seriously happen." You laugh humorlessly, unscrewing the cap and giving it a soft sniff. It was brand new, still sweet with the scent as you close it.
"Put it on, let me see." Mingyu nudges you, and you scoff, "it's just sparkly. There's nothing more to it."
"Let me be the judge of that." He huffs, making you roll your eyes as you uncap it again, reluctantly putting it on. The formula is a little sticky, but it tastes fine as some of it seeps into your mouth. You wipe the corners of your lips, seeing Mingyu watch you intently out of the corner of your eye.
"Up to your standards, Mr. Kim?"
"You're so pretty when you shut up, you know that?"
He's rolling his eyes almost too hard, but you just smile widely as his cheeks flush once more.
"You've done that a lot, you know." You mention slowly, putting the things away in the bag and sliding the lip gloss on top before zipping it up and tossing the bag aside.
"Done what a lot?"
"Call me pretty. Five times, actually. And you called me cute three times."
"You're keeping count?" He asks pointedly, before you give him an annoyed look. "So what? I can't have eyes?"
"Sure, you can, I just know that you're gonna fall in love with me." You jest, hearing him click his tongue, "would that be so bad? I'd say I'm pretty cool, the aunties love Kim Mingyu. And I don't care if you wear lip gloss, I like the way it looks on you."
"You met me yesterday," you deadpan, and he gives you a look that says so?
"I can still think you're pretty. I can think whatever I want; which is why I think you're smart, and strong, and mean, and you're pretty but that won't change." He shrugs, "you're…something. I can't quite figure it out, but I will."
"Or you could give up." You wiggle your brows, "it's not that serious. The world is ending."
"Then why are you so resilient?" He whispers, his eyes intense as he leans slightly closer. "Why are you so intent on staying alive if you're so convinced there is nothing to live for?"
You blink at him, lips parting before he leans forward slightly.
"If you didn't think there was something worth living for, you would've easily given up on yourself ages ago. I wouldn't have found you literally licking your wounds, and you wouldn't have let me feed you, or bandage you up. You would've looked that mountain lion in the eyes and taunted it, and then you'd be dead." He shrugs, his breath hitting your lips as your jaw tightens slightly. "So, stop acting like the world is ending. It's not. It doesn't end until you want it to, and even then, I won't let you think that way. Life isn't over because of this. Life doesn't end, ever. It keeps going, so you keep going."
He's so close that the tip of his nose brushes yours, "stop playing both sides of the coin. Either you're in it, or you're not. And as far as I can tell, you're in. So, stay in."
You can't tear your eyes away from him, your breath hitched in your throat as you stare at each other. A beat passes, a minuscule beat where you glance down at his lips — before you move back from him, wiping the back of your hand across your lips. Glitter smears over your skin with the thin layer of lip gloss, and you move behind him to turn the lamp off. He says nothing, allowing you to lay on your side and face the wall. You curl your knees to your chest, staring at the light bleeding through the window that illuminates the room.
He shifts behind you, a groan as he likely lays on his back. You say nothing, even when his voice whispers good night.
You can't sleep.
Mingyu took his watch off at some point, tossing it to the side and you saw it blinking lightly above your head, reading twenty minutes until one in the morning. His eyes are closed, back rising and falling steadily as you turn for what feels like the hundredth time, facing him as he sleeps shirtless and on his belly. You're shivering slightly, the cold of the night seeping in through the floor as you wrap your arms around yourself.
You think about what he said. Not because it bothered you, of course not…
You just didn't like to be seen that way, to be perceived further than what little information you voluntarily offer about yourself: architecture student, design snob, mean girl who doesn't need anyone. You had a problem with accepting whether this was something you could be positive about, and you think that of all people, Mingyu could understand — a life set in stone, something you'd wanted for so long…just ripped away. The idea of becoming great in what you wanted versus the reality in becoming great for survival were two different things, and while you knew you'd done well in keeping yourself alive…a part of you wonders what would've happened if you'd made it to Germany. If the outbreak happened after you left, if you would've managed to escape the hurt in your chest when your parents on the island stopped picking up your calls.
Or the way your mind flashes the day you hit the pavement falling out of your first-floor window, falling away from your two lifelong friends that you'd never get to see again. All because of a loser in downtown that opened fire against public health for no reason other than stupidity and selfishness.
You simply wonder, but wondering does nothing for your bitter heart as you watch Mingyu sleep soundly; a shiver sweeping through your body as you give in to your heart's incessant tugging.
"Mingyu." You whisper, but he doesn't open his eyes. A huh is heard, soft and sleepy, before you speak slightly louder. "Mingyu."
He doesn't respond, only sighing and lifting his arm, his fingers beckoning you to come closer. You nibble on your lip for a second, before he reaches over and curls his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You move with it, letting him tuck you into his chest before pulling your side of the sleeping bag over your shoulder. You're engulfed with warmth, his arm holding you close to him as you feel him move your leg over his hip, your cheeks heating before you hide your face in the dip of his neck, his necklace cool against your lips and cheek.
"Sorry." You mumble, but he just squeezes his arm around you lightly before you feel the ghost of his lips on the shell of your ear.
"S'okay, princess. Can't sleep?" He sighs, his palm rubbing circles into your back as he drums his fingers in tandem. Your nose is filled with a mix of him as you bury your nose deeper into his neck, "it's just cold in here."
"You'll warm up soon." He mumbles, his hand sliding up to palm at the back of your neck. Your skin prickles slightly as he squeezes, breath hitching in your throat as your face is engulfed in a hot flush. His thumb traces circles into the side of your neck, "wear your lip gloss tomorrow. I like it."
"Think I'm gonna do stuff just because you like it?" Your voice isn't nearly as confident as you move back to look up at him, his eyes still closed as he shrugs.
"I think you should do stuff because you wanna, but if you want to do it because I like it—"
"Mingyu."
He laughs tiredly, and you scowl inwardly as you rest your forehead on his bare chest.
"You're cute, Y/N."
"Why are you messing with me right now? Aren't you sleeping? Go to sleep."
"I can't sleep when you're tossing and turning. I was just waiting for you to tell me you were cold."
"Pft." You grumble, trying to turn out of his hold when he tightens his arm around you, sliding down a bit to be eye level with you. He's hovering over you slightly, eyes teasing, tired, as they look down at you. Your blush grows hotter as he blinks down, your fingers curling into fists as you lamely hit his shoulder. "You're taking advantage of the fact that I'm cold."
"If anything, I think you are doing that. It's been cold before, when you were on your own. You managed." He raises a brow, his fingertips drumming against your back again. "If you wanted to cuddle, you could've just said that."
"I don't."
"Then move."
He lifts his arm up, giving you a pointed look as you cross your arms on your chest. You chew your cheek, looking away from him as you click your tongue. "You're being mean."
"You're not being honest."
"Mingyu!"
"Stop whining and tell me what you want, babe." He quips, "you're cute."
"That makes four times, you know. Or five, actually." You mutter, clenching your jaw repeatedly to will the stupid flutter in your chest away before groaning. "Can you just hold me? Please? I'm tired and I'm cold and I just wanna go to sleep."
He doesn't respond, wrapping his arm around your waist once more and holding you close. Your cheek is smushed with his as your arm drapes around his side, your fingers dangling over his back. If he feels your lips curve into a smile against his jaw, he says nothing — but you feel his frame relax under the weight of your limbs wrapped around him, his arm under your head bending at the elbow to pat the back of your head. His fingers run through your hair soothingly, your eyes fluttering shut as you whisper thank you against his skin.
"Good night, sweetness."
MINGYU IS STILL ASLEEP WHEN YOU GET BACK FROM YOUR BATH.
You'd escaped his grip without waking him just forty minutes earlier — and you're grateful you did, because you can't be blamed for the insane butterflies filling your stomach. He'd been fully on top of you once more, his head resting between your breasts and his hand slipped into yours, pinning it next to your head. He'd been snoring softly, pouting in his sleep with every inch you managed to move away, but eventually turned on his side as you wiggled away. You took a deep breath then, covering your face with your hands and feeling the heat of your skin against your palms.
You can't lie and say you didn't curse everything that got you into this mess — but you absolutely hate the idea of the crush you knew was forming in your chest. A crush, your mother always said, is a lack of information. And boy, do you lack information right now.
But something about him makes you not want to care. You want to throw caution to the wind, you want to let him hold you close every single night, you want to rub his back until he falls asleep, you want to wear lip gloss for him, and you want him to kiss you. You want to kiss him, over and over until you can’t breathe.
Until you need him to breathe.
You wonder if this shows how inexperienced you are, how easy it was for him to get into your head. His words, his help…his spirit and incessant need to keep going when the world is crumbling around him.
But he's just you in another person, isn't he? Smart, strong, resilient…and full of guilt.
So full of guilt — but his is from the past, and yours is from the present, from the thundering in your chest caused by him and his casual touching that you welcome without a word, by him and his ability to show fear despite wanting to be brave and succeeding.
Him, and how easily you felt seen, and how you've never, ever given in so easily.
Not to your feelings, not to your circumstances, not to a man.
You've religiously fought against every single odd in your life. Every single fight with your parents, every argument with your friends that left you in a puddle of furious tears, every single stepping stone that was set slightly higher for you because you're a girl. A girl with dreams and aspirations and a need to be the top of your class, the best in your department.
A girl with the incessant need to be great.
And you feel a little foolish to think that a few words from a man, a man you don't know, can make you realize that greatness can be found in anything. You hate it, honestly, because then, your mother is right. Your father is right, everyone who has ever told you to take it easy has been right — greatness is found everywhere, and your father's voice echoes in your mind from the night you left the island for Yonsei.
"You are going to shine, because you are a star. Stars shine everywhere, so just take it easy, kid. We'll be here when you get back, in all your greatness."
And now, they're gone.
Just like Jian, and Jieun.
Just like all the boys you never kissed, and all the boys that gathered the strength for weeks to tell you what Mingyu has been able to say so easily — that you're strong, smart, pretty. And you're only more skeptical of him as you realize just how easy it is for him to talk to you like that; like you're prey he's about to sink his teeth into, like you're going to fall in love with him and it'll be the best thing in your life for three months before he decides to find another, or that you're just simply not enough. Not experienced enough, not smart enough, not strong enough to keep maneuvering a world like this — where nothing is for certain.
Not enough.
You feel guilt seep into your bones as you glance down at him from your spot in the entrance, your hair dripping down your shirt — his shirt, the one he was wearing when he found you. The brown one with KMG stitched into his chest pocket, and the lace of your pink underwear peeking through the bottom as you feel your eyes burn with tears.
You move around quietly — covering yourself in sunscreen, peeling yourself an orange and grimacing at the taste after the toothpaste tablet. You wash your clothes, letting them dry on the steps, you stretch fully and even massage your feet lightly. You bandage your hand up, replacing your moleskins as silently as possible before slipping your socks on and tugging your jeans on.
You stare at the tube of lip gloss at the bottom of your bag, your heart fluttering as you swipe on a thin layer — before wiping it off with the back of your hand. You shove it back in the bag, your hands gripping the fabric before you toss it onto the steps and grab a carrot out of Mingyu's rucksack.
You watch the sun rise by yourself on the steps of the cavern, nibbling on the carrot when you hear a grunt from inside. You lean back slightly, peering into the entrance to see him stretching his arms over his head, his hair mussed with sleep.
He looks around for a second, patting the side of the sleeping bag when he sees you looking at him from the entrance. You give him a curt nod, pressing your lips together before tapping your wrist and looking away.
He moves about — you listen to him brush his teeth, put things in his bag, shoving his boots on before stepping out with an apple in his mouth and your shoes in his hand. His watch blinks 6:39 AM, and you feel him pull his cap over your head as you grab your shoes from him.
"Why didn't you wake me?" He murmurs, sitting next to you to lace up his boots. You scoot over slightly, your thigh still brushing his as you shrug, chewing far too much for your small bite of the carrot. He gives you a pointed look, sighing before turning slightly. "Did I make you upset? Did I do something? Say something?"
You don't respond verbally, shaking your head as you tug your shoes on; and that's when he notices you're fully dressed, and your hair is damp. He leans back slightly, your indifference making his eyes narrow as he studies you. You don't acknowledge it, tying your shoes and finishing your carrot in two bites.
"We should get moving." You murmur, and his brow furrows as you move to get up. His hand grabs your ankle before you can move away, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes.
"What's with you? Is this about last night?"
"What about last night, guy?"
"You tell me, princess."
You roll your eyes, shaking his hand off your ankle like a bug off your hand before turning to grab your bag. You slide it over your shoulders, hooking your thumbs in the straps before making your way down the steps. You stop a few steps from the bottom, looking over your shoulder.
"Come on. We don't have forever, you know."
Mingyu seems taken aback at your change in attitude, and you kind of applaud yourself for staying in character. You hear him slowly stand, and you make your way to the forest floor as he barrels down the steps. You walk forward until you feel him move you in the right direction, and then you pull away from his fingers. You roll your shoulders back, gripping the straps of your backpack as if they'll keep you sane.
You don't speak for a while. He gives you wayward glances that you don't bother meeting, holding his hand out with every hill that needs descending, but you don't take it. He grows a little stiff in front of you, awkwardly sliding his hands in his pockets as the sun starts to grow hot with the waning morning.
You look around diligently as you both walk, your eyes still a bit tired from your late-night tossing and turning. You'd woken up twice during your slumber, both cause of odd flashes in your dreams about the very same mountain lion you'd seen yesterday — only to be soothed back to sleep by the feeling of Mingyu's heart beating steadily against your ear. You scowl inwardly, keeping your eyes trained to the ground and kicking pebbles out of your way.
Mingyu stops abruptly, making you bump into his back, hitting your forehead on the clip that holds his sleeping bag. You grimace, rubbing at the skin when he turns around with a frown, his arms crossed on his chest as he peers down at you.
"I can't keep going in silence. Tell me what I did."
"Why do you think what you do is so important to me? Why do you think you're that worthy of having an effect on me?" You snap, sucking your teeth as you let your hand fall from your forehead, "not everything is about you. It's not like what I do will matter to you this much, so just leave me be."
"Oh, this is so about me." He scoffs, letting out a humorless laugh. "What the hell is the problem? What did I do?"
"You're confusing me! That's what you're doing!" You scream, screwing your eyes shut and covering them with your hands before letting out a defeated groan. "You ask me questions like you care, you touch me like it's second nature and you say nice things to me like you don't need reciprocity. You act like you're just this nice guy, and you tell me all this shit about how resilient I am as if I don't know. I know I'm strong, okay? I know I am, it's all I've ever been. I don't need you to tell me and I don't want to hear it anymore, because I want to have a chance where I don't need to be any of that!"
Your breathing is shallow as you wipe at your face, unaware at the tears streaming down them. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, and you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes so hard you see splotches of color amidst the darkness.
"I need you to stop acting like I'm the only girl in the world. The cuddling, the teasing, the casual touching, holding hands and all of that…it has to stop. I can't do it. I don't know what it's like to be liked, much less to like someone. I have a weak mind and a weaker heart, and you're confusing me. Just let me be if nothing will become of it."
Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you can't bring yourself to look at him as you sniffle. You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance at his watch.
11:32 AM.
"Keep moving. It'll be lunch time soon." You murmur, pushing past him to keep walking in the general direction. You get maybe three feet ahead of him when he finally starts moving. He doesn't say anything, just stepping ahead of you and trailing to the left. You follow silently, aside from the sniffling — watching the way his hands palm at the fabric of his shorts before he just stuffs them in his pocket.
You entertain yourself by watching the time tick by on his wrist as you keep walking in silence — the sniffling stopping around 1:15 PM. You stop to eat, and he hands you things without looking at you; which somehow, hurts far worse than you could have imagined. He uncaps the water for you, he peels an orange for you, but he says nothing; only pulling his hand back if he brushes yours accidentally.
And suddenly, the fullness of your belly can't win over the emptiness in your chest.
You hadn't expected the day to go by so slowly. It feels agonizing — the heat of the sun on your back, the weight of your heart in your throat paired with a dryness in your mouth that no amount of water can quench. You ignore the worried glances he gives you as you bring the bottle to your lips again, his arms crossed on his chest as you cap it.
The walk is uncomfortable. Sure, the dense trees bring a comforting refuge from the sun…but you can't stop thinking about him, even from ten inches away. You can't stop glancing at him every time he's in front of you, every time he instinctively reaches his hand out before retracting it, every time you almost take it. It's 3:29 PM before he finally speaks.
"You're not the only one with a weak heart, you know. You're confusing me, too."
It's all he says, keeping his voice gentle and quiet, his eyes trained forward as another clearing comes about. Instead of a field, you're met with what seems to be a newly constructed fence — heavy iron and lined with chicken wire at the bottom. He moves in front of the gate, kicking gravel around until the sparkle of a gold key catches your eye. You point at it silently, before he sees it and grabs it. He unlocks the gate, pushing it open slightly and poking his head in when you hear a shriek so loud that it makes you wince.
"You're back! Mingyu's back!" It's a man's voice, and Mingyu is pushed back by whoever it is throwing himself at him. He doesn't stumble much, wrapping his arms around the guy with a smile.
"I told you I would be, Chan. And we have company." He pats the man's back, who stiffens as more people gather around the open gate. More men stare back at you, their excited smiles turning to faces of horror as they lay their eyes on you. Gasps and chatter rise, and Chan embarrassedly drops from Mingyu's arms, avoiding your eyes as he clears his throat.
"Introduce her, idiot." One of the men with thick brows speaks up, a pouty look to his lips as he crosses his arms on his chest. Mingyu scowls, "mind your damn business, she's not here for you."
"It's not like she's here for you, either." Another one rolls his eyes, leaning against one of the posts. He's lanky, nimble fingers running through faded blond hair as he looks you up and down. "In jeans? You're brave. What's your name?"
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as an embarrassed look glazes your face. "Uh…"
"Y/N. Her name is Y/N, now let us in. Don't you know? We're really tired." Mingyu speaks mockingly, waving them all back before grabbing Chan's wrist and pushing through them. You follow hurriedly, taking the key off the lock and holding it between your fingers as they let you slink past and one of the men locks the gate behind you. You lose Mingyu in the gaggle of men, chattering heard as they all push him towards the cabin that towers over you — four stories, you think. You can't see that high.
"She's cute," you hear someone whisper behind you, and you instinctively curl in on yourself before you hear a smack, followed by an ouch!
"Shut up. Leave the girl alone, she's needs to feel safe here."
"I just said she was cute! I didn't mean anything weird by it!"
"You're a guy, Soonyoung. We're all guys. She's gonna take a while to get used to us, so don't make her uncomfortable."
A grumble is heard, and you glance over your shoulder, the blond from before and another man with jet black hair behind you.
"It's okay. Mingyu's called me cute five times." You hold up five fingers, his name heavy in your mouth as the man with the jet black hair elbows the blond.
"See! It's not weird!" He scoffs, before holding his hand out. "I'm Soonyoung. This is—"
"Minghao. I can introduce myself, thanks." He rolls his eyes as you turn to shake Soonyoung's hand, his fingertips cold against your skin. "You must've been scared out of your mind out there. Were you on your own?"
"Uh, it's not really scary." You shrug, before shaking Minghao's hand. "I was alone from the beginning, so I just…adapted, I guess. I almost didn't let Mingyu help me."
Minghao's eyes hold something you can't recognize, before his other hand covers yours.
"You must be tired. Let's get you inside, hm? Seungcheol is making dinner." He pats your hand, before pulling you forward. You follow behind him, but his hand in yours doesn't make you feel anything different. It's just like holding hands with Jian or Jieun, or your parents — warm, kind. Just supportive, really, a guide.
Holding Mingyu's hand makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Not that you have a crush on Mingyu, anyway.
You let them lead you to the front of the cabin, with Soonyoung taking the keys out of your hand and placing them in a bowl by the door. You step inside, immediately hit with a blast of cold air that makes your skin prickle. Minghao pulls you in, shutting the door behind you and pulling you closer, your hip bumping his as you walk through the open living room.
"You should settle in. Let's see if Mingyu has a room for you." He squeezes your hand softly, before pulling you towards a hall closet. You see Mingyu's back inside, sorting through piles carefully. Minghao lets your hand go, "come downstairs when you're done settling in. We'll get you some food and you can meet everyone."
"Okay. Uh, thanks, Minghao."
"No problem, sweetheart."
You miss the way Mingyu's back tenses at the pet name, but you turn back to see him holding a pair of navy blue shorts up. He shrugs, draping them over his forearm before grabbing a towel off the top shelf. He glances at it, touching the corners before putting it back and grabbing another one. He does the same, before nodding to himself and closing the door, a ring of keys around his wrist.
He doesn't say anything as he turns to you, tilting his head towards the set of stairs to your right. You ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as he turns without speaking, two steps at a time. You follow silently, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of your jeans as you look down hallways upon hallways of rooms. Some doors ajar, most closed — but your thighs are burning as you reach the fourth landing.
"Jesus Christ, are we almost there?" You grouse, and he only chuckles inwardly before stopping in front of you. You frown up at him, but he just shrugs, leading you down the hall of several doors, before a blue one ends the hallway. The letters KMG mock you in white paint, before he turns to the one next to it. It's green.
"This used to be a bed and breakfast before it came into my family. Hence, all the rooms." He nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. He holds the items in his hand close to his chest before looking through the keys with one hand, before finding one with a matching green stripe on the bow. He unlocks the room carefully, opening the door to show a fully furnished room with pale pink walls and a cherry-print comforter. You feel your chest tight as he slips inside, setting the items in his hands down on the white desk in the corner.
"There's pajamas in the bottom drawer, if they don't fit you, we can alter them. Uh, you have your own bathroom and a hair dryer, so don't worry about sharing. There's a radio, so you can listen to music or the news or whatever you want. There's a TV, and a VCR player because this place is kind of old, but everything still works. There is also a handful of different chargers in one of the desk drawers, I don't know if you brought anything with you but I'm sure you can find something compatible if you have a phone or something. The bed is yours, and so is the room, as long as you want it. And you get your key, so no one comes in here unless you want them to. Lights out by eleven, though, so just be a little quieter than normal if you're not going to bed. Oh, and there is a pair of slippers in the closet that you can have, so don't worry about walking around barefoot."
You feel a little silly as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, nibbling on your lip as tears fill your eyes. You try to blink them back as you look around the room, the bathroom door ajar next to a white dresser with painted cherries. Mingyu looks up from the keys, holding the one to the room in his hand when you let out a shaky breath. His eyes widen, and you quickly turn away from him, wiping at your eyes and fanning at your face.
"You can just leave the key." Your voice is thick, "thanks."
He doesn't say anything, but his boots are heavy against the wooden floor as he stands behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating off him, only to feel his hand pull at your backpack. You let him take it off, crossing your arms on your chest as you glance over your shoulder to see him hanging it on a hook next to the bathroom door.
"You don't have to stay, if you don't want to. You can pick any other room, but I chose this one for the sake of privacy. I'm the only other person on this floor, so feel free to move around. Just let me know, and I'll unlock another room for you."
You nod, almost scared to step past the threshold — almost like it makes it real. That you have a bed again, a door that locks, a place to shower whenever you want. He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets before stepping in front of you.
"We don't have to talk, either, if you don't want to. Just…don't miss meals, okay?" His voice is soft, and you bite back the words in your mouth as he skirts around you. Your hand reaches for him, your fingertips brushing his wrist. He stops, glancing down at you as you tear your eyes away from the room in front of you.
"Are you upset with me?"
He shakes his head, his own fingers tapping the inside of your wrist as he moves away.
"You set a boundary. No matter how I feel, I'm not going to overstep that. We're all good." He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tries to move away again, but your fingers grab his elbow gently. He glances down at your hand, raising a brow as you quickly drop your hand. You clear your throat, and he turns to face you fully with a questioning look on his face.
"What do you mean, how you feel?"
He shrugs, the corner of his lip twitching into a lopsided smile.
"I think you have this idea of romance that's kind of…misconstrued. It's not always like the movies, and it's not always like the examples of romance we see around us. Our parents, friends, etcetera…romance is different for everyone."
You must look unimpressed, because he swipes his tongue over his teeth before he smiles.
"Are you seriously mansplaining romance to me right now?"
"No, I'm telling you that it's not the same for everyone. I think romance can happen fast, and I think that one person can experience different kinds of romance throughout their lifetime. I think there's romance in everything, including the way you're staring at me like I'm a dumbass."
"You are a dumbass." You mutter, "and I know what romance is. I know it's not the same for everyone, so you're just telling me shit I already know. So, you're a mansplainer."
"Sure, but I'm also absolutely enamored with you. Smitten, bewitched. Under your spell, even." He admits gently, before turning on his heel. "Think about that, sweetness."
You feel all the air sucked out of the atmosphere as he walks away, humming to himself as the keys jingle on his wrist. Your eyes are misty as you process the words out of his mouth, watching him walk confidently down the stairs like nothing has changed. You almost hate him, your heart beating normally just for a moment.
Just a moment.
The clock on your desk reads 9:22 PM.
Instead of going downstairs, you settled into your room a bit; after crying your eyes out in the shower, you diligently stepped out and did little skincare with what was stocked in the bathroom, and swiped on a thin layer of your lip gloss before getting dressed. Mingyu had given you three shirts, three pairs of shorts, a pair of long pants, a bunch of socks and a zip-up. You were given a pair of boxers, and you limply laughed as you pulled them over your hips before pulling one of the black shirts over your head, only to see KMG embroidered on the pocket in pink thread. You hold back your tears, opting to dry your hair in the bathroom before digging through the mess of cables in your desk for one to charge your phone. You manage to find one, plugging it into the wall before turning on the radio to 105.7 Seoul City Central — your heart skipping as My Kind Of Woman by Mac DeMarco starts bleeding through the static.
You leave it on, opting to pull the comforter back and examine the sheets when a bump in the hallway makes you jump. You still, feeling footsteps clambering on the wooden floor before you quietly tiptoe your way to the door.
"Get off me!" You hear bickering in the hallway, but you don't recognize the voices. You twist the knob of your door, peeking your head out to see three men wrestling as Mingyu holds a tray in one hand with an unimpressed look on his face. Soonyoung is amongst the men, as is Chan and another man you've yet to meet.
"I don't need a pack of wild animals following me to drop off food, you know." He puts his hand on his hip, steam rising off the plate as your stomach rumbles. The men on the ground continue horsing around, making Mingyu shake his head before rolling his eyes. You stare at the men on the ground with your brows raised, before your eyes flicker to Mingyu. He's watching them too, walking closer to your door before one of the men breaks free, and Chan starts screaming his head off as you cover your mouth with your hand.
"Mingyu! They're pinching me!" Chan whines, as he tries to crawl away. Mingyu snorts, switching the tray in his hand to the other side before helping him up. Soonyoung continues to pin down whoever is beneath him, earning a shriek along the lines of not the nipple!
"How many guys does it take to bring dinner up four flights of stairs?" You ask softly, and Soonyoung looks up from the man beneath him, nipples pinched painfully over the man's shirt. The man takes the chance and knocks him off, wrestling Soonyoung's arms to his sides and pinning them with his knees on either side. You cover your eyes as he twists Soonyoung's nipples through his shirt, a strangled yell ringing out as you bite back your laughter. Soonyoung manages to push him off, and they end up rolling down the stairs as you, Mingyu and Chan share a pursed-lip look until you all clear your throats in unison.
"Usually, just the one. But, Chan here has something he wants to give you." Mingyu tilts his head in Chan's direction, who smiles shyly as you look at him. You give him a soft smile, "nice to meet you, Chan. I'm Y/N."
"I know." He nods, before wincing. "I mean, it's nice to meet you, too. I just…I noticed you're not wearing earrings. I don't know if you wear them or not, but I have a pair I don't use. I just wanted to know if you'd like them."
He holds up a plastic baggie, a tiny pair of gold hoops with small rubies dangling off. Your eyes widen, and you hold your hands up as he shakes his head, tucking them into your palm, "just take them. We were all new at some point."
"I can't, really—"
"Good night, Y/N. Rest well."
Chan waves as he skips off, leaving you with the earrings in your hand and Mingyu standing next to you. You look at the earrings in your palm, before trilling your lips as you look up at Mingyu. He's already looking at you, holding the tray out to you. Your eyes widen at the colorful array, reaching to take it before dropping your arms to your sides and moving out of your doorframe. He slips past, setting it on the desk as he turns the radio down.
"Dinner. Soft tofu stew, rice, half an orange, and this yogurtade thing that Junhui likes; he made it for you. He was the one with Soonyoung." He nods, "oh, and this. Cake. Dark chocolate with raspberry filling, from Joshua. You didn't meet him yet, but I said you'd be up for it tomorrow. Hope that's okay."
He gestures vaguely at the tray, "just leave it in the hallway if you don't want to go downstairs. I'll pick it up later."
He pats the back of your desk chair, pulling it out for you. You silently take the seat, crossing your legs at the knee as tears fill your eyes for the third time. He coos, patting the back of the chair again before turning to leave, "enjoy."
"Will you stay?" You blurt, looking at the earrings in your hand instead of him. You can feel the heat of his eyes, and you clear your throat as you shift in your seat, "I don't like eating alone."
He hums in response, tapping the door before slipping out. You look up to see him opening his own door, light filling the hallway as he ducks inside. He comes back with a chair in his hand, closing the door behind him and sliding it next to yours. He closes your door gently, leaning back in his chair as you reach for the utensils on the tray. You run the pad of your thumb along the engraving on the spoon handle, blowing a breath out through your lips before setting it back down.
“Thanks. For everything, you know.” You’re quiet as you stare at the steaming food, shifting slightly on the soft cushion of the chair. Your hair is still damp, your skin almost raw from how hard you scrubbed at yourself but it was the best feeling in the world. Your hands splay on your knees, tugging at the hem of the boxer shorts as he clicks his tongue.
"You don't have to thank me. Just eat." He nods at the food, his eyes averting as your phone buzzes on desk as it turns on. Hundreds of notifications fill the screen, making the entire table buzz incessantly. He reaches over, carefully silencing it before turning it over. There is a photo of you holding up your acceptance letter to the internship in Germany stuck inside your phone case — one you'd meant to send back to Jeju before the outbreak. You'd slipped in there for safekeeping, only for it to find a permanent home there when you assumed the island was destroyed.
You eat in silence, ignoring the tears building in your eyes as the warm meal fills your belly. Mingyu is quiet next to you, content with just sitting beside you and watching you eat, shifting slightly with every few bites. You only make it halfway through the slice of cake before you push it away.
"Full?"
"Very."
"Want me to take it down?"
"I can take it, just give me a minute." You shake your head, leaning your elbow against the back of the chair and using your hand to hold up your head as you look at him. He's relaxed, showered — donning another brown shirt, but in sweatpants and his watch is gone, replaced with a silver bracelet. His eyes are warm as you meet them, but you clear your throat and look away.
"Are they nice? The guys?"
"Oh, yeah. A little annoying and loud at times, but sweet. They like to have fun."
"Are you the only one who ventures the great outdoors for survivors?" You try to add some humor to your voice, but it's meek as you pick at your cuticles. He pulls your hands away from each other, and you instinctively interlacing your fingers with his. He doesn't pull away, watching you cross your legs at the knee.
"I don't want them to get hurt. A few of them were pretty banged up when I found them, and Chan was wandering around bear territory a few miles south of here when I found him. I actually found him a month before I found you, so he's relatively new. And the youngest, by far." He nods, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. "His parents were jewelers. He had a bright future coming his way, too, but the outbreak took his parents, his brother and the business with them. He's been alone since, but…he's surprisingly positive. Quite the mood maker, actually."
"That's so…wow." Your voice is no higher than a whisper, and you glance at the tray. "I don't know my way around."
"Come on, I'll show you." He grabs the tray with one hand, standing up carefully and keeping you flush to his hip. He barely makes it out of the bedroom when he glances at you, letting go of your hand and gesturing at the sweater you'd hung on the bedpost. "Put that on, you're not decent."
"I thought you said they were nice guys?" You raise a brow, but indulge him anyway, zipping the sweater halfway up before pushing in your chair and moving his out of the way. He rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for you to take. You interlace your fingers again, letting him keep you close as you both make your way down the stairs. You grow a bit wary as you reach the first floor, squeezing Mingyu's hand as you tuck yourself behind him — a group of men gathered on the living room floor with bottles of soju and empty Yakult scattered around a table with playing cards.
"Mingyu! Join us, Jeonghan can deal you in." Soonyoung calls, but he shakes his head, "Jeonghan is a cheater and I hate playing games with you, you're always on my dick about everything."
"He's just mad because he's bad at mafia." Minghao mutters, and you snicker inwardly as Mingyu pulls you into the kitchen. "Wait, is Y/N with you!?"
"That's none of your business!" He calls over his shoulder, rolling his eyes as you look around the kitchen, your eyes landing on the same man with the pouty lips scrubbing dishes with a set of pink dish gloves all the way up to his elbow. Mingyu sets the tray down on the island, and the man with the gloves looks up, brows furrowed, "this is Seungcheol. He's the oldest, he's actually an old friend from college. We played football together."
Seungcheol gestures at the tray, "I'm not washing that. Everyone eats downstairs."
"She's new, give her a break."
"It's not about her, it's about you. You made the rule, Gyu."
"Yeah, well. I didn't tell you to wash it, anyway."
Seungcheol tongues his cheek, shaking his head before directing his gaze at you. "Was he this fucking annoying when he was bringing you back?"
"Oh my God, yeah." You nod eagerly, feeling Mingyu's hand squeeze yours as Seungcheol laughs. "He was so annoying and invasive, asking me all these personal questions—"
"Asking your name is not invasive!" He refutes, but Seungcheol is only amused as you hold up your interlinked hands. Mingyu huffs, pouting as he lets go of your hand; only for you to find it again as he tries to move away. You keep him at your hip, the warmth of his body comforting against your back.
"Invasive." You reiterate, "but it's nice to meet you, Seungcheol. And I'll wash this, don't worry about it."
"Nah, just leave it. I got it." He shakes his head, taking the dishes off the tray before looking at you pointedly. "But no more eating in your room. That's how we get ants, and you need to socialize. I heard you were alone out there, that's not good for your mind."
"I'll try to eat down here more often, promise." You cross an X over your chest, and he nods, "rest well, okay? We can get better acquainted tomorrow."
"Good night, Seungcheol."
"Good night, gorgeous."
"Don't call her that." Mingyu grumbles, pulling you out of the kitchen before Seungcheol can quip back. You let him pull you along, glancing at the men in the living room once more to see them all looking at you. You give them a quick smile, only for Soonyoung to point at you and turn to the group, and Minghao rolls his eyes as the man's name fall from his mouth as you and Mingyu reach the bottom of the stairs.
"Soonyoung—"
"See, Jeonghan? I told you she's cute! And Mingyu's keeping her to himself! Look at him, practically dragging her like a hostage—"
"Soonyoung, that's enough."
He pouts, crossing his arms on his chest as the other men glance at you.
"I'll be downstairs tomorrow, and we can all get to know each other. I swear I'm cool, I'm just…nervous." You give them a thumbs up, and Minghao just gives you a wave of his hand.
"We're not going anywhere, sweetheart. You take your time." He nudges Soonyoung with his elbow, "and stop calling her cute. She's a lady."
"Stop calling her anything that isn't Y/N. Her name is Y/N, call her that." Mingyu scoffs, earning an oooh from the group as he tugs you up the stairs. He tongues his cheek, grumbling to himself as you make it up the first two flights of stairs.
"What did you mean by saying that you're 'enamored' with me?" You ask as you reach the first step of the third floor, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, "just that. Enamored."
"Okay, yeah, but what does it mean?"
"Whatever you want it to mean, sweetness."
"Mingyu."
"It means I'd kiss you, if you let me. If you wanted me to." He says softly, shrugging his shoulders like it's not a big deal. "I'd kiss you breathless, if you wanted me."
You don't respond, your cheeks hot as you walk up the rest of the steps in silence. Your hand stays slotted in his, before you reach the fourth floor landing. Your hips bump as he walks you back to your bedroom, and you still in the threshold of the room. You glance around, and sure, it's yours — but it doesn't really feel like it.
"Mingyu?" You look up at him, nibbling your lip as he hums in response. You tug on his hand, wanting his full attention as you speak, "Mingyu."
"I'm listening, princess."
"Can I sleep in your room?"
"But I'm invasive?" He jests, and you scoff, pulling your hand out of his when he grabs your arm, pulling you into him with a chuckle. "You don't get to make fun of me in front of my friends and then pout when I do it back. It's unfair."
"I can do whatever I want," you huff, trying to twist yourself out of his hold when he spins you around to face him, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he looks down at you. You glare up at him, much to his amusement, "can I sleep in your room or not? I don't sleep well alone."
"I just don't know if we'll get any sleep if I say yes."
"You are so fucking annoying, Kim Mingyu. No wonder Seungcheol hates your ass."
"Cheol doesn't hate me, otherwise he wouldn't be here." He says pointedly, glancing at your lips before inching slightly closer, "and considering how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think you hate me all that much, either."
His fingers drum on the side of your neck, the tip of his nose brushing yours as he tugs on the collar of your shirt.
"Brush your teeth, turn the lights off. I'll make room for you."
He slips away, ducking into his bedroom without another word as your hands cover your face like you're trying to hide the stupid smile spreading on your lips. You let out a breath, doing as you're told…and swiping on a bit of your lip gloss before grabbing your key and your phone off the desk and closing the door behind you. Mingyu's door is slightly ajar as you peek into it, your knuckles rapping against the painted wood as he's crouched in the corner of the room.
"Close the door, please." He waves you in, returning to his task. You look around the room, illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the window — a desk like yours, but his bed is bigger, the room is bigger. He's got lots of knick knacks lining the walls, and a bunch of photos. You stare up at them, seeing him pictured with a newborn baby girl; the image marked 2001.
"Little sister?" You say softly, and he hums. "Yep. She's safe, in Shanghai. She's there for school, I sent her money to stay over the summer so she wouldn't be trapped here during the outbreak. I haven't seen her since last spring. There's a landline downstairs, we call once a week when I'm not out looking for survivors, but my watch has a tracker that she can follow on her phone. It's fine."
You feel your lips curve into a frown as you cross your arms on your chest, but you nod anyway.
"Aha! Found it, I knew I had this somewhere."
You turn on your heel to see him holding up a vinyl — specifically, Stevie Nicks' 1989 album, The Other Side of the Mirror.
"Here, you can have it. You mentioned one of the songs on here in your top five." He holds it out to you, your eyes catching a silver reflection in the moonlight on the corner of the vinyl — an autograph. Your eyes widen, and he taps your arm with it. "Take it."
"I can't."
"You can. I'm giving it to you, princess. Have it." He tucks it under your arm, and you jut your lip out in a pout as you hold it to your chest. Your nose burns as he laughs in disbelief, and you tuck your chin to your chest as a tear trickles down your face. "You're such a crybaby."
"Shut up!" You stomp your foot like a child, "my mom had this one, she stood in line for it. She said she'd give it to me when I graduated."
You sniffle, running your fingers along the cardboard as Mingyu moves around the room, opening the window and fluffing his comforter.
"You're shit at comforting people, you know." You mutter as he glances at you from the headboard, fluffing a pillow in his hand as you wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. He snorts, pulling at the pillow before dropping it on the bed.
"Literally, what do you want from me? Huh?" He shakes his head in amusement as you slide the record on top of his dresser, your forefinger tracing the autograph as he bumps your hip with his. He meets your eyes, his thumb brushing a stray tear off your cheek as you sniffle again. He slides his hand down your face, fingers curling around your neck as he pulls you close, leaning down. "You act like I can read your mind."
"You should learn," You grumble as he pinches your cheek between his knuckles, "that's what good men do."
"Okay, what good men do you know that can do that?"
"I knew my father."
"That's a good start."
"And I know you can learn." You mutter, before moving away from him and climbing into his bed. You throw the comforter over your shoulder, feeling the bed dip behind you as Mingyu yanks it back. "Mingyu!"
"You didn't even ask if I was ready to go to bed."
"Well, I'm ready. That means you should be ready."
"You're also in my spot, sweetness." His lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans down, his hand squeezing your side gently before patting your back. "Scoot over."
You move away begrudgingly, a scowl on your lips as you turn onto your back. He slides into bed next to you, opting to prop himself up on his elbow. You blink up at him, crossing your arms on your chest as he tugs at your sweater.
"Why do you still have this on?"
"Wouldn't want to be indecent."
He rolls his eyes, and you zip it up the rest of the way to make a point. "I'm just sleeping in here. No funny business."
"I never said we'd be partaking in any 'funny business' to begin with, sweetness."
"Yeah, well, you're looking at me like I mean something to you and I don't like it."
"You don't?" He leans slightly closer, and you bite back a smile as you press your hands to his chest. pushing him away lightly.
"No."
"You're lying."
"A little."
He takes your hands off his chest, pining them on either side of your head before interlacing your fingers. You tilt your head at him, "is this your way of keeping me all to yourself? Like Soonyoung said?"
"You wouldn't like any of those guys, anyway. Not the way you like me," He rolls his eyes, hovering over you. He runs his eyes over your face as you suck your teeth, stopping at your lips. "You're wearing lip gloss."
"Who said I like you in any kind of way? You're fucking annoying." You lie, rolling your eyes as you realize he's still looking at your lips. You nudge the side of his hip with your knee, "Mingyu."
"Hm?"
"Let me go."
"Not until you admit you think I'm at least cute."
"Oh boy, we'll be here all night." You sigh in feigned concern, before gazing back up at him. "How's your back? Still hurting?"
He shakes his head, "a lot better, actually. I guess you were right."
You huff, "you guess? I was right! Even with all my hard work—"
"You enjoyed it, don't lie to yourself."
"That's not the point, dipshit. It's still work."
You turn away, "I used to charge a hundred and eighty dollars for a 90-minute massage, you know. I gave you one for free."
"Because you're a shitty business magnate." He smiles, and you tongue your cheek as his nose brushes yours slightly. Your breath hitches, "no, because I care about you. Sometimes."
He stills on top of you, eyes slightly narrowed as he scans your face. You nibble on your lip nervously, your knees twitching on either side of his hips as you avert your eyes to the headboard, littered with carved swallows. He lets go of one of your hands, instead cradling your cheek gently, his thumb pulling at your lower lip as he makes you look at him.
"Sometimes?"
"Well, we just met." You lose all confidence in your voice as you meet his eyes, so fucking warm as he looks at you. Warm and kind and comforting, inviting…caring. Loving, maybe.
Hopefully.
"You don't care about that," He probes, eyes scanning your face, "you threw caution to the wind the moment you met me."
"I did." You admit in a whisper, your hand carding through his hair as you swallow hard. "It wasn't like I had much of a choice, though."
"You did. You could've not spoken to me at all, like you didn't speak to me for hours today until you yelled at me." He pouts, "eight hours, you know. Eight hours without talking to me."
You mock his pout, "so long, huh? Must've been the worst for you, poor baby."
"You're so fucking mean." He gripes, burying his face in your neck. You snicker to hold off a shiver that wants to snake down your spine as his lips brush your skin, "you like it."
"Shut up." He mutters. Your hand cards through the hair at the nape of his neck before plucking at the collar of his shirt, moving his necklace over your fingertips and dipping your hand beneath it. The bruises are still there, albeit a bit lighter as you rub the pads of your fingers against them. His breathing tickles you, making you squirm when he squeezes your hand. "I missed hearing you talk today. I missed you."
Your cheeks heat slightly as you shift beneath him, your fingers tracing random patterns into the skin of his back, "you met me two days ago."
"I don't care." He groans, "I wouldn't care if I met you this morning. Time is relative, anyway, because it feels like I've known you an entire lifetime. I like having you around. I like it when you're mean and that you smell like honey and that you're so fucking smart and I like you."
You sink your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from smiling, but your chest bounces slightly with embarrassed laughter. Mingyu pouts into your neck, your fingers slipping out from under his shirt to squeeze the back of his neck.
"Stop laughing at me!" He whines, sitting up as you slide your hand down his chest. You pluck at his shirt, opening your mouth to speak when you hear someone knock on his door. You roll your eyes as he looks over his shoulder, and you sit up on your elbows, his hand slipping out of yours to hold himself up properly.
"What's up?" He calls, and the man on the other side clears their throat.
"You sleeping yet? The guys wanna play a couple rounds of pool." It's Seungcheol, and you pull at Mingyu's shirt as he opens his mouth.
"Tell him you're busy." You whisper, your lips brushing his cheek as you talk. He glances at you, your eyes pointed as Seungcheol knocks again. "Tell him."
"Uh, sorry, Cheol. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Mingyu lies through his teeth, making the man on the other side scoff, "doing what? You just got back, pull your pants up and come join us."
"Do you really think I'm rubbing one out right now? I'm tired." He tries to defend himself, but you press your lips to his cheek. He stills, and you plant another one right on the curve of his jaw, the soft slope of his neck before your hand slides up and tilts his face towards you.
"Tell him you're busy." You say again, your lips touching his as you speak. He leans into it, but you shake your head, pulling back as you gesture towards the door. He groans inwardly, letting you pull away fully and speaking loud enough for Seungcheol to hear him as you move to tug your zipper down.
"I'm really tired, Cheol. Maybe another night. Promise."
"Lame. I bet if Y/N came down, you would too."
Seungcheol leaves with two knocks to the door, and Mingyu clicks his tongue, words dying in his mouth as you tug on his shirt again — only to be interrupted by two more.
"Mingyu! Stop being a bitch and come lose!" Soonyoung's voice rings through the door, making Mingyu turn to look over his shoulder again, "Hosh, I already said no. And you just want an easy win!"
"Mingyu." You whine quietly, wrapping your legs around his waist to get his attention. He tries to focus on you, your lips pouted as you brush them to his again. "Want you to kiss me. Please, please."
"So fucking cute." He mumbles, nuzzling his nose to yours, only for another bang on the door to make you jump. He groans, pressing his forehead to yours as Soonyoung hits the door yet again.
"Come on, Gyu! We haven't seen you in an entire week! What could possibly be more important right now?!" Soonyoung complains, jiggling the thankfully locked doorknob and Mingyu's brow furrows in frustration as he opens his mouth to retort when you roll your eyes, sitting up abruptly and slotting your lips with his. You kiss him softly, your hands holding his face as he melts into you, a satisfied hum sounding from his throat. He pushes you back against the bed, his hand sliding to your hip as you slide yours down his chest and around his sides to rest on his back. Soonyoung knocks again, and you pull away with a huff.
"Can you please go away? We're a little busy!" You call, your nails digging into Mingyu's back as Soonyoung's gasp is heard through the door. His footsteps are heard clambering down the stairs almost immediately, and you look back to see Mingyu a little dazed with glitter on his lips.
"Are you really that bad at games? I thought you were kidding when you said you don't have a good poker face." You huff, making him blink a few times before he shakes his head.
"No, I'm not bad at games. I do have a shit poker face, though, and they like embarrassing me about it." He mumbles, and you tongue your cheek when he leans down, brushing his lips to yours. "I don't believe that was your first kiss."
"Good thing I didn't ask," You mumble, nipping at his lower lip with your teeth and slipping your hands under his shirt. He's warm to your cool fingertips, making him flinch slightly as you laugh against his lips. "Take your shirt off. Wanna see you."
"You just wanna see me strip." He chides, and you raise a brow as you drag your nails down his back, earning a shaky moan against your jaw, his hand tightening around your hip. You brush your lips to his cheek, your hands bunching his shirt against his skin, "take it off. Please?"
He sits up on his knees, towering over you as he pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You let your eyes roam shamelessly as he leans back over, your hands sliding up the hot skin as you sit up slightly. You kiss him again, slower — feeling your belly fill with warmth as his hands pin your hips to the mattress, sliding up slightly and bunching your shirt under his hands as your underwear grows damp. You feel him stop moving, only sinking down lower and the back of your head hits the pillows as he breaks the kiss, trailing down your jaw. You tilt your face away, giving him more room when he stops, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
"We have to stop." He mumbles, his thumbs tracing soft circles in your sides as you turn to face him. His cheeks are flaming red, your own warm to the touch as you clear your throat.
"Why? Did I do something wrong?" Your hands ghost over his shoulders, and he frantically shakes his head, his own hands coming to hold your face gently, "no, not at all! I'm just…"
You look at him pointedly as he trails off, only raising a brow, "Mingyu, if you're pitching a tent—"
"Why do you have to say it like that?" He whines, burying his face into your neck as you let out a chuckle of disbelief, your hands patting his shoulders, "how else am I supposed to say it? Boner?"
"What is wrong with you? Not like that!" He groans into your neck, making you laugh even harder as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press a kiss to his shoulder, your fingernails raking lightly against his skin as you let your head fall back against the pillows. You hum, "you act like you've never done this before."
"Not with you, I haven't."
You still slightly, giving him a soft sigh as you run your fingers down the back of his neck, before running your fingers through his hair and pulling him away from your neck. He pouts at you, clearly embarrassed as you press a kiss to his cheek. He sits up slightly, holding himself over you as you run your fingertips down his chest, "We can fool around, you know. I just…don't wanna go all the way yet."
“Got it.”
“Maybe just the tip. I heard that’s a thing.”
"We're not doing anything you don't wanna do, I promise." He nods, and you smile softly, puckering your lips up at him. He meets you halfway, planting a chaste kiss on your lips, "this is all at your pace, sweetness."
You nod, a bit of insecurity washing over you as you look at the ceiling. "Was it bad? The kissing?"
"Absolutely not," he shakes his head, gently grabbing your jaw to make you look at him. You make eye contact as he huffs, "again, I don't believe that was your first kiss. Unless you're a fucking witch, of course."
"I just read a lot of books," You mutter, picking at your cuticles, "watch a lot of movies…not necessarily of the general rating variety."
"Books and pornography didn't teach me how to kiss. Say it like it is." He scoffs, and you raise a brow, "not everyone can be as good at applying knowledge as I am. Plus, I told you yesterday…there is skill in the yearning. And I don't watch porn!"
"Everyone's seen porn at least once."
"…Not me. I can't even spell pornography."
"You're such a liar, babe."
"M'not your babe." You grumble, biting back your grin as he mocks you, before pressing his forehead to yours. You blink up at him, sticking your tongue out as he squishes your cheeks in his hand. You swat his hand away, "not yet, anyway. I guess. Ugh, I hate you."
"First of all, I kissed you." You argue, poking an accusatory finger in his chest. He only grins down at you, kissing the tip of your nose as you wrinkle it.
"And you're so brave, sweetness. I can be a little softer, if you want." He states, his eyes searching yours as you smile, "I'm not gonna break, you know. You can be whatever you want. Be rough, even."
He clicks his tongue, ears tinging pink once more as he looks away. "We don't even know if you like that."
"You don't know if I like that. I know myself pretty well, I'd say." You shrug, "not having experience with guys doesn't mean I don't know what I like. I can explore on my own."
"Have you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, dude."
"I would, yeah. And don't call me that."
He lowers himself slightly, holding his head up over your belly with his chin in his hand. You shift to look at him, sitting up on your elbows, "you know I don't care, right? I can help, if you want me to."
"I care." He says softly, "I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for, I'm never going to expect or demand anything from you. I just…want you. We can talk about what you're ready for when you're ready for it, even if it takes years."
The idea of years by Mingyu’s side settles a bit of fear in your bones. The idea of years by Mingyu’s side, having known him for three days – something in his gaze truly does make it feel like a lifetime.
A lifetime of you and him. Of no engagement before you, of no other boys before him. Of learning all over again, with someone new...even if he’s the someone new for you.
You trill your lips to hide the smile daring to inch itself onto your face, nodding as you look down at him, running your fingers through his hair. "I would've been ready right now, if they didn’t come banging on the door. Your friends are really good at killing the mood, you know?"
"They normally don't come all the way up here, I don't know what's gotten into them." He pouts, eyes apologetic as you chuckle, "they miss you, I guess. It's normal to be oddly attached to some cute guy that saves you in the woods."
"That feels backhanded, but I'll take the cute, I guess." He rolls his eyes, and you wrinkle your nose at him as you tug on the strands of his hair. He grunts, pulling your hand out of his hair and interlacing your fingers with his when he glances down at your body, suddenly letting go of your hand and hovering over you again as he speaks to you. "Why aren't you wearing pants? Did you go downstairs like that?"
"Yeah? It's not like I need them; it's just us here." You shrug, snapping the waistband against your hip. He scoffs, "next time, put a pair of pants on."
"Why, if you're just going to take them off me?"
"Y/N."
"So scary, ooh."
You smile, running your hands up and down his chest. You palm at his arms, raking your nails down the skin and watching it prickle. Your eyes trail all over him, biting down on your lip as you wrap your fingers around the base of his throat, tugging lightly at his necklace as the cross pendant dangles above your face.
"Wear pants when you go downstairs." He repeats, and you nod, thumbing at the pendant before making eye contact. You run your hands down his chest again, plucking at the waistband of his sweatpants, "can I see?"
He tongues his cheek, "maybe. What's in it for me?”
"Does there have to be something in it for you? What, do you want me to beg?" You smirk, pulling at the drawstring to untie it. He shakes his head, "if you beg, I'll give in too fast. I'm weak."
"Good to know…" you click your tongue, toying with the drawstring as it comes undone. You tug on it, "just want you."
"Do you?" His lips brush yours as he leans down, your hands moving to tug your sweater off. It slips down your arms, and Mingyu takes it, tossing it somewhere across the room as you wrap your legs around his waist again. Your teeth nip at his lower lip before you kiss him gently, carding your fingers through his hair, "want to see you."
"You're looking at me right now, though?" He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheeks warm as you shake your head. His eyes are patient as he ghosts his lips over yours, smiling against them as you pout.
"Wanna touch you."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Everywhere. Anywhere you want."
"Take me to dinner first, why don't you?" He laughs as you let out a whine of annoyance, nudging his hip with your knee as he buries his face in your neck. He peppers a few kisses along the exposed skin, mumbling against it, “so pretty, baby.”
“Mingyu.” You draw out his name as he smiles against your clavicle, his hands sliding up your sides and bunching your shirt around his wrists as he brushes his lips on yours again. You’re unamused as he pulls back before you can kiss him, but he shrugs.
“What’s in it for me, sweetness?”
“Uh, hot girl in your bed. In her underwear. At your mercy.”
He gives you a deadpan look, “‛at my mercy’ is a stretch, I think.”
“What, you don’t think I can be nice to you?”
“No, actually.”
“Ye of little faith,” you feign hurt, holding your hands to your chest as he shakes his head. He rolls his eyes, biting back a smile as your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweatpants. Your hands move to touch him; fingertips cool against his warm skin making him jerk away slightly. You wrap a finger with the drawstring of his sweatpants, tugging on it gently, “what about these?”
He opts to shrug, before his hand plucks at the hem of your shirt, “what about this?”
“Oh, this old thing? Got it from a guy who rescued me in the woods, and he was real cute—” He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, muffling your laughter as you feel his hands push it higher. His thumbs graze the swell of your breasts as you shiver, his lips trailing down your jaw and nipping a soft mark under your ear. Your skin litters with goosebumps, “you can touch, if you want.”
“I want to take it off.”
“Then take it off me, Mingyu.”
He pulls the fabric of your shirt over your head carefully, letting your hair fall around your head before tossing it to the side and pressing a wet kiss to the column of your throat. His voice is a hushed whisper, “thank you.”
Your words get stuck in your throat as he trails down your chest, kissing and nipping your skin; your fingers carding through his hair as his hands cup your breasts, carefully thumbing at your nipples. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he looks up at you through his lashes, tracing the left bud with the tip of his tongue before he pulls it gently between his teeth. The soft gasp that cuts through the air makes him chuckle, wrapping his lips around your nipple with a soft suck; your fingers tightening in his hair as your cover your mouth with your other hand.
He pulls at your wrist, interlacing your fingers and pinning it next to your head, “need to hear you, baby.”
“You don’t n-need to–“
“Well, I want to.” He’s eye level with you, pressing chaste kisses to your face, “I want to hear you beg and cry and say my name like it means something to you. I want to know I can make you feel good.”
He hovers over you slightly, his gaze raking over your flushed face. You can’t keep eye contact, your voice lost on you as his fingers ghost over your skin, “if you want to stop, we can stop. Just say the word.”
“I want you to touch me, Mingyu.” You murmur, his hand splaying on your hip as he kisses the apple of your cheek, “I am touching you, baby.”
“No, I want you to touch me.” Your fingers cover his hand on your hip, pulling it slightly lower. He raises a brow, dipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of your underwear as you nod, burying your face in his neck. He pulls the fabric down, and you lift your hips to help him slide the damp underwear down your legs. He tosses them somewhere, your thighs falling open for him as you plant soft pecks to the expanse of his shoulder; before feeling his cool fingertips dip between your legs and slide between your folds. You suck in a breath – your nails digging into his bicep as he collects your arousal on his fingers, and you hear a soft chuckle fall from his lips.
“Look at you, huh?” He whispers, tracing slow, tight circles into your clit. You whine into his neck, making him shiver as your teeth scrape the soft skin, “so needy.”
You’re almost embarrassed at the way your hips move against his hand; the room filling with the slick sounds of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge and your soft whimpers of his name and please, please don’t stop.
“Please, please?” He mocks you, his fingers slowing down to an agonizing pace as you feel the coil in your belly tighten. “Please, please don’t stop? Why?”
“Wanna cum for you,” your voice is shaky and barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to your hairline. You mouth at the column of his throat, “wanna be yours.”
“You are.” The rasp in his voice sends you over the edge, a choked mewl of his name falling from your throat as his hand tangles in your hair. He pulls you away from his neck as your thighs close around his hand, kissing you messily. It’s all teeth and tongue, a touch of desperation when you feel his painfully hard cock against your hip.
“Gyu,” you breathe out against his lips, nipping at the lower one to get his attention. Your hand trails down his softly chiseled chest before you tug at the sweatpants. His eyes are heavy with query as you press a chaste kiss to his lips, “let me help.”
“It’s okay,” he shakes his head, but his eyes betray him by fluttering shut as you palm him over the thin material. He tilts his hips away, pulling his hand from between your thighs and plucking at your lower lip with his fingers, “open, pretty.”
His eyes are low as you take his fingers in your mouth, snaking your tongue between them before he pulls them out and grabs your jaw gently. The kiss is slower this time – his lips sucking on the tip of your tongue as your stomach fills with butterflies at the weight of him over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as he moves to settle himself between your thighs again.
“Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll be fine. Just relax and let me know if you want to stop.” He plants a kiss on your hip, before wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you to his face. You suck in a breath as he drags his tongue through your slick folds, your thighs trembling slightly as he carefully sucks your clit into his mouth. Your head falls back against the pillows as he busies himself between your thighs; pulling a whimpered moan from your chest as your hand finds his hair and tugs hard. You earn a grunt, your free hand finding your nipple to pinch between your fingers as he traces your entrance with his tongue. You grind your hips against his face, feeling the way he’s humping the mattress beneath him in a desperate attempt to get some friction.
“Mingyu,” your voice is airy as you manage to pull him away from your dripping center, “wanna feel you.”
His eyes widen, his hands around your thighs tightening as he glances up at you, “...you said you didn’t—”
“Mingyu.” You interrupt, your eyes pointed as you tug on his hair gently. He lets you pull him up, making his way up the mattress. Your hand pulls at his sweatpants, “please. I’m ready, I promise.”
“Y/N,” he sighs as you plant a kiss to his clavicle, “are you sure? We don’t have to do this, and I don’t have—”
“I promise, I am sure.” You nod before stilling and meeting his eyes. He blinks at you, your hand still holding the waistband of his sweatpants, “you...want to, right? I don’t want to if you don’t.”
“I want you to be sure, Y/N.”
“I don’t like when you call me that, actually.”
“You called me guy for like six hours,” he snorts, making you pinch his hip and earning a squeal. He huffs, swatting your hand away from him before hooking his thumbs in his waistband, “you are positive you want this? With me? Right now?”
“Yes. Take your fucking pants off, Kim Mingyu.” You roll your eyes, and he sticks his tongue out at you as he does what he’s told. He wraps his hand around his cock as he settles between your knees, your eyes widening slightly at the mess of precum on his lower stomach, “you’re big.”
He raises a brow, “huh. Never thought of it that way.”
“Yes, you have.” You deadpan, the little smirk on his lips proving your point as you sit up, “but...it’ll fit, right? You’ll make it fit?”
“There is no way on this earth you haven’t seen porn if you’re talking like that.”
“Consider I used to read Wattpad?”
“And somehow, that’s worse.”
You move your hand in a mock-talking motion, earning a roll of his eyes as he takes your hand in his, weaving your fingers together before pressing a kiss to your hairline. You let him lean you back against the mattress again, peppering the side of your face with his lips before feeling him speak against the shell of your ear, “just let me know, okay?”
You nod silently, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your folds. He keeps you close, giving you a tentative nip at the side of your neck.
"Gorgeous," his teeth scrape against your throat as you cant your hips up, your body begging for the weight of his cock against your clit. He pins you down against the mattress, mouthing at your neck with a slow roll of his hips against yours. A shudder runs down your spine as your nails dig into his back, whined sounds spilling from your lips as the room grows hotter around you.
"You sure you want it?" He pants above you, your thighs shaking with overstimulation as you rut against his weeping cock. "Just the tip, yeah?"
"All of it. Will you give it to me if I do?" Your voice is airy, your nails digging into his shoulders as he ducks his head down, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. His hips roll slowly, your skin prickling as he bites down on your lower lip, tugging at it before letting it spring back.
"Beg me for it."
"Mingyu," you whine, feeling his mouth hot and wet against your neck. His teeth graze against your collarbone, making you gasp as he lapped his tongue over the spot with a groan, "come on, pretty girl. Beg for it."
“Please. Want you to fill me up.” Your voice is shaky as he sucks a mark into the base of your throat, your fingers moving to tug at his hair, “Gyu, please. Need to be yours.”
His lips are on yours before you can say anything else, carefully dipping the tip of his cock inside you. Your breath catches in your throat at the slight stretch, and he lets his hand snake down and trace tight circles in your clit, “I know, baby. Just relax for me, yeah?”
“Kiss me,” you whisper, feeling his lips brush yours almost instantly. He’s soft, interlacing your fingers for the umpteenth time that night as he licks into your mouth. You let him, sucking gently on the tip of his tongue as he carefully buries himself to the hilt inside you; stilling as he feels your fingers tighten around his, “you wanna stop?”
You shake your head, digging your nails into his skin as he moves slowly, kissing anywhere his lips can reach. Your fingers drag down his back as the burn ceases, your legs wrapping around his hips, “move, Mingyu.”
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, giving a harsher roll of his hips. “So pretty, made just for me, right?”
“Yes,” you gasp out, burying your face in his neck as he brushes that spongy spot that makes your vision blurry. Your voice is lost on you, choked whimpers of right there filling the room as Mingyu’s hands roam your body with a searing touch before he holds your jaw gently, brushing his lips to yours as he brings you closer to the edge.
“Mine,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss on your lips as you clamp down around him. “I’m yours, yeah? Just for you, baby.”
He doesn’t await your response, sitting up and pulling you onto his cock as your eyes prick with tears of pleasure. His ears are tinged pink as your moans of his name slip out, pleas of harder making him bite back a whine as his grip on your thighs becomes almost bruising. He pushes your knees to your chest, your eyes rolling back at the suddenly deeper angle. The familiar coil is building in your belly as his hand moves to wipe your tears, your own covering the back of it as you tilt your head to kiss his palm.
“So good for me, yeah? Take my cock so well, angel.” His voice is soft, diabolically paired with the way his hips were meeting your ass with sharp thrusts. Your hand wraps around his wrist, pulling it down, and his fingers instinctively wrap around your throat with a gentle squeeze to the sides, “fuck, you’re so perfect.”
His movements grow sloppy as the mix of sounds fills your ears – pitched whines from your lips, soft groans from his, the embarrassingly wet squelch between your legs that makes your cheeks hot as he teases you about it, tells you that you’re such a messy little slut.
“Come on, baby. Need you to cum for me, yeah?” His fingers find your clit, tracing tight circles as your gummy walls clamping around him – the heat in your belly flushes throughout your body with a choked mewl of his name. His hips stutter against yours, only making your legs tighten around him as he bent to kiss your lips, spilling inside you with a soft whine that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.
He stays sheathed inside you for a minute, his hands running up and down your sides as you limply try to kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hold him closely, nipping at his lower lip with a whispered thank you.
“Tired?” His voice is low against your lips, thick fingers massaging your thighs as you nod silently, making him chuckle as he pulls you off the mattress, wrapping his arms around you and carrying you off to the bathroom as you lazily mouth at his neck.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”
“Will you kiss me again?”
“I’ll kiss you all you want, princess.”
Mingyu’s eyes are glued to your face in the dead of night.
The moonlight streams through the blinds of his bedroom, casting lines across your back and bleeding over your shoulders. Your lips are pouted, brows furrowed as your head rests on his chest. You’re covered in another one of his shirts, but this one more personal – a ‘lucky’ one he had from before the world went to shit, covered in paint stains from his projects during college. You’d pulled it from his drawer without a second thought, thumbing at the frayed hem of the sleeve before pulling it over your head and crawling into his embrace.
Not a second thought before your eyes closed; your arm draped across his waist as you buried yourself into his side.
And Mingyu wonders if the feeling of not being good enough for you will go away.
Of knowing you were meant for more, for greatness. How your heart yearned for that internship in Germany, to go home to your parents and brag about it. He wonders if he’ll get the chance to fall in love with you and truly fall in love with you – before you realize he might not be enough.
Mingyu is not all that experienced. In life, love, feelings. Sex, art, music. Mingyu knows one thing and one thing only, and that’s the cadence of his heart – the steady rhythm never wavering. Beating carefully for over two decades, softly guarded albeit accepting.
A handful of friends. A mother, a father, and a little sister he misses dearly. An ex-fiancée. A woman whose hand he held, lips he kissed, body he roamed. A woman who gave her heart to him, and he’d realized too late that he’d bitten off more than he could chew. A woman who, with angry tears in her eyes, told him he wasn’t worth the time she gave him because any other man would’ve locked it down by then.
That he simply wasn’t man enough for a woman like her, but that she wished him the best – though, she would be the very best he’d ever come across.
She was right about one thing: Mingyu had never really felt man enough for a woman like Mina. He hadn’t felt the earth beneath his feet for years before that final fight – simply flying by the seat of his pants and giving his all to everything he could. He burnt out, and he burnt out fast – his relationship crumbling before anything else could, and he remembers the way the diamond ring he saved to buy for six months bounced right off his chest as she threw it at him.
It sits somewhere in Shanghai with Minseo now. She was the first to know Mingyu had called the engagement off and comforted him by shipping over a container of almond biscuits from the local bakery. His parents had been supportive, even offering to pay his rent for a while if he needed a minute to figure himself out – but Mingyu did what he did best when he felt out of control: he started a new project.
He drew up blueprints for a house – a beautiful two-story for his parents, with rooms to fit him and Minseo should they want to visit and stay. He gathered vendors, he put in orders for materials, he even contracted Wonwoo onto his plan before the world around him also crumbled. He left the city with his best friend and Seungcheol, their arms linked and beelining for the cabin.
Mingyu has those blueprints still shoved in a shoebox in his closet. He brought them with him. He kept paint samples, a singular nail and a sample of mahogany wood he’d intended to use for a porch swing – one he’d pictured his parents sitting on and Minseo wiggling her way between them, but things didn’t turn out the way he’d intended. Minseo was across the sea, and his parents were gone.
Mingyu had felt such an ache of despair in his chest that he’d been tempted to call Mina at the beginning of it all. She always knew the right things to say, especially in his moments of crisis – but he stopped himself from doing it. He deleted her number instead and made Wonwoo stay in the cabin with Seungcheol with the excuse of going out to look for survivors. This was his new project.
He found all the boys in different states. Hansol and Seungkwan had been together, sharing a backpack and taking turns doing night watches. Jeonghan and Joshua were tree dwellers, and they’d hung around Minghao and Junhui often enough to lead Mingyu to the cavern they were all sleeping in. Seokmin had been the ray of light for Soonyoung, the both of them attempting to stay positive throughout their scavenging, and he remembers how Soonyoung burst into tears after eating a piece of fish roasted by Mingyu. He’d found Jihoon on the west end of the mountain – carrying nothing but a bottle of water and a notebook, a pen slotted over his ear. Chan had been the fastest to warm up to him, badly bruised from several tumbles out of trees and all sorts of scraped up.
Then he found you – tired, hungry, and hurt. In jeans, and alone. Your eyes were distrusting, but there was something in them that made his heart lose that normal cadence he’d been so used to. The arch of your brows when he walked closer, the curve of your lips when you quipped back with a quickness he was not used to, and it made his head spin. The way your lashes kissed your cheeks as you slept...
The way your hands felt. Soft despite a couple scrapes, but you moved them with a flair only an artist has. You spoke coolly, your expressions fitting every word spilling from your lips perfectly. You were smart and convincing, and riddled with guilt. You were weighed down with the guilt of not graduating, of not making it to Germany, of not seeing your parents one last time. Of not knowing what you’re doing – even when none of it is your fault.
Mingyu thinks he’s fallen in love with you at first sight.
“Why are you awake?” Your voice is raspy against his chest, his brows jumping as he glances down at you. Your eyes are barely open as you press a kiss to his skin, a terrible blush crawling up his cheeks and ears as he tries to respond. You shake your head slightly, patting his hip with your hand, “cat got your tongue?”
“Sorry.”
“Answer the question, guy.”
“Just...thinking, princess.”
You hum, carefully sitting up and looking down at him. Your hair is in disarray as you run a hand over your face, blinking a few times before tilting your head at him, “about?”
“You.”
He can see your face go through a range – confusion, contentment, skepticism. It settles on something he can’t quite put his finger on, but you shrug, “what about me?”
“Anything and everything.”
“What, am I the girl of your dreams?”
Your brow is raised, and Mingyu can’t seem to find the words as you cross your arms. Your eyes are expectant, but Mingyu averts his attention to the ceiling fan – following the lazy spin of it when he feels you move closer, throwing your leg over his hip and hovering over his face.
“What’s your deal, Kim?” You ask, your hair falling into your face as he smiles. He reaches up, tucking it behind your ears as you carefully swat his hands away, “tell me!”
“Go to bed, pretty. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” He leans up, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips. You huff, your lips pouted as you get off him and lie down on your side, facing away from him. He rolls his eyes, turning over before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your back to his chest. You don’t resist, but you don’t look over your shoulder as you make a show of closing your eyes and huffing again, before he presses his lips to the back of your neck.
“Good night, sweetness.”
“Shut up.”
Mingyu cannot believe he’s fallen in love with you. In three days, no less.
MINGYU DOESN'T KNOW IF LIGHT EXISTED BEFORE HE MET YOU.
Well, of course it did.
Maybe not as bright, not as welcoming, not as warm or moody. Maybe not in the way the sun illuminated your skin at dawn, seeping through the blinds and casting patterns on the curves of your nude frame. Maybe not in the way your eyes twinkled every time you looked at him, a shy smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you physically blocked him out of your view with your hand to finish whatever you were doing. Maybe not in the way your laugh rang out through the cabin and made his skin prickle, and maybe not in the way that he can't sleep when you're still awake because he swears, he can see your face through his closed eyes.
He didn’t really know what the feeling was, but something stirred in his stomach every time he saw a sliver of skin when you stretched. Every time he saw you settle in your chair to eat dinner, every time you eagerly climbed four flights of stairs just to flop on his bed and make out until you were both too turned on to ignore it.
You turned into a different person then. Sure, you were confident, cocky even on a regular basis — but there was something that changed. You became an enchantress of sorts, and he couldn't bring himself to say no to you even if it meant he ruined his sweatpants and his sheets over and over again getting you off, even overstimulating you to the point of tears. He won't say no, because he loves the way his face grows hot when you say his name all sorts of low and raspy and how you didn't bother closing the door all the way anymore, your sounds bouncing off the walls shamelessly. He kind of liked that someone got sent up to slam his bedroom door shut every night.
It’s been three years since he met you in the woods.
Things had progressed slowly in the beginning, but he knew how you felt by the way you settled in his arms at the end of the night. You would kiss him good night, you would invite him in the shower with you, you would crawl into his lap if he was sitting somewhere – even if he was in front of the guys. No one said anything as you settled into his chest, his arms immediately pulling you closer as he continued his conversations.
And he felt something settle in his belly when he saw you getting along well with the guys. You became a master at beating Jeonghan at cards, and you would spend hours just sitting with Minghao in one of the basement corners talking about anything and everything. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan would rope you into their hooting and hollering, and you would find an escape in Joshua or Wonwoo once your ears hurt from all the yelling. You, Hansol and Chan grew accustomed to falling asleep on the couch while watching old movies, piled on top of each other, and Seungcheol would be the one to throw a blanket over you. You added a touch of something to the group, but he found himself quietly staring at you from across the room when you would settle in the breakfast nook.
That was when you looked the calmest, other than right before bed. There was always a cup of untouched coffee sitting on the table, and a handful of blue pencils you’d found. Your knees would be pulled to your chest and holding a sketchpad he’d found in the back of his closet, specifically after you said you were bored while hanging off the edge of his bed two weeks into your time at the cabin – and you’d been glued to it. You’d flip it closed if he came too close, and you would leave it in your room and hide your key if you were doing something else.
You’d left for Germany six months ago, with a snug ring on your hand that meant you had someone back home waiting for you.
The country had fallen back in order, almost too soon after you’d situated yourselves in the cabin. Community clean-ups were organized as the same labs downtown tried to find any way to fix the damage caused. They were out billions of dollars, and eventually, things fell back into place. Hospitals were rebuilt, airports were reconstructed, and travel was reinstated. Diplomas and degrees were awarded to seniors who had been on track to graduate before the outbreak, and Mingyu watched you try on your cap and gown with a satisfied little smile.
And you got an email a few months later – congratulating you on your graduation and telling you that your internship in Berlin was awaiting your arrival.
Mingyu remembers it like it was yesterday – you’d almost thrown up out of excitement before something settled in the back of your eyes. Uncertainty, worry.
Guilt.
“It’s only six months,” Mingyu whispered as he cradled you in his arms, pressing a kiss on your temple as you cried quietly. “It’ll fly by and it’ll be like you never left.”
You were on a plane the very next week. You held determination in your eyes then, even when glossed with a layer of hot tears that you refused to let spill. Until you got to Berlin and called him every night for a week straight – trying not to sob as he gave you updates on himself and the guys, and showed you designs. He’d been hired to do a few projects around the city, finally putting a little extra cash into his pocket.
“You’re almost home, just a few more days.” Mingyu had reassured you just yesterday, as he looked down at the designs on his workbench. Your designs – the ones you’d hidden before you rolled them up the week you left and handed them over at the airport.
“A project for us.” You’d said, and he’d peeled them open (per your instruction) once you were in the air and on your way to Berlin. It’d been a perfect mix of your design and his old one – two floors, enough rooms to fit his sister and now, many brothers. A kitchen big enough for an island and to hold an annoying amount of boisterous people shouting about how hungry they are, and still – a cozy breakfast nook, one a lot like the cabin had: where you used sidle up to Mingyu and steal off his plate, kiss his bare shoulder, ask for a kiss. And his porch swing – big enough to fit you, him...and hopefully, a growing family.
“How’s the house comin’ along?” Seungcheol asks, holding his daughter above his head as Mingyu crosses his arms on his chest. “Looks about done to me.”
“It is done,” Mingyu nods, “just need to furnish. Paint, too...but Y/N is home soon, and I don’t think I’ll have enough time to move everything alone. She might wanna help, anyway, so I guess it’s fine.”
He feels his throat tight as he speaks, nibbling on his lip as he glances over at Seungcheol, who has a warm smile on his face, “thanks for helping me out. I thought I was going to lose my mind without her.”
“You put on a brave face for the woman you love, it’s only natural you freak out once she’s actually gone. Plus...I think you got most of the jitters out when you put that ring on her finger. Nice job.” He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he looks up at the house again and turns his daughter to face it, “can you believe Uncle Mingyu’s gonna make you a big house like this one? You get a room all to yourself, I never had one of those.”
Mingyu snorts, “I never said I’d make you one.”
“And jealousy is a disease.” Mingyu stiffens, his fingers on his biceps tightening as he hears a car door slam behind them. Seungcheol smiles inwardly, hiding his face in his daughter’s hair as she lets out a string of incoherent babbling, something that sounds a lot like Y/N amongst it.
“And to think, I was going to ask you to design it.” Seungcheol teases as Mingyu forces himself to peek over his shoulder – seeing Chan smiling brightly as he unpacks the trunk of Seungcheol’s SUV. Tears blur his vision as Seungcheol’s hand moves to squeeze his shoulder, the rough denim of your jacket rubbing against his arms as you wrap your arms around his waist.
“Where are your manners, Kim Mingyu? No hello for your fiancée?” He covers his face as he sniffles, and Seungcheol’s rickety laugh is heard as you sway Mingyu from side to side with all your strength. You squeeze him, “aren’t you happy to see me? I wanted to surprise you!”
He wipes his face haphazardly, taking a deep breath before turning around and almost crushing you in his embrace. Your arms wrap gently around his neck as he buries his face in your hair, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo that he’d missed so much.
“I’m gonna put your bags inside,” Chan announces, “since Mingyu’s gonna cry—”
“Shut up, pipsqueak. When you find a girl worth waiting for, you’ll cry, too.” Seungcheol snaps, balancing his daughter on his hip before grabbing your duffel out of the front seat. “Take your time, lovers.”
Chan is heard in the distance asking why Seungcheol can tease you but not him, paired with a heavy hit of something and an oof as you tap Mingyu’s shoulders, “I can’t breathe.”
“Just a little bit more,” he murmurs, albeit loosening his grip as you suck in a breath, “I thought I was dying.”
“Pft, you can’t die without me, Gyu. Also, I bought a Switch in Germany. We’re playing Super Mario Odyssey and reliving the days we met, because I had a dream you didn’t find me and I cried.” You ramble, “we should get together with the guys, and we should order pizza, I’m starving. I missed you, did you miss me? Oh, and I—”
Mingyu stops you with a kiss, cupping your face gently and pulling away before it can turn greedy. Your eyes are wide, “are you okay?”
“Do you still hate burl?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay, good. Had to make sure Berlin didn’t change your morals,” he mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them before holding you close, “I missed you.”
Your smile is shy as you let him card his fingers through your hair, looking up at him through your lashes, “I love you.”
“I love you more.” He peppers kisses to the top of your head, and he’s sure you can feel him smiling as he presses his lips to your cheeks and forehead, “let me show you the house.”
You nod excitedly, grabbing his hand and leading the two of you up the porch steps. He shamelessly looks at the fit of your jeans on your hips, “do you remember when I posed the question of whether or not the virus was zoonotic?”
“Yes, and yes, my ass is hypnotic. That is precisely why I wore these jeans. God, Mingyu. Get with the program, learn my moves!” You scoff, and he ignores the bickering he hears in the newly built kitchen as he pulls you into one of the downstairs bedrooms, his hands tight on your waist.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He presses you against the door, his lips traveling the side of your face before meeting your lips in chaste, flirty kisses before resting his forehead against you. “I missed you, so much.”
“Enough to catch me a fish, guy?” You laugh, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans, making him roll his eyes.
Summary: For years, you and your best friend Seungcheol have had a simple, no-strings arrangement. It's easy, comfortable, and safely platonic outside the bedroom. But when a careless comment threatens your dynamic, you're forced to confront the inconvenient truth: lines have been blurred, jealousy is real, and the heart wants what it wants, even if it risks the most important relationship you've ever had.
Word count: 16.4k
Genres/warnings: angst (slightest), romance, smut, non-idol!au, fem!oc, fwb, f2l, miscommunication (my fav), they are both overthinking idiots and i love them, cheol is a dream man as always, mutual pining i guess? mentions of reader being in her cynicism phase, their friends know before they do (and are betting)
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, slight nipple/breast play, piv sex (unprotected, don’t do it kids), big dick!cheol (default, i think we can stop mentioning it), clit stim, worshipping, teasing, praise, use of various pet names, cheol is impatient in this one; frankly not the dirtiest thing i’ve written but it would’ve become 20k words if i added detailed smut scenes; as always, i think i’m forgetting smth
A/N: everyone please go thank anon for this request, I had a field day with this idea, the plot came pretty easily to me, was a joy to work on. I took this as an opportunity to experiment with how I write here. Hope it’s just as enjoyable as what I’ve produced before. Probably my favourite piece of work I’ve written so far. Initially I thought about Moth To A Flame by TheWeeknd as inspiration for this fic. But then I was listening to my Cheol playlist and It Was Always You by Maroon 5 played (hence the title) and it all clicked. Really proud with how it turned out to be. Hope everyone enjoys, your feedback is always welcome in all forms you’re comfortable with (comments, tags, anon), requests are open ᙏ̤̫
A/N2: it’s so fucking late where i am, i spent two days trying to edit it and i give up. If there are any mistakes I will edit them later, i felt too impatient to deliver this requested monstrosity hehe
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | [2] All Good | [3] It Will Always Be You
You and Seungcheol have been friends for a long time. So much so neither of you remember the day or even how you befriended each other, the memory has long since blurred into the comfortable, worn-in fabric of your shared history. You only know that it started somewhere back in the first year of college, a time of hazy lecture halls and bad instant coffee, and it stubbornly refused to end. Now the two of you are in your early thirties, living your adult responsible lives, with careers that demand too much and social calendars that are a minefield of weddings and baby showers, yet this one constant remains. He is your person, in the most foundational, unshakeable way. Even if you’re not going to confess it out loud or even in your mind to yourself.
What you do remember quite vividly, with a clarity that feels almost embarrassing, is the day your friendship took a turn and became something a little bit more complicated than it probably should’ve become. And the fact that you were the initiator? Wild shit. You genuinely don’t know the person you were back in your college days. That version of you was slightly unhinged like that, operating on a potent cocktail of academic frustration and dating fatigue. But can you really blame yourself when you had a friend like Seungcheol at your disposal? No, you don’t think you can. Self-preservation and logic had simply taken a backseat to a much more primal, curious part of your brain.
Let's be objective: Seungcheol is hot, he’s been hot from the first day you met him (even if you can’t recall the specific moment). It’s a simple, universally acknowledged fact, like the sky being blue or coffee being a necessary fuel for human survival in the twenty first century. It’s in the broad line of his shoulders, the way his laughter seems to start deep in his chest before it ever reaches his lips, the surprising gentleness in his eyes that contrasts so starkly with his sometimes intimidating presence.
And this is what you can’t fathom to this day—how the hell did you manage to spend so much time around him without immediately getting a crush? Were you blind? Probably. You’d built a fortress of platonic comfort so high you couldn’t see the very attractive landscape you were living in. But then, around the third year, multiple unfortunate dating experiences later, you were so thoroughly tired of figuring out the mass male stupidity and so profoundly bored that your mind couldn’t help but wander. And wander it did. Somewhere so deep and dark, the next thing you knew—you were texting Seungcheol an entire elaborate, business-like proposal to become friends with benefits. You’d even bullet-pointed the potential benefits and boundaries, for Christ’s sake.
You weren’t even drunk when you wrote it; that suggestion was calculated and very thought through, a desperate bid for physical intimacy without the accompanying emotional labour of dating apps and disappointing first dates. You sent that message before you could doubt your own sanity, your thumb hitting the send button with decisiveness that made your stomach swoop. And to your mild surprise, he agreed. Not immediately. There was a long, agonising ten minutes of those three dreaded dots appearing and disappearing on your screen before his response came through: a simple, devastatingly straightforward ‘Okay. But we talk about this in person first.’
No, you were not surprised by the fact that a guy wouldn’t mind casually hooking up with his female friend; life had taught you by that time that men are like that, that they would use the opportunity, that many of them if not all, are just waiting for a chance. This was the cynical narrative that had pushed you to test it out in the first place. You were at that specific point in your life where you didn’t mind, in fact you tried to see it like guys did—you had a hot friend that you knew for a fact (from other girls who could or would not keep their mouths shut after every party) was a good fuck, so why not use the opportunity? Your surprise was solely because it was him and he was agreeing to you. Not that you had—nor have—low self-esteem, it’s just that knowing Seungcheol as a close friend for quite some time at that point, you thought you knew his type. And it simply wasn’t you. Not with the way you bickered and nagged at each other like an old married couple, not with your stubborn opinions and your inability to be coy.
But somehow, against all odds, it worked out. The conversation was awkward, filled with more nervous laughter than either of you would ever admit to, but it was honest. And now, years later, the arrangement is still intact, a secret thread woven into the larger tapestry of your friendship. The only rule, established that night over cheap beer and a profound sense of surrealism, was that your hookups happen only when you both are single. Neither of you fancied infidelity, after all. It was a clean, simple rule for a messy, complicated thing.
This rule, however, has created its own unique rhythm to your lives. Your respective relationships become intervals, pauses in whatever this is between you. And Seungcheol… Seungcheol has become an unexpected gatekeeper of your love life, though you’d never phrase it to him like that. He’s always there, in the background, a constant presence. He meets the men you date, and you meet the women he sees. You’re friends, first and foremost, so it’s only natural. But you’ve started to notice things.
You notice the way his smile becomes a little too fixed, a little too tight around the edges, when you introduce him to a new guy. You notice how his questions, always framed as friendly concern, become subtly pointed, digging for flaws with the precision of a surgeon. “He seems nice. A bit quiet for you, though, don’t you think? You need someone who can keep up.” Or, “He’s fun. Just… make sure he knows what he wants, yeah? You don’t have time for games.” He says it all like a caring older brother, his arm slung casually over your shoulders, but the grip is just a fraction too possessive to be purely platonic.
You’ve started to notice, too, how your own dating life has become a revolving door of mildly disappointing men. There’s the photographer who was more in love with his own lens than with you, the graphic designer who thought ‘communication’ was sending you a meme at 3AM, the accountant who was so painfully dull you found yourself mentally composing your grocery list while he talked about tax brackets. And after each failed attempt, after each breakup that leaves you more exasperated than heartbroken, there is Seungcheol.
He’s there with a bottle of beer and a patient ear, listening to you rant about the latest specimen of male inadequacy you’ve somehow managed to fish out of the abundant sea. He never says ‘I told you so.’ He doesn’t have to. His silent, solid presence is its own testament. He’ll let you vent, let you declare your newfound celibacy, and then, when the timing is right—when you’re both single, when the air between you is charged with a shared understanding and the faint, familiar buzz of attraction—the unspoken offer hangs between you. It’s in the way his gaze drops to your lips for a beat too long, in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back when he passes you a drink. It’s an offer of a different kind of comfort, one that requires no words at all.
And you always, always say yes. Because it’s easy. Because it’s Seungcheol. Because you know exactly what you’re getting, and it’s infinitely better than the disappointing unknown. He’s your reset button, your safe harbour in the frustrating sea of modern dating. You just haven’t realised yet that he’s not just waiting in the harbour; he’s the one quietly sabotaging every other ship trying to dock, ensuring you have nowhere else to go but back to him.
It is one of these mornings, the one after a long night that you spend together. The one that you will never confess to love but still do—Sundays after hanging out with your group of friends on Saturdays. It’s a ritual as familiar and comforting as the worn-out pages of a favourite book. You always leave together when your arrangement is in force, a well-rehearsed play where you both know your lines by heart. Exhilaration is what you feel every time Seungcheol takes the lead, his hand finding the small of your back as he announces to the room that he’s tired and heading out. You play your part perfectly, joining him, feigning a yawn and complaining about exhaustion after a long week of work, when underneath your skin your blood is buzzing with the silent, electric thrill of getting alone and getting busy with him. The knowing glances from your friends, the ones who have seen this dance for years, slide right off you; you’re too focused on the heat of his palm through your shirt, on the promise of what comes next.
You love Sunday mornings. It’s a secret you keep even from yourself most days, but in the quiet solitude of his bedroom, with the world outside still hushed and slow, you allow the truth of it to settle in your bones. It means waking up with his arms wrapped around you tightly, a living, breathing cage of muscle and warmth that you have no desire to escape. It means feeling the heat of his skin against your own, a seamless fusion where you end and he begins, warming each other up under the heavy duvet. It means you get to feel him snore softly, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and shoulder, his warm puffs of air feathering against your skin in a rhythm that’s more soothing than any lullaby. It means you can watch his peaceful face and his gloriously tousled hair and pretend, for just a minute or two—because he always, always wakes up almost right after you, as if tethered to your consciousness—that this intricate, complicated thing between you is more real, more permanent, than you’ve ever dared to set it up to be.
And it makes your heart squeeze painfully, a sweet, aching pressure behind your ribs. You lean away just enough to watch his features in the soft, greyish light filtering through the blinds. The slightly parted plump lips that he certainly needs to moisturise more, the ridiculously long, dark lashes fanning over the tops of his cheeks, the thick, expressive eyebrows now relaxed in slumber. He’s beautiful, in a raw, unpolished way that you want to think is meant only for you in these stolen moments. You don’t hold yourself back when you get the urge to trace the lines of his face with the tips of your fingers, a feather-light touch over the strong slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw. People would argue with you if you told them that Seungcheol’s features are soft, but they are. There isn’t a single truly sharp line in his face, only a compelling blend of inherent strength and profound softness. They just don’t get to see him like this, peaceful and completely unguarded, not when he’s usually armed with his slight resting bitch face that isn’t exactly grim but is far from the open, sunny warmth he reserves for his closest people.
And yes, he can be sunny and warm in his conscious state despite what people who barely know him might think. He can. And you find that conscious, directed warmth a ton more devastating, because you’re never quite sure what it means when it’s directed at you. Or, rather, you’re just too scared to examine it to understand.
He stirs under your feathery touch, a low, rumbling sound vibrating from his chest into yours. He grumbles something indecipherable, a sleep-thickened murmur that probably translates to ‘five more minutes’, before his instinctual grip on you tightens possessively. In one smooth, half-asleep motion, he rolls, his weight settling over you, crushing you gently into the soft mattress. You let out a quiet oomph, the air leaving your lungs in a soft rush before a chuckle escapes you. He’s a ridiculously large, warm cuddle bug in the mornings, all clingy limbs and sleepy incoherence.
“You’re going to crush me, Cheol,” you whisper to him, your voice husky with sleep. You try to push lightly on his shoulder, a token effort to have him release some of his weight, only to be rewarded by his arms wrapping even tighter around you, locking you in place.
A low, smug chuckle rumbles against your chest. “Didn’t hear you complaining last night when I fucked you into the mattress in a mating press,” he mumbles, the words slurred but the intention crystal clear, his lips moving against the sensitive skin of your neck.
In just a second of time a memory flashes in front of your eyes: Seungcheol locking you in what you can describe only as a bear hug, pressing you into the bed while his hips are pistoning in and out of your pussy, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, cunt clenching tightly around his girth, friction so delicious it makes you cry and drool. In short—he fucked you stupid last night. As he always does.
You gasp, a jolt of pure shock and arousal shooting straight down your spine. The sheer audacity of his blunt, sleepy smugness makes the tips of your ears burn hot. You land a sharp, playful slap on his shoulder. “Hey! So crude first thing in the morning,” you scold, but there’s no real heat in it, your protest dying in your throat as he shifts his hips, a deliberate, grinding motion that makes you acutely aware of his morning wood pressing insistently against your thigh.
He finally lifts his head, blinking slowly as he adjusts to the dim light. His hair is a magnificent disaster, sticking up in every possible direction, and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with sleep, but a familiar, dark heat is already beginning to smoulder in their depths. A lazy, predatory grin spreads across his face as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the way your breath has hitched. “It’s the truth,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that does things to your insides. He dips his head, nuzzling the spot just below your ear that he knows makes you shiver. “And if I remember correctly, you were begging for it. Couldn’t get enough.”
His words are a deliberate provocation, a way to re-establish the dynamic you both understand—the physical, the primal, the uncomplicated. It’s easier than addressing the quiet intimacy of waking up tangled together. You play along, because it’s the script you wrote together all these years ago. “Maybe I was just being polite,” you retort, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck, your traitorous body already arching slightly into his.
He laughs again, a soft, warm sound against your skin. “You? Polite? Since when?” He nips at your earlobe, a gentle punishment, before soothing the spot with his tongue. His hands, which had been wrapped around you, begin to move. One slides down the curve of your waist, over your hip, his fingers splaying possessively across the bare skin there. The other comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone with tenderness that belies his crude words. This juxtaposition is his specialty, has always been—the vulgar, confident lover who can switch in a heartbeat to something unbearably gentle.
“Since now,” you breathe out, but the effect is ruined by the way your eyes flutter closed as his thumb brushes your lower lip.
“What a blatant liar,” he whispers, and then his mouth is on yours.
His kiss is not a gentle, good morning type. It’s deep and claiming from the first second, a reclamation of territory. He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like the few hours of sleep were an unbearable separation. You melt into it instantly, your hands coming up to thread through his messy hair, pulling him closer. The taste of sleep is on his tongue, warm and familiar, and it’s more intoxicating than any fine wine. He groans into your mouth, the sound full of want, and grinds his hips down against yours again, the friction sparking a sharp, delicious ache between your legs.
The duvet is a tangled heap around your waists, the morning air cool on your heated skin. He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your jaw, your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over your collarbone. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a raw rasp. “Waking up next to you like this... it’s a special kind of torture.”
Your mind, fogged with desire, tries to parse his words. Is he referring to physical frustration, or something else? You don’t get a chance to ask. His mouth finds your breast, his tongue laving over a pebbled peak before drawing it into the warm, wet heat of his mouth, meanwhile his hand presses into the softness of the underside and begins kneading gently. A broken cry escapes you, your back arching off the mattress, pressing yourself more firmly into his mouth. His other hand, the one on your hip, slides further down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh before hiking your leg up over his hip, opening you up to him completely.
“Cheol,” you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. “Please.”
“Please what, baby?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and his lips are slick and swollen from kissing you. He is a vision of debauched beauty, and he’s all yours, at least for this moment. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say it so I know what to give you, pretty.”
He loves this. He loves making you verbalise your need, loves to hear the desire in your voice, to know that you’re as far gone as he is. It strips away the last pretences of your friendship and leaves nothing but raw, honest want.
“I want you,” you whimper, beyond pride, grinding your hips against his in a desperate search for friction. “Please, I need you inside me. Now.”
A groan tears from his throat, a sound of pure victory. “Fuck, yes.” He shifts above you, supporting his weight on one arm while the other hand guides himself to your entrance. He pauses for a second, just the head of his cock pressing against your slick heat, his eyes locked on yours. In that suspended moment, it feels like more than just sex. It feels like a connection that goes bone deep, a silent communication that speaks volumes neither of you are brave enough to voice aloud.
Then he pushes into you, slow and inexorable, filling you up in one long, perfect stroke. A simultaneous moan is ripped from both of you, a shared sound of relief and intense pleasure. He stills, buried to the hilt, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his breath coming in ragged pants. “God, you feel... you always feel so fucking perfect,” he grunts, the words strained. “Like you were made for me.”
The statement hangs in the air, loaded and dangerous. You squeeze your eyes shut, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper, if that’s possible, using the sensation to drown out the dangerous flutter in your heart. “Move, Cheol,” you beg, “Please, just move.”
He obeys, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that has you seeing stars. This is what Sunday mornings are for. This slow, thorough fucking, a world away from the frantic, sometimes rushed couplings of a Saturday night. There’s no audience here, no friends in the next room, just the two of you in a sun-dappled room, with all the time in the world. Each thrust is measured, languid, designed to drag every possible ounce of pleasure from both of you. His eyes never leave your face, watching every flicker of emotion, every gasp, every silent plea.
His hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit with unerring accuracy, applying just the right amount of pressure in lazy, rubbing motions that match the pace of his thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming, building a coil of tension deep in your belly, tightening with every movement. It leaves you gasping and panting, and the world around you spins so much you would’ve fallen if you were standing.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough with exertion and desire. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”
You’re helpless to resist him. Your orgasm crashes over you suddenly, a wave of overwhelming ecstasy that makes you whimper out his name, your body convulsing around his, milking him desperately. The intensity of it whites out your vision, and you cling to him as if he’s the only solid thing in a spinning world.
Feeling you clench around him is his undoing. With a guttural groan that is pure need, he drives into you one last, final time, his own release shuddering through him to paint your insides white. He collapses on top of you, his full weight a welcome burden, his face buried in your neck as he rides out the aftershocks, hips giving a few more jerks, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
For long minutes, there is only the sound of your combined, laboured breathing and the distant hum of the city waking up outside. The scent of sex and sleep and his unique, musky cologne fills the air. His arms are locked around you, holding you so tightly it’s almost difficult to breathe, but you wouldn’t ask him to move for anything.
Eventually, he pulls out of you and shifts, rolling onto his side but taking you with him, keeping you tucked firmly against his chest, your back to his front. He nuzzles the back of your head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss into your hair. Neither of you speaks. The unspoken rules hover between you—this is the part where you don’t analyse, you don’t question, you just exist in the aftermath.
But as you lie there, wrapped in his warmth, his even breaths slowly calming against your back, the familiar ache returns to your chest. This thing between you is a beautiful, perfect lie you tell yourselves every Saturday night. But these Sunday mornings... they feel dangerously, heartbreakingly real.
The two weeks that comprise the project deadline at work leave you feeling hollowed out, a vessel emptied of all creative and social energy. It’s a familiar post-partum depression that comes with finishing a major task, a crash after the adrenaline high, and you really should be used to it by now—but you aren’t. Each time, the emptiness feels uniquely profound, as if your very personality has been leached away, leaving behind only the bare, functional necessities required to breathe and blink.
This time, it’s particularly bad. The mere thought of putting on pants, makeup, of making polite conversation, of mustering a smile that doesn’t look like a grimace and make everyone worried for your wellbeing, sends a wave of genuine exhaustion through you. So, you do the only thing that feels manageable: you cancel. You skip the bi-weekly hangout session with your friends, a sacred tradition that usually acts as a balm for your soul. You send the message into the group chat, a pathetic little paragraph peppered with apologetic emojis, and you brace for the inevitable backlash.
Your phone lights up almost instantly, a chorus of concerned and cajoling notifications. Soonyoung sends a series of increasingly dramatic GIFs expressing heartbreak. Jihoon texts a simple, ‘You good?’ which, from him, is the equivalent of a five-page concerned letter. Alice tries to softly guilt-trip you into joining them or else she will die before her wedding with Jeonghan can even take place. Some just wish you a nice rest. But it’s Seungcheol who calls.
You let it go to voicemail, curling tighter into your blanket burrito on the couch. He tries again. And then a third time. On the fourth ring, you sigh, defeated, and answer.
“What?” you mumble, your voice scratchy from disuse.
“Get up,” his voice is warm and firm through the speaker, devoid of any judgment. “I’m downstairs. I’ll buy you that overpriced coffee you like with the extra shot of vanilla. We can go together. You don’t even have to talk. Just sit there and look pretty and let the noise wash over you. It’ll be good for you.”
The offer is incredibly tempting. He knows exactly what to propose, how to make it sound manageable. But even that feels like too much effort today. The idea of being perceived, even by your closest friends, is utterly draining.
“Cheol, I can’t,” you whine, and it’s the most energy you’ve expended all Saturday. “My social battery isn’t just drained; it’s negative. It’s in the red, and the bank is charging me overdraft fees. I’m staying in.”
He’s silent for a moment, and you can practically hear him thinking, assessing the genuine level of your misery. Seungcheol knows the difference between you being lazily antisocial and you genuinely hitting a wall. He recognizes this as the latter.
“Alright,” he concedes, his tone softening. “But you’re not off the hook. I’m checking in later. Eat something that isn’t cereal, yeah?”
You promise you will, a hollow vow, and hang up. The apartment settles back into silence that is both comforting and, now, a little lonely. You spend the evening in a state of suspended animation, watching TV without really seeing it, reading the same paragraph of a novel over and over, and scrolling mindlessly through social media.
A few hours later, your phone buzzes with a flurry of stories from the club. You click through them with a faint, detached smile. There’s Mingyu attempting a complicated dance move and failing spectacularly, Seokmin leading what looks like a conga line through the crowd, Jeonghan smiling serenely into the camera while chaos erupts behind him. You giggle, typing out a few laughing comments, feeling a faint, vicarious buzz from their joy.
And then Seungcheol’s account comes around.
It’s a photo, seemingly taken by Mingyu based on the angle. It’s a little blurry, saturated with the neon glow of club lights. Seungcheol is on the dance floor, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, an easy, relaxed smile on his face—the one he gets when he’s just tipsy enough to be thoroughly enjoying himself. And he’s pressed against some chick.
The woman is beautiful, there’s no denying it. She has long, dark hair and is laughing, her head tilted back, her body angled towards his. His hand isn’t on her waist, not exactly, but it’s resting on the small of her back, a gesture of casual familiarity that feels like a punch to your gut. You don’t notice how your expression drops in a second, the faint smile wiped clean off your face. But you do catch your thumb hovering over the screen, and you physically stop yourself from zooming in to scrutinise every pixel, every minuscule detail of the damned photo.
*What are you doing? a voice, cold and rational, chides in your head. You have no claim. This is the arrangement. This is what you both agreed to.
If Seungcheol were to see you right now, you’re sure there would be a legendary bickering battle happening. He’d take one look at your pinched expression and that infuriating, knowing smirk would spread across his face. ‘What’s with the sour face, princess? You look like you sucked on a lemon.’ And you’d snap back, defensive and bristling, and the whole thing would devolve into a familiar, comforting argument that would somehow diffuse the weird, tight feeling in your chest.
But he’s not here. You’re alone in your silent apartment, and you’re left to just sit with it. To consciously suppress the ugly, monstrous head of that particular feeling—a feeling that has no name, no right to exist—as it tries to rear up in your chest. It’s a hot, green, coiling thing. Jealousy is too strong of a word. Possessiveness is too entitled. It’s just… a profound sense of wrongness. A dissonance.
Annoyed at yourself, you throw your phone onto the cushion beside you as if it’s guilty of making you feel shitty. Mood thoroughly spoilt, you set on rewatching season one of The Vampire Diaries for the nth time in your life, turning the volume up to drown out your own thoughts. You’re halfway through the third episode, lulled into a false sense of security by Stefan Salvatore’s brooding, when your intercom buzzes, sharp and startling in the quiet.
You frown, pausing the show. You aren’t expecting anyone. You pad over to the speaker. “Hello?”
“Delivery for apartment 504!”
Food? You didn’t order anything. “There must be a mistake,” you say, your voice still hesitant.
“Name on the order is—,” the disembodied voice insists it’s yours.
Bewildered, you buzz him in. You’re just about to open your door to tell the delivery man that there’s definitely been a mix-up when your phone rings, Seungcheol’s name flashing on the screen. The timing is too perfect.
You answer, bringing the phone to your ear. Immediately, you’re hit with a wall of sound—the deep, thumping bass of club music, the indistinct roar of a crowd, laughter. It’s so loud you have to hold the phone slightly away from your ear.
“Hey!” Seungcheol’s voice is a shout, trying to hear himself over the din. “He’s there, right? The delivery guy?”
“Yeah, he’s just outside,” you say, your confusion mounting. “Seungcheol, what is this?”
“It’s my treat! Since you decided to be a sad little hermit crab tonight,” he shouts, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “You said you’d eat something, and I know you’ve probably just had a bag of chips for dinner. So now you have to!”
The gesture is so characteristically him—overbearing, thoughtful, annoyingly perceptive—that it instantly softens your edges. The tight coil of wrongness in your chest loosens its grip just a fraction. He’s out there, surrounded by music and beautiful people, and he’s thinking about whether you’ve eaten. You take the paper bag from the delivery man with a quiet thank you and bring it inside, the phone cradled between your shoulder and your ear.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, but the protest is weak. You’re already unpacking the container, the smell making your stomach growl in anticipation.
“I know,” he says, and the music seems to fade slightly, as if he’s moving to a quieter corner. “But I wanted to. Are you still watching your angsty vampire show?”
You let out a small laugh. “Maybe.”
There’s a brief pause, filled with the distant echo of the club. You can picture him leaning against a wall, one hand pressed to his free ear to block out the noise. When he speaks again, his voice is still loud but has lost some of its party-energy edge, becoming a little more serious.
“Hey, so… um…” he starts, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I saw you saw my story.”
Your hand stills, a potato pancake halfway to your mouth. Your heart gives a single, hard stutter against your ribs. Oh.
“Yeah, looked like you were having fun,” you say, aiming for nonchalance and landing somewhere near mildly interested. You stuff the pancake in your mouth so you have an excuse not to say more.
“It’s not—that photo,” he says, and he’s practically shouting again, whether from the music or from emphasis, you can’t tell. “It’s just a moment caught out of context, you know? Mingyu was being an idiot with the camera. She was a friend of a friend of someone, I don’t even know. There was not even a word of flirting, I swear. It was just… dancing.”
The explanation is so sudden, so utterly unprompted and unnecessary, that it steals the air from your lungs. He felt the need to call, from a club, to shout this clarification over the phone. To you. The feeling you were suppressing earlier surges back, but it’s different now—it’s mixed with a confusing rush of warmth and a defensive panic of a person strikingly afraid of change.
You swallow your food, your mind racing. You have to play this cool. You cannot let him know that you even noticed enough for him to feel an explanation was warranted. That would be admitting to something you have no right to feel.
You force a light, airy tone, one you hope conveys utter indifference. “Seungcheol, what are you talking about? You don’t owe me explanations. I frankly don’t care who you dance with.” The lie tastes like something rotten on your tongue. You push on, layering on a performance of breezy nonchalance. “In fact, maybe you actually *should* flirt. Might do you some good. You might finally find yourself a nice girlfriend and stop bothering me.”
The line goes quiet for a beat, the only sound is the muffled boom of the music. You’ve gone too far. It was the wrong thing to say. You can feel it. The words hang in the digital space between you, cheap and cruel. You squeeze your eyes shut and silently curse yourself over and over again. So stupid.
“Right,” he says finally. His voice has changed. The warmth is gone, replaced by a flat, neutral tone you can’t decipher. The shout is gone; he’s speaking more quietly now, and it’s somehow worse. “Yeah. You’re right. My bad.”
“Cheol, I didn’t mean—” you start, but it’s too late.
“Nah, it’s cool. Enjoy your food. I’ll… see you later.”
And before you can say another word, before you can untangle the messy knot of emotions you’ve just created, the line goes dead.
You stand there in the middle of your quiet living room, the phone still pressed to your ear, listening to the dial tone. The warmth from the food container seeps into your hands. You look down at the potato pancakes with mushrooms and a side of Greek yoghurt. Your favourite. He remembered your favourite, from that one tiny café you’d mentioned weeks ago. He’d navigated an app, input your address, and chosen your exact order while surrounded by noise and people and a beautiful woman.
And you’d thrown his careful, clumsy explanation right back in his face with a dismissiveness you didn’t even truly feel.
The hollow feeling from your deadline crash returns, but it’s different now. It’s not empty. It’s filled with a heavy, sinking regret. You’ve successfully pushed him away, reinforced the very boundaries you yourself established, and the victory feels bitterly cold. You sink back onto the couch, the delicious food suddenly seeming utterly unappetizing. The vampires on screen continue their dramas, but you’re no longer watching. You’re just sitting in the silence, alone with the consequences of your own meticulously maintained walls.
In the days that come after the disastrous, self-sabotaging phone call, you find yourself trapped in a state of constant, low-grade agony. It’s a persistent, humming anxiety that lives in the base of your skull and the hollow of your stomach, making it impossible to focus or find any peace. It’s to the point where your performance at work noticeably suffers; you miss obvious errors in reports, you zone out during meetings, and your usually sharp contributions are replaced with vacant, half-formed murmurs. Your manager pulls you aside, her brow furrowed with concern that feels both patronizing and entirely deserved.
“Is everything alright? You’ve seemed… distracted this week.”
You offer a thin, brittle smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lot on my mind. End-of-project fatigue. I’ll be more focused, I promise.”
She accepts the lie with a nod, but the scolding, however gentle, rolls off you. You can’t care less. In the grand, dramatic theatre of your own mind, your life is falling apart. You know you’re catastrophizing, you know you’re spiraling over a man who, by the very rules you set, shouldn’t inspire this kind of turmoil. But the knowledge does nothing to stop the freefall. A cruel, logical little voice in your head whispers on a loop, This is what you wanted. You re-established the boundary. You got exactly what you asked for. The victory feels like chewing on sand and trying to swallow the lump.
The other, less logical part of you is locked in a perpetual state of paranoid vigilance. Your phone becomes a weapon of self-torture. You find yourself scrolling through your friends’ social media accounts with a forensic intensity that shames you, your thumb aching from the constant refresh. You’re not looking for updates on their lives; you’re looking for him. A stray tag in the background of a photo, a familiar pair of broad shoulders just out of focus, a comment from his account on someone else’s post—any hint, no matter how minuscule, that Seungcheol might be seeing someone else.
It’s a futile exercise, and you know it. You know better than anyone how fiercely private he is about his personal life. He’d never post a coy Instagram story hinting at a new romance. That’s your department. You’re always too quick to share, to let the world in on a happiness that feels too fragile to be kept secret, a habit that has backfired spectacularly every time, leaving you to later archive and delete any trace of your exes from your digital history. The contrast between his quiet discretion and your messy, public heart is just another stark reminder of why this… thing between you was always destined to be a complicated secret.
But this is a digression. A useless attempt to rationalize the irrational panic coursing through you.
The true source of your agony is the silence. The stark, deafening void where Seungcheol usually is. He doesn’t call for his usual midday check-in. There are no stupid memes sent at two in the afternoon with a caption that just says ‘you’. No texts asking what you’re doing for dinner or complaining about his workload. The digital space he occupied in your daily life has gone dark, and the absence is a physical weight on your chest.
The only time you see his name pop up on your phone screen is in the group chat, a space that feels suddenly too exposed and impersonal. Your dear friend Alice, now Jeonghan’s fiancée, is finalizing the guest list for their wedding in two weeks.
Alice: Okay, final headcount for the caterer! Please confirm if you’re definitely coming so I can stop stressing ❤️
The responses flood in quickly—a chorus of ‘YES’ and heart emojis. You type out your own confirmation, your thumb hovering over the send button as you watch the screen, waiting. His name appears.
Seungcheol: I’ll be there.
Formal. Simple. Devoid of his usual exuberant punctuation or silly GIFs. It’s a statement of fact, nothing more. It’s the most you’ve heard from him in days, and it feels like a stone dropping into your gut. You quickly send your own confirmation and click your phone off, unable to look at his name on the screen because it leaves you feeling helpless.
You have absolutely no idea how to fix this mess. The architecture of your entire relationship was built on the premise of not having to fix things like this. It was designed to be simple, uncomplicated. You’re the one who insisted on the rules, and now you’re terrified you’ve followed them straight off a cliff. Every potential text you draft sounds either too desperate or too flippant. Every excuse to call him feels transparent and pathetic. So you do nothing. You just exist in the agony, a prisoner of your own making, watching the silence stretch out between you and wondering if it’s already too late to bridge the gap.
Seungcheol is miserable. This much is painfully, abundantly clear to Mingyu, who has been "privileged"—though he’d vehemently argue the term is synonymous with "torture"—to witness his friend spiral in and out of his own mind for the better part of the week. Mingyu’s presence in Seungcheol’s immaculately clean apartment has become a near-daily fixture, a significant uptick from the past nine months or so. That period of relative peace had conveniently coincided with your breakup with your last boyfriend and the subsequent, unspoken renewal of your… arrangement with Seungcheol. Yes, Mingyu knows. Like a select few others in your shared friend circle—the ones who’ve been around since the first year of college and bore first-hand witness to the gradual, complicated evolution of your friendship—he is acutely aware of the delicate, unspoken rules that govern your dynamic.
Now, he is watching Seungcheol pace the length of his living room for the fifteenth time in ten minutes, a human embodiment of a caged animal. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps on the polished floorboards is starting to wear on Mingyu’s last nerve. He really, truly wants to get up and smack his friend hard on the head, if only to jolt him out of this self-imposed loop of agony. He’s starting to feel physically dizzy from the constant back-and-forth motion.
Seungcheol, bless his turmoil-riddled heart, remains entirely oblivious to the profoundly displeased expression on Mingyu’s face. He’s too busy mentally replaying every second of that phone call, dissecting your tone, your words, the exact moment the conversation curdled into something sharp and final. He’d tried to probe discreetly, of course. He’d casually asked Soonyoung and Jihoon (unfortunately not Alice who’s currently too busy with the upcoming wedding), the mutual friends he knows you’re closest to, if you’d perhaps slipped a word or two about being upset. ‘Is she okay? She seemed off the other night.’ But the reports came back identical: you had retracted from everyone altogether, a turtle deep into its shell. The only digital proof of your existence in the group chat was your stark confirmation for Jeonghan’s wedding. It’s this radio silence, this complete and utter withdrawal, that is driving him absolutely insane. The not-knowing is a special kind of hell.
Mingyu lets out a long, suffering groan from the depths of the leather couch. “Hyung,” he begins, his voice a mix of pleading and utter exhaustion. “Can you, please, for the love of god, stop fucking pacing? I’m getting motion sickness. I’m going to throw up all over your very expensive, very tasteful rug.”
The complaint finally pierces through Seungcheol’s obsessive fog. He stops mid-stride, blinking as if seeing Mingyu for the first time, and has the decency to look sheepish, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Sorry,” he mumbles, the word thick with frustration that isn’t directed at Mingyu. He finally collapses into an armchair, his body sagging with a weariness that speaks of sleepless nights. The reprieve lasts for all of sixty seconds before the nervous energy, with no outlet in pacing, finds a new vessel: his leg begins to jerk up and down in a frantic, ceaseless rhythm.
And then, as if a dam has broken, his thoughts begin to spill out in a torrent of devastated theories and frantic what-ifs.
“It’s just—what did I even do wrong?” he bursts out, his hands gesturing wildly. “I sent her food because I knew she wasn’t eating! I called to make sure she got it! And then I just… I just told her the truth about that stupid picture because I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, because I know how she overthinks everything, and I—I thought she’d…” He trails off, shaking his head. “She said she didn’t care. She told me to go find a girlfriend, Mingyu. Like it was nothing. Like what we—like the past few years—mean nothing. What if I’ve completely misread everything? What if she’s been looking for a way out of this… thing… and I just gave her the perfect excuse?”
He continues like this, weaving a tapestry of worst-case scenarios with the skill of a master tragedian, each theory more elaborate and self-flagellating than the last. Mingyu listens, his head propped up on his hand, until he can physically take no more. He sits up straight, putting his foot down—both literally and metaphorically.
“Okay. Stop. Hyung, just stop,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You are a smart man. How is the solution to this not glaringly obvious to you? You need to talk to her.”
Seungcheol looks at him as if he’s just suggested they both go wrestle a bear—terrified and absolutely not willing to entertain the idea. “I can’t just—what would I even say? ‘Hey, sorry I called you from a club, but why did you get mad at me for explaining myself?’ It’ll just make it worse. She’ll think I’m clingy. Or crazy. Or both.”
“And the alternative is better?” Mingyu retorts, his patience wearing thin. He leans forward, his expression turning deadly serious. “You sit here, in your perfectly sterile apartment, driving yourself—and me—crazy. You don’t talk to her. The silence stretches. You both go to Jeonghan’s wedding and it’s awkward, and you’re miserable. And then what? You know her pattern. How long do you think it will be before she’s trying to fill this weird silence with someone else? How long before she’s dating someone new again?”
He lets the question hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. “So, I’ll ask you, how does that make you feel? Watching her show up with some new guy none of us know? Watching her laugh at his jokes? Because that’s the path you’re on right now, hyung. That’s the alternative to swallowing your pride and having one uncomfortable conversation.”
Seungcheol doesn’t need to respond. He doesn’t need to utter a single word. The effect of Mingyu’s blunt prognosis is instantaneous and devastating. All the frantic energy drains from his body, leaving him pale and still in the armchair. The stormy, frustrated expression collapses into one of raw, unvarnished dread. His eyes, wide and suddenly lost, flicker away from Mingyu’s gaze. The silent, terrified acknowledgment on his face says it all, in excruciating, perfect detail. The mere prospect is a kind of hell far worse than the agony of the unknown.
Jeonghan and Alice’s wedding is not just a celebration; it is an event, a meticulously crafted piece of magic that feels both grand and intimately personal. They had flown their closest family and friends to France, renting an entire, petite hotel nestled in the rolling hills of the rural countryside. The setting is nothing short of whimsical, the ancient stone walls and lush, manicured gardens making the scene look less like a modern party and more like a page torn from a storybook, steeped in a sense of old-money elegance and timeless romance. Fairy lights are strung through the ancient trees, casting a soft, golden glow as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, and the air is thick with the sweet scent of blooming roses and the distant, earthy aroma of vineyards.
Alice looks like an ethereal vision in her gown, a figure of pure grace and joy. Jeonghan, by contrast, is a beautifully contained nervous wreck throughout the final preparations, the prelude, and the ceremony itself. To the casual observer, he is the picture of calm, his signature serene smile firmly in place. But those who know him well—you, Seungcheol, the rest of your tightly-knit group—see the subtle tells: the way his thumb rhythmically strokes his index finger, the almost imperceptible tightness around his eyes, the slight, deliberate pace of his breathing. However, even his formidable composure shatters during the vows. When Alice reads hers, her voice steady and full of a love so profound it seems to quiet the entire world, Jeonghan’s carefully constructed facade crumbles. A single tear tracks its way down his cheek, then another, and he makes no move to wipe them away. Alice, proving yet again to be his perfect match, gently teases him for it within her own vows, a moment of levity that makes everyone laugh through their own tears.
Seungcheol, standing tall among the groomsmen on Jeonghan’s side, feels his own throat constrict with emotion. But his gaze isn’t fixed on the happy couple for long. It finds you, standing among the bridesmaids across the aisle. He watches as you lift a hand to discreetly brush away silent tears, your expression one of raw, unfiltered joy and sentimentality. The sight sends a familiar, painful ache through his chest. The two of you haven’t spoken a single word since arriving, orbiting each other in a tense, silent dance. His one, small relief in this agonizing standoff is the confirmation that you haven’t brought a surprise plus one. Of course, he rationalizes, you probably couldn’t have squeezed in such a last minute decision even if you wanted to. But the petty, possessive part of his heart clings to the victory nonetheless.
The vows are exchanged, the final blessing is given, and the officiant announces those magic words. As Jeonghan cups Alice’s face and kisses her with a tenderness that feels too intimate to witness, a stark, acute realization flashes in Seungcheol’s mind, sharp and undeniable: his best friend is marrying yours. The two most constant people in his life, outside of you, are binding their lives together. And the wish that follows is so powerful it steals his breath: he wishes, with a fervor that borders on prayer, that one day it will be you and him in that same position. If. The word echoes hollowly in his mind. If he can manage to untangle the magnificent mess he’s made of everything.
The reception is a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and exquisite food that Seungcheol barely tastes. A few hours later, he finds himself anchored to the bar, a half-finished glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. He’s spent the entire day watching you, a silent sentinel of his own misery, every nerve ending screaming at him to just go over there and pull you aside. Yet, his feet remain rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the fear of making everything irrevocably worse.
And now, his worst impulse is confirmed. He’s watching you chat with some man he’s never seen before—some distant cousin of Jeonghan’s, he overheard someone say. The sight makes his blood simmer, a hot, ugly jealousy coiling in his gut. He feels at war with himself for what feels like the hundredth time in the past two weeks, the rational part of his brain trying and failing to shout over the primal roar. You have no right, it insists. She reminded you of your place. She told you to find a girlfriend. You are just her friend. On the other hand, the ugly, green-eyed beast rears its head and snarls, its rotten teeth sinking deep every time you smile sweetly at the other man. An adequate, reasonable part of Seungcheol is sure you’re just being friendly and polite, the perfect wedding guest. But it’s not the part that’s been at the steering wheel of him lately.
He’s so intensely set on you, his glare so focused, that he doesn’t notice the groom himself appearing by his side, looking immaculate and immensely amused by the drama unfolding at his own wedding. Jeonghan, like Mingyu, is one of the very few who witnessed the very beginning of your arrangement with Seungcheol; he’s always seen the writing on the wall.
“Gonna burn a hole in her dress if you keep staring at her like that,” Jeonghan muses, his voice a light, teasing melody that startles Seungcheol out of his trance.
Seungcheol grunts, not taking his eyes off you. “Who is he?”
“My cousin, Minjae. Be nice. Don’t kill him,” Jeonghan chuckles, following Seungcheol’s gaze as you and the man continue your conversation. “He’s nice. A dentist. Very stable. Probably looking for a wife.” He delivers the last line with deliberate, mischievous provocation. “You’ve been a dark, brooding storm cloud by this bar for the past forty minutes, you know. You’re scaring off our aunts and uncles. They’re afraid to come get a drink.”
Seungcheol finally tears his eyes away to roll them at his friend, but he straightens his posture, attempting to look less like he’s about to commit a murder. The task is a Herculean effort when all he wants is to march over and loom behind you like a vengeful spirit until the dentist cousin gets the message and flees. The urge is entirely caveman-ish, but he finds he doesn’t really care.
“Take her to the dance floor when the music starts,” Jeonghan advises, his tone shifting from teasing to something more genuine. “You two have to talk it out. You’re spoiling my and Alice’s mood with all this unresolved sexual tension. It’s polluting the champagne.” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or better yet, take her to your room. I had them put a bottle of the good stuff in there.”
The innuendo is unmistakable. Seungcheol arches an incredulous brow, a retort—something along the lines of ‘fuck off’—on his lips, but the mischievous bastard is already gliding away, a smirk on his face, to rejoin his new wife. And to top it all off, as if he’d orchestrated it himself, which is most likely the case, the band chooses that exact moment to strike up the first, soft notes of a slower song. The signal for the dancing to begin.
Seungcheol lets out a low grunt, a sound of pure frustration and resolve. He abandons his brooding post, his whiskey forgotten. He walks over just as Minjae the dentist stands and offers you his hand. Seungcheol interferes with the subtlety of a tank breaking through a delicate garden wall.
“She dances with me,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. It’s not a request. It’s a statement. He doesn’t even look at the other man; his eyes are locked on you. He takes your hand, his grip firm and warm, and all but leads you away towards the improvised dance floor under the twinkling lights.
To say that you’re shocked is a monumental understatement. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat of surprise, indignation, and a treacherous, undeniable thrill. The stubborn part of you wants to wrench your hand from his hold, to argue, to remind him of his place and yours. But you’re too stunned, too overwhelmed by the sheer audacity of it and the intensity in his eyes. So before you can formulate a coherent protest, you’re on the dance floor, and he’s pulling you into his arms. His hands snake around your waist, drawing you flush against him, erasing any space between you. You feel every nerve ending in your body prickle with a restless, trembling energy, hyper-aware of the solid warmth of his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the night air.
For a long moment, there is only the music and the awkward, heavy silence between you. You’re both holding your breaths, the weight of the past two weeks a tangible thing.
“Seungcheol—” you start, just as he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”
You both stop. The conversation that follows is stilted, a clumsy duet of overlapping apologies.
“No, let me—I’m sorry,” you insist, trying again. “For what I said on the phone. I didn’t mean it, I was just—”
“I overstepped,” he interrupts, his voice low, meant only for you. “I shouldn’t have explained like that. I know the rules. I just… I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“But I did,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. The confession feels terrifying. “And I was—I acted like a jerk because I—”
This is a mess. You’re talking in circles, both trying to apologize for the symptoms while ignoring the gaping, bleeding wound of the actual problem. The words are getting tangled, the awkwardness thickening. You can’t take it anymore. You need him to listen. You need to say this, all of it, or you feel you might actually combust right here in his arms.
You take a steadying breath, pulling back just enough to look him directly in the eyes. The music swells around you, a romantic, forgiving blanket.
“Cheol, stop. Please, just… let me talk first,” you plead, your voice gaining a sliver of strength. “I need to say this.”
He falls silent, his dark eyes searching yours, waiting. This pause is all you need.
“These past two weeks have been… agony,” you begin, the words tumbling out now, raw and unvarnished. “And it made me realize… it made me realize your sheer, irreplaceable importance in my life. It’s you. It’s always been you. I was just too blind and too stubborn to see it. I kept looking for something out there, something that could make me feel… I don’t know, complete? Normal? But no one ever compared. Not even close. How could they? They weren’t you.”
You see his breath catch, his hands tightening almost imperceptibly on your waist.
“You’ve been so good to me,” you continue, your voice cracking with emotion. “So patient, and so caring, even when I was being an idiot. Even when I set these stupid rules to protect myself from feeling this… this…” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, unable to find the word for the enormity of what you feel. “I already had everything I wanted and needed right in front of me. I was just too scared to reach out and take it.”
You’re not even finished with your sentence, the final admission still hovering on your lips, when he moves. It’s not questioning, nor is it hesitant. It’s a move filled with certainty. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and he leans in, capturing your lips with his.
The kiss takes your breath away, it feels like a culmination and a beginning all at once. It’s full of two weeks of pent up frustration, of years of unspoken longing, of relief so profound it makes your knees weak and you’re grateful that his strong arms are wrapped around you so tightly to hold you up. You melt into him, your hands coming up to clutch at the lapels of his suit jacket, holding on as the world tilts on its axis. The music, the wedding, the other guests—it all fades into a distant hum. There is only him, his taste, his warmth, the solid reality of his arms around you.
When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting together. His eyes are dark, intense, filled with a possessiveness that makes your heart stutter.
“Should’ve claimed you for myself long ago instead of playing this stupid game you’ve set,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough gravel that vibrates right through you. The words are so primal, so raw, so utterly Seungcheol that you feel a thrill travel straight down to your core, making you clench on nothing.
A slow, daring smile spreads across your face, emboldened by the kiss, by the confession, by the look in his eyes. You lean closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “We can always go upstairs and you can claim me all you want.”
The sound that escapes him is a surprised, warm laugh, that familiar giggly sound you love so much, the one that makes your heart feel light and full of joy. You grin back at him, giddy.
“What?” you tease. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I do,” he assures you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. “I’m just thoroughly convinced Jeonghan and Alice placed a bet on how quickly we’re going to vanish upstairs after this. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of winning.” He glances over at the happy couple, who are indeed watching you with not so subtle interest. “I’d rather not miss the bride and groom’s first dance. It’d be too rude after they flew us all the way to France.”
“Right,” you agree, your smile matching his perfectly. “We should probably behave. At least until then.”
But the craving is too strong, the magnetic pull between you too powerful to resist for even a moment longer. You lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, a promise of everything that is to come.
The first dance of Jeonghan and Alice comes pretty soon after your world-altering kiss, the band transitioning smoothly into a soft, melodic waltz. Alice has changed out of her monumental ceremony gown and into a simpler, though no less elegant, ivory dress that allows her to move and breathe freely for the remainder of the reception. Now that all the formalities have been lovingly observed, the evening sheds its structured skin, giving way to pure, unadulterated entertainment and celebration. Their dance is a mirror of their relationship: elegant, gentle, and filled with a quiet, profound understanding that seems to create a bubble of intimacy around them even in the middle of the crowded dance floor. It’s the second time that day you feel hot tears welling up in your eyes—not counting the private, awe-filled moment you’d witnessed Alice in her full wedding regalia during the final preparations. You lift your phone, recording a shaky video both for your own memory archives and because Alice had begged you and the other bridesmaids to film as much as possible.
“I want to see everything!” she’d pleaded, her eyes sparkling. “The pretty, aesthetic videos for the ‘gram, and the real, messy, happy ones just for us.”
Seungcheol has been physically attached to your side ever since the kiss, a permanent, warm presence at your right shoulder. You’d always known, on an intellectual level, that he possessed a deeply clingy streak—the man was a certified cuddlebug, a provider of comfort through touch. But you were entirely unprepared for the sheer multiplicative effect of sorting your feelings out. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, and every ounce of affection and possession he’d carefully dammed up for years was now rushing out, an unstoppable tide.
He is basically stuck to you, attached at the hip with a determination that is both endearing and mildly astounding. You mention offhandedly that you want to take some photos of the stunning sunset as it paints the French slopes and hills in hues of orange and violet? He immediately takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go. The light is perfect right now.” You need to run up to your room to swap your treacherous heels for the comfortable sneakers you’d wisely packed? He is already steering you towards the hotel’s entrance. “Good idea. I should probably lose this jacket, too.” You need to use the bathroom, a journey that should take no more than three minutes? Guess who’s going to solemnly hold your small beaded purse for you and stand guard—there is no other word for it—outside the door, leaning against the opposite wall with the patient vigilance of a royal sentry. Yes, Seungcheol.
The first time he is truly, physically compelled to leave your side during the night is when the photographer, a frazzled but brilliant French woman, corrals the groom and his groomsmen for a final series of “boys’ club” photos. Seungcheol goes reluctantly, shooting you a look that is equal parts apology and promise. ‘I’ll be right back.’ The moment he’s pulled away, you feel the absence like a drop in temperature. You immediately find a vacant chair at a nearby table and practically plop yourself down onto it, letting out a small, amused sigh at your own sudden independence.
This is when Alice materializes, a vision in ivory silk, her smile knowing and warm. She sinks gracefully into the chair beside you, following your gaze to where her new husband is laughing with his friends, Seungcheol’s arm slung around Mingyu’s neck in a playful headlock.
“Having fun?” she asks, though her tone suggests she already knows the answer.
“Yeah, a blast,” you chuckle in response, and she mirrors the sound, a light, happy giggle.
“You’re holding out real good,” she comments suddenly, her eyes still on the men. You turn your head to look at her profile, confused by the non sequitur.
“What do you mean?”
She finally turns to face you, her expression one of pure, unadulterated mischief. “I bet $500 with Hannie that Cheol would drag you off to bang only after the reception officially ends. He, on the other hand, bet that it would happen somewhere in a dark corner right after our first dance.” She delivers this outrageous information with the mundane cadence of someone discussing the weather or a new lipstick purchase.
Your eyes grow wide, and you gape at her for a good, solid three seconds before your brain reboots. “You little—” you sputter, smacking her lightly on the shoulder. She yelps quietly, laughing and rubbing the spot where your hand landed. “Is it only the two of you, or is everyone else also in on it?” you demand, your eyes scanning the crowd for the familiar, traitorous faces of your so-called friends.
Alice gives you an enigmatic eyebrow wiggle, a master of evasion. “Yes, no, maybe so?” It’s all the confirmation you need. It means the entire betting pool is involved, everyone is gambling on the trajectory of your and Cheol’s relationship. The most startling part, however, isn’t the bet itself. It’s the underlying assumption that isn’t even being questioned. The bet isn’t if you’ll get together; it’s when Seungcheol will finally snap and claim you. The realization is equal parts embarrassing and illuminating. Did everyone else know the inevitable outcome before either of you had the faintest clue?
Before you can interrogate her further, the photographer calls for the bride and her maidens. You and Alice gather the rest of the girls—Soonyoung, who had insisted on being an “honorary bridesmaid,” included—for a series of photos for the official wedding album. Poses are struck, bouquets are held, laughter rings out under the guidance of the photographer. Through it all, you are acutely, electrifyingly aware of a specific gaze fixed on you from across the garden. Even from a distance, amidst the laughter and the chaos, Seungcheol’s attention is a tangible thing, a warm spotlight following your every move. Whenever your eyes accidentally meet his, the look he gives you is one of such unadulterated adoration and warmth that it makes your heart gallop wildly against your ribcage, a frantic, joyful rhythm that feels entirely new.
True to his new form, he is by your side the moment the photographer dismisses you, his arm immediately finding its rightful place around your waist. The swiftness of it makes you laugh, a light, airy sound that gets lost in the music.
“Miss me?” you tease, leaning into his side.
“Terribly,” he deadpans, but the smile in his eyes gives him away.
The rest of the night passes in a blissful, champagne-tinged haze. You dance together more, your bodies fitting together with a familiar ease that now feels charged with a new, thrilling potential. You sit together at a table, talking about everything and nothing—reminiscing about absurd memories from your college years, falling into a familiar, comfortable bickering like an old married couple over some random, inconsequential fact until one of you finally googles the answer, quietly gossiping and giggling about guests outside your immediate friend circle.
And through it all, he continues to hold you in one way or another, seeming utterly comfortable and right in his newly unleashed possessive streak. His hand finds yours, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into your skin. His arm rests on the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally playing with the strands of your hair. He pulls you into his side, his hand a warm, steady weight on your waist. He repeatedly showers you with the smallest of kisses—on the crown of your head, your temple, your forehead, the apple of your cheek—each one accompanied by a murmured sweet nothing that is for your ears only.
If you were to choose a single, concise way to describe Seungcheol in this moment, it would be this: a huge, affectionate cat. Content, purring, and blissfully possessive of his favorite person, in the very best of all possible ways.
You only finally slip away to your room long after Alice and Jeonghan make their own grand, rose-petal-strewn departure to their private suite, leaving the remainder of their guests to their own devices for the rest of the night. The party has dwindled to a hushed, contented murmur; most have retired to their rooms, exhausted and happy, and only a few dedicated night owls remain awake, their soft laughter and the clink of glasses drifting from the hotel’s main terrace like a distant melody.
As you step into the quiet solitude of your room, a pleasant, buzzing exhaustion settles over your body, a heavy blanket of contentment. The adrenaline of the day—the emotional ceremony, the intense conversation with Seungcheol, the sheer joy of the reception—finally ebbs, leaving your muscles pleasantly sore and your mind blissfully quiet. You manage the slow, deliberate ritual of undressing, unpinning your hair, and carefully washing the layers of makeup from your face. The hot shower is a baptism, washing away the last remnants of the day’s champagne-sweat and perfume, leaving your skin flushed and smelling faintly of the hotel’s lavender-scented products. You’re just tying the belt of a soft, plush robe when a soft, tentative knock sounds at your door.
You pause, a flicker of surprise cutting through your drowsiness. Peeking through the peephole, your heart gives a familiar, stuttering leap. Seungcheol stands in the hallway, looking endearingly rumpled. He’s shed his suit jacket and tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair is adorably disheveled from a night of running his hands through it. In one hand, he holds a bottle of red wine; in the other, two crystal glasses dangle precariously from his fingers.
You open the door just a crack, arching a questioning eyebrow. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, your voice still husky from the shower.
He offers a slightly sheepish, lopsided grin. “Jeonghan,” he says by way of explanation, lifting the bottle. “Left this outside my door with a… very suggestive note. Figured it’d be a shame to drink it alone.”
Of course he did. You can practically see the smug, matchmaking expression on Jeonghan’s face. A soft laugh escapes you as you step back, opening the door wider to let him in. “The little devil. You’d better come in, then. Before you cause a scene in the hallway.”
He shuffles inside, and you lock the door behind him, the soft click of the bolt echoing in the quiet room. The atmosphere shifts instantly, the spacious hotel room suddenly feeling much smaller, more intimate, charged with the unspoken promise of the evening. He sets the glasses on the small desk and works on opening the bottle while you retrieve a towel to dry your damp hair.
Soon, you’re sitting side-by-side on the edge of the large bed, the soft duvet dipping under your weight. The rich, dark wine swirls in your glasses, its aroma a deep note of berries and oak that mingles with the clean scent of your shower and his familiar cologne. It’s comfortable. Profoundly, deeply comfortable. This, after all, has always been the bedrock of your relationship—friendship. The easy camaraderie, the ability to exist in the same space without the pressure of constant conversation. Everything else—the heat, the tension, the years of complicated benefits—was built upon this solid, familiar foundation.
The conversation starts light, flowing without a filter. You talk about the wedding, laughing over Soonyoung’s attempts at flamenco during the reception and Mingyu’s disastrously earnest speech. But as the wine level in the bottle lowers, a shift occurs. Seungcheol is already quite tipsy from the reception, and in the private, soft confines of your room, the alcohol translates into a raw, unfiltered honesty. The playful glint in his eyes softens into something more contemplative, more vulnerable.
He falls quiet for a moment, staring into the deep ruby depths of his glass as he swirls it slowly. The silence isn’t awkward; it’s heavy, pregnant with something he’s gathering the courage to say.
“You know,” he begins, his voice a low, quiet rumble that seems to vibrate through the mattress and into your bones. “I was thinking today… during the ceremony.”
You stay perfectly still, not daring to breathe, not wanting to break the spell. You simply watch his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow is faintly furrowed in thought.
“I was trying to pinpoint it,” he continues, almost to himself. “The exact moment. The first time I felt… more. You know?”
Your heart begins to hammer against your ribs, a frantic, hopeful drumbeat. You manage a small, barely-there shake of your head, urging him to continue without using words that might fracture the moment.
He takes a slow sip of wine, buying time, gathering the threads of the memory. “It was that stupid party. Third year. The one at that off-campus house that always smelled like wet dog and cheap beer.”
A faint smile touches your lips. You remember it. Vaguely.
“You were dating… what was his name? The business major with the truly atrocious haircut who thought quoting The Wolf of Wall Street was a personality trait.”
“Mark,” you supply quietly, the name feeling foreign and silly on your tongue now.
“Right. Mark.” Seungcheol says the name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “He’d done something. I don’t even remember what. Said something condescending to you, ignored you to talk to his friends… something that made your face just… fall. Just for a second. You covered it up so fast, laughed it off. No one else probably even noticed.”
He turns his head then, his dark eyes finally meeting yours, and the intensity in them steals the air from your lungs.
“But I saw it. And I saw red. I had this… this visceral, physical urge to cross the room and just… deck him. Not for being a jerk, but for being the jerk who made that look appear on your face.” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “It terrified me. I had to walk away, go outside and just… breathe. Because that wasn’t a thought a friend has. That was something else entirely.”
He looks back at his wine, as if embarrassed by the ferocity of the memory. “That was the first time I knew. Really knew. That I was in deep, and there was no climbing back out.”
The confession hangs in the air between you, a precious, fragile thing. The image he painted—a younger, angrier Seungcheol, fists clenched in the dark over a slight injustice against you—is so vivid it steals your breath. It recontextualizes a hundred forgotten moments, a thousand casual touches, and years of easy companionship into something far deeper, far more intentional. The wine in your glass suddenly seems insufficient, too weak a substance to hold the weight of this revelation. In one swift, decisive motion, you tip your head back and gulp down the last remnants of the dark, velvety liquid, the taste of oak and dark fruit a faint echo on your tongue.
Seungcheol watches you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for your reaction. But you don’t give him one with words. Instead, you place the empty glass on the bedside table with a soft clink and move. You crawl across the space between you on the soft duvet, the movement deliberate, until you’re straddling his lap. You reach for the half-full glass still clutched in his hand, your fingers gently prying it from his loose grip. He lets you, his gaze locked on yours, a question burning in the depths of his eyes. You place his glass next to yours, a silent promise that neither of you will be needing them anymore.
His hands, now free, seem to move on their own volition, hurriedly finding purchase on your body. They settle on your bare thighs where your robe has fallen open, his palms warm and slightly dry against your skin. The touch is electric, a spark that ignites a slow-burning fuse deep within you. You lean down, closing the final distance between you, and capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. It’s not frantic or desperate; it’s a silent answer to his confession. Your tongue glides over his lower lip, tasting the rich, lingering sweetness of the wine and the unique, familiar essence that is purely him. Seungcheol parts his lips with a soft, shuddering sigh, a sound of pure surrender, giving you complete access to deepen the kiss. You do, sliding your tongue against his, the kiss turning languid and exploring.
The quiet hotel room, once filled with the weight of memory, is now filled with softer, more primal sounds: the wet slide of lips and tongues rediscovering each other, the softest catch of breath between kisses, the rustle of fabric as you shift against him. You feel your body begin to heat up, a flush spreading from your core outwards, when Seungcheol’s hands slide further up, under the hem of your bathrobe. His fingers skate over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and then he finds you—absolutely bare beneath the thin layer of silk. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest as his hands squeeze the soft flesh of your ass, pulling you tighter against him. You can feel the hard ridge of his erection straining against his trousers, a direct counterpoint to the softness he’s kneading.
The discovery—that you’d come to the door with nothing underneath, that you’d been waiting, hoping, perhaps—makes him moan your name into your mouth, the word fractured and breathless. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. His hands leave your skin for only a moment, coming up to the loose knot of your robe. His fingers, usually so sure and steady, fumble slightly with the simple tie before finally tugging it loose.
“This,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper as he pushes the silk from your shoulders, letting the garment pool around your waist before discarding it completely. “Is a crime. Hiding this from me all night.”
The cool air of the room hits your skin, raising goosebumps, but it’s nothing compared to the scorching heat of his gaze as it rakes over your naked body. He always looks at you like this during sex—with a focused, hungry intensity that makes you feel like the most desirable woman in the world—but now it feels different. It feels hotter, deeper, stripped of any pretense or unspoken rule. It’s a gaze of ownership, of awe, of a man finally looking upon something he no longer has to pretend isn’t entirely his.
He is generous with his praise, as he always has been. But like with everything else, it seems all aspects of him that are directed at you have lost an invisible restraint you hadn’t even known was in place.
“So beautiful,” he breathes, his hands following the path of his eyes, mapping your body with a reverence that makes your heart ache. His palms skate over your ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before he leans down to replace his hands with his mouth, laving one nipple with his tongue before drawing it into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. You arch into the sensation, a sharp gasp escaping you. “My love,” he murmurs against your skin, the endearment so natural, so effortless, it makes your eyes prickle with sudden emotion. He moves to the other breast, paying it the same devoted attention. “My precious thing. My little girl.”
He shifts you to lie back on the bed as he peppers kisses down your stomach, his hands pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. He looks up at you from his knees on the floor, his eyes dark with want and something infinitely softer. “My goddess.”
Seungcheol is worshipful, that much you know from all the years of your arrangement. But this is a new liturgy. He takes his time, caressing and kissing every inch of you, as if memorizing you anew, before finally, impatiently, discarding his own clothes. The garments are shed with less ceremony than yours, tossed carelessly onto a chair. And then he’s there, gloriously naked, his body a landscape of strong muscle and warm skin you know as well as your own.
Sure, he makes you beg a good amount, too—that hasn’t changed. A wicked glint appears in his eyes when he sees how wet you are for him, his fingers stroking through your folds but avoiding the place you need him most.
“Please, Cheol,” you whimper, bucking your hips up towards his hand.
“Please, what, baby?” he teases, his voice a low purr. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”
But it seems tonight, his own patience is a frayed thread. He can’t draw out the teasing for long, not when the air is thick with so much more than just physical want. After only a moment of watching you squirm, he gives in with a groan. “Fuck that, I can’t wait. I need to be inside you. Now.”
He praises you through all of it in his favourite way—a unique blend of endearing degradations masked as praise, the only type of talking down to you that actually turns you on rather than offends.
“That’s it, you gonna take me so well, my precious thing, aren’t you?” he grunts as he guides himself to your entrance.
It starts off achingly slow, the broad head of his cock pressing against you, stretching you open inch by exquisite inch. The feeling is a familiar, delicious burn, a fullness you’ve craved all evening. You whimper, a high, broken sound, and your legs automatically wrap around his torso, your heels digging into the small of his back, trying to pull him in, to bring him even deeper than probably possible. The need to be one with him is so heightened it makes you dizzy even though you’re lying down.
“All of you,” you plead, your voice barely recognizable. “I need all of you.”
He sheathes himself fully, balls deep, with one final, smooth roll of his hips, and you both cry out at the sensation, a shared sound of pure, unmistakable relief. For a moment, he just stays there, buried inside you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing ragged. The connection is more than physical; it feels like a circuit has been completed, a missing piece finally slotted into place.
“Mine,” he whispers, the word a vow.
“Yours,” you gasp back, and it feels like the truest thing you've ever said.
Gradually, he begins to move, a slow, deep rhythm that quickly builds in intensity. The patience he lacked during foreplay is gone, replaced by a raw, driving need. He goes hard, pounding into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs, each thrust pushing you further into the soft mattress. The headboard begins a rhythmic, insistent banging against the wall, a stark, percussive accompaniment to the sounds of your skin slapping together and your combined, ragged breaths. Somewhere in the back of your mind you pity whoever is on the other side of that wall, they aren’t getting any proper sleep tonight if they don’t wear noise-cancelling earplugs.
“God, you feel... you feel like heaven,” he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His praise is a constant, possessive stream. “This perfect, tight little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Made to take my cock. Fuck, look at you. My mess.”
And you are a mess. A complete, absolute mess. Tears bead in the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, from the way his glorious girth rubs and stretches you exactly right, hitting a spot deep inside that makes you see stars. It makes you whimper and keen quietly, a continuous, pathetic stream of sound that is an undeniable indicator of you being utterly fucked out way before your orgasm even hits you. You know it inflates his ego a thousand times, but you can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s making you feel so impossibly good, so cherished and used all at once.
Your first orgasm crashes over you suddenly, a violent, shocking wave that rips a scream from your throat that he quickly muffles with a deep, claiming kiss. He fucks you through it, his pace never faltering, drawing the sensations out until you’re sobbing with oversensitivity. He follows soon after with a guttural groan, his own release pulsing warm and deep inside you, his body shuddering above yours.
But he’s not done. Not even close. After a few minutes of catching your breath, his lips are on you again, trailing down your body with a renewed purpose. He ends up between your thighs, his hands spreading you open for his worship.
“I need to taste you,” he says, his voice rough with desire, and then his mouth is on you, licking your mixed releases out of your fluttering cunt.
You end up cumming two more times from his cock alone, and then... you lose count when he settles on eating you out. You just know that you used up all the small towels from the bathroom rack because he was determined to make you squirt, holding you down through your weak, overwhelmed protests.
“Let go, baby, come on, give it to me,” he’d urged, his voice muffled against your core, and you’d shattered again, a different, deeper, more liquid release that had him groaning in satisfaction against your skin.
Exhausted, boneless, and utterly ruined, you finally collapse into a heap of tangled limbs amidst the disheveled sheets. The room smells of sex, wine, and the two of you. He gathers you against his chest, your head finding its familiar spot in the hollow of his shoulder, his heartbeat a steady, comforting rhythm under your ear.
You love Sunday mornings. It’s a secret you used to keep even from yourself on most days, a quiet pleasure often buried under the relentless march of deadlines, social obligations, and the general clamor of adult life. At times you and Seungcheol were both single Sundays were for slow morning sex, comfortable breakfasts and only then the mundane tasks of laundry, grocery shopping and dreading the impending Monday. But here, in the soft, honeyed light of a French countryside morning, the secret can no longer be contained. It blooms in your chest, a feeling of profound, unshakeable peace.
Now, however, you’re openly, unashamedly luxuriating in it. The world beyond the balcony doors of your hotel room is a watercolor painting of misty green hills and a sky bleeding from pale lavender to a soft, hopeful blue. And inside, the world is even more perfect. Seungcheol is snoring softly by your side, a gentle, rhythmic sound that is more comforting than any silence could ever be. His arm is a heavy, comforting weight over your middle, an anchor holding you securely in this moment of bliss. Your legs are tangled together under the soft duvet, a familiar knot of intimacy that feels brand new and yet as ancient as the hills outside.
He’s as beautiful as ever in sleep, his features softened, the usual slight furrow of concentration between his brows completely smoothed away. But the crucial, world-altering difference is that now, he is fully, irrevocably yours. The thought is so potent it makes your breath catch. You allow yourself the quiet sin of staring, tracing the line of his nose, the curve of his lip, the dark fan of his lashes against his skin.
As if sensing your rapt attention even in the depths of sleep, Seungcheol hums, a low, contented sound deep in his chest. His arm tightens around you, dragging you even closer into the solid warmth of his body as if you were a teddy bear he’s slept with his entire life. “Go back to sleep, you weirdo,” he mumbles, his voice a hoarse, sleep-ravaged scrape that is somehow the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.
A wide, helpless grin spreads across your face. You shuffle closer, ignoring his grumpy command, and press a soft, lingering kiss to his pouty, sleep-softened lips.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you murmur teasingly against his mouth.
He grumbles again, a nonsensical, rumbling noise, but it’s utterly adoring. His eyes don’t open, but a small smile plays on his lips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm on your skin. “Five more minutes,” he slurs. “Then you can be disgustingly cheerful.”
You laugh softly, content to lie there wrapped around him, listening to the world wake up outside. The five minutes stretch into ten, then twenty, until the promise of strong coffee and buttery pastries finally coaxes you both from the cocoon of the bed.
The two of you come down to the hotel’s sun-drenched terrace for breakfast right on time. The air is cool and fresh, scented with coffee, baking bread, and the faint, floral perfume of the surrounding gardens. Most of the wedding guests are still peacefully asleep, recovering from the revelries of the night before. But your core group is there, looking like a tableau of varying states of consciousness.
Jeonghan and Alice, glowing with the incandescent joy of newlyweds, are tucked into a corner, sharing a single plate of fruit and speaking in low, smiling whispers. Soonyoung and Chan, by contrast, look heavily hungover and in genuine pain. Soonyoung is slumped over the table, his forehead resting on the cool wood, while Chan is meticulously dissecting a croissant with the intense concentration of a man trying not to be sick. Mingyu, ever the pragmatic one, is nursing a large black coffee like it’s the elixir of life, with Minghao by his side, serene as ever, the two of them discussing plans for the day in quiet, sensible tones.
All of them, however, fall silent and look over in unison the moment you and Seungcheol step onto the terrace, your fingers laced tightly together. You can feel the physical weight of their collective assessment, a palpable wave of curiosity aimed squarely at the two of you. It’s not malicious, just intensely, familiarly nosy. They are scanning for tells—a certain glow, a specific kind of tiredness in your eyes, the way Seungcheol’s hand rests possessively on the small of your back.
Alice, of course, is the quickest to it. Her expression takes on a devilish, triumphant turn. Without looking away from you, she extends a demanding hand towards her new husband, palm up. Jeonghan groans loudly, a sound of pure theatrical despair, and pulls his wallet from his pocket, slapping a crisp bill into her waiting hand.
“I told you!” Alice crows, her voice singsong with victory. “I told you they’d have more self-control than to defile a random broom closet!”
This sets off a chain reaction of groans and good-natured grumbling from the rest of the table. Soonyoung lifts his head from the table, squinting in pain. “You owe me twenty, Mingyu! I said they’d last until at least the cake-cutting!”
Mingyu just shakes his head, taking a long, defeated sip of his coffee. “I had faith in your lack of self-control, hyung. I am disappointed.”
Neither you nor Seungcheol have it in you to even pretend to be offended by your friends placing these sorts of bets on your love life. It’s too them, too ingrained in the fabric of your shared history. Instead, you just share a warm, private look, a silent conversation passing between you in the space of a heartbeat—our idiots—before proceeding to load your plates with pastries and fruit from the lavish buffet.
You find seats at the large table, the conversation shifting to everyone’s plans for their last day in the countryside. You’re halfway through a particularly flaky, buttery pain au chocolat, contemplating a lazy day of maybe renting bicycles or simply finding a sunny spot to read, when you overhear a conversation from the small table right next to you.
It’s Jeonghan’s grandparents, a lovely, elegant couple in their seventies. They are speaking in hushed, slightly aggrieved tones to another relative.
“…simply couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” the grandmother is saying, sipping her tea with a slight frown. “The walls in these old buildings are so thin. The room next to ours… my god.” She shakes her head. “It sounded like a warzone. Someone was banging on the wall for hours! And the screaming! It went on and on. I thought someone was being murdered!”
Her husband nods in solemn agreement. “Sounded like they were trying to bring the whole ceiling down. Passion is one thing, but have some consideration for your neighbors, I say!”
The piece of croissant you were about to eat freezes halfway to your mouth. Your eyes, wide with dawning horror, snap to Seungcheol’s. His are equally wide, a faint, crimson blush creeping up his neck. The room next to Jeonghan’s grandparents… that was your room. The ‘banging’… the ‘screaming’… The memories of the previous night flash before your eyes with devastating, embarrassing clarity.
Without a single word, a silent pact of mutual mortification is forged between you. The two of you finish your breakfast at the speed of light, shoveling down the last of your coffee with a haste that has Soonyoung squinting at you in confusion.
“Wow, big plans? Someone’s in a hurry,” he slurs, still holding his head.
“Fresh air!” you chirp, your voice an octave too high. “Lots to see! So much… countryside!”
Seungcheol just nods, already standing and pulling your chair out. “We’re going to… explore. The hills. Bye.”
You practically speed-walk out of the terrace, leaving your friends behind, their curious looks burning into your backs. You don’t stop until you’re safely upstairs, the door to your room closed behind you. For a moment, you just lean against it, and then you both dissolve into helpless, breathless laughter, the kind that makes your stomach ache and tears stream down your faces.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, clutching your side. “Hours? She said hours!”
“We are terrible people,” Seungcheol wheezes, wiping his eyes. “We terrorized a sweet old couple on their grandson’s wedding night.”
The shared embarrassment only cements you together further. Once you’ve changed into comfortable clothes, you flee the hotel, hand in hand, escaping the scene of the crime to lose yourselves in the surrounding vineyards and winding country lanes.
As you take your morning stroll, the crisp air clearing your head, your mind begins to branch off in a million different directions, each one more wonderful than the last. The conversation with his grandparents, though mortifying, has unlocked a new layer of intimacy, a shared future that suddenly feels tangible and real. You’re no longer just two friends who finally got together; you’re a unit, partners in crime, capable of accidentally disturbing the peace of a French countryside hotel.
Emboldened by the sunlight and the feeling of his hand firmly in yours, you decide to voice one of the thoughts that’s been circling in your mind since the ceremony.
“You know,” you begin, your voice quiet but clear. “I don’t know what exactly awaits us in the future. And I don’t need to know every detail.” You squeeze his hand. “But if I’m lucky enough… if we’re lucky enough… I hope that one day, maybe, we’ll be in Jeonghan and Alice’s place.”
Seungcheol stops dead in his tracks on the dusty path. The only sound is the whisper of the wind through the grapevines. The panic is immediate and cold, sluicing through your veins. Too much. Too soon. You’ve ruined the perfect morning. You watch his face, your heart pounding a frantic, terrified rhythm against your ribs.
But all your confusion and fear disappears in the very next second. His expression isn’t one of shock or alarm. It’s one of awe, of a hope so profound it seems to light him up from within. A slow, breathtaking smile spreads across his face, and before you can even process it, he’s sweeping you off your feet—literally, lifting you in a spin that makes you shriek with laughter—and then he’s kissing you, long and deep and full of a promise that tastes like forever.
When he finally sets you back on your feet, both of you are breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.
“You,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “were standing right there in your lilac dress, crying during the vows, and that’s all I could think about. That I wanted it to be you. That I wanted it to be us. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
It makes your heart feel too big for your chest, like it might just burst with a joy so intense it’s almost painful. You don’t want to think about what could have happened if that stupid, disastrous phone conversation had never occurred, if you hadn’t been forced to confront the terrifying depth of your feelings. The alternate reality where you both remained stubbornly, painfully stuck in your roles of ‘just friends’ feels like a bleak and lonely path. You are immeasurably, overwhelmingly happy and grateful that it all played out the way it did. The awkwardness, the jealousy, the silence, the grand, romantic confession under the fairy lights—every single messy, imperfect part of it led you here.
To this sun-drenched path in France.
To this man.
To this future.
Because now, against all odds and after years of circling each other, the two of you finally, truly have each other.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this!
Masterlist. | [2] All Good | [3] It Will Always Be You
synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞
pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader
genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut.
wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon)
warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink.
a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)
glossary:
Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women
Binyeo – Decorative hairpin
Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie
Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men
Dasik – Pressed tea cookie
Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket
Chima – Skirt worn by women
Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)
Daenggi – Ribbon for braids
Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM
Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM
Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother
+82 some miracle
only listen to my general
“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.
Your breath stutters in your chest.
Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure.
His eyes…
You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black.
You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine.
Finally, you snap out of your reverie.
With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
—
Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.
That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding.
Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit.
You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.
He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time.
Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later.
It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion.
You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.
The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.
That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.
Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.
You don’t know how much of this is true.
It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.
You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.
And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.
—
The marketplace is crowded.
You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention.
“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”
A dejected sigh flows past your lips.
Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.
“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.
A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.
Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you.
The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.
It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.
“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye.
“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.
You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.
Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away.
And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding.
With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.
Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.
“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.
Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.
He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.
It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.
How unladylike!
First, he catches you spying on him, and now—
“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”
“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”
He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips.
What are you even saying?
Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.
“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.
"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”
With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding.
Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in.
You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.
“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”
Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.
Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.
“Are you alright?”
His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.
With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.
How odd.
“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands.
“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.
“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.
Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”
The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.
That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.
—
You got married today.
According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.
During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.
Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.
You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.
You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together.
Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax.
You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.
“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”
You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”
“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.
Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.
“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.
“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.
“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”
“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.
General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat.
“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?
Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.
“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.
The man is hauntingly beautiful.
“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”
What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.
“My Lord, I do not understand.”
He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.
“I know what this marriage means to you.”
You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”
Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.
“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.
You feel abandoned, yet again.
“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.
You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.
—
The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.
Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.
The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.
“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”
“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”
“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”
“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.
San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”
—
You bump into your husband at the palace.
At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.
The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.
With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.
General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”
He walks past as if he did not see you.
You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.
What just happened?
He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.
Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.
For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.
The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.
Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.
With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.
—
Your husband returned home late today as well.
You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.
No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.
Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”
A beat of silence. “Yes.”
Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself.
You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.
Shit.
It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.
Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”
“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.
“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.
Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight. “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”
“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.
“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?
You have no clue.
“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure.
You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.
General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”
The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?
“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”
Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?
Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”
He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”
He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?”
That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that.
Right. Why did you say that out loud?
You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.
“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.
Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.
With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.
He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.
“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes.
“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.
He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.
At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe.
“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.
You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.
“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.
You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.
—
You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.
In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.
The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.
After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.
“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself.
It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.
With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you.
You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him.
General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.
That leaves you with San only.
“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”
You stop for a moment.
“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”
San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”
The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.
Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked.
The thought pains you. More than it should.
You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.
The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.
“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”
You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.
You continue walking, ignoring San.
“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”
“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”
The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.
—
The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.
With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.
He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him.
Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover?
Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.
“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.
“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’
San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”
General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.
“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”
“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”
“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection?
Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”
You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”
You are cut off.
The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.
Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.
Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.
Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.
There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.
Finally, everything clicks.
Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?
“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.
General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Is he seriously worrying about you right now?
“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”
He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.
The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”
—
After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.
“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.
You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.
The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.
“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.
It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.
What has this man been through?
General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound.
The amount of pain he must have been in…
The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.
“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”
“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him?
His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”
You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.
Finally, it feels like you can breathe.
Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.
“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.
You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.
He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?”
“Hm?” He turns around to look at you.
You pause, hesitating. “I know you bought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.
You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”
You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.
—
That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.
What if…what if…
The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?
The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.
Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.
If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.
Shit. Who would do that?
Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.
It doesn't.
Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.
You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels.
What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?
With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.
You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.
Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you.
Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?
So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul.
You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.
With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.
—
When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.
Shit. You missed work today.
All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head?
With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.
How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?
Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.
Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?
“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.
Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.
Dear wife,
I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.
From, Your husband
Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.
It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.
“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”
Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.
“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”
She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.
What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”
“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”
Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.
“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”
A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!
You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones.
Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?
No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.
“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.
“No, my lady.”
“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”
—
The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.
Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima.
Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.
“Jihye, how do I look?”
“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”
You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”
You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.
“Come in.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.
Silence.
You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.
“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly.
“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”
“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”
“Are you in any pain?”
“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”
You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”
“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”
You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”
Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.”
His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.
“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.
You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”
Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.
You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “
“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”
“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.
His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”
“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”
You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?
“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.
“That was not my intention.”
“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”
He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”
“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”
“Then why did you lie?”
For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!”
You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”
The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.
“My Lord—”
“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.”
A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?
Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”
Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.
Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.
Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.
Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.
You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.
Slow, sweet and passionate.
It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.
You want this man so much, body and soul.
Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.
His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.
Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.
Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.
The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.
It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.
You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.
This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.
Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.
“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.
His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”
You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even stir when you came into the room.
In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.
“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”
“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”
He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”
Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”
“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice.
“Yes.”
“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.
—
After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily.
Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.
“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”
“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.
Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.
“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.
Silence.
“Hm?” He hums.
“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”
“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”
You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”
“Yes.”
“Can I sleep with you from now on?”
Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”
Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head. “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.
—
You wake up just before sunrise.
The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.
You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.
“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”
“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.
How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?
“My Lord?”
“Hm?”
“Let us go for a walk.”
—
After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.
Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.
Can this be called a date?
Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.
By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.
“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees.
“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”
“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.
“Why so long ago?”
“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.
“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”
He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?
Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”
“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.
In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”
He takes a moment to answer.
“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”
You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”
“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”
“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”
He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.
You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”
His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment.
In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.
A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”
He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”
Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”
“I do not believe that.”
You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”
Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”
“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.
He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”
“You cannot or will not?”
His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.
This stubborn, frustrating man.
—
After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.
You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.
“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.
Your eyes shine. “Sure!”
—
Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset.
You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun.
Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.
The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.
“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”
“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”
—
After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.
“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.”
“Indeed.”
“Where has he been all day?”
“In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.
As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.
Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”
“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.”
Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”
“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”
“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.
“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”
You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile.
“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”
“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.
Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?
“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”
“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.
Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?”
He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”
The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm.
“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.
You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”
You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him.
“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.
“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious.
You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”
The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.
“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.
Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you.
The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.
You don’t hold back either.
You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.
His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.
“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”
Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.
In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.
“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.
“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.
His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.
“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation.
Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.
“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.
“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.
You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.
You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.
“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.
“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.
He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.
You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”
Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.
You could spend your entire life kissing this man.
With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.
He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly.
Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”
“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.
You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”
You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies.
“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight.
“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.
You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”
“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.
“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly.
“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”
“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order.
He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm.
You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.
With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”
The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.
“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt.
“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”
“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.
The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”
Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.
With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt.
Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.
“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”
“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles.
The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.
You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.
You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.
This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree.
“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.
“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”
He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”
“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.
“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.
“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”
You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support.
“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations.
He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.
Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.
“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.
Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you.
You start seeing stars.
“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans.
“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine.
The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.
“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.
“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.
“Who will make you come?”
“You! Seungcheol!”
“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”
“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.
“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.
“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.
Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.
You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you.
You feel like you are floating from the bliss.
—
Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth.
“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.
You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.
“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”
He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.
This is your first time seeing this side of your husband.
He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.
After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”
You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.
—
Seungcheol did not go to work today.
The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking.
She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber. Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.
“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”
With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.
Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.
Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”
His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.
Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.
“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”
“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”
“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”
Wide eyed, you look at him.
“Do you understand me, wife?”
“Yes, husband.”
Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.
“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”
“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you.
Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”
“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”
He remains silent.
“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold.
His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”
A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”
He regards you with confusion.
“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something.
“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”
Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.
He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.
“Never.”
—
Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.
At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.
Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now.
Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.
The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.
Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.
When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.
Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.
Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.
He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”
“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight.
Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.
“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”
“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”
“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you.
“I am scared.” You whisper.
“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”
You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.
“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.
With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.
In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.
A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.
The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.
“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.
“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”
“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest.
It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.
Time ticks by. The night grows darker.
Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.
When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.
“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.
The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”
Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.
“How did they catch up so quickly?”
“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”
Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.
It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast.
He does not reply to you.
“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.
Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.
“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.
“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.
“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”
In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.
A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.
You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.
By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood. “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.
There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.
It is an arrow.
It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.
They have caught up to you.
At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.
His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells.
You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.
“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.
“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.
“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier.
He can never outfight all those people.
“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.
As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.
San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.
“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”
“My Lady, come back!”
Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.
Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.
The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target.
Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.
And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.
From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”
By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.
“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”
“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.
An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.
“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.
You take the shot.
The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.
San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.
“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”
He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.
“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.
It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead.
His body slumps to the ground.
Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.
The bow drops from your hand.
You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck.
—
Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.
Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.
You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts.
Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?
Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.
But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness.
“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.
A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night.
It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker.
He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.
Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”
You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.
Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.
—
The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.
He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.
You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.
“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.
You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.
Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”
You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.
“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”
Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.
“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”
And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.
Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.
The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.
“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”
“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.
“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.
“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.
If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.
—
The wind is particularly chilly this morning.
It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.
You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.
After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.
You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.
Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.
You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.
“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.
Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.
“What is it?”
“My lady…Master is awake.”
You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.
“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.
With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.
Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake.
You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.
You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.
You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.
You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.
A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.
The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.
A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”
Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.
Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye.
You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants.
Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.
Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.
He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.
Thank god.
He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.
And you have never been happier to see him.
You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well.
Until your knees finally give out.
You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right. Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.
Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.
It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.
“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.
You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”
You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.
“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”
You are glad to hear that.
Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.
“Where are you going?”
“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”
Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”
He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”
“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.
He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.
You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”
He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”
You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply.
Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.
Oh, how you longed for this.
“I love you.”
You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.
“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.
You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”
“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.
“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”
“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”
You only smile.
“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”
You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”
He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.”
Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”
“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”
“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.
“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”
Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”
He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”
Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”
You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.
He can be safe now. He can rest.
Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.
You lean forward and press a kiss on it.
“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.
It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.
“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”
“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”
“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.
“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”
A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.
His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.
It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words.
It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.
For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!
This fanfiction is cross-posted on AO3. Please show me some support over there as I recently opened my account!
A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places. Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!
That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33
synopsis ➠ he has lured your brother into his hellish cult. it is up to you to save him—only if you can save yourself first. because jeonghan has his eyes on you, and he will get you. and break you, eventually.
pairing ➠ cult leader!jeonghan x librarian female!reader
genre ➠ dark romance, thriller, smut, small town au.
word count ➠ 10.3k + 1k (patreon bonus)
warnings ➠ READ CAREFULLY ! cults, mention of blood, cultist activities like seance, sacrifice, etc., drinking, cursing, stalking, severe manipulation, gaslighting, blasphemy, propaganda?? brainwashing, cursing, drinking, huge betrayal, unresolved trauma, mention of murder, muder attempt, fingering in a confession booth, dubcon ig? fingering, hickeys, nipple play, edging, orgasm denial, use of pet names, pussy eating, female degradation(slut, whore), hand necklace, sadism and masochism, big dicc jh, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, sex in a church, slapping, spitting, multiple orgasms.
a/n: this fic contains blasphemous themes, so please do not interact if uncomfortable. it also contains inaccurate descriptions of catholic systems, so please do not take this seriously. it is a work of fiction!
His eyes are unbelievably kind for someone so…despicable.
From behind a tree, you observe him, how he kneels down to talk to an older couple, giving them a brochure while explaining something with gestures — all smiles.
You hold your breath, your hands fisted at your sides.
The man —Yoon Jeonghan —runs a cult.
You would not have believed it, you had not, in fact, until yesterday. Your brother has been acting suspiciously for a while now, coming home late, not attending his classes, always keeping the door to his room locked, avoiding you—the list goes on. Yesterday was the tipping point. It was your mother’s death anniversary and when he was yet to show up after midnight, you decided to break into his room with the spare key.
Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t, because that would let you continue to live your life in the shelter of ignorance. The evidence was bright and shining, pictures of animal sacrifice, blood pacts, your documents and contracts stating your brother’s allegiance to some institution and its temple, weird robes and hats and whatnot.
Sure, you have been hearing the rumours for a long time, ever since you moved in here two years ago, to be precise. This is a small town, consisting mostly of old people. Nothing really happens here—no events, no tourists. Just everyone minding their business, which is one of the reasons why you decided to move here with your brother.
You needed the quiet, the lack of attention. Sure, you had to leave your comfortable job as a university teacher in the city. But you wanted the peace over the money. For you and your brother. A place where no one would recognize you and let you be.
And everything was going well. You have secured a job at the local library as the head librarian and the bookkeeper, while your brother attends the community college. The pay is a downgrade from your previous job, but with the low living costs here, you two have been getting by comfortably.
Until this happened.
How did your brother fall into this scheme?
“Isn’t he the sweetest?” A woman’s voice drags you out of your thoughts. You turn around to find Jieun, a middle-aged lady who manages this hospice. “He has been volunteering here regularly for a while now.”
You blink, unable to find a sober reply to her words.
“You should join us sometime.” She offers. “Bring your brother with you as well. What was his name again?”
“Chan.” You mutter.
“Right! Little Channie. How is he doing?”
“Good.” You whisper, eyes going back to Jeonghan, who is now pushing a woman in a wheelchair back inside.
“How long has he been living here, in this town?” You ask with a quick jut of your chin, trying your best to seem nonchalant.
“Hmm, I don’t know.” She ponders for a second. “It has been about seven or eight years, I guess. He has been a gem for this town, you know? Such a gentleman. Very reliable too.” She goes on and on about his qualities, which you tune out, your eyes intently set on the hospice building, waiting to catch a glimpse of him.
“You know, aunty,” you cut her off, staring at her with your most unimpressed look. “I used to think the same about him. Until I heard what he has been doing around town.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“He runs a cult.” You state, looking her dead in the eye. Jieun’s face morphs, changing into a look of disapproval, borderline disgust. “You should not believe everything you hear, young lady.”
“What if I saw it with my own eyes?”
She pauses. In a dark, menacing tone, she says, “He has done a lot for us. He always has our best interests at heart. I do hope you remember that.”
Without another word, she marches off, leaving you feeling jittery. You take a second to gather your thoughts and when you look back at the hospice building, Jeonghan stands in the front, looking right at you.
You jolt, unnerved by his blank but piercing gaze, shivers going down your spine. He stands as still as a statue, his face devoid of anything human, his eyes focused on you, in a way as if he can see inside your mind, read the thoughts you are having.
You are short of breath. Jeonghan seems to have that effect on you.
—
You have had quite a few interactions with Jeonghan before.
He would come by the library often, borrowing books every two weeks or so. Art, philosophy, history, religion—he read it all. You looked forward to seeing him. Probably because he possessed an undeniable charm, his outgoing, flirty personality and his effortlessly good looks did make you feel something harmless in your belly. But also because you had intelligent conversations with him, though brief, for a minute or two, reminding you of your old life. There were not a lot of young people around, and those who were around were not the most interested in your interests. Nerdy interests, as your brother liked to put it.
Jeonghan never asked too many questions, never misbehaved, never acted weird. Nothing to hint that he is running a literal cult behind the scenes. But now that you know his true self, you realize you always thought there was something peculiar about his gaze. Something sinister. Something dark and depraved always lingered in his eyes whenever he looked at you — his ever-present smile never really reaching his eyes.
Was he feeling you out? Trying to understand if you would be a good victim? Were you too smart for him? Is that why he went after your brother and not you?
Thoughts of all sorts plague your mind as you sit on your couch and stare mindlessly at the TV, a glass of wine swirling in your hand.
It is almost twelve at midnight and your brother is yet to return home. It feels like one of those days where he will not, in fact, come home at night. He has started doing this lately, not coming home at night and every time you have confronted him, it has led to arguments only.
“I stay at a friend’s house, okay? He is really nice. I like to stay over there.” This was all he said. You have a growing feeling that the friend he talks about is Jeonghan. You heard he lives near the church in a two-storey house. For a moment, you consider going over there and demanding to be let inside but give up on that plan.
You do not want to give Jeonghan the idea that you know what he is doing. No, you want to keep playing oblivious, acting like usual with him. Maybe you should play the damsel in distress? That should get you his attention and maybe even bring you into his clique of goat-worshipping people. After all, cult leaders love to prey on vulnerable people.
Though you have not thought this plan through. You are yet to figure out what you will do after you join his cult. Calling the police does not feel like the best option, so you are left with making the evidence public. Maybe you could film something or take pictures and upload them to social media? That would at least garner attention and bring some people into town to see things for themselves. That would force Jeonghan to hide or relocate, no?
You take a sip of wine, swirling the liquid in your mouth before switching off the TV. It is a quarter past twelve now.
You pad over to the window with your glass, mindlessly moving aside the curtain and gazing out. The street is dark and lifeless, the faint yellow glow of the streetlamp making it appear even more haunting. It takes another second for you to process that someone is standing outside.
On your lawn.
You choke on your breath, instinctively stepping away from the window.
Fuck. You swear someone is standing outside— not an apparition but something real. It could not be a hallucination, right? Setting the glass down, you reach for the curtain once more with shaky hands. Moving it aside a couple of inches, you peer outside, and the hairs on your neck stand upright.
Yes, someone is outside, standing still on your lawn. Someone who is wearing a red cloak, the hoodie covering their face. It is bone-chillingly eerie, the way the figure stands so very still. Just as you are debating calling the police, the figure slowly starts walking.
Thankfully, away from your house. The figure slowly walks back onto the street, their steps leisurely, almost looking like they are floating with the way the red cloak drags against the road.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You slump down on the floor, your heart racing in your chest, perspiration beading down your temples.
What has your brother gotten himself into?
—
“I am going to the mass,” Chan announces as he walks past you to get to the kitchen counter and pours himself a glass of orange juice.
You set your phone and close the notebook you had in front of you — littered with your notes about cults — and turn around to stare at your brother.
“You are going to church?” You cannot hide the incredulity in your voice.
“Yes.” He continues drinking his juice without turning around.
Chan was never religious—no one in your family was. So this sudden interest in church makes you alarmed.
“Did Jeonghan convince you to go?”
Your brother finally turns around and regards you with a quizzical look, as if he is surprised to hear his name from your mouth. For a long few seconds, he stares at you before saying matter-of-factly, “Jeonghan is leading the sermon today.”
Right. You have heard that he leads Sunday sermons sometimes.
Chan walks past you, heading for the door. In a split second, you make a decision. “Give me five minutes to get ready. I will come with you.”
—
As you expected, the church is crowded.
The sermon is about to start when you step in with your brother. The two of you take a seat at one of the back pews. It has been a long, long time since you have been inside a church, so you feel slightly out of place—eye skirting around the crowd before landing at the very front, at the altar, which is graced by Jeoghan.
Dressed in a white robe with intricate gold details, he is the picture of holiness, an image of purity in front of the crucifix. The fabric falls in clean lines to his ankles, bright against the darker wood of the altar around him. Thin gold embroidery runs along the edges and cuffs, and a narrow stole hangs straight from his shoulders, its trim catching the daylight streaming through the high windows. All smiles and bows, he greets everyone, his eyes scanning the room before finally spotting you at the back.
Your breath hitches as his eyes lock with yours.
You swear the look in his eyes shifts. The earlier kindness and light seem to disappear, taken over by something dark — the look of a predator about to devour his prey. The smile is still there, ever-present but your body remains tense, heart galloping under his ruthless gaze.
Suddenly, you are transported to last night, standing at the window and looking at the figure standing in your lawn. The longer you look at Jeonghan, the more you have a sinking feeling that it was him. You have no proof, just a sinking, suffocating feeling in your gut, alarm bells going off in your head in full volume.
The sermon starts. And ends. Everything is a blur for you. Jeonghan’s voice, the hums of the prayers, the sunlight seeping through the antique windows—everything is suffocating.
The more you look around you, the realization strengthens. Maybe this entire town is in the cult. They are all a part of a bigger conspiracy, of which you and your brother are victims. You have seen the movies, read the books. Someone is always the sacrifice. Maybe this time, it is you.
“Noona?” Chan’s voice jolts you back to reality. He is standing up, looking down at you with annoyance, “What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Huh?”
You look around and see people walking out of the church. Right. The show is over.
“Sorry,” you murmur, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. You step towards the door with Chan trailing after you, until a voice calls out, “Chan!”
You stop in your tracks, not turning around immediately.
It is Jeonghan. You need to get your head in the game.
Turning around, you find him jogging towards you two, his expression cheerful. He pats your brother’s shoulder, all smiles, “So glad you joined us today. Hope I did not bore you.”
Your brother chuckles, “Not at all, hyung. It was inspiring.”
“Very happy to hear that.” Jeonghan ruffles his hair before glancing at you. “I see you brought your sister today.”
“Yeah, she wanted to come along.”
“The more the merrier.” He flashes a dashing smile at you. “I hope it was bearable for you.”
Your heart races, whether from the nerves or his smile, you are unsure. “I enjoyed it. As Chan said, it was inspiring.” You smile, doing your best to appear docile and pliant, hoping he does not see through your lie.
“I am flattered.” He puts a hand on his heart and does a curtsy. “I hope to see you around often.”
You smile. Suddenly, Chan’s phone starts ringing, and he excuses himself, leaving you alone with the devil.
But also giving you an opportunity.
You take a small step closer to Jeonghan, fidgeting with your fingers. “Um…how should I address you? Pastor? Father?”
His eyes shine. “Just Jeonghan is fine, ___. I just lead some sermons every now and then.”
It's unnerving, the way he says your name, voice dripping with an irresistible concoction of honey and poison. You hear your heartbeat in your ears. “I…want to share something with you.” You do your very best to appear vulnerable and hesitant, like you are letting him in on a special secret. “I hope you will keep it a secret. It is regarding my brother.”
He comes one step closer, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him, and the subtle smell of his cologne tickling your nose. “What is it?”
“Uh,” you look around the empty church before locking your eyes with his. “I think he has gotten into some sort of cult.”
You swear his eyes flash. Dangerously. “What? Really?”
You nod. “He is always out and I found some things in his bedroom. Pictures of…rituals.” You remain cautious, not to mention the documents you found with Jeonghan’s name clearly written in them.
“That’s concerning. Have you talked to him about it?” He sounds genuinely worried. And for a second, you second-guess yourself. What if it is Jeonghan? You actually have no definitive proof that it is him, just some hunch based on some floating rumours.
You shake your head.
“Would you like me to talk to him about it?” He asks, ever the gentleman. With his soft voice of concern, the grave expression on his face, and his white outfit, he is the picture of salvation. Once again, your heart acts up.
“I would really appreciate that.” You whisper, giving him your best doe eyes. Jeonghan nods, determined. You don’t miss the way his gaze shifts for a second, towards your chest. You wore this sundress on purpose today — pink and frilly, slightly low-cut, not too scandalous for the church, but showing just enough skin than you usually do.
“Thank you, Jeonghan.” You whisper.
“You are most welcome,” he pauses. This time, his gaze is unabashed as he takes a slow, thorough look from your chest to your face. “I will see you next Sunday?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
—
For the next few days, Chan acts abnormally normal. He attends classes, returns home on time and even has dinner with you at the dining table.
As pleased as you are with this change, you also start feeling extremely confused. Have you truly gone paranoid? Did you misread something? Because what could be the reason behind this sudden change in Chan, if not Jeonghan counselling him?
However, something in you tells you that things are not as simple as they seem. Which is why, on Thursday night, when Chan announces after dinner that he is going to step out for a bit, you decide to trust your gut. You let him go without asking much, fully intent on following him.
He steps out of the house and after a few minutes, you do too, trailing after him while maintaining a safe distance. The streets are fairly empty, with a few cars going down the road, so there is no way for you to lose him.
Tonight has to be the night. You have second-guessed yourself enough, trapped in your confusion and Jeonghan’s manipulative charm, going round and round in search of the truth. That’s how cult leaders are—they play with your mind till it is broken. You need to see for yourself if it is truly him, and if it is, you are ready to document everything.
Chan continues walking, past the church and the slightly upper-class neighbourhood and into the small forest right at the outskirts of town. The deeper he goes into the forest, the bigger you create the distance between the two of you. You know there are people ahead. There is a constant hum of chatter and you see a glow of warm yellow light, which is of a fire, you realize once you are close enough.
It almost looks like a campfire. There are about thirty people gathered around it, looking like they are middle-aged or older. It seems harmless at first—just a bunch of people hanging around a fire until it does not. They start donning their robes, a black cloak, long and baggy, covering every inch of their skin. With the hoodie on, everyone becomes the same, and Chan is lost in the sea of faceless black.
You have yet to see Jeonghan, increasing your agitation. Would it even be possible to spot him in this crowd of people?
From your spot behind a pine tree, you shift, taking a few careful steps closer. With the looks of it, they seem to be preparing for a seance as one person starts lighting candles, placing them on the ground in the shape of a pentagon. Another person goes around the crowd, handing some sort of an item to everyone. A dagger? You cannot say for sure.
You start snapping pictures anyway.
In a few minutes, the preparation is done, and everyone stands in a particular formation, some at the points of the pentagon and others in a circle surrounding the pentagon.
And then, with your tension at its peak, finally, you are graced with the sight of him.
Yoon Jeonghan.
He appears from the other side of the forest, dressed in a red velvet cloak, standing out in the sea of black. Without the head cover on, you see his face, bright and clear and your heartbeat skyrockets. It was him last night in front of your house. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you hold the phone still, recording a video as he steps into the middle of the pentagon.
You are not close enough to hear what he is saying, but it seems to be the commencement of the seance, with the way everyone hangs on to his words.
The next few minutes are unnerving. They chant, they sing, their haunting echo of murmurs hanging in the air. You start to feel physically sick as a strong gust of wind flows by, as if something supernatural has arrived.
The fire burns stronger. The pages of a book they had open starts flapping. The unanimous voices grow louder. Until…they stop. Then, everyone pulls out a small dagger and, all together, slashes the palm of their hand, letting the blood gather onto what looks like a small earthen pot on the ground.
Shivers wrack down your spine. You have seen enough.
Soon, the crowd starts to break formation. You stop recording. They fall into a line behind Jeonghan, marching deeper into the forest.
You don’t move. You have seen enough for one night—if not your whole life.
With your heart shuddering in your chest and bile rising in your throat, you jog in the opposite direction, surrounded by weird noises of the night and rustles of leaves which sound like whispers of apparitions.
—
Two days later, you are back in the church with Chan.
The past two days have been tedious. After seeing everything firsthand, you had no desire to confront your brother, knowing full well it would go nowhere. You have also grown to be slightly afraid og him, of the new person he has become — unrecognizable and completely barren of all the childish glee you once associated with him.
You have not been in the best of health either, with a headache tormenting you every now and then. One of the reasons for that is Jeonghan. He has made a permanent home in your mind, plaguing your thoughts night and day, keeping you in a loop.
It is exhausting, frankly. You have grown to be almost apathetic, wishing you could just leave everything behind and drag Chan out of this place. You miss the days when he was a kid.
The sermon ends, and like the one before, you were too busy scowling at Jeoghan, thinking of all the ways you could crush him to the ground to pay any heed to the gospel.
Today, Jeonghan does not come to see Chan afterwards. Instead, he disappears amongst the crowd as they flow past you and out the door. Chan also leaves and you don’t bother stopping him, sitting silently at the pew and staring at the crucifix. The place suddenly seems haunted, an eerie quietness taking over the air, which was brimming with the murmurs of the crowd a few minutes ago.
Mindlessly, you walk towards the altar, taking in your surroundings carefully — from the statues and candlesticks to the Rose window, and the intricate details of the ceiling. As you turn back toward the entrance, a dark wooden confessional set into the side wall catches your eye — narrow and unobtrusive. Almost unconsciously, your feet carry you towards the booth and you hesitate for a second, your hands stopping an inch away from the door.
What are you doing here?
You glance above the confessional, and with no light glowing, you decide to step in and take a seat. Inside the cramped space, you remain frozen for a few moments, observing the silhouette of the figure on the other side of the screen.
“Peace be with you. You may begin when you are ready.” A quiet voice says from the other side.
“I…I don’t know what to say. It has been a while…” You whisper, fingers tightening on your lap, a part of you still wondering what possessed you to be here?
“What has been weighing on your heart? What ails you, my dear?”
You swallow, suddenly feeling emotional. Eyes focused on your shaky hands, you try to understand why you are so on edge. Was it only the recent events? Or was it the move in the first place? Or the fact that you had to leave behind a thriving job? Or the gruesome events that started this cursed chain in the first place?
You don’t know. The realization leaves you feeling helpless and frustrated. Your life has always been haunted — from the death of your mother when you were a child to the downward spiral of your father — everything has left you feeling bitter and exhausted. It is a bitter pill to swallow, bringing tears to your eyes.
All this struggle just to fail. You could not protect your brother. Maybe something is rotten in your blood—in this family’s blood.
Quiet sobs fill the confession booth. You try to stifle them, covering your mouth with your hands, only to realize, the harder you try, the louder they get. You were never the religious type. Neither was your father. The last time you stepped into a church before last week was when your mother was alive. You have never been inside a confession booth, but right now, this feels like the only place that is safe — that can ease your burdened heart.
Or so you thought.
The door on your side is suddenly pulled open. There stands Jeonghan, in all his evil glory. You yelp, springing up, “What are you doing? I am confessing!”
“You were taking a lot of time, so I came to see you.”
“Wait…” you gulp. “You were behind the screen? Are you even allowed to take confessions?”
He gives a noncommittal shrug, stepping into the booth. Your heart beats faster as he comes closer to you in the already limited space. Without any words, he reaches out to your face, wiping a teardrop with his thumb before licking it. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
You swallow, “Stop this, please.” In an attempt to get away from him, you press yourself against the wall, but he only leans closer. Your clothes touch.
“Stop what?”
You inhale a shaky breath. “I know it is you.”
There is a dramatic shift in his gaze. You try to assure yourself that it is the lighting, but for a second, you swear his eyes go pitch black, a sadistic look taking over. His voice, however, remains as gentle as before. “What do you mean?”
“It was you!” You cry. “You were in front of my house the other night! You have lured my brother into your goddamn cult! It has been you this entire time.”
With a slow tilt of his head, he regards you with special care. The smirk on his lips grows centimeter by centimeter, “Oh, my sweet, poor child. It is okay. You are just stressed.”
Baffled at his audacity, at him cosplaying a priest, you gape at him and he gently cradles your head, pushing you towards his chest. Embracing you, he gingerly strokes the back of your head. Then, his demeanour shifts and with his lips against your ear, he whispers, “A smart little raven, aren’t you?”
You flinch away from him. The look on his face is the embodiment of evil, making you shiver from head to toe. He is the devil incarnate.
“I swear to God—”
“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger against your lips and forcing you back into the wall, this time his body pressed against yours, effectively trapping you. “Hush, baby. It is okay. It will all be…okay.” He drawls, leaning towards your face. Taking you by sheer shock yet once again, he flicks out his tongue and drags it down your face, licking one side clean of all tears.
Your body reacts dangerously. You grow tense, your hands immediately forming fists, but a feeling blooms in your belly — something bordering on depravity and danger.
“You…” you grit your teeth, unable to find the right words. What can you do now? Scream? Cry? Slap him?
“Hush,” he shushes you again, holding his finger against your lip. “You are very stressed. So much so that you are imagining things. Let me help you out, hm?” His right hand touches your waist, before gently going south, feeling your thigh and then even lower. Grabbing onto your knee, he yanks your leg and wraps it around his waist, slipping his fingers under your skirt.
“You—” your voice is a mere squeak, mortified at what is happening. You are too stunned, barely even processing his actions.
“Be a good girl,” he hums, resting his face against yours, his lips almost touching yours but not quite, leaving the ghost of warmth lingering. You feel his hand cupping you underneath the skirt, fingers brushing over your panties before pushing them to a side. Then, he presses his thumb right where it throbs the most and your breath hitches.
“Jeonghan, please, stop—” he puts his palm on your mouth. Pushing you harder against the wall, he rests his body weight on top of you, slipping one finger inside you while his thumb rubs your nub. It is a shame to realize you are wet, and the feeling is amplified by the look of sheer victory on his face. His eyes sparkle like black diamonds, “My little raven is wet, isn’t she?”
“No, I am not!” is what you say, but that is muffled by his palm on your mouth. He tsks, giving you a scolding look. “Dirty girl, why are you all wet inside a confession booth, hm?”
His index finger moves in and out of you, making you shiver and whine, before he slips another finger inside you.
You don’t know what is wrong with you. He must have done something to you—yes, that is the only logical explanation. Your brain seems to have turned into mush, desire and a need for release overtaking every one of your senses until you are left as nothing but a needy mess. And the way he looks at you — looks through you unnerves you, taking your desire to new heights.
“Do you feel how wet you are?” He hums. “You are soaking, baby. Do you need me that much?” He grins, lips curving upwards to reveal his pearly whites. He has three fingers moving mercilessly inside you, while his thumb continues to torture your clit, which grows more and more sensitive. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, holding on for dear life while your toes curl in your loafers.
You are like a woman possessed. The only thing that you can think of — that matters right now is your release. And only he can give you that.
As if you were already not on edge enough, Jeonghan rests his head in the crook of your neck, his lips meeting your neck. He kisses and sucks, making his way upwards. “Does this feel good?” He whispers between kisses. Your answer, once again, remains muffled.
“I know it does,” he continues. “I can feel that way you are shaking. God, you are so perfect, aren’t you?”
His fingers push deeper inside of you, curling against your sensitive walls. You writhe and whimper against him, eyes rolling towards the back of your head as your vision starts to blur. You feel it coming — one more touch on your clit and you would be gone. It seems that he knows that too, which is why, suddenly, he pulls away from you, completely. His fingers pop out of your pussy, and he steps back from you, leaving you quivering against the wall, looking at him with the most pitiful eyes.
“Wait…no, please—” you pant, wild eyes gaping at him. No, please—what is he doing?
He smirks, making a sound of amusement and scoffing. Not breaking eye contact with you, he pops his fingers into his mouth and slowly, tantalizingly so, licks them clean. Then, he has the audacity to give you an innocent smile, “You are the sweetest, my raven. Absolute perfection.”
Pausing, he takes a look at your shaking legs. “I hope to see you again soon.”
Like a gust of spring breeze, he is gone, closing the door with a soft click.
—
The first thing you do after getting home is play with yourself.
You finally have your orgasm, but it feels nowhere near satisfactory, driving you to pure frustration. As you lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling, a haunting numbness engulfs you.
This feels like a losing game, going much farther than you had originally anticipated. You were supposed to get Chan out of this fucking mess, but now you are the one tangled deeper in it. For God’s sake, you were not supposed to let Jeonghan finger your pussy inside a church.
The memory makes heat rise to your face, and before you succumb to the endless pit of sinful temptation, you stop that thought.
It is time to make a decision.
—
That night, Chan returns home just after you finish dinner.
“Chan, come here.” You call out from the kitchen the moment he walks by. With a begrudging look on his face, he steps in while you finish doing the dishes. Inhaling a deep breath, you dry your hands and set the rag down before turning behind.
“We are leaving next week. Pack your things.”
He blinks. Slowly. For a moment, the only thing cutting through the silence is the ticking of the clock and the distant rumble of thunder outside.
“What did you say?”
“We are leaving.”
“What do you mean leaving?”
“It is exactly what you think. We are leaving this town. For good.”
He scoffs, raking a hand through his hair, “What the fuck are you talking about? Why would we leave? Did you get a new job or something?”
“It does not matter, Chan. I need you to pack your stuff.”
“Fuck no.” He hisses, eyes blazing.
“Excuse me?” You step closer to him.
“You are welcome to leave if you don’t like staying here. But I am not going anywhere. For fuck’s sake, I am an adult now. You cannot drag me wherever you please!”
Your nostrils flare. “Give me one good reason why you want to stay in this dead town.” You say quietly. Chan swallows, his defiant eyes locked with yours. Seconds tick by, and no response. You take another step closer to him. “Let me tell you why.” You come to a stand right in front of him. “Because you have been going around behind my back, joining fucking cults and doing god knows what in the dead of the night.” Your brother takes a step back, alarmed. You continue, seething, “Because you are enamoured by that fucking bastard Jeonghan. You hang onto his every word, going into the forest in the middle of the night, cutting your hand and making pacts. Do you think I am stupid? That I would never find out?”
A pause. Then he steps back, turning around as if he is done with this conversation.
“Don’t you dare walk away!” You cry. A thunder crashes nearby. “After everything I have done to protect you — after everything we have been through, how could you go and do something like this!”
“Exactly!” He yells, turning around. “After everything we have been through, this felt like the only right answer!”
“Have you lost your mind? Do you even know what you are saying?” You are incredulous.
“Oh, I am perfectly aware.” He grits his teeth, his face red, his eyes shining with unshed tears and anger. “You protected me? Don’t lie — you protected yourself. Everything you did, from all the lies to moving here, you did it to protect yourself and your reputation!”
You open your mouth to refute but his voice grows louder. “You were the one to turn away first. After everything happened, you treated me like a monster! It was you, not anyone else! You created a gap between us, avoiding me and then acting like everything was okay.”
“I did it to make you feel comfortable!”
“You made me feel like a monster! Like there was something actually wrong with me!” Chan starts pacing around, a hand grabbing onto his hair out of frustration. “Even after we moved here, you would go to the library early in the morning and come home late. You abandoned me. But it was with Jeoghan that I felt like I belonged.”
“You have lost your mind.” You whisper.
“So be it.” He seethes. “So what if I am in a cult? What is it to you? You made your decisions and I made mine. At least over there, I am not treated like a monster.”
“You are brainwashed.”
“Shut up!” He bellows. “Just shut up! You know nothing. You understand nothing. Over there, it is friendship, brotherhood, belonging.”
“Are you saying that you don’t belong here — with me? We are a family, for God’s sake.” You croak, tears gathering in your eyes.
He pauses. For a long moment, he gazes into your eyes. “It never once felt like home. Not with dad, not with you. But in that fucking cult, as you like to call it, it feels so.”
“Chan, please—”
“I am staying here.” He announces, stepping away. “And I am done talking to you. Don’t show me your face again.” He hisses before marching towards his room, shutting the door with a loud bang.
By now, it is pouring outside.
—
In the midst of the storm and the pouring rain, the church stands in all its glory, soft, warm light emanating from the windows. For a place so holy, it feels haunted, something eerie hanging in the air — the raindrops trickling down the structure, the spire shining even in the darkness of the night.
Standing in front of the towering architecture, you briefly wonder how you came to be here. After the argument with Chan, you stepped outside and, almost unconsciously, your feet had carried you here. Your mind draws a blank on the journey, as if you opened your eyes and were transported here from your kitchen.
What were you supposed to do again?
Ah, right.
You are here with a goal.
Soaked from head to toe, you push open the doors and step inside, the warmth of the air a sharp contrast against your sopping figure. You continue straight ahead, towards the altar, your footsteps leaving behind marks of water and a wet, squeaky sound. The man you are here for is right there.
What is this if not divine will?
Jeoghan, who was crouching at the altar, busy lighting candles, turns around and tilts his head in confusion. “When I said I would see you soon, I did not mean this soon.”
In silence, you continue your way towards him. He stands up, setting the candle down. His gaze shifts more towards concern than amusement as he takes in your drenched, dishevelled look.
“Are you okay?” He asks, inching towards you. Still silent, you march towards him, stepping into the altar and in the blink of an eye, you charge at him, the hand carrying the knife aimed straight at his heart. “I am going to kill you, you fucking lunatic!”
Jeonghan — as surprised as he is — catches your wrist in time, ensuing a struggle. You grit your teeth, using all your strength to try to accomplish your goal while he prevents you from doing so. With one hand, he holds your wrists away and uses the other to dig into your shoulder, pulling you downwards. Even in this dire situation, he has the balls to laugh. “Holy shit, baby. With all this bloodthirst, maybe you should have been a cult leader.”
“Shut up, you son of a bitch,” you seethe, trying your utmost best to push the knife into his chest using both hands. He, however, overpowers, pulling your wrist downwards — lower and lower — until it hurts so bad that you drop the knife.
Immediately, he kicks it away. With another cry of fury, you charge at him, this time aiming to wrap your hands around his throat. He, however, blocks your grip and smoothly grabs both of your hands, flipping you around, and pins them behind you. “As much as I love this crazy side of you, you need to stop, little raven,” he pants in your ear.
“You…” you inhale deeply, struggling to get free. “You are an evil, depraved man. You make me sick.”
“No, I don’t.” He announces, unfazed and calm. “I do not make you sick, ___. In fact, I make you curious. I intrigue you.” He pulls your body even closer, the wetness of your skin now soaking into his clothes. “I know you think about me. All the time. Especially at night.” His sultry voice drips into your ears, each slowly enunciated word making its mark on you. He uses a hand to lift your chin and make you look at him. The faint smile on his face grows bigger — slow but deliberate, like he has all the time in the world. His gaze lowers — tracing your quivering lips like he is memorizing every single fracture in your resolve.
You are gone. There is no escaping him. He is inside your head. He has been there for a while.
Still, you hiss. “I don’t.” Another attempt to free your wrists. “I swear to God, Jeoghan, I will kill you.”
“Oh, baby,” he shakes his head, “Have we not moved past that? You could never kill me. After all, who will make you cum when I am gone?”
“You—”
“Tell me, sweetheart, did you go home and touch yourself? Did it feel good? Did you wish it were me playing with you?”
“I didn’t, you asshole!”
He makes a sound of disapproval. “Does that mean, if I touch you between your legs now, I will not find you wet?” A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you tell yourself it is because you got soaked in the rain. “Shall we check?” He hums lazily, slowly sneaking his hand towards the string of your trousers.
“Jeoghan, no—”
“Calm down, my raven.” He whispers in your ear. With the string undone, he easily shoves his hand inside, cupping you through your underwear.
“Jeoghan, please—” He pushes aside your panties and slips a finger in. And it is like a deja vu. Why do you always end up like this with him?
Against your ear, you feel him chuckle, “See? You are all bark and no bite.”
You shake, a feeling of frustration, disgust, anger and helplessness coursing through you at the same time, “You are disgusting. You are a filthy, wretched scum of the earth,” your voice comes out quiet and slightly breathless. They seem to carry some weight, however, as Jeoghan stops, his body tensing behind you.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me the first time.” You state, using the moment to push free from his grip and take a few steps back. He continues to regard you with a look of serious inquisitiveness.
“You are a coward. You prey on innocent, vulnerable people like my brother for your stupid fucking rituals and whatnot. God — do you not realize how pathetic you look?” You don’t hold back, letting the waves of anger wash over you. In silence, Jeoghan continues to watch you, his gaze calculating but somber. “You wound my feelings, you know.” He finally murmurs, his gaze drifting around the church, as if he is an inspector.
“Oh yeah? The truth is bitter, is it not?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You are wrong about one thing, my raven. I do not prey on people.” He pauses, a dark, almost predatory glint appearing in his eyes. “I help them.”
You roll your eyes.
“I help people by giving them a place to belong. I hear them out. I listen to their stories and then offer them friendship and fraternity.”
“You manipulate them.”
“No.” He states, voice rising an octave. He is his usual composed self but you hear the grit and determination in his words. “I make them feel seen, heard, and understood.” A pause and a growing smirk. “Unlike you, who failed to do that with your brother.”
There is a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What did you just say?” Your voice is quiet.
He laughs, dragging his fingertips across the pews in careful observation. “After everything your brother went through…you should have taken better care of him, sweetheart.” His tone is loaded with mockery.
You stagger back a step, the air in your lungs completely dissipating. He takes another slow, relaxed step forward, “I mean, the poor kid killed his father. Can you imagine the trauma?” He shakes his head in a faux display of pity. The world has started to spin around you. “How…” you pant, suddenly not getting enough oxygen in your system. “H-how do you know about that?”
“Chan told me.” He shrugs.
“Lies!” You cry.
He stares at you — deadpan. You know it in the depths of your soul that he is indeed saying the truth, but it takes everything in you to come to terms with it. With the fact that your brother shared such a grave secret, and that too with Jeonghan. This diabolical man has you captive now — he had been for a while.
Oh God, please let this be a nightmare.
“He would never!” You bellow, voice shaking, tears brimming in your eyes. “He…he would never. He promised me.”
Jeoghan sighs dramatically, taking another step towards you while you take another one back. “It is a truly burdensome thing to keep to yourself, you know? And it is all good, it was ruled as self-defence.” He pauses. You interpret the look in his eyes as one of challenge. “You were the witness, after all. And he was still a minor. And your father had a long, infamous history of abuse.” He pauses and raises a fist towards his neck, “Gone with a stab in the neck. Bam!” He makes a gesture of a stab, the smirk in his face turning into a cruel grin. “I mean, he deserved it, after everything he did to you guys. Tell me — is it really true that your mother committed suicide because of him?”
Bile rises to your throat. Your nervous system is on the edge of shutting down, each word spilling from his mouth hitting your skin like acid. Suddenly, you feel useless and betrayed, your entire life feeling like a joke to you. Especially your life here in this town. It seems like you have been playing the role of a jester for Jeonghan for a while now.
Turns out, you are the pathetic one, not him.
Unable to shoulder the shock any longer, your knees give out. Falling onto the ground, you sit in a puddle of wetness and murmur, “How could he do that to me? How could he share those things with you? How could he?”
“I have that ability, you know. To make people say things. To make them confess. I could do that to you right now. Should I?”
His words fall on deaf ears as your frame continues shaking with sobs. Jeonghan takes slow, deliberate steps towards you, his footsteps leaving a haunting echo. “I already know what is in your heart.”
You remain mute, panting, tears streaming down your face.
“Should I say it for you, my raven?” He comes to a stand in front of you. Takes you in with dark eyes, in which a fire has been ignited, one of victory and possession. A soft hand brushes the hair away from your face before gently cupping the side of your face and tilting your head upwards. “You want me. You want to belong to me. You want me to the point you hate yourself.”
You bite your lip, fresh tears gushing down from your eyes. “Stop, please.” Your voice is barely a whisper.
“Oh, baby,” he coos, resting on one knee to come to your eye level. “It is okay. You just need to stop lying to yourself. Stop punishing yourself.”
You are not in this world anymore. You feel and hear nothing, your soul shrinking back and hiding itself in a shell. From this point on, nothing matters except the fact that you failed your brother in more ways than one.
Producing a handkerchief from his pocket, Jeonghan uses it to wipe your tears and the droplets of rain beading down from your wet hair. Dabbing the linen across your face with utmost care, he says, “It is time for you to give in, my raven. Give in to me and see how good you feel. I can heal you.”
For a long, long moment, you stare at him, your blank gaze focused on his face, observing every little detail — the bumps and the moles on his skin. “Just kill me.” You whisper after a while.
Jeonghan stops. He blinks before dropping the handkerchief. Seconds pass by — one, two, three before you suddenly feel his fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing you.
The air lightens, your vision gets blurry.
“You want me to do this?” He grits. “You want me to squeeze that pretty life out of your body?” Your head hurts, and in a half-hearted attempt, you hold his wrists, unsure whether you truly want him to continue or stop.
Jeonghan, however, has his plans and with his fingers around your neck, he yanks you closer, wrapping an arm around your lower back and smashing his lips with yours.
He ravages your mouth while you feel light-headed. And it is a euphoric feeling. You let go of all your body weight, letting him hold you.
And he does. His hand lets go of your throat to yank your jacket off of you, the sopping material sprinkling droplets of water as it comes off of you. His lips continue to be against yours, his tongue in your mouth, depriving you of your breath in another way. At the same time, his hands work, feeling your arms, your back, your shoulders, pulling at your flimsy tank top.
“You want me to kill you, pretty girl?” He snarls against your lips. “Why would I do that, hm? I could do so much worse to you by keeping you alive and with me.”
He rips your tank top off your skin in the next moment.
Already cold from the rain, your naked body shivers. “Poor baby, are you cold?” He whispers, engulfing you in his arms, kissing you once again while his fingers find home around your neck. His body guards yours, pulling you impossibly close, touching every inch of your bare skin while he kisses you as if his life depends on it. You feel like a puppet, pliant and mindless, giving into this inescapable madness, some part deep in you already accepting and even craving it.
Shit, what is wrong with you?
You don’t get to contemplate the answer as he is pushing you down, pressing your back flat against the church floor, his body on top of yours. Lips still interconnected, one of his hands crawls down, touching you between your legs. Pushing your panties aside, he thrusts two of his fingers inside you and makes a grunt of satisfaction at how easily his digits slip in due to your arousal.
“Oh god.” You cry, eyes falling closed as you feel his fingers move in and out of you with ease, hitting the perfect spot each time. You shudder, fingers gripping his shoulders. Next to your lips, he whispers, “There is no god here, little raven. Only me.”
He flicks your clit and you erupt in a loud moan. “So say my name. Scream it.” Paired with the movement of his fingers and the scalding way he keeps looking at you, you know you’re not very far from your release. Some fragmented part of your mind vaguely registers how embarrassing this is but by now, you have gone past the point of caring.
Because he is everywhere, his touch is everywhere — fingers inside you, lips on your jaw, neck and breasts. Biting, licking, marking.
He speeds up the movement of his fingers, and you hiss, “Jeonghan…please—”
He chuckles. “Gonna cum, sweetheart? So quickly? Is this evil bastard making you feel so good?”
“Yes…please,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing onto his body like he is your lifeline. With each second, you feel the delicious, exhilarating release building and building, your toes curling from pleasure and anticipation.
“Come then. Wet my fingers with your sweet juice. His filthy words make you cry out loud, his thumb brushing over your clit, rubbing it swiftly and sending you over the edge, face-first into your orgasm. It shakes your limbs as you lie there pressed underneath his weight, feeling it wash over you, your pussy spasming repeatedly while he keeps playing with you throughout your high. When you finally feel the last of your orgasm ebb away and your mind starts functioning again, Jeonghan pulls his fingers out of you, dripping in your essence and licks his digits clean, never wavering eye contact with you.
On top of you, he looks like God. Or the incarnation of pure evil — you are not sure. Whatever it is, you can no longer deny him. You shiver, whether due to his gaze or from the cold, you don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore.
Jeonghan's eyes lazily drag across your face, taking in every detail. “I am just getting started with you, baby.” He hums, tracing his wet index finger upwards, from your belly button to your nipple to your collarbone and then stopping at your throat. “I love seeing my marks on you,” he mutters almost to himself, no doubt referring to his fingerprints around your neck. “I am going to mark every inch of you, little raven. Mark my words.”
In the blink of an eye, his hands move, grabbing onto the waist of your trousers and dragging them down, pulling them off of you completely along with your panties. You lie beneath him, completely at his mercy and without a stitch on your skin.
With a grin matching that of the devils, he works on the buttons of his pants, finally freeing his cock, which had created a tent in his pants. Thick, curved, and leaking, it shoots a maddening flame of desire from your belly to right between your legs. No one has ever made you feel this way — this depraved and desperate, being led on by a mind-numbing arousal. Unable to look away, you swallow, not finding much to say, sweaty palms pressed against the hardwood floor in anticipation of sin.
“Dirty little girl,” he flashes his teeth, eyes sparkling with desire and mischief. “Don’t you know it is rude to stare?”
“I—”
“Hush, now. Take a deep breath.” He warns, making himself comfortable on top of you before lining up his length with your pussy and pushing in with a harsh thrust. A small, breathless squeak floats past your lips at the intrusion and the fullness, your hands immediately reaching out to latch onto Jeonghan’s shoulders. On top of you, the man pants, a quiet grunt coming from him as he thrusts deep inside you.
“Fuck,” his body shudders. “You are so tight and wet, little raven.” He huffs, pausing for a second, your walls clenched tight around him, before pulling out and pushing in all the way. The sounds your pussy makes are mortifying, leaving behind a wet squelch at his movements, your body quietly shaking at his intrusions.
“Please,” you find yourself begging for something you are unaware of. Jeonghan, who has built up a steady pace by now, leans back slightly to get a better look at your face. “Feels good, baby?”
You shake your head, delirious.
“Of course it does,” he pants. His hands wrap around your neck, fingers molding around your soft skin the way they did before. “You love to act all high and mighty. But you are just a slut, aren’t you? You like getting this cunt pounded by me, no?”
He increases his pace and your eyes fall closed, mindless whimpers and moans coming out of your mouth. “Answer me, whore!” He seethes and then lands a slap on your cheek. Wide eyed, you stare at him, panting, the skin he just hit stinging deliciously.
“Fuck,” he grins, diabolical. “You just got tighter around me. You like me slapping you?”
You are breathless, still too dumbfounded by his action and your reaction. And without giving you enough time to process the first one, he lands another slap on your other cheek, and this time you feel yourself clenching around him.
Fuck.
“God damn it, baby,” he grunts. “Aren’t you a dirty little pain slut?”
You make a pathetic noise, somewhere between an agreement and a sob.
“Answer me, slut!” Another slap.
“Yes!” You cry. “I love it, Jeonghan!”
The man almost growls at your words, going into a frenzy. He doesn’t hold back, pulling out almost all the way before snapping his hips back in, making your body arch. He holds his place, letting you feel every pulsing inch of him. “Fuck!” You hiss, legs shaking. Jeonghan smiles lazily at your reaction, his hips moving again, slowly at first, then increasing, the thrusts hitting you so deep each time you feel like he’s inside your belly. Leaning down, his mouth trails over your neck, littering open-mouthed kisses before they travel towards your breasts, capturing a nipple into his mouth. You mewl in pleasure.
His tongue teases your nipple, circling the hard bud before he gives it a harsh suck and then finishes off with a soft bite. He does the same to your other breast while you writhe below him, all the nerves of your body on fire, searching desperately for a release.
“You are a temptress, little raven,” he hums against your breast, gently biting a nipple while one of his hands crawls downwards to find your clit. The bundle of nerves is swollen and sensitive, immediately making you cry out. “Please—I wanna cum!”
“Oh yeah, my slut?” Letting go of your nipple with a pop, he gazes at you, unblinking, while his fingers continue playing with your clit. “Beg for it. Beg for me to fill your dirty hole up.”
“P-please, Jeonghan. Please…let me cum. Oh–fuck…harder.” You babble, head lost in a cloud of pleasure as you feel every inch of his dick brand itself into your walls. The pleasure makes your head spin and you know you have to come soon. Otherwise, you just might go insane.
“Such an obedient slut,” he says and increases his pace even more, drilling into your swollen cunt, rough breaths falling from his lips. One of his hands continues to toy with your clit while the other pinches your nipple harshly and you wail. “Jeonghan!”
You finally taste your release. In the blink of an eye, the coil in your belly snaps and fireworks shoot throughout your body as you reach your peak, body trembling underneath him, toes curled, eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Yes, good girl. Come for your master.” He hisses, leaning down to nibble on your neck, feeling your deathly grip on his cock, your warm, wet walls spasming around him.
Absolutely cock-drunk, you feel nothing, transported into a world of bliss, from which you are dragged out rather quickly when he whispers in your ear, “You are going to give me another one, baby.”
You’re too lost to even process his words but your body moves to action, another orgasm already building up as he starts to build up his tireless pace again. Jeonghan’s soft grunts increase as he rubs your wet pussy mercilessly, his thrusts now faltering. “Fuck. Gonna cum, soon, little raven. Gonna fill you up. Beg me. Beg for my seed.”
“Jeonghan…please,” you slur, brain riddled with the torturous sensation on your clit and inside your pussy. It is heaven and hell at the same time. You are too sensitive for another orgasm but at the same time, you need it like your next breath. “Fill me up…” you mumble, lying flat on your back and surrendering your body to him. You are his to play with, to do as he pleases.
“Open your mouth,” Jeonghan orders quietly. Huh? You don’t really think before doing as he says and in the next second, a glob of spit drops into your mouth. Face on fire, you stare at the haunting man on top of you. He grins, “Fuck. You are perfect, you know that?” One hand comes to tenderly stroke your face. “Swallow it like a good girl.”
You do so. Jeonghan throws his head back in a groan, muttering curses underneath his breath. “Fuck, baby. I am gonna fill you up so good. Put my child in and never let you leave.”
His words start to unravel you. Your body goes tense and with one more flick of his finger on your clit, you reach your second orgasm, messy and merciless as your pleasure crashes into you like waves. In between a mess of tears and drool, you feel Jeonghan spill inside you at the same time, his warm seed filling you up, and then leaking out of your spent hole. Your legs shake even after you sense him pull out as white spots dance in your vision, your brain completely reduced to mush.
Jeonghan’s body slumps onto yours, his chest heaving against yours while you lie beneath him and try to get enough air into your lungs. You stare straight ahead, at the ceiling of the church, which stretches skyward in pale stone arches. Candlelight trembles along the curves of the ceiling, making the shadows dance hauntingly. Faded frescoes bloom between the ribs — angels with solemn faces, wings outstretched, their eyes turned eternally toward heaven. Yet for a second, you feel as if their eyes are set straight at you — defiled and used, lying on the church floor with the man who led her to sin.
Oddly, you do not feel any guilt, only acceptance. And even relief.
—
The storm continues raging outside—now stronger than before. A thunder lands somewhere nearby, leaving behind an ear-deafening sound.
You flinch in Jeonghan’s arms, your naked body pressed against his clothed one.
Your head rests against his shoulder, your face turned aside, your eyes staring at nothing. His fingers stroke your back in a mindless pattern.
Another crash of thunder.
“It is okay, my raven.” The man assures, voice dripping with care, like he is talking to a child in agony. “I have got you now. You will be just fine. You will be just fine.”
You swallow and close your eyes. Your hands wrap around his waist.
You will be just fine.
For a bonus, extra special scene, click here or head over to my Patreon! This work will be cross-posted on AO3.
A/N 2: whew, so that was that lol. idk what possessed me to write that filth but ik for a fact Hannie would be the best cult leader and he would have managed to rope me in his schemes. anyway, thank you for reading till the end, i hope you enjoyed it! please leave your thoughts in the comments or in my ask box! always happy to talk more about my fics <33
on a different note, I am kinda wondering if I should start writing fics about other groups. to be very specific, on Ateez's San. I have been listening to them on and off since their debut and recently, I have developed the phattest crush on San so my hands are lowkey itching to write a fic on him (that man is fine af, okay). anyway, just sharing a thought, maybe I will write a drabble first and see how the response it. but yeah, i will stop yapping now! have a great day wherever you are!!
⚬ pairing: actor! kim mingyu x author fem! reader
⚬ word count: 15.7k
⚬ warnings: (pls read carefully) mentions of food, alcohol, smut warnings: sex against a wall, squirting, oral (f. receiving), v minor possession kink, he repeatedly calls her a sweetheart hehe, switches to his POV sometimes MDNI
⚬ genres: fluff, romance, tiniest bit of angst but not really, not to toot my own horn but i fink i just wrote a killer romcom.
jungkook, @jakedustry and @livmarauder make minor appearances!!
synopsis <3
as a serious author who has been trying to earn a serious repute in the industry, romance rumors with a superstar is never really a good news. and when the said superstar leans into those rumors, it gets even more annoying to deal with - especially when you have to shoot a movie with him!
not beta read and written in a single day cause im cray cray like that, dont judge!! pleek support authors by REBLOGGING and reviewing our works!
credits: to @strangergraphics for the pretty dividers <3
playlist -
- robbers by the 1975
- borderline by tame impala
- stargirl interlude by lana del rey and the weeknd
author's note: part of my valentine's day event, lmk if you'd want to be tagged :)
There is something about the scalding airport coffee, that you over-saturate with at least double the amount of sugar than what you would usually go for, that always screws all your exhaustion-weighed muscles back into your place and gives you that additional skip in your step as you checkout.
That, when paired with the radiance on your skin and your self-satisfied grin as you feel the weight of your recently completed manuscript tucked proudly under your arm, would make no one suspect that you have just gotten off a sixteen-hour long flight. After a full summer of nursing tans under the West-coast sun and enjoying the Californian lifestyle, it feels so good to be back with yet another story that you want to eagerly share with your team and eventually, your readers.
Talking about the readers…it is definitely strange just how many of them have recognized you and asked for your autograph today. While you do expect such a reaction when something new comes out, it is definitely uncalled for when you’re just simply returning from a vacation. Your latest book was published over a year ago and though it was a best-seller on every lists that matter, the frenzy had since died down only to be reignited again this winter when your fans began fancasting famous actors and actresses when they caught wind about one of the prominent production houses acquiring rights to adapt one of your books on screen.
You didn’t know much about the social buzz, you had learnt better than to go online to gauge fan-reaction when it comes to your art. But you do know the name that often seems to pop up when it comes to the dream casting of the male leads of your books.
Kim Mingyu.
Arguably one of the most sensational names in the current cohort of young actors with an unimaginable fan following across all social media platforms and a generational talent backed by critical acclaim.
People—your readers—always tell you just how similar he is to the romantic leads that you write.
Take the current one for example, who is hovering near baggage claim with a dog-eared paperback of one of your best-sellers while you sign autographs for her and her sister.
“Any news about the cast for ‘The Art of You’?” she asks.
You politely shake your head, even if there is some news about it, you are yet to turn your work phone back on to read the texts or emails from Hunter, your manager, pertaining to the subject.
“It’s still in the talking stages.” You answer, accepting another paperback to sign from the guy beside her.
“Well I don’t know if you saw…but Kim Mingyu was seen wearing this coffee-stained white cable-knit sweater at dinner that totally reminded me of Matthias from that first date scene in ‘The Art of You’ when Allie spills coffee over him,” she squeals. “He had the classic Matthias tortoise-shell glasses on too!”
Your fingers stutter around the pen, it is such a peculiar outfit—the sole reason why you decided to write it in was the distinct nature of it and its relevance to that specific scene and storyline. It is certainly odd that someone with a full team of stylists would be caught wearing something like that in a similar setting.
“Oh,” you give her an awkward laugh, “is that so?”
When she nods eagerly, expecting you to say more with her camera pointed right in your face, you feel yourself flush even deeper. This—the recording, the unforeseen prodding—this is exactly what you did not sign up for when it comes to being a published author.
You lug your bag over your shoulder, watching your manager Hunter drawing closer and closer to you behind the sparse huddle of ten odd people that have surrounded you.
“That’s a weird coincidence.” You mumble to the girl who is still expecting a better response from you, before adjusting your sunglasses and letting Hunter pull you closer to herself.
But before you can fully walk away from them, you catch a round of murmurs between the girl who was recording you and her friend.
“She totally got flustered when you said his name!”
“I know right? I think it’s true.”
“What a fairytale if it is…”
⸻
You don’t even wait for her to fasten her seatbelt before you ask Hunter, “What was that about?”
She clears her throat. Odd.
Because Hunter never clears her throat like that.
“Just some fans…y’know, excited to see you.”
“No, that was definitely very strange,” you say, already unlocking your work-phone to go through any important emails or texts that you must have missed. There are none. “Awh, come on Hunty, just tell me what it is! I don’t see anything specific in the mail.”
Hunter peels her eyes off from the road, only momentarily, to give you this very plastic, very fake grin.
“I think it’s best if you hear that from your beloved publicist.”
Instantly, you feel all the radiance and heat that you had nurtured under your skin on your vacation perspire at the back of your neck.
“Is–is it something serious?” you ask, “No, but…Jungkook would tell me if something terrible happened on the publicity front, won’t he?”
Hunter sighs, rubbing her brows with this given-up look she gives you each time you show even an ounce of trust towards your friend and publicist Jeon Jungkook.
“All I’m gonna say is this,” Hunter says, slowing the car down at the red-light, “you trust that bunny-teethed boy way too much.”
Your head oscillates from Hunter, your manager, on your right to Khadija, your literary agent on your left before finally setting on your publicist whose ears are turning pinker with every moment passed without any words from you.
You try to exert authority in the room—you are their employer after all—by tightening your posture and holding your head high, but your sigh betrays you by shuddering right before you speak.
Three pairs of eyes turn to you, concerned and anticipating.
“A dating rumour.” You repeat Jungkook’s last words from before his smile had disappeared, bit by bit, as you sank down on the seat you are currently seated on when he said:
‘Oh, nothing serious. Mingyu has been spotted wearing and doing shit that is so much associated with you and your works that people think something’s going on between the two of you. Just a dating rumor.’
“A dating rumour.” You let your head fall back, contemplating consequences.
Beside you, Hunter snorts. “Except it isn’t “just a dating rumour” when the studio wants to milk this by casting Mingyu in the lead role for ‘The Art of You’.” She turns to you, “See I told Jungkook to control this when it started…I knew something like this would happen.”
In front of you, your publicist scoots closer, trying to garner your attention away from your manager before she fully convinces you to fire him.
“But think about it!” Jungkook insists, “these are just fan-made theories from your readers that have no validity to them…it only stirs up interest among public and if the studio does decide to cast him, that only means more sales for us because his fans would certainly be rushing to their nearest bookstores to get your books to look for ‘clues’.”
Jungkook gives you an expectant look, before conclusively adding with a shrug.
“His fans will gravitate to benefit you, your fans are already doing him a favor by hyping him up as Matthias—that’s basically cross pollination. What’s the harm?”
Beside you, Khadija quips in, “The harm is, Jungkook, that I am trying to have the literary industry take her seriously. Dating rumors with a world renowned actor only brings unwanted attention to her personal life…and while it might work for actors, it is never favorable for authors.”
Hunter, who has been quite beside you for far too long, rests her head on her fist and sighs, “You can never write a character that’s an actor if this gains more wind than it already has. Scandal, scandal. Drama, drama.”
“Not just that,” Khadija adds to it, “in fact every book you write about romance will be taken by the public as a morsel of your love-life. It’ll be all ‘oh did she write this about him?’ and nothing more.”
You stare at Jungkook with a worried frown, waiting for him to present something more concrete than just ‘higher sales’ in defense of these very valid concerns about the long-term consequences of this little rumor.
Jungkook straightens in his chair like he’s been waiting for this exact cue, palms pressed to his knees, eyes wide and earnest.
“Okay, okay,” he says quickly, holding up both hands before either ladies on your side can berate him more. “I hear you. I do. And you’re not wrong. All of that could happen. But it also doesn’t have to.”
Jungkook powers through anyway. “First of all, no confirmation. No denial. We don’t say a word. We let it fizzle on its own because people on the internet have the attention span of a goldfish with Wi-Fi.”
“That’s optimistic,” Hunter mutters.
“It’s strategic,” Jungkook shoots back, then turns to you again. “Second, this isn’t a scandal. There are no blurry photos, no secret dinners, no leaked texts. The man wore a sweater and drank coffee like a civilian. That’s not dating, that’s…autumn.”
Khadija’s eyes widen with disbelief. “That is not the only thing that has happened, you—” she turns to you, “he’s only mentioning the sweater incident because you heard about it at the airport. There have been far weird consequences…it’s almost like Kim Mingyu is campaigning to get the lead role for all your books.”
“Yeah, tell me why did that man have a whole magazine photoshoot wearing a pink linen shirt with blue orchids in a museum out of all places like that’s not exactly how Nathaniel proposed to Evie in your book ‘Method loving’.”
Jungkook jumps in to defend the guy like Hunter just personally offended him, “okay that magazine photoshoot was not—”
Hunter cuts him off, “she’ll always be known as the silly little romance author who—”
“Okay I am going to stop you there because I have so many opinions about the phrase ‘silly little romance author’.”
“Oh get over it, you know what I meant.”
“Enough you guys!” You finally stand up, your hands firm around your hips. “I have heard enough.”
You bite your lip as your team shifts around you uncomfortably.
“I don’t think this—me being linked to a superstar romantically—is a good idea. It has too many long term shortcomings.”
You cross your arms before your chest, fixing Jungkook in his place in front of you, “Kookie, this should have been handled way before it snowballed to this extent. But bygones are bygones, I want you to handle the narrative before my new manuscript gets green-lighted to be released and before the production for the movie begins.”
Jungkook slumps a little, but nods regardless, already pulling his phone out to make calls and do what he does best. Hunter gives him that ‘told you so’ smirk meanwhile Khadija has already forgotten the discourse as she flips through what is going to be your next best-seller.
It has been such a weird day. And while you were basking in the sunshine trapped deep inside your skin and the feel of the warm beach sand loose under your toes just a few hours ago, now all you want to do is take a suffocatingly hot shower, draw your curtains tight and sleep all the jet lag away.
But before you leave the living room as your team scrambles to handle the slight damage and prepare for all the big plans that would soon begin unfolding now that you’re back in business, you turn over your shoulder to give them one last verdict.
“Call the production house and tell them that I request them to cast literally anyone as Matthias but Kim Mingyu.”
Turns out, it is not so easy to just pick and choose the actors of your choice for your own story when a studio that is about to invest millions into it is involved. Especially not when the smarty-pants with finance degrees from Harvard and Yale at the said studio have already made predictions about the potential hefty gains that a particular casting would bring in based on the current metrics.
After a whole week of back-and-forths with the studio representatives over emails and calls that lasted for hours to no avail, they have invited you in for one last-ditch attempt to convince you about Mingyu because a sole disagreement is definitely not worth stalling such a profitable project over.
You enter the elevator in a daze, mumbling a quick 'thank you' to whoever was holding it for you without looking up from the freshly painted pink ribbons on your nails as you contemplate.
When you had spoken with the director and the casting manager some four days ago about considering someone else apart from the popular fan-vote by citing the example: ‘I mean, everyone wanted Sabrina Carpenter to play Rapunzel but that didn’t happen, how about we consider someone else too? Someone new?’, they had tried to make peace with you by saying they’ll be casting a new face for the female lead.
And when you still insisted, they had told you that upon your earlier request, they had reached out to the agents of the actors whom they deemed would be a good call but all of them were either unavailable or nervous due to Kim Mingyu’s interest and his name being associated with the project for so long—which was just a professional way of saying that the (not so) little shit was most probably threatening other actors from taking the role.
Your nails dig into your fist at the very thought of such blatant bullying.
You are supposed to meet the director along with Kim Mingyu today to work out whatever it is that is worrying you. And even though there is a certain stubborn part of you that is convinced that there’s no way you can be at complete peace with this casting, you are open to the possibilities.
The elevator door opens with a ping and you realized you never pushed the button for the floor that you were supposed to be on. Yet, here you are regardless. Perhaps the person in the elevator was also going to the same floor as you.
Whatever.
You begin walking out of the elevator and towards the director’s office, feeling how the weight of someone’s presence around you still hasn’t shifted. You clutch your bag hard, not because you think it is about to be snatched in this multi-billion dollar building, but because you are intrigued about the person who has been walking just two steps behind you. Perhaps they are going to the room adjacent to the one you are supposed to be in, that would explain it. But you are too shy to look up and see for yourself who it is…an awkward eye-contact, that tight-lipped smile and a stuttered ‘hi’...you’re doing everything to avoid it.
By the time you reach the director’s office, you expect your companion to keep walking further. But a bigger, strong hand grabs the doorknob, twists it and opens the door for you. It is then when you blink up, confused…only to be greeted by a watered down version of the dazzling smile that has been a staple across billboards and advertisements ever since his debut in a blockbuster hit.
Kim Mingyu.
An unmistakable shiver runs down your spine at the sight of him so close to you. You look and feel so small compared to him. Not just in size, but the very charismatic and open warmth of him that is so large that it feels like a hug even though he isn’t touching you.
He smirks, tilting his head just slightly and the world tilts towards him—you feel your own gravity tipping further and further into him to a point that you have to clutch the doorway to station your balance.
“After you,” he mumbles in a gentle voice.
Your head jerks from his face, to the empty office, to the elevator then back to him.
“You were…in…” you point to the elevator, “oh my gosh I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”
“Yeah, you have pretty poor spatial awareness.” He laughs, nudging you in and once you are both inside the office, he closes the door behind with a soft click.
You wait for him to say something else, or give you a cue…anything. But he doesn’t. He simply walks around the small table, eyeing the several magazines and begins flipping through the one that has his face on its cover.
So cocky.
“I guess we are both before time.” You mutter under your breath, checking your wrist-watch before slipping your bag off your shoulder and taking a chair.
As if just like you, he had been waiting for a cue as well, you hear a chair scrape against the floor as he sits down after you.
Is he nervous?
You get the answer to that question when he slumps back with that comfortable kind of ease that makes the office seem like his bedroom. The way his legs stretch on either side of your tightly pressed ones, almost bracketing them under the table without touching doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It is such a simple gesture, but it eases you nonetheless.
You busy yourself with nothing on your phone, just opening and closing your text messages, trying your best to conceal the shiver in your fingers from him. You don’t look at him, not properly at least, but the two times that your eyes were able to make it past his broad chest and onto his face, you caught that soft smile as he watched you.
“So,” he says lightly, finally breaking the silence, “why don’t you want me to be in your movie?”
The question prompts you to look at him, your eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at the directness. Before you can rush to smooth this over by throwing some half-lies and diplomatic reasons at him, you notice the amused twitch in his lips and that playful glaze in his eyes. It makes you stare at him, for some reason, like it is irresistible not to.
Perhaps that is why he is such a successful actor—one cannot simply not look at him.
And because you are staring with such rapt attention, you finally catch it.
The slight mullet.
The linen white shirt.
Your mouth drops open…because he looks very much like a medieval Prince who has been cursed to live in the current timeline where he falls for an eccentric librarian who believes that her aunt’s forgotten library is a time portal in itself—which is exactly the plot of the book that you have just finished writing on your vacation and which is currently being edited to be released.
If someone had photographed him coming here looking like this, or if he decides to grow the mullet even more and lean into that Princely look, you’re going to have problems. A very specific, a very personal one because this would only stir the already overheated pot more.
And here he is asking you why don’t you want to be associated with him?
Stupid.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!!
You realize the intensity of what kicking an actor as big and influential as Kim Mingyu might entail only after you have already hit his shin—hard—with your wedged heel.
He instantly recoils his leg away from you with a confused scowl. “Did you just…” he blinks, “what was that for!?”
“It was an accident.” You hiss.
“No it wasn’t! You totally kicked me deliberately.”
“Well maybe stop spreading your legs in other people’s spaces!”
You can only wish he realizes the metaphor hidden in your statement—you need him and the mention of his name around you to be gone.
Whatever banter that could have happened soon dissolves when the door creaks open and the director Izabelle, her assistant and the casting director join you with their polished smiles which are enough to tell you that they have come armed with all the tricks they can use to make this work.
But you are a tough cookie—at least that’s what you tell yourself even though you are unable to scowl strictly, like how you planned to, and end up smiling at them instead.
Mingyu is already in a much better place confident-wise as he reaches forward to give them all friendly side hugs asking questions about their health, family and things that only people who have worked closely together might ask.
You feel awfully a lot like an outsider in a room of people who are meeting to discuss something that you created.
Thankfully though, Mingyu doesn’t mention your weird behavior, just shrugs and ropes you into the conversation by saying ‘yeah we were just talking about that’ on some topic that you definitely weren’t talking about.
Once everyone is seated, you feel the energy shift a little. The discussions go on for a better part of the next hour with not a lot of inputs from Mingyu beyond an occasional grin that he shoots your way every time you talk about Matthias. So far, the discourse has yielded nothing concrete because you stand your ground about wanting a new actor to play Matt and Izabelle presents pretty compelling arguments against that.
So you re-strategize.
“If he’s casted, then people will just see Kim Mingyu, not Matthias Knight.”
The director’s assistant intervenes with the stats he must have jotted down on his tablet. “Uh actually, our social media intern Olivia ran surveys and arrived at the conclusion that people are very much against anyone who isn't Kim Mingyu to play Matthias.”
Across from you, the actor shoots you a wink.
“You believe your interns more than the writer of the story herself?” You feign offense.
The assistant’s eyes widen as he scrambles to apologize. “That’s not what I—”
“So are you concluding that I can not play Matt without even seeing me act?” Mingyu interrupts, straightening his spine up to appear more serious, “I would say you are making unfounded assumptions against me if I didn’t know any better. Do I not ‘look’ like Matt to you? Because I have read him, and I know I can act like him.”
You roll your eyes, “Why are you even here, Mingyu? Shouldn’t it be your agent doing these negotiations while you go try to start new rumors about us.”
A weighted silence engulfs the room. You didn’t mean to rip that band-aid off unwarned, you wanted to give him the benefit of doubt…but you’re also tired of everyone tiptoeing around the obvious elephant in the room.
Mingyu blanches, scratching the back of his neck and shrinking a little. “Is it that bad?”
The director Izabelle's eyes oscillate between you both, then to her assistant. “Wait, am I missing something?”
The casting director purses her lips tight, gesturing between you and Mingyu in this specific way with a quirk of her brows. Recognition flashes across the director’s face.
“Oh…that,” she gulps, turning to you. “Glad you brought that up. We actually sensed that the recent gossip might have been the reason behind your aversion. But we actually have some solutions that we’d like to suggest.”
You shift in your seat, ignoring the weight of his eyes from across the table.
Izabelle's assistant takes the cue to start explaining. “Before that, we have some clarifying questions. Are you both dating anyone currently?”
“No.” You both speak in unison.
You weren’t expecting Mingyu’s answer to put you at ease—but it does. Maybe because it makes you worry less about some random partner of his hating your guts for how the internet swoons over the mere idea of you and him.
“And you are vehemently against the idea of people linking you with him romantically?” The question is directed to you.
“Precisely,” you answer, your tone clipped, “it is too damaging for my career in the long term.”
Before the assistant can speak further, Mingyu interrupts him.
“Scared of the spotlight?” He teases, circling the ring on his pinky with his thumb.
“No.” you deadpan, “scared of the reputation of being an ex-girlfriend who writes sad books about how a superstar broke her heart.”
“Why are you betting against us? You could be the girlfriend who writes happy books about how love triumphs all.”
“We aren’t dating, Mingyu.” You draw that line. “I write about fictional people. Not you. Not me. Characters. And I’d rather remain that way.”
You know he was only teasing, but watching his smile fade by a beat makes you feel a little triumphant.
From your right, the assistant clears his throat drawing both your attention towards himself, “so, circling back to the issue at hand…since you are so against being associated with him, we are planning to crush out that rumor not by remaining silent or making any major statements, but through something that feels genuine and believable.”
Mingyu’s fingers stop thrumming against the table, and it is only when it halts that you realize that whatever tune he was playing against the wood felt so relaxing to your ears.
“How so?” He asks.
This time, it is the director who answers, “How about the two of you present yourself as these really great friends to the public? We can push the story that you two met at a party and became friends, she began reaching out to you to ask you questions about the acting industry and your experiences to research for a book she was writing and you got close. That’s it. Don’t act like lovers, but don’t try to avoid each other either.”
The assistant adds, “yeah our intern Olivia, also concluded from her research that any hushed out narratives only fuel the general public’s intrigue and if you both appear as ‘just friends’, the interest might soon die down.”
“To seal it shut,” Izabelle says, “we can also have Mingyu romance the actress we cast as a publicity stunt. The chemistry between the two leads will intrigue the public more than that between the actor and the author.”
You feel a pang of something hot and heavy drop down in your gut when she says that, even though it shouldn’t.
Mingyu shakes his head slowly as he gives his first serious input since this meeting started, his tone heavy with that sense of finality that leaves no room for negotiations.
“I don’t do P.R. relationships.”
Oh…so this is where he draws the line? He has problems being shipped with his co-star which is often harmless and even motivated—but not a single one when he was giving the internet all that fodder by cosplaying your characters.
“That’s fine,” the director raises her hands in surrender, “whatever makes the two of you comfortable. Just let us know if this sounds good?”
You wrap your arms around your midriff, slouching a little. You fiddle with your pendant, trying to make sense of your thoughts and make a decision amidst this unspoken tension that has settled in the room and weighs down on you most of all the others.
The director tries one last ditch attempt. She calls your name softly, “Look…we really want to make this movie and this issue is very fickle and manageable. The production house is dead set on casting Mingyu as the male lead, it’s too profitable to ignore.”
“And I really want to act in this movie.” Mingyu adds sincerely, his voice not at all authoritative, but a kind plea instead that pulls at your heartstrings.
Usually, you are very good at sensing things of that nature, but nothing in Mingyu’s soft request is accompanied by any ulterior motives. If anything, it seems like he is an honest admirer of your stories who wants nothing more than just to grab a chance of being a part of it when the opportunity has presented itself. Even though you know the production house is certainly being a little manipulative in this case, you are also aware of the truth that saying no to this might disappoint a lot of people—fans, investors, him.
But would it disappoint you? You, who had no real visions about a dream cast or things of that nature when the offer of turning your book into a movie was made to you. You don’t harbor a grudge against him, not really. In fact, you would be lying if you said that your heart didn’t surge with this warm, fuzzy, prideful feeling for a second when you got to know that the biggest actor in the scene right now was interested in and being considered for the role.
You draw in a deep breath, and hear someone slide something towards you. Mingyu passes you a glass of water with a low smile. “I swear I am not that annoying of a company…you just have to hangout with me a little and lie about being my bestie who lets me proofread her scripts and asks me for insider information.”
That manages to pull an honest smile out of you. You wrap your trembling fingers around the glass, cold condensation settles like relief over your sweaty palm.
“Fine,” you mumble into the glass, an act that causes some of the water to slip past your lips and onto your chest.
Your eyes flick up to him, only to find his own unreadable ones slipping over the curve of your chest as the drops roll down and disappear into the sweetheart neckline of your dress.
You feel your skin heat up under the warmth of his attention and you fluster.
“I can work with that, but only if he loses the mullet.” You announce, but the words aren’t yours…they're hypnotised, curious, needy as you continue staring at him.
Mingyu doesn’t reply to that, just gives you that casual nod with his lips caught between his teeth that makes your stomach clench.
The fourth time you meet him for these orchestrated hangouts is two months into the production. It is one of those high-end cafes whose clientele includes anyone who is a someone. Playback singers to pop icons, all stripped off their usual glam and performance just sipping on the ridiculously overpriced matcha for brunch.
You’ve never been to places like these before—you never had to. Even if they might have your book waiting face down on page 203 back home, anyone who isn’t a superfan of yours passes you without as much as a second glance for they don’t recognize you by face.
But it is different with Mingyu. With him, you cannot simply go to the local sandwich shop to ‘catch-up’. Because one, it is too performative and raises suspicion against the two of you only doing this to make a point when the pictures come out. And two, it is impossible for him to not get swarmed in public.
So Jungkook, your publicist, along with the public-relations team hired by the production house is tasked with searching for places like these where the paparazzi are always on the curb at some distance waiting like vultures with cameras while the indoors are private and quaint enough for no one to really bother you.
“I like this place because of the ambience.” Mingyu says, scarfing down the scrambled eggs you couldn’t finish and wordlessly slid towards him.
Your fingers don’t pause at your keyboard as you continue reworking the prologue for your final draft.
“I like it because I don’t have to pretend to talk to you here.”
You hum, remembering how your cheeks ached after all the fake smiling you had to do when you last hung out with him in public knowing full well cameras were pointed at you.
It is rare for the two of you to do this alone—usually, you have Hazel, the actresses cast against him as his love interest, along with you as you pretend to be just a bunch of friends hanging out after work and bonding over common interests.
But today, Hazel bailed last minute citing a mean headache that made her want to rest until her next schedule.
So here you are, hanging out with the guy you were rumored to be dating. The social media intern was right though, the rumor did die down when it lost all its heat because the real spice—the hidden signs, the speculations, easter eggs and drawing links—is all gone, vanished into thin air.
So far, only Mingyu has been the one who was asked about it directly during one of his press tours because Hazel is too new to be getting interviewed in the industry and all the rare interviews that you give usually stick to the literary theme and is often approved by Jungkook before getting to you.
Mingyu handled it well, you’d give him that. Such a great actor, his body language didn’t falter, not even once, while he gave them the parroted story about your friendship with enough charm and ease that it convinced most shippers to leave their accounts vacated.
Across from you, he finishes the last of your bagel before making a low sound that is akin to a whine.
“Why are you so mean? This is the third time you’ve gone for me, unprovoked, in the last hour.”
You sigh, adjusting your glasses up your nose, “why are you so loud? This is the fifteenth time I’ve told you to shut it.”
That shuts him up. For a full two minutes.
“What are you working on?”
His voice comes out muffled as he rests his cheek on one of his fists.
Your lips twitch as you steal a glance at him from over your laptop—cheeks stuffed full of food as he chews soundlessly, eyes curious and expectant as he waits for you to answer. You had never really pegged him to be so cute…but he is, in that effortless way that makes him so endearing that it annoys you.
Because you shouldn’t be feeling like this.
He is not your friend, not really. If anything, he is just another task, another meeting listed on your Google calendar that you have to mark off every two weeks.
“Wish I could ask you the same but you never work.”
“Come on don’t be like this,” he insists, dabbing a napkin across his lips. “We are supposed to be friends.”
You don’t think twice before blurting out. “You’re not my friend.”
He flinches a little, just a slight twitch and all of a sudden the wall is back between the two of you—up and rigid.
You didn’t know it was possible for a six-feet-two man to look like a kicked puppy, but the heartbreak on his face makes him look so small and harmless.
And it splits you open.
Because you hadn’t meant to hurt him like that…especially when he has been nothing but cordial to you.
“Look, Mingyu…I’m sorry,” you say, a little embarrassed and disgusted at your own snide as you slowly shut your laptop to face him fully. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…I always choose my friends. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have chosen you; but just that we met upon such unfortunate circumstances and this was thrust upon us. I need some time to make sense of this, that’s all.”
Something delicate flashes over the hurt in his eyes when he nods. You feel his thumb drawing small circles over the back of your palm and you realize that you had reached forward to hold his hand with both of yours while talking to him.
This.
This lack of control over your own emotions and reactions is what has made you so wary of the people around you and the relationships you have with them.
Especially people like him—foolishly open and honest. Those who make life feel so simple and fluid. Those who know how and when to speak something and to whom.
Meanwhile with you, it is all or nothing. You either open your heart to them at moments like these or shut them out so cruelly before they can get a chance to perceive you and have some sort of understanding over you.
Because having someone know you makes you vulnerable. You hate being vulnerable.
You gingerly retrieve your palms away from his.
Maybe it is just a trick that your eyes and the dim lighting of the place plays on you…but you think you see his long fingers stretch a little at the loss of your touch, almost as if he wanted to chase it and hold your hand between his bigger, more comforting one once again.
With him, and his eyes, touch and attention always pulled towards you, you feel magnetic.
“I get it.” he mumbles, drawing and undrawing the strings of his hoodie. “We don’t have to do this so often if that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I think it is the public aspect of it,” you reply, folding your arms under your chest on the table, “I have to put on this act of having known you for so long even though I barely know you, and I know it is so silly because this brunch is precisely the type of opportunity for me to get to know but I…”
You sigh, rubbing the heels of your palms over your eyes. “I am sorry I am complicating this.”
“No you’re not,” he shakes his head, “acting can be draining, especially if you don’t feel the part you are assigned.”
You can see this additional layer of carefulness around him now… it is truly admirable how quickly he was able to adapt himself to make this easier for you once you told him what the problem was. You can hear caution laced in everything he says, like he is afraid of saying something that might push you further away from him and into a shell that people around you try to break all the time. But he doesn’t.
The two of you work in silence for a few minutes after that—him reading and replying to some emails on his phone while you struggle to put what you feel and what you want the readers to feel by proxy in words. You haven’t written anything worthwhile in a long, long time.
Occasionally, a few people stop by your table for a brief conversation with him as they come in or leave. All of them from the industry, all of them Mingyu’s friends. You do not stare at them, not obviously at least. But you do steal glances, your fingers pausing over your keyboard here and there to focus better on their effortless conversations. Pleasant and light and almost joyous.
Maybe it is just him making it easier for people around him to come talk to him, to adore him.
Or maybe it is just everyone except for you who realize that not every relationship is bound by rules and expectations…that sometimes, things just flow.
You give up when no matter how hard you rack your brain, you still can’t come up with a proper opening.
Watching you begin to pack, Mingyu signals for the attendant and after paying for the meal and a hefty tip, he wordlessly slides your bag bulging with your books, planners and computer over the table and slings it on his shoulder.
He doesn’t really reach out for you beyond his usual moony smile.
You halt before he can open the door, placing your hand over his own at the doorknob.
“I want to feel the part.” You say, watching his brows dip in confusion. So you clarify, a bit slower this time, “what you said earlier about not being able to act if you don’t feel the part…well, I want to do it, feel like your friend, I mean.”
You can’t stop fiddling with the sleeves of your oversized jacket, but he looks so cool like he always does. No weird tension, no big deal at your little dramatic rant that could have just been a ‘Mingyu I want to be your friend but I hate that we have to do this for cameras.’
He just reaches down for your hand, squeezing it between his long fingers like telling you without words that he is very glad you asked.
“I’d love for you to feel like that.”
You don’t try to remove your hand from his hold this time.
“How about lunch at my place this weekend?”
(mingyu’s pov)
When you had invited him for lunch, it slipped your mind that you already had plans with Khadija, Jungkook and Hunter to go out for drinks on the weekend.
But this was your first attempt at forming something meaningful out of this situation that was birthed from chaos and mess. So you decided to meet with him anyways and after a full noon of cooking together and eating just half of all the dishes you had experimented on with him, you find yourself rushing to get ready in your room while he lounges outside on the couch in the living room, finishing the last bit of hummus that he had to salvage after you messed it up twice.
“I am so sorry for doing this Mingyu,” you huff out, getting out of your room in the shimmery pink scarf that you have tied for a top and your favorite pair of denim that hugs the soft dips of your curves without suffocating your flesh.
He peers his head over the armrest of the couch as he half lies on it, his mouth slightly parted with his long, dark hair falling messy over his head. You snort at his pleading doglike longing stare as it follows you around while you search for your strappy heels.
If you hadn’t been so busy and actually looked at him watching you, you would have seen him shift uncomfortably at the sight of you—undone and dazed. Like you had done something to strip him of all of his senses just by getting all dressed up in a cheeky outfit and encasing a blushing joy under your skin.
Unaware of the effect you have on him, you flop down on the couch beside him, picking up the two earrings you had been debating between all day long and placing them on either ear before turning to him, “Which one?”
He clears his throat, sitting up straighter and answers in a low voice, barely above a whisper. “This one.” He smiles, pointing to the one with the pearls.
You sigh, satisfied that he chose the one you were leaning towards and put it on. Then, you loop the long chain of the matching pendant between your fingers and begin fastening it around your neck. Or at least, you try to. The lock keeps getting stuck in your strands or you keep losing hold of it.
He watches you struggle, this look of half amusement, half admiration at your little frustrated grunts before scooting closer to you. You feel his longer fingers enveloping your skin as he pulls at the chain and offers, “Let me.”
Wordlessly, you turn your back to him, bunching up the loose waves of your hair in a ponytail. Some of it manages to escape your hold, cascading down over his hands softly. He hitches for a moment, letting himself breathe in the scent of your floral shampoo—just one, little inhale that feels like a homecoming after eons of yearning. In the middle of your bare back, there’s that big knot of fabric tied together holding your top in place and digging a little into your soft skin.
His eyes almost flutter shut, but he clutches the delicate chain of your jewelry and focuses on the little red mole below your left shoulder, using it as an anchor out of his dream where everything is suspended and senseless except for the idea of you in his arms while he kisses that mole over and over again.
“I’m sorry for cutting our day together short.” You mumble that apology again even though he has told you multiple times that it’s fine and you should go have fun. “I should be here spending time with you instead of running around getting dressed and ditching the afternoon we planned.”
“Don’t apologize, really.” He says, placing his palms on your bare shoulders to signal that he is done. “Besides, after getting scolded by you last time I brought work to keep myself busy.”
He flips the script that he has to memorize for the scheduled shoot by Tuesday.
You beam up at the sight of it, “oh, what scene are you guys filming?”
“The one with Matt and Allie’s first kiss.”
“I wanna see what it looks like…did they change it significantly from the books?”
“Uh, not really.”
But you are already practically glued by his side, reading the screenplay held in his hands. The press of your tender body against his rigid one makes his head spin as his mind floods with all the other places in his body that he’d love to feel you against. Your beautiful face between his hands, swollen lips stretched in that shy smile of yours as he kisses you. Your cushy chest mashed against his own—heavy with need as you make out with him on top. Your smooth waist and how good it would feel to hold it while he—
“Show me how you’re going to act this.” You beam up at him with this wonder in your eyes that makes him almost feel guilty of imagining you in ways that speak to the raging desires of the most depraved parts of his mind.
Almost.
Because Kim Mingyu likes you very much…and he doesn’t want to feel shy about wanting you.
If he did feel shy, he wouldn’t have asked around to find out more about you, read every single interview you ever gave and every single book that you ever wrote after getting blown out by one of your novellas that he had read once on set just to pass time.
If he did feel shy, he wouldn’t have asked his long term friend and your publicist Jeon Jungkook for intel about your upcoming books so he could alter his appearance to fit whatever characters you were falling in love with through your words.
If he did feel shy, he would have used his much stronger connections in the industry to shut down the dating rumors long, long time ago.
If he did feel shy, he wouldn’t be so persistent about pursuing you after getting his ego bruised by your sharp humor multiple times.
On the contrary, he’d do anything to make himself deserving to be your lover.
Even if it means acting his ass off and delivering an Oscars-worthy performance in your living room just cause you asked him to, then so be it.
“Sure,” he smirks, “but I need a partner to act this scene out.”
“Yeah I can do Allie’s lines,” you reply, tucking your hair behind your ear and gearing up for the job seriously, like you do not realize that this is a kissing scene he’s talking about…
He hands the script over to you, telling you that he has already memorized his dialogues.
“Don’t expect me to be a professional, I am just going to read this.” You give him a disclaimer, even though your shoulders are practically jumping with your bubbling excitement.
“Alright, let’s go…whenever you’re ready.”
⸻
(the reader’s POV)
You make a show of clearing your throat and begin reading the description of the scene where Matthias is walking Allie back to her dorm from the library during an autumn evening, their last one on campus together.
Your voice slips into a softer cadence as the scene takes shape and Allie finally speaks, “Matt, do you ever feel like different moments of our life have different weights to them?” Your eyes flick up to Mingyu, you don’t have to read this from a script, it is a dialogue that is etched forever in your heart. “Like if you let some of them slip along with the others, something will shatter when they fall?”
“Matt slows down,” you continue, eyes skimming the page, “like he’s afraid if they reach the dorm too fast, something will end before it has even begun.”
Mingyu shifts closer, like the blocking is already written into his bones, and speaks without the paper, without any hesitation. “Sometimes…but then I remember that it is us who assign meaning to these moments and not the other way around, y’know? ‘Define the circumstances, don’t let them define you’ theory.”
Your breath hilts. For half a second you forget you’re supposed to be reading as he continues staring into your eyes. All the worries that you had about Mingyu not being to emulate Matthias evaporate that very instance because this man in front of you… he isn’t the playful superstar basking in his hard earned glory and demanding what he deems fit. He isn’t the skillful actor who has managed to convince half the world that he has been your close confidant for ages even though you have barely known him for two months. He isn’t the clingy guy asking for attention in sneaky ways and finishing off your food with a pout like he was born to.
This is a man in love. With all the hearts bursting pink behind his eyes and that honest smile weighed down by devotion towards the woman in front of him…he is Matthias who has been in love with Allie for as long as he can remember.
They weren’t lying when they said Mingyu is a generational actor because holy sh—
“I know I am gorgeous to stare at, but read your lines!” The mask slips.
“Oh okay,” you splutter, recovering your scattered thoughts. “Allie glances at him…she wants to joke, but she doesn’t. Her mouth parts, but no sound comes out. Then, finally, after they’ve stopped fully, she whispers, ‘I want to define this evening with you Matt.’”
You lift your gaze again, meeting his. The room has shrunk down into a cocoon of warmth and force…a force that is making the two of you shift closer and closer.
Mingyu is near enough now that you can see the tiny crinkle near his eyes when he speaks. “I want to define it too.”
⸻
(Mingyu’s POV)
Matt and Allie are supposed to kiss next. But Mingyu had stopped following the script way back when he forgot he is supposed to be acting after your big, kohl-lined eyes bound his soul and nudged it out of his ribs and into your palms some five minutes ago.
He doesn’t lean in and continues to speak out of script, wondering at what point would you tear your wide, glassy, entranced eyes away from him and onto the script to notice that Mingyu has gone wayward from it.
“I am tired of pretending to be normal about you,” he says, his voice breathy and careful as he wonders if you think this is him improvising Matthias. “I am tired of acting like I don’t want to give this a better name. I am tired of pretending to be just your friend like every inch of my skin doesn’t ache to feel you closer than friends ever should.”
He thinks…no, he knows that you have caught onto him because your lips part with a broken gasp of his name. How can you not? This is your story, your characters, of course you know Mingyu isn’t Matt anymore. He hasn’t been since that very first dialogue.
He didn’t even try to be.
He waits for you to react by shifting away from him like you always do, by scolding him for crossing a boundary you have carefully put around yourself.
But you don’t.
Instead, he feels your fingers shiver like they always do when you’re overwhelmed as they curl around the collar of his dark hoodie and you pull him towards yourself until there is no space left between the two of you.
Your lips, softer than he imagined and slippery with a thick coat of your tinted pink gloss, glide against his own slowly at first. So tender and bashful, like you’re not sure if this is something you should be doing.
But it is precisely what he wants you to be doing.
So he winds his arm around your waist while cradling your head into the other as he deepens the kiss. You blink, startled, when he pulls you so close that you’re sitting on him more than on the couch. But then, he feels you thaw against him as your body slumps over his harder one in surrender. Your strands tickle between his fingers as you continue to explore his mouth with your lips. Eager and hurried one moment, then fragile and uncertain the other.
He feels it in his very bones when you mumble his name against his lips like a prayer right before he angles your face to kiss your cheek and jawline better, your eyes fluttering close at the feeling of your own gloss on his lips now ruining your makeup.
Those same eyes fly open when in a fit of passion, his fingers dig into the flesh of your bottom with this steady heat and he gives it a firm squeeze before flipping you so that you’re flush on your back on the couch as he hovers above you—all ragged breaths and stained mouth.
The cold metal of the pendant he helped you tie gathers under your chin.
Mingyu eyes it with his lidded gaze before dipping his head down and kissing the little pearl encased in its golden shell, effectively planting a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your throat. He moves down to kiss each swell of your breasts as you writhe before returning back to your face to make out with you again.
Your breaths tangle together like hot steam meeting unforgiving fog leaving everything around itself wet and parched at the same time.
For a second, he worries that he’s crushing you with his body-weight—you are so much smaller than him! But you whine like you’re complaining, your brows furrowing with this needy urge when he shifts away. You wrap your thighs around his waist and pull him back closer, all while keeping your mouth attached to him.
Just when you’re beginning to rut against his hips—a small, stuttered movement that refuses to be contained in your shy body—you both hear the loud gasp of someone else in the room.
Mingyu is quicker to recover than you as you simply freeze in this utter mortification, your fingers hooked over his shirt with such intensity that you might rip the fabric off. Mingyu doesn’t pull away from you instantly, but he does make the both of you sit upright, gathering you in his warm arms as Hunter’s eyes bulge out of their sockets.
“Wha…you…wait…” She stammers while you shrivel up.
You’re still tangled with him with your thighs pressed against his and his arm looped around your upper body keeping you straight up as you continue brushing nothing out of your hair.
“I called you but—”
You put an end to the awkwardness when you manage to pull your reluctant limbs away from him, grabbing your purse out of the chair and jog over to her, dragging her out with yourself.
“I was just helping him rehearse a scene!” You explain before disappearing out of the door.
Mingyu wants to call out your name to tell you to enjoy the evening… or maybe that this kiss was nothing short of ‘everything’ for him… or maybe to tell you that you are leaving your house unlocked with him still inside of it.
But the heat of the kiss and of the moments that led up to it has already melted all his words and senses.
Mingyu spends the rest of the evening—all five hours that you’ve left him here alone—cleaning up your space. Of course, he doesn’t dare touch your bedroom. But he does wipe the kitchen counter clean off all the sauces you spilled while cooking with him. He washes the dishes, carefully wiping every single one of them with clean towels before storing them methodically in the cabinets before packing up the leftovers in glass dishes and aluminium foils in your refrigerator. He organizes all the books you were showing him earlier back into their place but not before dusting the entire small library of yours clean. He vacuums the rug in the living room and then sprays disinfectant around all the surfaces just for good measure.
Once the place breathes fresh and smells like a clean home where you could relax better, he allows himself to slouch down on your couch. The same couch where you had held onto him like he was your anchor in that kiss that hit you both like a tsunami. The same couch where you had said his name, moaned for him, like it meant something. The same couch where you told your friend you were just helping him practice his lines at.
The memory of your flustered self blurting out that excuse makes him chuckle.
Do you even realize just how unintentionally sexy you are?
Because if practicing his lines with you always entails the scorching make-out session that had followed, he’d fire all his acting instructors and work with you full time for that little reward.
He hears the fragile giggles and the unfocused click-clacks of heels hitting the tiles behind it before he sees the front door open as you practically spill inside. Your hair is messy and catching between your lips, a kohl on your right eye smudged at the heel of your palm and those little laughs that bubble straight out of your chest, making the entire home throb with a pulse of its own.
With you, life returns to every inch of it and it no longer matters how clean or messy your apartment is.
You try kicking your heels by the door like one would do with their sneakers, getting frustrated with each passing second when they don’t come off. You lean against the doorway, trying to lodge your fingers into them and jerk them away, forgetting that they’re the strappy kind whose straps you had tied all the way up your shin.
He walks over up to you with a smile that is impossible for him to hide and crouches down. One of his large hands comes up to hold your waist as he stations you in place, meanwhile the fingers of the other one work around the thin knotted ropes on your legs, carefully tugging it open. He runs his palm reverently over the imprints it left on your skin and you sigh when your blood flows normally again under the warmth of his touch. Then, he proceeds to do the same with your other leg all while you remain clutching his hair to maintain your balance.
Just as he places the heels in a tidy corner, Hunter enters your apartment too after paying the cab below. Not as drunk, but definitely buzzed.
“Oh, you’re here.” She mumbles, too embarrassed from the earlier encounter as he straightens up and you slump against his chest. “She didn’t drink as much as it seems like, she’s just very lightweight.”
Mingyu feels you smush your face deeper into his cushiony chest, your hot breaths graze through his shirt as you continue taking deep drags of his perfume. He rubs your back like you are something so precious to him at this moment and doesn’t even ask you if you can walk. He simply goes ahead and lifts you in his arms, containing you like you’ve never been before.
Upon Hunter’s instructions, he carries you to the ensuite in your bedroom. She tries to make you stand up straight and brush your teeth while he makes your bed and fluffs your comforter outside. When you continue insisting against it, refusing to coordinate and demanding your computer because you just had an insane idea about a new story, Hunter walks out, clutching her forehead.
“It’s okay, you rest. I’ll take care of her.” He offers without even thinking twice.
Hunter considers it for a moment, but the raging headache makes this seem like an offer too generous to pass. She slips into your bed that he just made, leaving some space for you.
“I helped her change into her pajamas.” Hunter hums, “just make sure she brushes her teeth and drinks some water.”
When Mingyu walks into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar to ease her concerns if Hunter had any, he finds you sitting on the lip of the bathtub, swaying a little while narrowing your eyes to focus on the glaring screen of your phone while your fingers furiously type in your notes app.
Your spectacles are pushed up against your hair, which is obviously making it harder for your eyes to focus. He wraps an arm around you to still you before you can slip into the bathtub and pulls the glasses back in front of your eyes. Instantly, in his embrace, you relax, forgetting whatever new novel you had begun working on as the phone skids out of your fingers and onto the bathroom rug.
He places it back on the sink as you slur, your lips pressed close to his shoulder, “Head is hurting.”
“Then let us take this off.” He says, removing your glasses. “How does washing your face sound right now?”
“Tempting,” you hum, “but it's so cold….”
“We can use warm water baby.”
“And will you hold me? I love being held…especially by someone big and warm, like you. But I live alone so I have no one to hold me.”
Mingyu’s brows jump up in awe as you pout and complain. In your dynamic, he has always been the clingier one, the one who overshares random facts about himself to you at midnight citing the necessity of friends knowing these little details about each other, something you often ignore and leave on read.
You are the smarter one, the wittier one with dry sarcasm and hard set boundaries that you make sure everyone around you knows and respects. Variant and resolute and oh so beautiful even when you hide that bewitching smile by pursing your lips hard.
The fiercely intelligent writer who writes about love like she’s the only one who understands the concept of it. A master of stories who speaks about the underlying themes of her tales that not a lot are able to grasp but when they do, it leaves them aching to create something akin to her works.
But like this, so open and small in your teddy-printed pink pajamas as you stare up at him with your expectant doe-eyes, it makes you look so heartbreakingly human.
And yet, his devotion only surges as he carefully helps you up and makes you stand against the sink between his arms on either side. He doesn’t trap you, he contains you. He keeps you from falling over nothing by holding you by your waist with one arm and brushing your teeth with the other.
“There you go,” he praises when even in your dazed state you follow his command of spitting the froth out.
But instead of rinsing your mouth with the water cupped in his palm, you turn to him, lips still stained with the toothpaste as you grumble, displeased.
“Are you going to do that with her too?”
He blinks, “who?”
“Hazel,” you pout, “are you going to kiss her like you kissed me too?”
A low laugh escapes out of his chest, he brings the water closer to your lips and you obediently comply while he assures. “No sweetheart, never.”
“You are always laughing at me.” Your words come out garbled as you swish the water lazily around your mouth.
“Okay, no talking until we’re done here,” he states, “and I only laugh because one, you are adorable and two, laughing is my nervous tick and you make me nervous.”
He gently splashes the warm water over your face and you clench your eyes shut, letting him wipe your skin with his careful palms before dabbing it with an equally cozy towel.
“Me? I make you nervous?” You ask as he puts little drops of moisturizer over your skin before rubbing it in with his gentle fingers. “Stop shitting me Kim Mingyu, you basically run this world.”
And yet I malfunction when it comes to you, he wants to say—but doesn’t. Because the more his fingers massage the knots in your shoulders while rubbing your vanilla scented lotion into your skin, the more you doze off against him.
By the time he finally gets you into bed with Hunter, his muscles feel heavy from the confession he has stitched deep inside of himself. It hits him like something inevitable when your breath grazes his fingers as he tucks the comforter over your chest and he realizes just how badly he wants days and nights like these to become a regular occurrence every day. Till the end of his days.
(the reader’s POV)
Things have been weird between you and Mingyu since he hung out with you for lunch and ended up taking care of you when you returned home drunk. You don’t expect it to be back to how it used to be between the two of you, not after you dragged him in for a kiss and almost dry humped him on your couch.
But you also didn’t expect him to bail out on this little picnic situation with you, Hazel and Izabelle, calling it ‘too phony.’
His demeanor towards you hadn’t changed though, not even a bit. But the two of you have since spent only some time together, here and there, on the set and in private, away from the cameras. And when you had steeled your nerves enough to ask him if he regretted kissing you, he had just tilted his head and said no.
That should have been the end of it.
You initiated a kiss in the heat of the moment—he is an attractive man and you were acting out a very romantic scene.
And then he kissed you back in an even hotter moment—because you were all dolled up and again, he was too acting out a very romantic scene.
But it’s not.
Because it feels like things have been left unsaid and incomplete…a painting of something beautiful abandoned midway through.
So, when he texts you, inviting you for this get together he is planning with the team at his place to celebrate the filming being finished halfway, you don’t think twice before letting him know that you want to come earlier than the rest to help him set up and return the favor of him cleaning your apartment and tending to you in your drunk state.
You smooth over your dress one last time before pressing the doorbell to his penthouse expecting a smiling assistant or his manager to open the door. But it is the sight of all six-feet-two of him in a lemon-printed apron dusted with flour that lets you in with his usual grin.
‘I only smile so much because you make me nervous.’
You aren’t sure if he actually said those words to you or if you read them somewhere and dreamed it up.
Regardless, you feel your confidence shrinking with every step you take inside of his house. You are unable to meet his eyes when you hand him the champagne you brought in and only give him a faint, fake smile when he thanks you for it.
What made you think you’d be able to order him around or be sarcastic with him like you used to after you practically used him like your lipstick remover the last time you two were alone?
But this is Mingyu, and this is what he does…making people feel at ease around him is almost a skill inherent to him.
So he works around you without any tense glances or snide remarks, just brimming with joy as he asks for your opinions about what tablecloth would look better with the flowers he had chosen.
You’re both cutting up the fruit for the decoration of the enormous cake he has baked, two hours until the guests start arriving, when your resolve breaks.
“Why do you not come to the scheduled outings anymore, Mingyu? And don’t tell me it’s a ‘schedule thing’ because we had this planned months ago.”
His knife pauses midway through the strawberry. He presses it harder when he answers, “I told you, I think we’re overdoing that now.”
Then, he turns his back to you to open the fridge and check up on the iced-cake even though he did that not more than five minutes ago.
“We’ve made our point,” he says, “no one, other than a handful of obsessive fans who will always be there, is shipping us anymore. It's a forgotten buzz, they won’t even hint at this during the press tour.”
You ignore his explanation. “Is it because I kissed you? Is that why you’re avoiding me?”
He turns around, an unmistakable confusion etched deep into the creases of his face. “What? Where’s that coming from?”
“You tell me.” You snap, pressing the lemon you’ve been squeezing for the meringue harder than you need to. “We only meet in private now—on set! Did I act…did I act inappropriately when I was drunk? Oh God, no…don’t answer that—”
You try to stop the tears but they’re there— fluid, hot and stubborn. You make the mistake of wiping your eyes with the same fingers that you were working on the lemons with. The sting is an instant burn, making you cry out more in pain.
“Oh fuck.” Mingyu is by your side in a flash, leading you to the sink and washing your eyes for you. “It’s okay…it’s okay, just let it out…it’ll subside.”
But it doesn’t. Because your eyes aren’t the only organs that hurt. Your chest has been caving in since that very day, hollowing your ribs and wringing you inside out.
Mingyu helps you until the sour pain dissipates, carefully washing your eyes and wiping your face with a towel—an act that brings back the memories of the night you ruined everything with him by failing to control your extremes.
This is why you don’t let people in. Because whenever you try to, you ruin whatever pure thing you could have had with them by acting reckless.
You bite the inside of your cheek until you feel the metallic taste of blood burst on your tongue—anything to prevent any more tears from slipping out.
But they do and Mingyu only hugs you close into his chest, holding you away from the world, away from your own ruinous thoughts until your breathing evens out. You clutch onto his hoodie harder, because if he didn’t hate you earlier, you know that he definitely does now. He might not even want to hangout with you in private after you just ruined his merry plans for a hearty get together by putting him in an awkward spot and crying in his kitchen just hours before it.
You try to press yourself closer into him, trying to overdose on the feeling of him, on the scent of him before you lose the right to consume it. Before he decides never to speak with you.
You feel his breath fan over your hair when he speaks, “You didn’t do anything wrong…God, how could you ever? I am so sorry for making you feel that you did, sweetheart.”
His palm rubs over your back.
“You’re lying,” you hiccup, “it’s okay, you don’t have to. Just tell me—”
“Shh, listen to me.” He pulls you away so that you can face him and immediately winces at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and creased forehead. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t improvising that day when I said all those things to you.”
Your fingers curl over his wrists as he cups your face.
“I wasn’t acting. I wasn’t playing Matthias.” he confesses, “everything I said that wasn’t in the script, and even what was in there, it was me talking to you.”
He licks his lips before resting his forehead against yours, “I am not normal about you.”
The image of him from that day on your couch, moments before the kiss, saying those same words that entranced you to act on your suppressed desires towards him, flashes behind your fluttering lids.
“I haven’t been, for long.” He says, “ever since I read the way you write about love. Ever since I saw you lost in your own thoughts in that elevator, too occupied by your own worries to give a damn about who else was in there with you—”
“You didn’t even make a sound!” You interrupt, laughing through tears.
“Because I was too afraid to disturb you,” he smiles, “I held my breath all the way up.”
“Oh God…”
“I am a goner for you…desperate and pathetic…I ache for you to touch me and smile like stupid when you consider me worth talking to because I’m nervous of saying something stupid in front of someone as smart as you. Like even right now, I don’t know if I am able to express my love for you as well as the leads in your books do.”
A broken, ugly sob emanates out of your lips, filling the floaty space between you both. His thumbs come up to catch your tears before they fall onto the ground, like even they are precious to him.
“Words aren’t my thing,” he says, “but theatrics— that’s what I am good at. Good at pretending to be like the characters from your books. Good at pretending to be fine with just being your friend. But not anymore…not after I’ve experienced what holding you feels like. Not after I have felt your body slump against mine, all unguarded yet safe…I can’t—”
His voice dies down, and you sense how it is not always easy for Kim Mingyu to talk, just like how it is not always easy for you to finish all your stories.
But you want to give this one the happiest ending, you want to see the boy with the moons in his eyes in front of you smile like he did when you had kissed him stupid.
So you stretch up on your tippy-toes and bury your fingers into his hair to pull him closer. The kiss this time around is nothing like its predecessor. While your first kiss with him had felt like a test, moody and unreal, this one hits you like an explosion. A confirmation of everything your soul had suspected each time you’d find him looking at you with those dreamy eyes. Like the final bow on a Christmas present that you spent all year thinking about.
Your lips move a little frantic against him, like your body is having a hard time processing this new onslaught of information. Kim Mingyu is in love with you? The idea makes you smile against his lips.
His arms explore the length of your waist before travelling down to wrap around your thighs and then, he pulls you up, making you lock your legs over his hips and behind his back. That deepens the kiss like never before, making your bodies slot so well against each other that your heartbeats begin to sync on their own.
He kisses you like he is completing his confession directly against your tongue, and you respond to it with an eager understanding. The haze he concocts around you is so thick that you don’t even notice it when he has you pressed against a wall.
Only when he removes his lips from yours, and begins to take a step away from you that you feel your back slide against the cold, hard brick surface. His breathing is uneven and hot against your wet lips as he visibly strains himself from something.
But it seems like you are on an agenda to break his resolve when you hook one of your legs around him again, pull him closer and moan against his jaw. “More, Mingyu…please.”
He doesn’t speak, but his hands do wrap back around you like a reflex, grounding you in the present moment. This quiet, surreal tension sits heavy behind his ribs. He knows so well that by “more” you don’t mean that you just want him to kiss you more, but everything that follows too.
Yet, he wants to hear it from you. You can see that desperate plea in his eyes as he hovers around you, not quite touching, giving you space to gather your thoughts and just ask.
Always the gentleman, always so careful with you...especially with you.
“Mingyu,” you breathe, “can we…please?”
“Right now?”
“Right here.” you gulp, “please…I really want to.”
“Fuck sweetheart, don’t beg. I could fucking die for you if you asked me like that.”
“I’ve dreamt about you taking me up against a wall far too many times than I should admit,” you mumble bashfully, feeling the blood rush to your face, but nothing can seem to stop you anymore.
You feel his fingers tighten over your hips as he closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. When he opens them again, the heat from his gaze locking with your needy one sends something dangerous to curl around in your veins and settle into your abdomen like a low flame.
A flame that transforms into a wildfire when places a feathery kiss over your lips before falling onto his knees before you. He kisses you all over your hips, your upper thighs while his palms slide up and down over your smooth legs, making you whimper as heat pools in your core. He keeps his eyes steady on you while hooking his fingers around your underwear which has gotten so wet that it is practically useless and slides them off your legs and stuffs them into the back pocket of his jeans.
You don’t even get a moment to breathe before he is burying his face under the skirt of your dress and kissing your core harder than he has ever kissed your lips.
Your head hits the wall with that first, long swipe of his tongue over your swollen folds and you find yourself bucking your hips in a confused motion when he repeats it over, and over again.
His lips gently wrap around your pulsating clit and he sucks, knocking whatever air was trapped inside your lungs out of your body with a hitched cry.
One of his freakishly long arms comes up, mapping your skin on its way, before settling over your abdomen in a way that keeps you from losing balance as he makes you put your thighs over his shoulders—all while eating you out like a starved man.
“You’re so fucking sweet baby,” he groans as his tongue caresses more wetness out of you, “sweeter than I ever imagined.”
The fact that he has imagined this too makes your head spin, leaving you at a loss of coherent words.
"I think I am going to get addicted to this."
You feel his fingers tighten over your flesh when upon a particular pressure of his tongue over you, you squeeze his face inadvertently between your thighs.
“Mingyu—” you gasp, feeling him place a lazy, open mouthed kiss over your clit before his mouth travels down a little, now teasing your opening with his slick tongue while his nose nudges against your thrumming nub.
He grunts even louder when his tongue slips past your entrance and the sound of it, raw and rough between your thighs, sends you over the edge earlier than you were anticipating. He continues to lick you, throughout your shuddering release, and even as black begins dotting your wide-eyed vision, you trust him to not let you fall as you succumb to this raw pleasure as he continues worshipping you with his tongue to his heart’s desire.
⸻
(Mingyu’s POV)
By the time he is able to convince himself to detach his mouth from your sweet, drenched core, you have gone listless and sweat-soaked above him. Holding himself back from kissing you—any part of you—he realizes, isn’t his strongest skill. He carefully places your legs back on to the ground, holding you by your waist because you keep on quivering, he barely manages to wipe his mouth clean with the back of his palm before you’re slumping against him like you always do when you let your guard down around him to let him unravel you like a miracle only he gets to witness.
You squeeze him hard between your arms, mumbling little ‘thank yous’ and ‘mine, all mine’ while his hands explore your curves, slow and trembling.
He can’t believe he just got to do that…what did he ever do to deserve to have you fall apart in his arms, right on his tongue, like you just did.
His fucked out smile is so full of glee as he buries it in your neck. The tent in his jeans strains harder than ever and judging by how you are basically coiled around him like a second skin, he knows you feel it too.
So it isn’t much of a surprise when he feels your hips begin jerking against him, desperate and erratic. He lodges his thigh between your own, making you yelp as you feel the rough fabric of his denim right against your naked folds. It is so rough and harsh, but you can’t stop rubbing yourself against him, not even when a patch of it begins staining with your glossy wetness.
He lets you rut against his thigh, his tone encouraging when he whispers, “Go on baby, ride me like that…take all that you need from me, it’s all yours.”
You bury your tears-soaked face between his collarbones, your nimble fingers working unfocused over the buttons on his shirt as your second release inches nearer. You are so close to coming that you feel it soak every single nerve in your body, gliding past all twitching muscles as they clench around nothing. Your fingers twist around his shirt, your teeth clamping down on his skin and your nails dig at his biceps but right before the band snaps, he jerks his thigh away and replaces it with his fingers.
The crash is so confusing and overwhelming that you don’t realise he has slipped two fingers past your entrance as the orgasm spirals through you like angry waves lapping the edge of an overflowing sea.
It is only when you clench around him almost suffocatingly that it hits him of how unprepared you are—even after two orgasms—to even handle his two fingers inside of you.
“Babe…” he whispers in your hair, almost apologetically, “are you okay?” He pulls apart, just an inch, to look at your face. “Am I…am I hurting you?”
You shake your head vehemently, “no—no, god, no. Just…slow, please?”
“Of course,” he nods, wiping your tears with his thumb, “of course baby, we go how you say.”
With that, he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowly and steady, until you sigh with the stretch instead of whimpering because of it. He massages your clit with his thumb in tight, controlled circles to ease it even more. And once you’ve stopped flinching each time he scissors his fingers inside of you, he begins setting a maddening tempo and curling his fingers against your walls to find the spot that makes you shake the most.
You double over at a certain brush of his fingers while he’s playing with your fragrant tresses between his free hand. The reaction makes him repeat it, just to test it out…and this time, you choke on your own breath. He smiles realizing that it’s this spot that he should be aiming for when he buries himself inside of you next and pulls his fingers out of you to avoid further stimulating you.
He allows you to catch your breath as much as you can while he slowly undoes the zipper of his denim, keeping his eyes locked on your glazed ones. He’s smiling again, and this time, you know it’s not because he’s cocky, but because he’s nervous of somehow doing something wrong with you.
One of your arms comes around to soothe his neck assuringly as he pulls himself out of the restraint of his clothes meanwhile the other wraps around his length. You move your wrist over it in slight, jerky movements, feeling it twitch and leak at the tip with precum and your mouth visibly waters. His lips part in wonder when you spit on it without a warning, jerking his cock even more before looking up at him with those same, begging eyes.
He swiftly removes your dress in a smooth motion, undoing your bra shortly after to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. His own shirt follows suit, but then he runs out of patience and hoists you up by the curve of your thighs.
It is admirable, how your bodies synchronize in this harmony because you are following all his cues without any instructions by wrapping your arms tight around his shoulders, feeling your sweat soaked skin slide against his tanned muscles.
“Sure you don’t want me to take you to bed?” he asks one last time, sliding his length up and down your folds, coating himself with your excess wetness that leaves no requirement for a lube.
“No, do you?” You reply, before adding in a smaller, more worried voice, “am I too heavy for this?”
“Sweetheart, I can stand here carrying you all day, all night and then some more if it means that I get to bury myself in that irresistibly tight cunt of yours over and over again.” He whispers, kissing you sweetly as you blush, “I was just asking to see if you’re comfortable like this.”
“I am,” you tell him with an honest smile, “now please…just, fuck me.”
His laugh comes out raw and hazy, like smoke when he says, “always so polite, my sweet girl.”
⸻
(the readers POV)
That is the last thing you are able to hear before you feel him angle his cock in a way that just the tip of it enters your fluttering hole. He isn’t even halfway in, but fresh tears are beginning to gather around your lashes because the stretch is a burn you’ve never felt before.
“You okay?” He asks, his voice strained.
“Ye…yes,” you blabber, “don’t stop, Mingyu. Keep…keep going. It hurts more if you stop.”
You think each time you open your mouth, it undoes some latch within him that unleashes something ferocious and dangerous in him. You make a mental note of being vocal with him—it’s not like you have any choice when you can barely keep anything in as he continues filling you with all the glorious length of him.
And once he is fully inside of you, flushed with hips pressed hard against yours, you feel your nails drag against his back as you struggle to make sense of it all sandwiched between his hot, rigid body and the cold tile.
Your ankles lock tighter over the waistband of his jeans when he pulls back only to thrust back in harder. There’s an unspoken urgency now as the clock ticks behind you—one which makes you meet his thrusts by bouncing the best you can while pressed down like this. Hard muscles flex under the tanned skin of his biceps as he aids your movements while fucking you raw against the wall.
His mouth finds yours with a fierce gravity while your bodies move against each other in a drunk tandem of their own. Midway through the kiss, he hits that spot again—the same one that had made you see stars just a few moments ago and this time, when it’s the bulbous tip of his dick that bullies it over and over again, you find yourself squirting all over the place.
He breaks the kiss midway to stare down where your bodies are connected, watching your overused folds stretched out around his thick cock while you continue to drench him.
“I am sorry…I am so…so sorry,” you cry out but do nothing to stop yourself from drowning in this sea of hot white lust.
“Sweetheart, never apologize for that,” he says, his own stomach clenching when you grasp him tighter, “I wanna see you make a mess, it only means I made you feel so good, didn’t I?”
“Yes Mingyu,” you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers come down to fiddle with your clit, “you make me feel so…so good.”
“Then take it baby, take it all like the sweet girl you are.”
It shouldn’t turn you on to the point of insanity when he calls you a sweet-girl while bullying your cunt with his dick until you feel him in your very guts. But it does. God—it does to a point where you lose control over everything when you fall apart again with the prayer of his name riding your lips like it is the only word you ever learnt. In that heady, charged space that reeks of sweat, sex, him and you, he follows suit too, half in you and half out of you as he slips out, jerking himself rough until his hot semen makes a mess between your thighs and over your abdomen.
You whimper at the sticky, warm feeling and the sound twists something carnal in his chest. Your toes barely touch the hard ground below before he is turning you around and having you arch for him bare with your sweaty palms planted over the wall.
You think he is going to fuck you again, like this, from behind. But he just kisses the mole you know you have below your left shoulder and kneels back down. You feel his steamy breath over your ruined core.
“You’re so pretty baby,” he whispers, and you feel his words against your skin as he parts your flesh to reveal the evidence of what just happened to his lustful eyes, “and you’re mine…all of this, all mine.”
(a year later)
You brush your fingers through his hair as he cuddles closer to your chest after your night routine of him helping you put lotion over your body. It is the night before a major literary award show of yours as you relax together with him in your hotel room, barely catching any sleep.
Not because of nerves or excitement, but because your heart keeps doing somersaults inside your chest remembering that little clip you saw before. You’re itching to see it again and you know Mingyu hasn’t dozed off either judging by the little kisses and his attempts to suckle on your nipples through the silk of your nightgown.
So you break your own rule of no phones in the bed after seven in the evening by grabbing it from the dresser and quickly searching for it to play the clip again. You smother him with your chest in the process, but he’d be the last one to complain in this scenario as he grins like an idiot, pulling you closer.
The screen flashes with a bright light in the dark room and he whines when it pierces his tired vision. But you don’t care, you want to hear the pride in his voice again when he had said that…you want to see the way a light pink blush had settled right under his eyes at the mention of it.
It is a short clip plucked out of an interview he gave at the red carpet of an award show last month. The interviewer asks him in a cheery voice towards the end of the segment, “Any celebrity crushes right now, Mr. Kim?”
And without missing a beat, he gives the camera his honest smile, the one he often only shows around you—unpolished, real, nervous, before answering.
“Yeah, my missus.”
Someone snipped it out of the whole interview and posted it across different platforms where it has now garnered millions of views and hundred-thousands of comments. Each time you look at it, you can’t help the warm giggle from bubbling out of your lips as you read through the comments which are all overwhelmingly positive.
‘Never seen him like this!’‘
They tried to cancel us for speaking the truth, but we clocked his tea so hard more than a year ago 😭’
‘We’ve BEEN telling you guys they were a thing!’
‘Wait are they married?? Why is he calling her his missus? Someone explain, English isn’t my first language.’
‘imagine finally getting to marry the guy you’ve always written books about, girlie is living everyone’s dream 🤩’
“Okay I am reporting that one for false information because that was the other way around!” You seethe, sitting up as best as you can with his strong arms caging you. “You should hold a press conference to tell them about our love story.”
“Or,” he suggests, propping his chin over your chest, “you can write a book about it.”
“I told you Mingyu, I write about fictional people. Not you. Not me.”
“But don’t you think the world deserves to know our fairytale of a love story?” “Mhmm,” you hum, sliding your glasses on and pulling your laptop onto your folded legs like you used to all those years ago, “maybe I’ll write a short fanfiction on Tumblr about it. Fifteen thousand-ish words?”
you have known your entire life that your existence is political. second born to the Throne, a daughter no less, your only purpose is to be wed to a prince to strengthen alliances. but you still hope to mean something to your new husband, despite the intentions behind your union.
you are sorely mistaken.
you realise quickly that you are as alone in your new home as you were in your childhood one. this is the fate that has been written for you, the reality you must live. but one knight might change it all when he swears an oath of fealty to you, and means it with every piece of his heart.
pairing: knight!choi seungcheol x princess/queen!reader
genre: medieval au, royalty au
category: limited series
word count: 58k
warnings: some swearing, angst, feelings of insecurity and low self worth, arranged marriage, brother!mingyu, infidelity (a lot of it, by everyone), forbidden love, mentions of war, injuries, blood, fighting, character death, there might be some historical inaccuracies lol, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, quickies.
a/n: okay, this has been in the works for a while now. im ngl i almost scrapped the whole thing and didn’t post at all, but thank you to @milk-moonbunnies for all her encouragement. you’re the reason this story happened xx i hope you all like it at least a little bit ㅠ
SUMMARY: Your nephew won’t stop complaining about his strict superior at work. What you weren’t expecting was that said superior happens to be your hottest hookup, the one you had a one-night stand with. Did you like it? Obviously, yes. But morally? You should’ve buried yourself in dearth at this point.
PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x f!reader
GENRE: drama, comedy, fluff, smut, oneshot
WARNINGS: suggestive content (MDNI), dirty talk, strong language, mildly toxic family (mentioned), one-night stand, attempted quickie, sexual tension, heated kissing, homoerotic cuz i can, dick jokes (im sorry), bantering, arguing (in a fun way), little angst hinted about parents' separation.
WC: 12.5k
ADD TAGS❦︎: cafe owner! reader, pr specialist! wonwoo, kim sunoo as your nephew, wonwoo is a jerk but a hot one, barista! boochan, reader is kind of a fujoshi (this was supposed to be a joke), domestic fluff if you squint, invisible string theory hinted, co-enemies to lovers, they're both idiots, teacher! jeonghan mentioned, i do think i am hilarious, roommate! mingyu, hot n cold dynamic, strangers to lovers, secret relationships, this was probably a bad idea.
a/n: hi. we are sooo back in this diamond crack.
The fact that you’re legally an adult is hysterical. If people asked whether you’re an adult, you’d say “yeah”, but not with confidence or anything.
People always say, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” You’ve heard that a ton, but your eyes are fixed on that one specific, emotionally distant salmon commitment issues, mommy issues, and absolutely no idea how to function like a normal human being.
There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but you know what else is there? Trash. There is a lot of trash in the sea. You even switched out your plastic straws for one-hundred per cent plant-based, edible rice straws made from rice, tapioca, and cornstarch. They’re designed to be sustainable, turtle-friendly, and technically safe to eat. It was often described as having a neutral, pasta-like texture. They were a popular eco-friendly alternative to plastic, even though some people complained that they got soggy in drinks.
You like to think that you have saved the turtles. Maybe even the ocean.
Unfortunately, that still doesn’t stop people especially at family gatherings from bringing up marriage every chance they get. You were perfectly fine living like this. You run your own cafe. You’ve got a side hustle as a web novel writer and webcomic creator though of course they don’t know that.
Your single life has been nothing but peaceful. In this century, it’s a choice. But that doesn’t matter when your relatives keep asking when it’ll be your turn, especially at someone else’s wedding. God forbid a woman enjoys her life without a partner.
They love to hint, no—insist that you’ll end up lonely, growing old like some miserable hag.
Puh-lease. You’ll never be intimidated by people with no class. What are they going to do? Gossip about you with their equally insecure, trashy little circle?
You don’t care. You’d rather die than get married. At least you won’t end up as some miserable wife stuck with a douchebag husband and his broken ass.
The only thing that kept you alive and sane was none other than your beloved nephew, your very first one. Oh, the things you would do for him. You still remember the first time you held him, just a newborn, tiny in your arms. That was the moment you became an aunt at the age of seventeen.
Now, he’s all grown up, living like a proper young adult. Still, you can’t help but see him as a kid. Not that you mind, considering you once gaslit eight-year-old Sunoo into believing he was six just so he could get freebies at a diner when you first babysat him.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” you said, wiping a glass as you watched your twenty three-years-old nephew clutch his head, face buried against the counter.
“Give my regards to the devil,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in exhaustion.
“I will.”
Sunoo groaned again, downing another shot of espresso you had made earlier. That was probably his third cup. You gently took it away from him, earning a frown.
“Oh, come on. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter,” you said, sliding a glass of water toward him instead. “I raised a burnt-out perfectionist who occasionally gets bludgeoned into settling for mediocrity.”
Your nephew stared at you incredulously. Sometimes he wondered if he was even related to you. But in the end, he’d take you over his nosy, borderline-stranger aunties who wanted a full autobiography of his achievements. He still didn’t understand why his mom, your sister had trusted you to raise him all these years, well into adulthood.
“Okay, I’ve experienced academic validation, and I’ve experienced academic downfall, and I highly recommend being born into generational wealth—”
“It’s not about that,” he cut you off. “It’s my superior. He’s… I don’t know. Everything about him is just so cranky.”
“What?” You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed as you continued stacking cups. “Is he a bully or something?”
“Not exactly. He’s just… kind of mean. Well—he’s just that good at his job.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“That is the problem,” he confirmed.
He continued, “He’s so good at what he does that it stresses everyone out on the planning team. If something goes wrong, he gets intensely serious about it—like, terrifyingly committed.”
There was a brief silence as you listened to your nephew ramble. This was probably just a moment of weakness. He likely just needed to vent.
“No one likes him,” he scoffed, taking a sip of water. “In fact, I don’t think he likes people at all. He probably hates himself too.”
He sighed again. “I made it through the day without throwing a chair at anyone, but this coffee tastes more bitter than usual.” He clicked his tongue. “Probably because I carried his bitterness all the way here.”
After a moment, you looked up at him.
“Feeling better now?
“Yeah,” he finally exhaled.
You’d think his toxic trait was believing another cup of coffee could solve literally anything. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was just being dramatic, but considering this was his second week complaining about his “toxic” workdays, you hoped it was only one insufferable person making him miserable, and not HR tearing him apart. Senior colleagues could be worse. You just hoped he wasn’t being bullied.
You, on the other hand, could drink three cups of coffee and go straight to sleep, one of many things fundamentally wrong with you as a person. In your defense, you buried those bad habits back in university. You’re a changed woman now. At your age, you just wish people would stop asking about your likes and dislikes. It gets old—those endless, generic questions on dates.
You like money and food. You dislike not having money and being hungry.
Please. Don’t add more stress to your life.
Adulting is hard, but it’s okay. At least you don’t need to prove and explain why a triangle is a triangle anymore.
Nobody is busier than someone who isn’t interested in you. And when you say, “I’ll figure it out,” it usually just means you’ll adapt to whatever new level of hell is coming next. You either juggle five tasks at once or stare at a wall, wondering what scene to write for your next update, there is no in-between.
You know you’re hot, but you’re also aware you’re not a full-time hot person. You’re hot when you want to be, depending on the mood. You choose your own hours, make your own schedule. Honestly, it’s freelance hotness.
Just because you live like this doesn’t mean your life is boring. Sure, you’ve had your fair share of hookups—but they’re rare.
Today, however, is different. You went to your usual bar—Velvet Ruby. Mostly because the owner, Jihoon (as you’ve come to learn), is annoyingly attractive. You’re not even utterly shameless at that, the first time you met him (that time you haven’t yet to know he was the owner), throwing flirts here and there, you were tipsy, okay? Still, he finds it amusing despite himself. You usually prefer someone taller than you, but somehow, he still caught your attention.
Tonight, though, you were determined. You wanted a distraction. A release.
The only problem? You’d been sitting there for almost an hour. You were practically waiting for a main character’s entrance, but it seemed the owner had better things to do. Swirling your glass, you watched the wine move lazily inside it, your fingers brushing through your hair as you leaned your cheek against your palm, and then you noticed him.
Sitting right beside you.
You didn’t even try to hide the way your gaze lingered on his side profile. The sharp nose, the way his lips brushed against the rim of his glass as he took a sip of whiskey. His sweater was pushed just enough to reveal his forearms, the fabric stretching slightly. You could tell he was well-built underneath. His veiny hands, steady as he held the glass with ease, a watch sitting perfectly on his wrist.
God.
You really wanted him so bad.
As a matter of fact, you even dressed up for tonight—something chic, something that worked both at your cafe and for this. Chan, one of your employees, kept staring earlier. You didn’t say anything out loud, but you did threaten to cut his pay if he kept slacking off.
You feel sexy today, feel good and confident. There was no way you were wasting this night.
As if sensing your stare, the man suddenly turned toward you. His eyes narrowed slightly, not threatening, just… observant. His gaze lingered, taking you in without shame.
Jackpot.
Honestly, you don’t care. You were convinced you could hold your liquor pretty well, but you only lived once. You didn’t look away. Instead, you offered a soft smile, teasing as you leaned your chin on your palm, crossing your legs.
“Do you know what bees make?” you asked casually.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly making sure you were talking to him. There was a pause before he answered, humoring you.
“Honey?”
You smiled wider. “Yes, dear?”
A soft chuckle left your lips, you were definitely tipsy now. He looked amused, the corner of his mouth lifting as he took another sip, his gaze still on you appreciatively, unhidden.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.
Your lips curved in quiet victory.
Got him.
...
It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall into easy conversation. The small talk here and there, laughter slipping in between. One thing led to another. You have learned that his name is Wonwoo. He mentioned something about work, some company but you barely processed it, too distracted by his deep voice and the way his cologne lingered in the air.
By the time you reached the hotel, neither of you had the patience to pretend otherwise. The door barely closed before he pulled you close again, lips finding yours in a kiss that was far from hesitant. His coat was gone in seconds, yours not long after as you were guided back with your breath catching and thoughts slipping.
His touch was warm, firm, leaving a trail that made it harder to think straight. Your head tilted instinctively, giving him more space, more access, your fingers gripping onto him as the moment blurred into something hazy and overwhelming.
A quiet sound escaped you, your mind already spinning, senses dulled except for him.
You stumbled toward the bed, everything felt so messy and impatient. Both of your clothes were scattered somewhere on the floor. It was clear that you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and you never felt so turned on right now. Maybe it’s been a while since you have felt this good.
Straddling him, you leaned down, kissing him again with intense neediness. Wonwoo grunts into the kiss, chuckling softly against your lips at how impatient you are, clumsily pressing on him. He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, gripping your hips tightly. He grinds up against your core, large hands sliding up your bare back, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulls you flush against his muscular chest. He didn’t forget to lavish your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses, teeth grazing your pulse point as he bucks his hips up sharply.
You let out a soft sigh and moan at how intense it feels, catching your breath as your hands come up to grip his soft locks. Your hips instinctively grind on him, rolling your hips down as you feel the thick length of his cock rubbing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of your panties.
A low groan tore from his throat at the feeling, his grip on your hips tightening. He slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing the plush globes roughly as he grinds up against you—meeting your slow, sensual movements. “You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.” He murmurs, leaning up to capture your lips in a deep sensual kiss. Drowning in his own needs, he tore your panties away and didn’t hesitate to put the tip of his cock inside your bare cunt.
The sensation itself had left your mouth hanging open, trying to catch yourself at how amazing it feels like. Your grip on him tightened as you slowly sinked yourself down on his dick, mewling at the way he’s stretching you out. “F-fuck—Wonwoo…” you whimper out softly as you started to move your hips.
Wonwoo let out a low guttural moan as your tight walls clenched down around him like vice, gripping his throbbing shaft so deliciously. He literally needed to pause for a moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being fully sheathed inside you before he started to move. “Fuck, baby… so fucking tight.” He murmurs, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. You start to roll your hips, working yourself on his thick length. “That’s it—just like that… nice and slow.” Hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds and kneading the flesh as he watches your face intently. Taking in every little flicker of emotion and pleasure that crosses your features.
He growls, feeling your pussy clench and squeeze around his pistoning length. God, even his voice is so damn hot, your mind was too drowned by how sexy he was until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you squeal. “Ride me harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.” Wonwoo leans up to bite at your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your skin as he feels your movements turning more desperate and needy.
You started to bounce on his cock with increasing fervour, your ass smacking against his balls with each downward grind. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room, spurring him on to fuck into you even harder and deeper.
Your knees tremble on either side of him, digging the sheet for support. Nails digging further into his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the way you’re writhing and mewling so sweetly above him. Your cunt milking his cock for all it’s worth.
And it’s so fucking hot.
Wonwoo slams up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses and throbs inside your spasming cunt, throwing his head back with a loud groan rumbling from his chest at his release. You moaned out loud too, mouth hanging as you held him tight. The feeling of his release seems to trigger your own, and you feel your body stiffening beneath him as your climax crashes over you.
With one last shuddering breath, he finally pulled back, taking in your blissed-out expression with a satisfied smirk. He peppered soft kisses across your face, his touch unexpectedly tender after everything that had just happened. You could feel your heartbeat racing, matching his.
“More?” you murmured against his lips, a playful smile tugging at yours.
“Thought so.”
Without warning, he flipped you onto your back against the mattress, earning a small yelp from you followed by breathy laughter as he settled himself between your legs. Your little escapade with him continued into the night. After all, the night was still young.
How to say “I hate you" in a nice way? It’s simple. “You are the Monday of my life.” Seungkwan always bristled whenever you said that, usually while you were asking him to clean the grease. It wasn’t even his turn, which would inevitably lead to him bickering with Chan about whose turn it actually was. At this point, you might as well be your own employee at your own cafe.
But hey, you like to think you’re a good boss.
The older you get, the more you understand why roosters just scream to start the day. Back in college, you used to wake up and sit there, contemplating whether to skip class. Maybe cry a little. Your greatest joy was waking up without the crushing sense of responsibility.
Now? You’ve never felt so good. You were actually… happy.
Even your nephew had asked Chan and Seungkwan why you were in such a good mood today. You were practically glowing.
There was no denying it, that one-night stand with that ridiculously attractive man had put you in an excellent mood. It was a shame you didn’t get his contact, though. When you woke up, tangled in the soft comforter, he was already getting ready to leave. He seemed in a rush. You were far too sore and far too comfortable to chase after him. Too much hassle, you thought.
Like some kind of Cinderella, he disappeared just like that. And honestly? You didn’t think you’d ever experience sex the same way again. Not that you were mad or anything. You hate being mad. It takes you almost two and a half years to calm down.
So for now, it was just you and your coffee beans, trying to figure out whether today was even necessary. According to the weather, though—it was bright and sunny. You greeted your customers with a warm smile (which you rarely did), and for once, everything felt… light.
Sunoo stared at you with concern as he blended the coffee beans beside you. “Did she win the lottery or something?” he whispered, leaning toward Seungkwan.
“I don’t know, kid,” Seungkwan shrugged, not even looking up as he handled the pre-orders. “She’s having one of her episodes. I’m not getting involved.” He paused, then added dryly, “It’s either her inner peace is sponsored by caffeine… or sarcasm.”
Your nephew just shrugged it off, continuing to help with the brewing. “By the way, remember when I told you I’d be having a meeting at your cafe? It’s going to be tomorrow.”
You hummed in response, packing cookies as you glanced up slightly. “Yeah, I remember. The place is spacious enough—you can come by around noon.”
“Great. Then I’ll get going… with my daily intake of coffee, as usual.” He smiled, picking up the book he had tucked under his arm.
You paused briefly. Because that cover looked painfully familiar. That was your work, your webcomic. The one that went viral back when you were in college.
“Where did you get that?” you asked, eyeing the cover before looking up at him, suspicion clear in your expression.
You were pretty sure it was old. There shouldn’t even be active copies of it anymore. You had buried that part of your life a long time ago.
“Oh, this?” he gestured casually. “My team’s working on a big project right now. It’s for a campaign we’re handling.” He took a sip from his drink, completely oblivious to your reaction.
It wasn’t like you were sweating, or panicking.
Or internally screaming.
It was just your own damn book—the one your nephew had no idea existed. You wrote it back in college. It was stupid, honestly, and you weren’t proud of it. You literally wrote about two dudes who were roommates and… well, got very close.
Unfortunately, it went viral back then. You had no idea how it resurfaced now, and frankly, you wanted nothing to do with it.
Sunoo glanced at his phone as he headed for the door. “I’ve gotta go now. Don’t forget about tomorrow! My team and that mean senior will be there too.”
And just like that, he left. Leaving you standing there, wondering what kind of disaster was about to unfold.
...
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Collaboration Inquiry with Carrot Publication.
Hi Belububbles,
I hope this message finds you well. On behalf of my team, our company has previously reached out to your agency regarding a potential collaboration. We were advised to contact you directly; however, we have yet to receive a response to our emails or direct messages.
As this matter is time-sensitive, I would like to request a face-to-face meeting tomorrow at our office, should you be available. Please let us know your availability by today. If we do not hear back from you we will proceed with further steps to move this discussion forward.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
Best regards,
Going Company PR team
+ 82 013-xxx-xxx
You bristled the moment you read the email in your inbox. Just when you were having a perfectly good day, which is ruined. That tone alone was enough to irritate you. Sure, you did ignore unknown callers and random emails. Most of them were spam or obvious scams, and you never bothered checking unless they came through your publication agency.
Still… the audacity.
Come to think of it, Sunoo did mention that his team was dealing with a particulary demanding client. Which probably meant his “superior” had grown a second set of horns by now. You could already imagine someone breathing down his neck, especially with how much he’d been fumbling lately. Not that you could blame him, the expectations sounded ridiculous and apparently, his superior had decided to take it on anyway.
Good thing none of that had anything to do with you.
Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if one day Sunoo quit his job and showed up at your cafe asking for a position. You were short-staffed anyway, it might actually work out.
And now here you are. Standing in front of the Going Company. You had replied to their email yesterday, and they wasted no time contacting you again today. Still, you didn’t appreciate the tone—less of a request, more of a thinly veiled demand.
You rarely made any public appearances for your work. That’s what aliases were for. Working behind the scenes, under your publication agency was exactly how you liked it. You just hoped, really hoped that you wouldn’t run into Sunoo here.
It was a big building after all. Surely, you wouldn’t. Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs
Now seated in a waiting room, you crossed your legs, fingers tapping lightly against your arm. One of the staff had already ushered you in, leaving you alone as you waited for the so-called “representative.” Something about this felt off. And you had a feeling that this meeting was about to get a lot more complicated.
Did you burn your toast today? Nah. That couldn’t be it. But you did burn the cookies. Which meant Seungkwan ended up cleaning the mess after you told him you had an appointment to get to. This is exactly why you have employees. Even if you treat them more like your nieces and nephews despite being around the same age.
The door then opened. Someone had arrived, but of all people you didn’t expect him. You lifted your head lazily, bored and later froze at the sight.
Jeon Wonwoo.
He also stopped mid-step too, one hand still on the chair he was about to pull out, eyes locked on you. Then, slowly he sat down with his hands clasped and composed. Professional. Like nothing had happened. For a second, neither of you moved.
He was dressed in a black turtleneck, lanyard hanging neatly around his neck and glasses. You almost didn’t recognise him at first. He hadn’t worn them the night you met. The two of you just stared for a moment.
Silence filled the air. Awkward and heavy.
Later, you both looked away at the same time, and he cleared his throat. God, you hoped this was just someone who looked like him.
“Belububbles, right?” he began, voice painfully familiar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. As you’ve probably realized, I’m the one who emailed you.”
Your brows furrowed. So he was the one behind that email.
“I’m Jeon Wonwoo, part of the PR team. I look forward to working with you. Let’s get started.”
Well. Fuck me.
Just your luck. Your one-night stand, your very recent one-night stand was now sitting across from you, acting like a corporate robot.
You offered him a polite smile. Too polite. It didn’t reach your eyes. “Of course. Now, what is it that you’d like to discuss?”
Wonwoo clasped his hands again, diving straight into the explanation, laying out the project, the campaign, the planning. Every detail, every step. Thirty minutes later, he finally finished. He slid a contract across the table toward you. You raised a brow at that. It was all the NDA, policies and terms whatever it was. You hadn’t even agreed yet and they already prepared all this?
Persistent. Just like his email. What kind of passive-aggressive person was this?
“I’m not going to agree to this,” you said with a sigh, placing the document back on the table. “I don’t do public appearances. I thought you already knew that. My agency always consults me first.”
“I’m aware,” he replied smoothly. “That’s why we’re only proposing pre-recorded interviews. No face reveal—just voice, with filters if necessary.”
You were listening. It is intriguing but you need a lot more convincing to do.
“We just want you to participate in our campaign event,” he continued, confidence steady. “We’re gathering artists and writers involved in the project. You’d have your own merchandise, a chance to expand your audience—”
“I don’t really care about that,” you cut in lightly. “But I do like money.”
He blinked. Clearly not expecting that.
“…Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “Then would you reconsider? I’ve read your current work—the one you’re still updating. Wouldn’t you want more people to see it?”
You leaned back slightly, thinking. “I’ve considered it. But I don’t want the kind of exposure that comes with it. People dig. I value my privacy. And I have a real-life job too. A big one.”
He exhaled slooowly, clearly trying to stay patient. “What about physical sales?” he pressed. “Printed copies. You mentioned profit—this is an opportunity to maximize that.”
You wave your hand dismissively. “I’ve had enough of that. My agency handles most of it anyway.”
Honestly, you didn’t need them. You had your own ways, holding out your own event, your own marketing. You knew what you were doing.
Wonwoo momentarily paused. Finally, he tried again. “What do you want?”
You met his gaze. He was stubborn as hell. You hadn’t even planned to negotiate. You just came here to make one thing clear. You weren’t interested at all. With a quiet exhale, you stood up. “Mr. Jeon,” you said, already reaching for your bag, “I came all the way here to inform you that I’m not interested. Also, your email? That sounded more like a threat than a request.” You turned toward the door. “Have a great day.”
“I’m trying to be nice here,” his voice cut in, sharper now, “but you’re making my job difficult.” His voice made you pause as he stood up. “You don’t want fame, money—whatever it is. People like you are always so demanding, and yet here you are—”
You turned your back slowly. His gaze locked onto yours.
“…Though I didn’t expect it to be you,” he added, voice dropping slightly. “Not only are you a brat in bed, but apparently in general too.”
Ah.
There it was.
You smiled sweetly, stepping dangerously closer. “Why?” you tilted your head. “Was audacity on sale this year?” He scoffed quietly at that.
“Listen,” you added, voice light, “acting like a dick doesn’t make yours bigger.” you paused. “…Though, unfortunately, in your case—”
Except that he is.
His eyes narrowed, a low, sardonic chuckle slipping out. “You already know what I’m like,” he said. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
You glared at him. He didn’t back down either. The silence stretched, until you broke it with a frustrated groan.
“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you muttered, turning back to the door. Then you stopped mid-step, glancing over your shoulder. “For the record?” you added flatly, “It was good dick.” A beat. “But it was a one-time thing. I wouldn’t survive with a dickhead personality like yours.”
You pulled the door open. “It was terrible to meet you, by the way.”
And then you left. Leaving him standing there, rendered speechless, and completely thrown off. You refused to let anyone ruin your day. So, you naturally decided that you did it yourself.
…
Your mood stayed soured the entire day after that meeting with your stupidly, insufferable, annoying, dickhead one-night stand. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look the moment you walked in. They were very aware of your mood swing, and very determined not to become your next victims. It was fine, though. They were used to it.
Chan tried first. “You look extra pretty today.”
“I’m not raising your pay. Go to work.” you said flatly, not even looking up as you handled the cashier.
“Alright,” he nodded, but lingered for a second. “I mean it, though. You’re really pretty today.”
You hummed, then lifted your head slightly. “…You know what? Hell yeah. I am pretty. Being frowny doesn’t make me ugly—it makes me extra hot pretty.”
Seungkwan and Chan exchanged another look again. Seungkwan shook his head and went back to restocking the pastries.
Ah.
Very normal.
A little while later, Sunoo walked in with his planning team. Just like he mentioned yesterday. You flashed them a bright smile as they approached the counter.
“These are my colleagues,” Sunoo introduced casually. “And this is my aunt. No weird comments.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all.” you greeted warmly, slipping into your customer-service persona. “Thank you for taking care of my nephew.”
They greeted you back, placing their orders before heading off to their reserved table. Then, two guys lingered. Both are a couple inches taller than Sunoo, one with a sharp jawline, the other with pale skin and mischievous grin.
The pale one smiled a little too confidently. “Hi. You’re really beautiful. Are you single?”
You blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “Oh—I mean… depends on the day, and fortunately today is a yes.”
Sunghoon and Jongseong snickered, nudging each other, while Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible. He hated when people did this, especially his own friends.
“Yeaahhh, we’re done here,” Sunoo cut in quickly. “Three iced americanos.” He dragged them away before they could say anything else.
You just watched them go, already ringing up the order. Just as you were about to take the next customer, a deep voice spoke.
“I’d like to pay for their order, and one iced cafe latte.” You didn’t even look up at the person.
“Okay, that would be—” as your eyes finally met with the face, and about to take his card. You immediately screamed. Like you had just seen a cockroach. Hands flew to your mouth, eyes wide in pure horror.
The entire cafe went silent. Heads turned at the scene. Seungkwan and Chan snapped their attention toward you. Wonwoo, just stood there—card still in hand, eyes slightly widened in confusion.
Meanwhile, from across the cafe, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo and whispered. “Man, I knew Mr. Jeon could be intimidating, but I didn’t think he was that scary. Your aunt looks traumatised.”
You still didn’t move. Didn’t even blink or breathe. Seungkwan slowly walked over, glanced between you and Wonwoo. He immediately took over, seeing that you remained unmoved. “Thank you,” he said smoothly, taking the card and finishing the transaction.
Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at you oddly, and suspiciously. He finally turned and walked straight towards Sunoo. Your eyes followed him. And landed right on your nephew’s table. On his team. He was sitting at the centre like he owned the place.
Oh no.
What the hell.
That was the “mean” superior he’d been talking about?
Sunoo cannot know. He absolutely cannot know about your side hustle. And definitely not about that night. Your nephew had no idea that you and his senior had met not just this morning, but very, very personally before that. He had no idea you and his senior had jumped each other like a trampoline in a hotel room.
You only stood there, frozen. Completely mortified at how insanely small the world was. You could’ve slept with anyone, but certainly not this. Not only did you sleep with him, you also argued with him like cats and dogs this morning.
Great. How amazing.
You wanted nothing more than to dig yourself a grave and lie in it. You could scream or maybe cry a little. You know that feeling when you meet someone and your heart skips a beat? Yeah. That’s arrhythmia. You could literally die from that. From the very first moment you laid your eyes upon him, you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your life AVOIDING him.
Seungkwan calmly stacked cups while you crouched behind the counter like a fugitive. “You know,” he started casually, “when I used to work at a corporation, I learned a very professional way to say things.” You didn’t even look up. “I’m assuming something bad happened between you and that mean-looking guy over there,” he added, jerking his chin toward Wonwoo’s table.
“I wasn’t.” you sneered.
“It is,” he corrected immediately, like he already knew, and annoyingly, he did. “This was identified early on as a likely outcome.”
“What does that even mean?” Chan popped his head out from the back.
Seungkwan didn’t miss a beat. “It means ‘I told you’ but professionally.”
You abruptly stood up, pretending to busy yourself while sneaking a glance at their table. Wonwoo was speaking behind his laptop, the rest of the team listening intently. Right on fucking cue, his eyes met yours and stayed there. Your gaze hardened, sending him a very clear message, close to a warning or threat. What the fuck are you doing here? Wonwoo merely tilted his head slightly toward his team and mouthed a simple, “Work.”
Oh, he was hilarious. Strangely calm too. Like he was used to handling crises like this. Before your silent rentless fuck you exchanged could continue, you saw Sunoo heading toward you. Instantly, you plastered on a smile. A little too wide.
Your nephew grabbed your arm. “What was that?” he hissed, glancing between you and his table. “Did you really have to scream in his face? I already feel like my soul leaves my body every time he looks at me—if he asks why my aunt is acting like a lunatic, I’m done for.”
You frowned, whisper-yelling back like you were negotiating something illegal. “That was a reflex. He looked too much like my ex.” You blatantly lied, as if you never do that with your nephew through the years of babysitting him.
Sunoo scoffed, grabbing a couple of water bottles. “Yeah, right. You’ve been saying that since I was six. Please don’t embarrass me. For the love of God.” And just like that, he walked back to his meeting.
You exhaled sharply. So much for easy-peasy lemon squeezy. This was more like stressy, depressy, lemon fucking zesty. Life didn’t hand you lemons. It handed you a caffeine addiction, trust issues and zero patience for dickheads like Wonwoo.
So when you noticed him heading toward the restroom, you followed after him. A moment later, he was at the sink, rinsing his hands. He turned around until he was immediately met with you slamming your hand against the tiled wall beside him. He paused, slightly caught off guard. Despite being taller than you, it seems like your anger towards him was taller.
“Did it hurt,” you said sweetly, a sharp smile on your lips, “when you fell out of someone’s asshole and into toilet water, you piece of shit?”
Wonwoo didn’t even flinch. By now, he seemed immune to it. “Not really,” he replied calmly, crossing his arms, “but I know shit when I see one.”
You groaned under your breath, pacing slightly. God, he was insufferable. “Did it have to be my cafe?” you snapped. “Seeing you this morning was already bad enough, and now you just show up here too?”
“I didn’t choose the location,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, “Though now that I think about it… I didn’t know that ray of sunshine was your nephew.” He let out a dry chuckle, stepping a little closer. “It’s ironic, really.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the devil everyone’s been talking about,” you shot back. “Didn’t realise it was someone that I used to suck his dick—”
You stopped yourself. Barely.
Wonwoo stiffened slightly, adjusting his glasses. Yeah, that landed. You were not sure if he was taken aback by being a worse senior colleague, or that part when you mentioned of sucking his stupid dick.
He clicked his tongue, gaze steady. “Do I look like someone who goes around flaunting his sex life? Exactly. No way in hell.” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer again, voice lowering. “If you agree to the proposal from this morning, I’ll agree to keep things… civil between us.” Then he stepped back, giving you space.
Silence fell. You studied him for a moment. However, he didn’t look like he was hiding anything. Just a straightforward goal. He gives off that impression of a guy that has no time for relationships, probably terrible at it. A stubborn, workaholic guy with a nasty temper. Possibly hates himself a little.
Not that you were one to judge. You weren’t exactly easy either. Honestly, you didn’t care about him but your nephew? That was a different story. If Sunoo found out—if he ever found out there was no doubt he’d snitch to your sister. You’ll be dead for sure.
You exhaled slowly, reluctantly even. “...Fine,” you muttered.
Life is like a helicopter sometimes. To begin with, you don’t even know how to operate one. One could argue that you're one step closer to death than to having a stable relationship. Some people belong to the streets, but you’d like to think that you belong to the ponds because you’re just a silly goose.
At this point, you don’t think coffee even wakes you up anymore. You just like the idea of having coffee. That is, until someone had abused your apartment doorbell. At this rate, they might as well have broken it and got arrested for it. This place isn’t cheap, you paid a ridiculous amount of money to live here.
Grudgingly, you swing the door open and there he is. Wonwoo, looking completely unimpressed as he casually steps inside like he owns the place. Meanwhile, you’re standing there in your tousled hair and beluga-pattern pajamas.
“I called you multiple times. You didn’t answer,” he said, crossing his arms, eyeing your outfit. “Did you get my text and throw your phone into the Pacific Ocean?”
You let out a scoff, already walking back to your bedroom, which of course he followed. “I was busy. Why are you even here?” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.
“Busy doing what?” he shot back dryly. “Sleeping at noon?”
“I can be in bed and still be busy,” you mumbled into your blanket. “Busy gathering my strength.”
Wonwoo stared at you incredulously. For a second, it genuinely looked like he was trying not to slam his head into the nearest wall.
“How’s the progress?” he asked instead.
You didn’t answer immediately. Just hummed in against the comforter.
He rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply then pulled— no, he freaking suddenly yanked the blanket off you. The cold air hit instantly.
“Okay—what is wrong with you, you psycho?” you snapped, sitting up and glaring at him. “First of all, get out of my room. Second, get out of my house.”
Before he could lunge forward at you, ready to claw his paw at you. Your phone buzzed, signing as you answered without even checking the caller ID.
“I’m heading to your place now,” Sunoo’s voice came through. “I don’t feel like eating cafeteria food—”
Your eyes snapped wide open. “Right now?” you blurted, panic immediately setting in. Wonwoo watched you as you scrambled out of bed, suddenly moving like a hurricane.
Oh, hell no.
Sunoo cannot see him here. Not in your apartment, your room. Just anywhere to be honest. You tried to grab clothes, then froze because this jerk was still here. “Shit—okay, you can’t be here,” you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “My nephew is on his way.”
“What—” Before he could finish, you shoved him out of your room, but the front door unlocked.
Without thinking, you pushed Wonwoo right back into your room and slammed the door shut. Perfect timing. You turned around just as Sunoo walked in and flawlessly smiled.
“Why are you still wearing that at your age?” he said immediately, eyeing your pyjamas.
You ignored that. He walked straight to the kitchen, already opening the fridge, while you trailed behind him. Your eyes dart back toward your bedroom door every two seconds.
“You could’ve asked Seungkwan or Chan to bring you food,” you said, leaning against the counter. “Didn’t your mom give you side dishes?”
“She did,” he replied, rummaging through your fridge. “But my roommate ate everything.”
You scoffed. “Just take what you need and go.”
“Why? Do you have a special somebody over?”
Rolling your eyes, you agreed anyway, “Yes, me. I’m amazing and I enjoy my own company.”
Sunoo stared at you for a second. “...Then explain why there are men’s leather shoes at the entrance.”
You momentarily froze at that. How did you fucking forget about it?
Before he could say anything else, you snatched the container from his hands, shoved food into a bag, and pushed it into his chest.
“Okay—out,” you said, dragging him to the door.
“What about—" The door shut in his face. You exhaled in relief, leaning your forehead against the door and turned to see Wonwoo was already out of your room.
“Is he gone?” he asked, peeking out.
“Yeah. Thank God he didn’t ask more questions,” you muttered, rubbing your face. “How did you even get my address?”
“Your agency.”
You groaned, pacing around again.
“Look, I don’t hate you,” he said after a pause, “I’m just not particularly excited about your existence in my life.”
Turning to shoot another nasty glare, you start. “Put yourself in my shoes, idiot. I wouldn’t care if you got hit with—”
“I wouldn’t wear those shoes if I were you.”
You were utterly speechless at the sheer amount of cockiness this guy had. Whenever he was around, you had the overwhelming urge to claw at him like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
“I know, why not ask yourself,” you snapped. “Is my dick big enough to match your attitude?" His brows furrowed at that. “Exactly!” You clapped once.
Aaaand just like that, you were arguing again with him. Neither of you noticed the door opening. Sunoo stepped inside and froze. His gaze moved from you then to Wonwoo.
Back to you, then to Wonwoo again.
Wonwoo was the first to notice. You followed his gaze and stopped. There was a thick, almost heavy silence that filled the atmosphere.
“…Hate that you had to find out like this,” you said slowly.
Sunoo blinked, stepping back slowly. “…Okay,” he said carefully, already putting his shoes back on. “I didn’t know you two were… dating.”
Dating.
Dating???
He gave a small, polite bow. Probably directed to Wonwoo. “Goodbye, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you after lunch.”
The door closed later. And you just stood there, still processing everything that happened. Your nephew now thinks you’re dating the biggest man of shit in your life. You might actually need to fake your death this time.
...
“I think I’m forgetting something.”
“Morals, probably?” Wonwoo said without even looking up from his tablet.
“No, it’s something important,” you insisted, about to rise from your seat. “I think I need to go back to the cafe before Chan sets the place on fire.”
Wonwoo’s head snapped up. “Wait—no. Sit down. We just got here… oh my God.” He dragged a hand down his face beneath his glasses. “For the love of God, can you sit still for one moment? It took almost two hours to get you here, and I already helped drop your twins off at school.”
You sat back down reluctantly. “How long is this interview going to take?”
“Depends,” he replied dryly. “If you decide to be difficult, probably more than thirty minutes, and I’ll have to work overtime.”
“I can’t do that,” you shot back. “I have to attend the twin’s family day. Their dad bailed at the last minute.”
He sighed again, looking seconds away from tearing his hair out. Mostly because you had completely missed the sarcasm.
“Nevermind. Let’s just start.”
He set the voice recorder on his phone and straightened in his chair. “First of all, thank you very much for agreeing to work with us. We’re very delighted.”
“Thank you. It’s my pleasure too,” you answered flawlessly.
“How did you decide to create such interesting characters in most of your stories?”
You thought for a moment. “I honestly didn’t think too deeply about it. I started writing back in college. I met a lot of different people, so I borrowed certain traits here and there.”
“What made you shift from writing novels to illustrating them?”
“I had a lot of free time back then, and writing gave me plenty of ideas. I knew readers enjoyed the stories too. I didn’t want to stop writing, so instead I adapted them into manhwa so readers could visualize them.”
Wonwoo typed something down before continuing. “On a different note—do you wish to publish another novel one day?”
You crossed your arms, considering it. “I don’t think so. I already have too much on my plate, and illustrating takes time. Maybe after I finish my current project, I’ll think about writing again.”
“How did you feel when you learned your first work, And They Were Roommates, rose in sales again?”
You stiffened slightly. “Uh… well, I didn’t expect it to go viral again this year. I guess I was delighted? It was unexpected, but I received a lot of positive feedback too.”
Wonwoo nodded and flipped to the next page. “This is a special question from your readers. How did you come up with so many hilarious dialogues? They found the comedy really engaging.”
“Ah.” You visibly relaxed. “At first, I never meant for it to become a comedy. I just like writing characters who are witty, so I guess readers found that funny.”
“I can see that,” he said, then continued. “Another fan question: did you base your character’s personalities on real people?”
You made a face. “Well… they’re not wrong. I’ve met my fair share of terrible people and let too many assholes into my life. Real-life suffering became entertainment.”
His eyes narrowed. “Language.”
“What? I speak nothing but the truth.”
He only shook his head. “We’re getting nowhere if you keep doing this. I’ve done some self-reflection—if you cooperate, this can end faster.”
“Oh, so you did have a talk with your dick last night?”
Wonwoo immediately paused the recording and stared at you with a long, exhausted sigh. “Can we put that aside? And no, I did not talk to my dick.”
You crossed your arms. “Fine. Next question.”
He resumed recording. “Another fan question: how did you come up with such funny dialogue and plots?”
“Actually,” you said, “I’m not that funny. I think I’m just an asshole, and people assume I’m joking. That’s how I ended up making rude characters everyone somehow loves.”
He paused the recording again. “Would it kill you to give me one normal answer?”
“What? That is my honest answer.”
“It’s not appropriate for the media.”
“Then make it appropriate. That’s literally your job.”
Yeah. The two of you were getting absolutely nowhere.
After the interview, Wonwoo somehow found himself babysitting your niece and nephew, the twins, who were now sprinting around his office. He needed a bucket of caffeine, a fever patch, and divine intervention. Not because of the kids, because you had very clearly dumped them on him like he was a free daycare service.
“What’chu doin’?” Wonhee asked, propping her chin on his forearm while he typed.
“Work,” he answered flatly.
“Oooo. About what?”
“Work.”
“What kind of work?” Wonjun asked this time.
“Work,” he repeated.
“I want Auntie’s cheesecake after this!” Wonhee cheered, bouncing excitedly before both twins ran circles around his desk.
God, just kill me. He was screaming internally.
A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal Sunoo, holding finalized planning documents. Wonwoo nearly saw heaven.
“Sunoo!” the twins yelled in unison, rushing him immediately.
“Sorry, guys, I’m at work right now, so I can’t play,” he said, patting their head before looking back at his superior. “Yeahhhh… I actually have plans with the team after this,” Sunoo added awkwardly, already stepping backward.
Even Sunoo knew better than to get involved. He quickly shut the door. Wonwoo turned back to his computer and resumed typing aggressively.
“Uncle Won. Uncle Won. Uncle Won,” Wonjun repeated, tugging at his sleeve.
“What?” he replied flatly, eyes still on the screen.
“I need to go potty.”
Wonwoo finally looked down.
“Now?” The boy nodded desperately.
“If you don’t take him now, he’ll tinkle in his pants,” Wonhee informed him with complete sincerity.
Wonwoo muttered something under his breath, then immediately scooped the boy up and marched out of the office.
The entire team watched in stunned silence. From across the room, Jongseong leaned toward Sunoo. “I think you’re getting another playmate soon, dude.”
Sunoo scoffed, scowling as he scrolled through his laptop. “Stop that. It’s not funny. I don’t care. Even if they break up, I still lose.” He pointed dramatically in each direction. “They break up—I still have to see his face at work. They stay together—I still have to see his face at work.” He slumped in defeat, “My life has no winning route.”
...
“Baby.”
Wonwoo looked at you as the twins zoomed around your cafe, clearly bothering your two staff members.
“What?” you shrugged. “You want me to call you fellow associate instead?”
He was one step away from crashing out. First, you made his work life hell. Second, you had dropped the twins off at his office not once, not twice, but three times. Wonwoo was good at his job. Great, even. Then when you walked into his life. The tragedy followed.
“Aunty! Aunty!” Wonhee bounced on her feet, reaching up. You picked her up easily. “Tomorrow I have a soccer match! Teacher Yoon said we can bring our parents!”
“But Papa said he can’t come,” Wonjun huffed, stomping lightly. “Something about work.”
Your heart softened instantly. Your brother was busy running his law firm, and even though he and his ex-wife were divorced, they were still co-parenting well. With their busy lives, complicated timing—that was all.
“Oh, alright then. I’ll go,” you said, giving in easily.
“That’s unfair—I wanna see them play!” Seungkwan popped up from behind the counter.
“Wait—count me in!” Chan added.
You rolled your eyes, setting Wonhee down and placing your hands on your hips.
“No. I need both of you to take care of the café while I’m gone. And Chan, I know you’re just using that as an excuse to slack off.”
Chan dropped the cloth dramatically onto the counter. “Aw, man.”
“Will Uncle Won come too?” Wonjun asked, clinging to Wonwoo’s leg and staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Wonwoo stiffened, his gaze flicked to you. You smiled in return, a little crooked and suspiciously sweet.
“Umm… he’s kinda busy,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shoulder. “He has a big adult job. He might not make it.”
Both twins immediately started whining loudly. For a second, you remembered just how insufferable they could be. The last time you babysat them, they threw a full-blown tantrum over Haribo marshmallow chocolate.
“Okay, stop,” you deadpanned, staring at Wonjun, who had dramatically sprawled onto the floor. “You don’t demand things from someone you barely know. Show some respect to your elders. And get off the floor—it’s dirty.”
“I just mopped that,” Chan added.
You ignored him.
“You and Papa always say the same thing!” Wonjun protested, sitting up. “He says, ‘respect your elders,’ but he never comes to my singing or storytelling!”
…Ouch.
“Yeah!” Wonhee chimed in. “Papa says stuff like that because he’s old and forgetful. Aunty, you’re becoming like Grandpa too.”
“Hey now,” you crossed your arms. “If anything, I’m better.”
Wonwoo nearly rolled his eyes. Wonhee suddenly turned to him, already halfway climbing into his arms. “Uncle Won, please come! I want to show you my super cool kick!”
He froze completely. He looked at her, then at you and then back at her. He said nothing. Mostly because he knew what would happen if he refused. Flashback from his office with all the screaming, he was sure people from the outside could heard that loud and clear.
You caught his eye and subtly shook your head.
Don’t. Encourage. Them.
“Aunty,” Wonjun said suddenly, frowning, “why don’t you want Uncle Won around? It’s like Mama and Papa.”
Your expression faltered. “…Hey. I’m nothing like them,” you said, quieter this time.
That one hit a little too close. You sighed, then reached out and ruffled his hair.
“Fine. We’ll see tomorrow. If we can make it.”
That was enough to make the twins lit up instantly.
From across the cafe, three figures watched the entire scene unfold like a live drama. Seungkwan leaned on the counter. Chan mirrored him. Sunoo stood between them, looking deeply troubled.
“I don’t like where this is going,” Sunoo muttered.
Seungkwan shook his head. “No, no—let them keep going. This is good.”
Sunoo turned to him slowly. “…Good?”
“Would you rather they take their frustration out on us?” Seungkwan pointed out.
Chan nodded immediately. “Fair. Also, there’s a chance our boss might raise our pay if she’s in a good mood.”
He clasped his hands together dramatically. “I will pray for that. I refuse to suffer in a cafe with emotional damage and no bonus.”
Sunoo stared at both of them. “…Yeah. That checks out.”
The exhibition was going well so far. Wonwoo liked to think all his hard work had finally paid off. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one thing.
You.
Your mere presence alone was enough to test the last thread of his patience. He just needed to keep his shit together for one day. Just this once.
“You didn’t wear your glasses today,” you remarked, openly scanning him from head to toe, and annoyingly enough, he looked devastatingly handsome. If only he kept his mouth shut. “You’ve stared enough, perhaps?”
His head snapped toward you, brows knitting together. “It’s nine in the morning,” he hissed. “Stop fucking testing me.”
“Ah, ah,” you interrupted, waving your VIP lanyard around obnoxiously. “I’m the important guest here.”
“I should’ve thrown fertilizer at you so you could grow the hell up,” he muttered, trying very hard to remain professional.
“Oh yeah?” You scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I were an octopus so I could slap you with all eight tentacles at once.”
He already looked tired. You continued anyway.
“Actually, maybe I’d use them to peg you down so you’d finally learn how to bow your head.”
Wonwoo blinked, once then twice. He genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stared at you in silence, expression unreadable, wondering how you always managed to hit new levels of insanity before ten in the morning.
Right on cue, another familiar figure approached.
“Hey, Wonwoo—oh.”
The man halted when his eyes landed on you. “I didn’t know you were here,” he grinned brightly. “It’s been forever.”
It was Mingyu.
You froze.
Oh, for the love of God.
“O-oh… yeah. Haha.” Your laugh sounded faker than the fake Chanel bag you once bought online. “What an… unexpected reunion.”
Mingyu had been your junior back in college. And unfortunately, very unfortunately—your old BL series was heavily inspired by him. Mostly because he never shut up about his roommate constantly invading his personal space. At the time, you were just a broke college student trying to survive. You never expected And They Were Roommates to blow up the way it did.
People would read shit anything.
Mingyu casually slung an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo, meanwhile, looked between the two of you suspiciously. He did not like where this was going.
“I work here,” Mingyu explained cheerfully. “Different department though. Remember that roommate I used to complain about all the time?”
He pointed directly at Wonwoo. “Yeah. It’s this guy.”
Your smile twitched violently.
Oh.
Oh, this was bad.
Out of all people, the world really was disgustingly small.
“Real question is,” Mingyu continued, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “why are you here?”
You absolutely could not tell him you were the main guest of the entire event. So instead, you smoothly covered your VIP pass with your hand and flashed a dazzling smile.
“Oh, you know…”
Before your brain could stop you, you looped your arm through Wonwoo’s.
“Unfortunately,” you sighed dramatically, “for someone who treats life like a joke, I’m being serious this time.”
Mingyu looked unconvinced, very unconvinced. He glanced between the two of you like he was trying to solve a math equation with missing numbers. To him, this pairing made absolutely no sense. You, whose personality is like a hurricane, and Wonwoo—who somehow managed to be equally unbearable in a completely different flavor.
Birds of a feather really did flock together.
“…Good for you guys?” Mingyu finally said slowly. “I mean… wow. Match made in heaven.”
The way he said it sounded less like support and more like disbelief.
Before he could ask more questions, you immediately cut in.
“I’d love to continue this questionnaire, Gyu, but Wonwoo and I have somewhere to be.”
You tugged Wonwoo’s arm tighter. “Right, baby?”
“No? What are you—”
“Oh yes, you do, baby,” you cut him off sweetly, already dragging him away. “I know you can’t wait to see the twins.”
With that, you escaped while Mingyu simply stood there, watching the two of you disappear into the crowd. Hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted slightly, he frowned to himself.
How the hell did that happen? Because as far as he knew, both of you were disasters individually.
...
Here you were, sitting beside Wonwoo while watching the twins’ soccer match. Honestly, he didn’t know how he ended up tangled in all of this. Not once or twice, but somehow—every single time he crossed paths with you, his life became increasingly complicated.
At first, he told himself it was only because of the contract, mainly because of work.That staying close to you made things easier professionally. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.
Your routines somehow became his problems too, and the worst part? He could’ve said no at any point. So why the hell was he still here?
You nudged his arm excitedly while cheering for the twins. “Take pictures,” you whispered. “They’re gonna ask for them later.”
Wonwoo blinked before adjusting the camera lens in his hands and taking several shots without complaint.
At this point, he was more involved than the twins’ actual parents.
“You could at least smile or look excited,” you sighed, finally turning to face him.
The lively noise of families and cheering echoed around the field.
“You look like a robot. What if the twins notice?”
He lowered the camera slowly and looked at you instead. He stared at you with silence, and blank-faced as always.
You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need smiling lessons?”
You turned toward him properly, using your fingers to demonstrate. “Okay, look. Make your eyes curve like little shrimp—then lift your cheeks up like this—and…”
Grinning brightly, you continued, “S.M.I.L.E.”
For a moment, Wonwoo just stared at you, quietly. The noise around him faded into the background. The wind brushed past gently, making strands of your hair sway under the sunlight in a way that almost looked unreal.
His chest flutters at the sight. It felt oddly similar to the tiny happiness of a stray cat approaching him first, or when his favorite buldak noodles were finally restocked after disappearing for weeks.
It was small and unexpected, but enough to steal his breath away. Wonwoo immediately buried the feeling before it could settle deeper. He cleared his throat, looking away quickly and lifting the camera back toward the field.
You, completely oblivious, muttered under your breath.
“Jerk.”
Then immediately went back to loudly cheering for the twins.
...
By the time all of you arrived back at your place, Wonwoo was carrying your niece while you carried your nephew, both twins completely passed out after dinner with your parents.
At this point, he was involved way too deeply in your family functions.
What made it worse was the fact that your parents didn’t even seem surprised by his presence anymore. It was almost like they had already accepted him and had simply been waiting for the day you finally brought a man home.
Honestly, they probably saw him more often than some actual relatives. He still remembered how your mother kept asking when you were going to get married. And knowing you, of course you only gave half-assed answers.
It reminded him of Mingyu’s grandfather, whose dementia was apparently so bad that he kept asking whether his cousins had jobs.
Ten times.
And ten times, they had to admit they were still unemployed. Honestly, Wonwoo didn’t even think it was dementia anymore. The old man was probably just in disbelief that they were still jobless.
The twins were quickly settled into their room, exhausted after burning through all their energy earlier. You let out a long sigh, stretching your limbs—only to find Wonwoo sprawled across your sofa like a man who had already given up on life.
“Go sleep at your own place, dude.”
“I’m too tired to drive anymore.”
“Not on my sofa.”
His eyes cracked open immediately.
“Let a man rest, would you?” he groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the cushions.
“Ooookay,” you dragged out teasingly, already walking toward your room. “I was just wondering if you wanted to join me.”
You paused by the doorway and peeked back at him.
“…In my bed.”
Wonwoo sat up instantly. His interest was fully restored.
“You’re messing with me.”
“Yeah,” you answered easily. “I’m fucking with you.”
You casually started unbuttoning your blouse, shrugging it off your shoulders and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.
Wonwoo’s gaze lingered on your bare shoulders. The loose strap of your camisole slipping against your skin. The atmosphere shifted almost immediately. You disappeared into your attached bathroom, beginning to remove your makeup.
“Don’t joke around like that,” he muttered from behind you.
Before you could react, his arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against your neck, breathing you in.
“I survived your family all day. I deserve proper compensation.”
A soft laugh escaped you as you tossed the makeup wipe into the bin.
“Sleep outside. I’m keeping the bed to myself.”
Wonwoo groaned against your skin, lips brushing along your neck before trailing to your shoulder.
“Seducing me like this isn’t going to work,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your hip while watching him through the mirror.
“Then I’ll make it work,” he murmured.
He nipped lightly at your ear while kicking the bathroom door shut behind him.
You found yourself kissing him again. The kiss was warm and messy, arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer as both of you melted into each other like you had been waiting all day for this exact moment.
The bathroom filled with nothing but mingled breaths and quiet laughter between kisses. His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, rough palms gliding over your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. Like he wanted to press himself into every part of your life.
Then, a sudden knock came.
“Aunty…”
Both of you froze instantly.
Wonjun’s sleepy voice came muffled through the door.
“I need to potty.”
You blinked, slowly turning toward Wonwoo. He stared back with the exact same exhausted disbelief.
“Just…” you struggled, trying not to laugh as his hands remained stubbornly on your waist. “Just use the guest bathroom, baby.”
“But I don’t know how.”
You nearly rolled your eyes.
Of course this was happening.
“Wonjun,” you sighed, “you’re five. You absolutely know how.”
Then came soft sniffles. Apparently being woken up from sleep was enough to trigger a minor emotional crisis.
You groaned quietly, resting your forehead against Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Wonwoo,” you hissed under your breath, “remove your dick from the situation for one second.”
He actually laughed at that before finally stepping away.
The moment you opened the bathroom door, a sleepy-looking Wonjun stood there with watery eyes and messy hair.
You sighed immediately. There went the mood.
After helping him and reminding him to wash his hands properly, you finally walked back into your room—only to find Wonwoo was already under the duvet. He was shirtless, with his eyes closed. Looking entirely too comfortable in your bed.
“Aunty,” Wonjun asked innocently, “why was Uncle Won in the bathroom with you?”
You swore you heard Wonwoo choke back a laugh.
Keeping a perfectly straight face, you gently patted Wonjun’s head.
“Uncle Won has potty problems too,” you replied smoothly. “I was helping him. Just like you.”
A muffled snort came from the bed.
“Now go back to sleep,” you added. “Aunty needs beauty sleep before she turns into a beast.”
Wonjun nodded seriously and shuffled away.
The moment the door shut, Wonwoo opened one eye.
“Potty problems?”
“Shut up.”
You changed into your pajama pants before climbing onto the bed.
Wonwoo’s hands immediately found your waist as you settled onto his lap, his thumbs tracing slowly against your sides while he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
He kissed you again, slower this time. Somehow even worse for your sanity. His palms are kneading your ass, almost tender with his touch. You melted into him instantly, fingers tangling into his hair while he pulled you closer—
right before the bedroom door burst open again.
“AUNTY!”
You yelped in shock, shoving Wonwoo away so hard he smacked against the headboard.
Wonhee stood at the door clutching her teddy bear dramatically.
“She won’t stop crying,” Wonjun complained from beside her. “And I can’t sleep.”
You and Wonwoo stared at the twins in complete silence. Then at each other. Just like that, the rest of the night ended with all four of you cramped together in one bed.
...
The next morning came far too quickly. The entire night had left both you and Wonwoo restless and unsatisfied, but at least everyone had slept peacefully. That was until Wonwoo’s snores woke everyone up, and your nephew loudly declared that he sounded like a car engine.
After throwing together something quick for breakfast before dropping the twins off at your brother’s place, you set the plates down on the table while Wonjun sat comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap, inhaling an entire cup of instant ramen. You genuinely wondered if he even chewed those.
“Thank you for the food!” the twins chorused in unison.
Wonhee sat beside Wonwoo, already picking up her food so she could eat in front of the TV in the living room. You shook your head at the sight.
Then your eyes landed on the little boy sitting comfortably on Wonwoo’s lap.
For once, you had never been jealous of children—except maybe that one time you realised you couldn’t order a Happy Meal in your mid-thirties anymore, which you now used as an excuse to buy them for the twins.
“Wonjun, can you go eat somewhere else? There are plenty of seats around here.”
Your nephew looked up curiously, pancake stuffed halfway into his mouth. “Nope.”
Your eyes narrowed. “You’re five. You don’t need to be babied anymore. Yesterday was one thing.”
Wonwoo didn’t seem bothered at all, still securing the boy comfortably in his arms. “Let him be. Why are you so worked up?”
“Of course I’m worked up. That was my spot before they took it over.”
Both Wonwoo and your nephew stared at you. The silence only broke when Wonhee suddenly ran over holding a handmade card.
“Look! Look!” she squealed excitedly. “I made this yesterday at school. Happy Mother’s Day!”
Your heart melted instantly as you accepted the card with a soft smile, patting her head affectionately. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, darling.”
Wonjun immediately scrambled off Wonwoo’s lap and ran toward their room to grab his own version.
You took the opportunity immediately, settling yourself onto Wonwoo’s lap instead. A small “oof” escaped him at the sudden weight.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but I think you should give this to your mom.”
Wonhee leaned against both you and Wonwoo, shaking her head. “I made two! One for mama and one for you because teacher Yoon said Mother’s Day isn’t strictly for biological mothers. You took care of me when I was little, so you have a motherhood role too. You’re basically my mom!”
Then Wonjun returned, proudly handing over his own handmade card filled with messy scribbles and barely readable words.
The twins kissed both your cheeks before running back to the living room.
“They sure love you a lot for someone like you,” Wonwoo muttered.
“It’s a shame I can’t officially be called a mother.”
His palm slid gently against your lower abdomen as he leaned closer, voice dropping lower.
“I can change that.”
You immediately slapped his hand away. “Wow, look at you. I’m surprised kids are drawn to an asshole like you,” you replied nonchalantly while taking a bite of your pancake.
“The genes never lied then,” he murmured while squeezing your waist. “There’s a reason you ended up with me in the first place.”
You nearly choked at that, refusing to acknowledge how true it sounded.
“Did you know belugas don’t chew their food? Yeah, it reminds me of you inhaling those noodles. Who the hell eats like that?”
Wonwoo shrugged as he continued inhaling the noodles. “It tastes better this way.”
“Only a psychopath would eat like that.”
“Then tell me who the hell gets jealous over a kid sitting on my lap?”
You stared at him, and he stared right back just the same.
“I’m not jealous,” you replied a little too quickly.
“Who said it was you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and you immediately wanted to slap the hell out of him.
“Anyway,” you quickly changed the topic while sipping your tea, “did I know you from somewhere? How did you and Mingyu know each other aside from being roommates?”
He thought for a moment, adjusting himself while you still sat comfortably on his lap. “We went to the same school and university. He doesn’t like sharing spaces with strangers.”
You mused at the information. “You went to the same school as me? Why did I never see you around?”
“I was in the Faculty of Business and Management. Maybe that’s why. Mingyu took architecture before changing to finance and accounting.”
You paused mid-bite and turned toward him. “Oh, I was in the Faculty of Applied Science… something like that. I guess that’s probably why I never saw you.”
“What did you major in?”
“Food science,” you answered simply.
After a brief silence, you spoke again.
“I’m surprised you and Mingyu haven’t kissed each other’s asses yet.”
“I know I’m an asshole, not an assfucker.”
You burst out laughing at that while reaching for his wallet and flipping through his ID picture and cards.
“What do you call a baby whale? A little squirt!”
“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned. “Give me that. Don’t go checking what’s inside.”
Did you listen? Of course not. When have you ever listened to anyone anyway? You barely listened to your parents, so why would you start with him?
“Knock knock,” he suddenly said.
You raised a brow but played along anyway. “Who’s there?”
“Whale,” he answered simply.
“Whale who?”
“Whale…” He paused before immediately snatching the wallet away from your hands. “That’s enough of that.”
You rolled your eyes before shamelessly eating half of the ramen that clearly belonged to him.
“I hope your entire generation experiences bad luck in every possible streak.”
He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll just marry you then. We’re going down together whether you like it or not.”
“Give me your card.”
“No. Use your own, you have money.”
“You said you’d marry me. I want to be spoiled,” you whined dramatically while leaning against him like an oversized cat. “I’ve had enough of being the alpha woman all year long.”
“I don’t want you using my money to buy your own diamond ring. I want to buy it for you.”
You turned your head toward him properly this time.
He looked completely serious.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I’m not being sarcastic today. Maybe tomorrow, though.”
Before you could even process that, the twins suddenly came running over excitedly. Wonhee repeatedly called your name as if you weren’t literally sitting right there.
“When can I see you become a princess one day?” she asked excitedly, twirling around while showing you a picture of a bride on her tablet.
You hated admitting it, but every year you were reminded that maybe you would never become one—though you were certainly close to becoming a witch.
Still, you smiled softly.
“Oh, maybe soon.”
The little girl gasped excitedly, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean Uncle will be your prince? And I want to stay with you the whole time when you become a princess!”
“I think he’d be more like the villain who stole the princess away rather than Prince Charming.”
“Villains are way cooler,” Wonjun added confidently.
Wonwoo merely rolled his eyes at your comments.
“Besides…” you trailed off, leaning closer until your lips brushed against his. “The evil ones are always hotter…”
You chuckled softly before kissing him, earning a smirk from Wonwoo almost immediately.
The twins loudly made gagging noises before scurrying away to continue playing around the living room. You and Wonwoo watched them go before falling back into your own little world together, spending the rest of the morning tangled up in each other before the weekend truly began.
Unfortunately, your love life never unfolded like those Prince Charming fairytales. Instead, it felt more like a ridiculous romcom sitcom filled with stupidity, arguments, and way too many unfortunate coincidences.
Unfortunately, you never met him sooner back in school. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have spent so long giving up on love.
Fortunately, though, you loved the way invisible strings worked.
It was beautiful that way. And fortunately, this piece of shit was yours forever to keep.
FIN.
a/n: omg, i'm finally free!! now i can focus on cheol's fic. it wasn't supposed to be so long, i spent the entire time writing shit in here. i tried eating noodles without chewing btw, almost left me choking to death and never again. it's always the shitty fic that everyone enjoyed, goodday apples! comments, reblogged are appreciated :)
PAIRING: campus DJ!jeonghan x f!reader
GENRE: friends to lovers, college au, 2000s au
WC: 16,816
WARNINGS: weed/alcohol consumption, discussion of mental illness, bit o jealousy, angst, idiots in love, semi-public sex but like barely, dry humping, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms, petnames (baby), cum swallowing, lots of whimpering u already know!!!!!, jun cameo and he's real weird again!! (/pos), i made up a bunch of terrible fake band names enjoy
A/N: written for @studiosvt's First Time Caller collab! be sure to check out all the other banger fics on the masterlist! i had a blast writing this, loser emo boi jeonghan was not something i knew i needed but i fear i am now in love with him. btw, this fic is set in 2003! peak era for this genre of music if u ask me :) shoutout to the homie @haologram for beta reading, u da best fr ily <3
SYNOPSIS: You met Jeonghan freshman year of college — he seemed a bit strange at first, shy and a bit elusive, but you two instantly became friends when you bonded over your love of alternative music and record stores. You wouldn't necessarily call him your best friend, but as friendships and relationships came and went over the years, Jeonghan was always a constant in your life. It's junior year now, and you're trying to convince him to apply for the open DJ position at the campus radio station. WFVC 90.5 is known for being the hotspot for underground punk music, and with Jeonghan majoring in communications studies you know it's the perfect role for him. He gets the job, and you figure you'd be seeing a lot less of him now that he's busy working the late night shift at the station. But it's quite the opposite — you're spending more time with Jeonghan than ever before, and you start to realize there might be something more than friendship on the horizon for you two.
[ONE]
Filtered sunlight beaming through the treetops hits your eyes as you step out into the quad, making you squint in the sudden brightness that starkly contrasts the dim interior of the Literature Hall you were just in. The air is crisp — not yet chilly, but fresh and invigorating, a tell-tale sign of fall being right around the corner. The quad is buzzing with life, students chattering as they stroll to class, bikes zipping past you on the sidewalk, every bench and shaded spot under a tree occupied with people laughing, reading, relaxing. You leisurely make your way over to your usual spot, but as you approach the small oak near the Communications Building you see two girls you don't recognize sitting in the grass beneath its low branches. Puzzled, you look around, but then you spot a familiar lanky figure standing outside the Comms building. His back is turned to you, so all you can see is the mess of long dark hair upon his head, but the baggy flannel shirt and the black backpack adorned with various pins and patches slung over one shoulder are a dead giveaway. As you head in his direction, you see he appears to be staring straight ahead at a lamppost.
"Hey dork, I was looking for you," you call out playfully as you walk toward him, but he doesn't seem to hear you. Getting closer, you spot the pair of headphones on his head, the wire plugged into the portable CD player in his hand — the loud, raucous sounds of Linkin Park blaring in his ears tinnily resonating through the air from halfway across the sidewalk. When you get within arm's reach you tug on the handle of his backpack. He nearly jumps out of his skin, whipping around and yanking the headphones off his head with a startled expression on his face. When he sees it's you, he relaxes, but not without majorly rolling his eyes.
"Jesus, you fucking scared me," he sighs. He lifts the CD player in his hand and pauses the song, the banging melody ringing through the foam-covered headphones ceasing.
"Sorry," you apologize, but a wide grin spreads on your face. "I didn't think you'd react that much. What are you doing, anyway?" you ask, looking over to the lamppost.
"Nothing," he says quickly, but a flier with bold text catches your eye.
Do you like punk music? Do you like radio?
WFVC 90.5 is HIRING for a DJ position!
No experience necessary, Communications majors preferred.
APPLY NOW at the station (Comms Building 2nd Floor)
"Oh my god, Jeonghan this is perfect!" you exclaim, but your friend shakes his head.
"I was just looking."
"Dude, you HAVE to apply. This is literally your dream job!"
Jeonghan frowns. "I doubt they would hire me."
"What the hell are you talking about? You're exactly the person they're looking for," you tell him. And it's true — Foxville College's singular radio station may be a local joint, but it's famous across all of Wisconsin for being the station for underground grunge, punk, and alternative rock. You've been listening to it since you were a kid, and its where your love of the genres originated. Jeonghan happens to share the exact same music taste — it's how you became friends in the first place back in Freshman year.
"Hey!" Jeonghan calls after you as you both exit the same building. You had just came from the same class, Intro to Poetry, but it's the very first day of school, so he doesn't know your name. But he saw your notebook fall out of your half-open backpack, and you didn't notice it.
He picks up the small, black leather notebook and quickly zips after you. "Excuse me," he tries again, but you're wearing headphones. Your music is loud, and familiar. He taps on your shoulder, startling you slightly.
"Hi, sorry," Jeonghan tells you as you turn to face him, shifting the headphones off one ear so you can hear. "You dropped this." You look at his hands as he extends the notebook to you.
"Oh! That is mine," you remark, taking your headphones off fully now and pausing your music.
"Yeah, your backpack was open."
You look over your shoulder, and sure enough, the bag is half-unzipped.
"Whoops," you tell him with a lighthearted laugh, taking the notebook and putting it back in the bag, making sure to close it all the way this time. "Well, thank you, I appreciate it," you say with a friendly smile. You go to put your headphones back on and walk away, but before you can do so he points at your portable CD player.
"Are you listening to Green Day?" he asks.
"Oh, yeah! I am!" you reply excitedly. "It's the Dookie album, one of my faves."
"That album is so good," he agrees with a smile. "I don't mean this in a rude way or anything," he says shyly. "But you I wouldn't have guessed you'd be into punk music."
"Yeah, I get that a lot," you say with a laugh. "I don't particularly dress very edgy or anything. Maybe I should start dressing the part."
"Wear whatever you want," he responds with a shrug. "The most punk rock thing you can do is be yourself."
"That's very true," you grin back at him. "I'm y/n, by the way."
"I'm Jeonghan," he replies with a soft smile. "It's nice to meet you."
And so you and Jeonghan quickly became friends. He's a pretty quiet guy, very much the opposite of your bubbly, sociable self; but despite your differences you get along well. He's also pretty much the only person you know who likes the same type of music as you, so you definitely share a close bond over that.
"Besides," you say to Jeonghan. "You really should get a job anyway."
"Hey!" he pouts. "Are you calling me broke?"
"Yes. Because you are."
The left corner of his mouth lifts slightly, giving you a half-grin. "So are you, moron."
You playfully give him a light punch in the arm. "Takes one to know one."
"I'll think about it," he concedes.
"You better. If not then I'll submit the application for you."
"Pretty sure that's not allowed," he replies, raising a brow at you.
"Like that's gonna stop me," you inform him.
"Unfortunately, I believe that," he chuckles, rolling his eyes again. "Anyway, c'mon," he says to as he starts walking off. "I have a surprise for you."
"Oh god, what have you done now?" you pretend to complain as you follow after him.
"No no, you're gonna like this one," he grins. "I promise."
"Okay, well now I know where we're going," you say as Jeonghan turns onto Harton Street. The street boasts a Dead End sign, and it's path is winding. You can't see much past the trees, but you know there is only one reason to come down this way.
"I was here over the weekend," you inform him. "I don't need to buy anything else."
"Oh please, like you'd pass up the opportunity to get some new vinyl," he grins.
"Dude, I'm already living off ramen."
"Just trust me."
"Okaaay," you reply, feigning skepticism. "If you say so."
The tires of Jeonghan's 1991 Mercury Tracer crunch as he turns off the main road onto a white gravel drive. A humble building comes into view, its exterior painted pastel yellow with a giant sign reading TURNPIKE RECORDS in a large, swirling font that looks straight out of the 1970s. A neon sign resides in the window, flickering slightly but advertising that the shop is open. There's only one other car in the small lot: a pristine, hot red Chevy Camaro also straight out of the 70s, belonging to the shop's owner.
Jeonghan parks the car and the two of you head into the store. The front door squeaks as you open it, an assortment of small bronze bells hanging above the door ringing out to announce your entry. The familiar, slightly-musty scent of the used record store fills your nose as you walk down the three steps taking you to the shop floor. Aside from the natural light from the window, the place is pretty dim, lit mainly by a couple of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and a variety of glowing lava lamps of all shapes, sizes, and colors placed throughout the room. Nearly every inch of wall is covered in a hodge-podge of framed posters and photographs, giving the whole place a chaotic but vibrant feel. Without a doubt, this is your favorite spot in town.
"I wonder if they have the new Muse album yet," you comment, meandering through the empty shop over to the Rock section.
"Not yet," Jeonghan replies as he starts flipping through a nearby discount bin. "I checked already."
You hear a faint swoosh come from behind you. You turn around to see a tall, heavily-tattooed man carrying a large box emerging from the thick velvet curtain that leads to the back of the store — none other than the shop's owner, Tripp. He's in his mid-40s, bald except for a long goatee on his chin, and he has more earrings than you can even count.
"Hey hey, I thought I heard my favorite customers out here!" Tripp says cheerfully when he sees you and Jeonghan. He sets the box on top of the counter, brushing his hands off and coming out to greet you on the floor.
"Oh please, you say that to everyone," you grin at the man.
"Definitely not," he shakes his head. "Besides, between the both of you you guys are keeping me in business. Speaking of," he says as he suddenly snaps and points at you. "I got something for ya."
He quickly returns to the counter and retrieves something from the shelves beneath the register. He walks back to you and hands you an album, light gray in color. You flip it over, and your jaw drops. It's a Japanese edition of Led Zeppelin IV — your favorite album of all time.
"Your friend told me you've been looking for this one," he tells you, nodding his head in Jeonghan's direction. "He convinced me to set it aside for you."
"Wow, that's so nice thank you!!" you tell Tripp excitedly. "How much?"
"Don't worry about it. It's already paid for."
"What?!"
You look over at Jeonghan, but he just smiles back at you sheepishly.
"What the hell, thank you," you grin at him. "You did not have to do that though."
"Actually, I did," Jeonghan admits. "Tripp made me."
Tripp lets out a hearty laugh. "Well regardless, I'm glad it's in the hands of someone I know will really appreciate it."
"Let me pay you back," you say to Jeonghan as Tripp returns to restocking, but he just shakes his head.
"Don't worry about it, really," he tells you warmly.
"Okay, fine. But you're gonna come over and listen to this with me," you insist, poking him in the chest. "We can smoke and I'll order pizza."
Jeonghan's face lights up. "Sounds like a deal to me," he grins.
brrrrrrr
brrrrrrr
The dull trill of the phone rings in your ear as you wait for the call to connect. You've only hit the bong once, but your head already feels like you're floating in the clouds. You mindlessly twirl the cord around your index finger, and you're halfway zoned out by the time the other line picks up.
"Arthur's Pizzeria," a cheerful voice suddenly speaks into your ear. "How can I help you?"
"Yeah hi!" you blurt out in your mildly startled state. "Can I order one large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese for delivery?"
"You got it! What's the address?"
"22 Elmwood Street, Unit 201."
"Great! It'll be about 20 minutes."
With a click you set the handset back onto the hook, returning to the living room. Your roommate won't be back until later, so you two have the place to yourselves — perfect for getting high and lazing around without judgment. Jeonghan sits on the couch, sinking into the cushions already and staring off into space. It takes him a moment to register that you're back; when he notices you, he tries to sit up, but the effort required for it currently seems monumental.
"Pizza ordered?" he asks, peering at you through lazy eyelids.
"Yup," you reply as you plop onto the other end of the couch. "Be here in 20."
"Sweet," he grins. You reach for the bong, grabbing the lighter next to it and lighting a bit more of the bowl. After a decently fat rip and a few solid coughs, you extend it out to Jeonghan.
"Man, I'm so high already," he groans, but he takes the colorful swirled glass from your hand anyway. "Where'd you get this grass?"
"Got it from Joshua," you reply, lifting your feet up onto the couch and tucking them beside you.
"Oh," Jeonghan replies, giving you a look as he exhales a cloud of smoke and hands the bong back over.
"What's your deal with Joshua?" you question, raising your brow at him.
"What? Nothing," he says quickly. "We should open a window."
He gets to his feet and walks across the room, lifting the nearest window up as far as it will go. It's a nice evening — the crisp air from earlier has gotten cooler, but it feels delightful as it begins to drift into the apartment in the light breeze.
"I know you don't like him," you continue, not letting Jeonghan ignore your question. "But I've never known why."
"I never said I didn't like him," he denies, flopping back onto the couch.
"You didn't have to," you point out. "Your face says it all."
He grimaces, rolling his eyes. "Curse my expressive nature. Anyway, I dunno, he just always seems like he's trying to make a move on you."
"Oh, he's like that with everyone," you reply matter-of-factly.
"Right."
"He is," you affirm. "And besides, so what if he was?"
"Huh?" Jeonghan pipes up, seemingly surprised by your question. "Oh, I just mean… I just don't trust guys who are always talking to girls that. Seems sleazy."
"No, really," you reiterate. "He's like that with everyone."
"Okay," he concedes skeptically. "If you say so."
"Should we play some Zeppelin?" you ask, getting up to go grab the record. Jeonghan's face lights up.
"Fuck yeah," he grins.
You put the album on, the signature bold, heavy sounds of the band greeting your ears as you crank up the volume. As you sit there listening, you finish off the bowl with Jeonghan, the air of your apartment now completely overtaken by smoke despite the open window.
"When's that damn pizza gonna get here?" he mumbles, but before you can even respond you hear a knock coming from the front door.
"Whoa, you summoned it," you giggle, rising to your feet a bit too quickly and stumbling slightly on your way over to the door. You answer, having a quick conversation with the usual delivery boy before paying and scurrying back over to the couch, the heavenly smell of hot, greasy pepperoni pizza joining the weed aroma in the room. You don't even bother with plates, instead simply picking up the slices and shoveling them directly into your hungry mouths. The conversation remains paused for a few minutes; you zone out, letting yourself get lost in the music, but eventually your conversation with Jeonghan earlier pops back into your head.
"You really should apply to that DJ job," you say, turning to him, but he just shrugs.
"Eh, I don't think I'd get it."
"Not with that attitude you won't."
"You always say that," he rolls his eyes.
"It's true!" you insist. "Jeonghan, come on. This is basically your dream job, and you're literally the perfect guy for it. Just apply and see what happens!"
"Maybe, I dunno."
"Besides," you add. "You need the money to fund your poor spending habits."
"Hey!" he balks. "I do not have poor spending habits."
You pick up the vinyl sleeve, tapping the little yellow sticker on the cover with a messy $40 scribbled on it in black ink.
"Yeah, you do."
He groans, letting his head fall back into the couch. "You're so annoying," he says to you with a grin.
"Takes one to know one," you tease back. He grabs the nearest throw pillow, lobbing it at you and hitting you in the arm.
"Okay, I probably earned that," you admit with a laugh.
The current song ends, the gentle guitar strums of "Stairway to Heaven" filling your ears as the iconic song begins.
"Oh shit, shut up," you tell Jeonghan, launching the pillow right back at him. He jumps slightly as the unexpected pillow hits him in the chest with a soft thump. "I fucking love this song."
He is about to tell you that duh, everybody with a brain loves this song — but your eyes are closed already, bobbing your head slightly to the beat, clearly already lost in it; so he just shakes his head, chuckling silently to himself.
The both of you feel like you're drifting to a higher plane as the song progresses, fully immersed in the grand crescendo you've both heard so many times yet have never tired of. When it ends, your eyes flutter open again, finding Jeonghan fully sunk into the other end of the couch. You start to wonder if he actually fell asleep, but then he lifts his head, opening his eyes to look at you.
"You know how some people say a hot dog is a sandwich?" he asks. You stare at him for a moment, trying to comprehend in your inebriated state what it was he just said.
"Who the fuck says that?" you inquire once you finally process his question.
"I dunno. People."
"Stupid people, maybe."
"I mean, yeah," he agrees. "But like… do you think pizza is a sandwich?"
You stare at him for a moment. "What?"
"I don't know, it's got bread and cheese and meat and tomatoes, right? Those things go on sandwiches."
"You're high as shit, dumbass," you tell him.
"Okay, well watch this!" He reaches over to the pizza box and picks up a new slice. Turning to show it to you, he slowly folds it in half. "See? That's a sandwich!"
"Oh shut the fuck up," you reply, but you can't help but laugh.
Jeonghan munches on his pizza-sandwich while you reach for your stash, refilling the bowl and lighting up again. When he finishes, you hand the bong over.
"Not like either of us needs it, but whatever man," you say with a pleased grin.
With heavy, banging drum beats, the last song on the album begins to play. This one has always been Jeonghan's favorite, you recall despite being astronomically faded. You glance over at him, finding him staring out the open window into the now-dark night. Certainly not out of the ordinary, but something about him in this moment seems… sad, almost. He notices you watching him, but he seems to have become self-conscious, averting your gaze.
"What's on your mind?"
Jeonghan continues staring out the window, but he lets out a small sigh.
"Do you ever think about how big the universe is?" he asks. "And then it makes you realize how small and meaningless we really are?"
You pause for a minute, considering the gravity of his question.
"No, not really," you finally answer gently. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answers instinctively; but after thinking about it for a moment, he adds: "But sometimes I wonder if I'm not."
"In what way?"
"Just… the whole entire world feels impossibly huge, yet Earth is just a tiny pale blue dot compared to the whole galaxy. In the grand scheme of things, we're nothing. Nothing we do matters."
"I don't think that's true at all."
Jeonghan finally looks over to you, staring at you curiously.
"But how? How can anything have any meaning if we are so tiny?"
"I think that makes everything all that much more meaningful," you reply. "Like… the universe is so huge and vast and yet here we are, chillin' together, existing at just the right time to eat pizza and listen to Zepp. I just think that's a really nice thought."
"Hmm," he mumbles, opening his mouth to say something else — but his words never come. At this point he is so physically relaxed that he seems fused to the couch.
"You're fuckin' blasted, dude," you giggle, reaching over and shaking him playfully.
"Am nottttt," he pouts, but moments later he starts giggling too. "Okay, fine, I am. But, I guess I've just never thought of it that way before."
The album ends, the room falling silent. You get up, casually shuffling over to your ever-growing collection of records that is now taking up the entire corner of the small living room.
"What next?" you ask Jeonghan over your shoulder.
"Surprise me."
You peruse through your titles, not sure exactly what you're looking for; but then one catches your eye.
"Ooh, got it," you say with a grin. You replace the vinyl on the turntable and set the needle in position, the sounds of Dookie by Green Day playing aloud in the room, making Jeonghan smile too.
[TWO]
You stroll through the library, exiting the stacks to make your way to your next class. On your way out, you're surprised to spot Jeonghan, sitting alone at one of the tables. Unexpected — as he usually spends most of his free time out in the quad or in the Comms Building's study space; if he's in the library, it's usually just to take a nap. He has a book on the desk beside him, but it's closed, and he instead seems to be intensely focused on a piece of paper, brow furrowed and deep in thought. You walk over to him, but he doesn't notice you approaching. As you near the desk you can see the word APPLICATION in bold font at the top of the paper.
"Yay, you're doing it!!" you say to him as you appear beside him, shaking him by the shoulder excitedly and making him nearly fly out of his seat.
"Jesus Christ you have got to stop sneaking up on me!" he yelps quietly, but it still earns him a glare from a nearby librarian. She raises her finger to her lips, shushing the two of you before going back to re-shelving books. You sit down in the chair next to him, scooting in close enough so you can whisper.
"This is so exciting!" you tell him in a hushed voice, but he sighs, shaking his head.
"I'm not even sure if I'm gonna turn it in," he admits.
"What? Dude, you're halfway there, just finish and go turn it in!"
"I don't know," he frowns. "They're probably just gonna laugh at me."
You raise your brow at him. "Why on earth would you think they'd do that?"
"Most people do," he shrugs.
"Well, even if they do — which they won't — who cares?" you question. "Just follow your dreams, don't let other people get in the way."
The librarian turns around again, her displeased glare telling you you're still being too loud for her liking.
"C'mon," you say to Jeonghan. "Finish up your application and let's get out of here."
He quickly fills out the rest of the form and you ditch the library together. Jeonghan is done with classes for the day, but he accompanies you across the quad to your next class.
"What are you up to tonight?" he asks. He kicks a pebble along the sidewalk as he walks; you watch his dingy old converse scuff against the ground as he does, noticing the small hole forming in the toe of his right shoe.
"I'm getting dinner with Mark," you reply casually. You see his face drop slightly out of the corner of your eye.
"Basketball team Mark?"
"Yep! We have History of Feminist Literature together, though he's a Economics major so he's just taking it for an elective."
"Hm," Jeonghan says out loud without meaning to.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. You just hardly ever go on dates, that's all."
"Oh, it's not a date," you say plainly, but you see him roll his eyes. "It's not!!" you insist. "We're just friends."
"I doubt he sees it that way."
"And how would you know that?"
"Because dudes only think with their dicks."
"Are you speaking from experience?" you inquire teasingly.
"This is not about me," he mutters, looking mildly embarrassed as he avoids eye contact. Luckily for him, you've arrived at the Literature Hall, giving him an excuse to change the subject.
"Hope you have a good class," he tells you warmly.
"Thanks," you reply with a smile. "Now you go turn in that job application or I'm going to kick your ass."
"I will," he laughs.
"Pinky promise?" you ask, extending your hand. He chuckles, but he connects pinkies with you.
"I promise."
"Good!" you tell him with a grin. "See ya later!"
"See ya," he smiles back.
You unlock your front door quietly, trying not to make noise and wake up your roommate considering how late it is by now. But as you enter the apartment you see her sitting at the computer, back turned to you as she is absorbed in whatever is on the screen.
"Hey, I didn't think you'd still be up," you say as you shut the door and kick your shoes off.
"Oh hey," Mina replies as she turns around to greet you. She lifts her wrist to peer at her watch. "Damn, I didn't realize how late it was."
"What are you doing on the computer?" you inquire, walking over to the desk out of curiosity.
"It's this new MySpace website Irene told me about," she replies, turning back around and double-clicking on something. "It's so sick, I've been here all night making my profile."
"Oh yeah, I've heard of that," you tell her as you watch her scroll through her profile. "Seems pretty cool."
"You should make one!" she tells you. "I can add you to my Top 8 friends."
"Oh, maybe. I'm still getting used to this whole Internet thing, honestly," you laugh.
"Soooo," Mina starts, shutting down the computer and heading into the kitchen. "How was your date with Mark?"
"It wasn't a date," you tell her. "I don't know why everyone keeps saying that."
"Okay, whatever," she responds, browsing through the snack cabinet for a minute before deciding on the bag of Cheeto Puffs. "How was your not-date?"
"It was… good."
"You don't sound so sure about that."
"No, it was!" you assure her. "It's just that… I don't know, he kinda just talked about basketball the whole time."
"Ugh. Typical guy shit," Mina rolls her eyes.
"He's really nice, though…" you say, though you're not sure if you're trying to convince her or yourself more.
"Nice enough to go on a second date — sorry, not-date with?" she raises her brow at you.
"Well, I don't know about that…"
You sigh, feeling a bit dejected suddenly. It's not like you're trying to date or anything, but you can't deny that it would be kinda nice to have at least a little bit more success.
"Maybe I should just give up on dating," you grimace.
Mina pops another Cheeto in her mouth. "I mean, I don't know why you bother. You basically already have a BF."
"What?" you ask, puzzled. "No I don't?"
"C'mon, you're literally hanging out with what's-his-name all the time. The metalhead."
"Jeonghan?? He's not into metal."
"Okay, whatever noise it is you guys listen to."
"It's called punk, and it's cool."
"Riiight."
"Anyway, he's just my friend," you tell her. Her lips curve into a slight grin, and she gives you a look.
"Sure he is."
"I can be friends with dudes!"
"Dudes only think with their dicks," she retorts, echoing Jeonghan's exact words from earlier.
"He's not like that," you assure her.
"Well that's rare, if true. Maybe you should date him."
You roll your eyes, but you're tired. Mina means well, but you don't really feel like having this conversation right now. Luckily, she's already putting her snack away, and then heads off to her room.
"Anyway, I'm off to bed. Goodnight!"
You too head off to bed, but as you brush your teeth you start to think about what Mina said. What if Jeonghan does see me as more than a friend? you wonder to yourself. After all, he did say the exact same thing earlier, too. You don't think he meant it in that way, but now you're beginning to second-guess your intuition…
You go straight to bed, deciding not to think about it anymore tonight.
[THREE]
You have some time between classes, so you take up residence in your usual spot in the quad, sitting on the ground reclined against your usual tree. Fall is officially here now, and it's a bit cold out, but you're perfectly comfortable in your thick sweater and windbreaker. Out of the corner of your eye, you suddenly see something in the distance charging directly at you. Looking up from your book, you see Jeonghan, forgoing the sidewalks and sprinting across the grass straight toward you, waving and flailing his arms like a maniac.
"You look like a psychopath," you call to him as he approaches.
"I got it!!!"
"Got wha— wait, the DJ job?!" you perk up excitedly.
"YES!!"
He plops down on the ground next to you, out of breath from running, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
"Holy shit, congrats!!" you tell him enthusiastically. "See, I told you you'd get it!"
"I can't believe I almost ripped up the application and threw it in the trash."
"Jeonghan!" you blurt out, hitting him playfully in the arm, but he just shakes his head and laughs.
"I didn't though! You made me pinky promise."
"This is amazing! When do you start?"
"Tonight, actually," he answers. "Unfortunately, I'm stuck on the late night shift since I'm a newbie — 10pm–4am."
"Oh, yikes," you reply concernedly, but he shrugs it off.
"It's fine," he smiles. "I don't sleep anyway."
"Damn, I guess I'm never gonna see you again," you say jokingly, but an unexpected wave of sadness washes over you as your own words sink in.
"No way," he shakes his head resolutely. "We're still gonna hang out. I'll find a way to make it happen."
A fluttering sensation hits your stomach. You hang out with Jeonghan all the time, so you're not sure why you'd have this reaction. But something about the way he said it — "I'll find a way"— feels… different. But, regardless, you're just glad you're still going to be able to see your friend.
"What are you doing until then?" you inquire.
"I was just gonna go grab a bite at the dining hall and then go nap in the library."
"Wanna go to Jacq's instead?" you ask. "My treat."
Jeonghan's face lights up. "Hell yeah," he grins. "That sounds like a way better idea."
The low hum of neon lights buzzes gently through the tune of the usual rotation of 1960s hits as you and Jeonghan sit in the corner booth, chatting and giggling over your meal. Jacqueline's Diner is an old-fashioned joint, and the majority of its clientele is over the age of 60 — but the food is cheap, greasy, and delicious, so the two of you are practically regulars. Jeonghan ordered his usual, chicken tenders and a Cherry Coke float; you opted for a grilled cheese and chocolate milkshake, and you ordered a basket of fries to share.
"You heard about this MySpace?" Jeonghan asks, dipping three large, salty fries in ketchup and shoving them all into his mouth at once.
"Oh yeah," you say, picking the maraschino cherry off the top of the whipped cream and eating it one bite. "Mina's on there, she told me about it. Seems pretty cool."
"I think it sounds lame," he shrugs indifferently.
"What? Why?"
"I dunno, the whole Top 8 friends is kinda weird. Just sounds like one big popularity contest if you ask me."
"Yeah, I guess so," you agree.
"Besides, I don't even have eight friends."
"Oh shut up," you retort. "That's not true!"
"It's okay," Jeonghan chuckles. "I'm just not the kind of guy who has a lot of friends."
"We'll I'd put you in my Top 8," you tell him, but he rolls his eyes. "It's true, I would!"
"C'mon, y/n," he laughs. "You have so many friends."
"Mmm, not really," you reply. "Not ones I hang out with on the regular, anyway. It's mostly you and Mina these days."
"Well, thanks for hanging out with me," he says sheepishly.
"You say that like it's a charity case," you tease him. "I hang out with you because I like you, moron."
Jeonghan says nothing, sipping on his float instead, but the big grin creeping across his face is undeniable.
"So," you ask after a bite of grilled cheese. "Are you excited?"
"For the job?"
"No, for Christmas," you reply jokingly. "Yes, the job!!"
"I guess so," he shrugs. "Mostly I'm just nervous."
"Why?"
"Because what if I'm bad at it and they fire me?"
"Jeonghan, that is not going to happen."
"But I don't know what I'm doing!" he frowns.
"Dude, nobody knows what they're doing when they start a new job," you remind him. "Besides, they're going to train you! You'll learn the ropes in no time."
"What if I don't?"
"I find that hard to believe. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for, Hannie. Stop being so hard on yourself."
"Easier said than done," he replies lightheartedly, but his lack of confidence still shows.
"Why is that?" you inquire.
He thinks for a moment. "I don't know," he eventually answers. "Sometimes it just feels like there's a little voice in my head telling me I suck at everything and that I should just give up."
"I worry about you sometimes."
"I'm okay, I promise," he smiles softly at you. "Sorry for being sad so much."
"You don't have to apologize for that," you tell him firmly. "You're my friend and I'm here for you no matter what."
A couple remaining fries sit at the bottom of the basket, calling to you from the red-and-white checkered paper lining. You reach for them, but Jeonghan does too, your hands colliding over the table.
"Ope, sorry," he says timidly, retracting his hand. "You can have it."
"No, you take it," you insist, sliding the basket toward him. "You've got a long night ahead of you, you need the fuel. Speaking of, want another float?"
"No, it's oka—"
But you're already signaling to the waitress across the restaurant, pointing to Jeonghan's empty glass.
"I don't know why I asked," you tell him. "I already knew the answer."
The waitress quickly brings him a refill in a fresh glass, complete with his usual order of an extra cherry on top.
"Thanks, y/n," he smiles. "You're the best."
After you finish your meal and pay, Jeonghan drives you home. He pulls up next to the curb outside your apartment, putting the car into park and turning to face you.
"Thanks again for dinner," he smiles.
"Of course," you smile back. "I got ya. And I'll make sure to tune into WFVC tonight!"
Jeonghan chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't think I'm going to be on the air just yet. I think I gotta be less of a noob first."
"Well, I'll be thinking of you anyway," you tell him with a nod. He drops his head slightly, trying to hide his face behind his long hair.
"Besides, I wanna support the station — and maybe I'll find some new bands I like." You playfully give him a punch him in the arm. "Jut remember to relax, you're gonna crush it."
"I'll do my best," he promises.
"Good!" you nod, opening the passenger door and hopping out of the car. "Later skater," you smile at him, giving him a wave before shutting the door. He waves back, watching you walk toward your building, waiting until you've made it safely inside before shifting the car into gear and driving off.
[FOUR]
Jeonghan stands in the hallway, staring at the windowless, red door in front of him. He pulls a crumpled sticky note out of his jacket pocket, flattening it to reveal C-302 written in smudged pen. Looking up, he triple-checks the room number on the small metal plaque next to the door, but just as the first two times, it still reads C-302. The dozens of band stickers all over the door, some that look like they have been there for decades, are also a dead giveaway — this is it: the campus radio station. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then reaches for the door handle.
As the door swings open, a small, hectic room comes into view. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line every bit of wall, overflowing with endless stacks of CD cases; the rest of the room is crammed full of all sorts of audio and mixing equipment — some he recognizes, some he doesn't — and it seems that every bit of exposed surface is covered in show posters and even more band stickers. A too-small desk pushed against the far wall houses two computers, and at one of them sits a tough-looking man with a ponytail, seemingly older than himself, but not by much — perhaps a graduate student. The man peers up as Jeonghan enters the room.
"Hi, I'm Jeonghan," he says timidly. "I'm the new student employee, I was told to meet here at 9:45—"
"Yes, hello!" the man says cheerfully, hopping out of his seat and strutting across the room to give Jeonghan a very firm handshake. "I'm A.J., I'm the one running this joint for the most part — aside from Professor Sampson, of course. You're in undergrad, yeah?"
"Yes," Jeonghan replies politely, relieved that the man doesn't have the tough-guy demeanor he initially expected. "I'm a Junior."
"Awesome, well welcome to the team bro! Johnny's almost wrapped in the booth, and then you're on," he says, pointing his thumb back at the small window in the far wall; Jeonghan tries to peer through it, but all he can see is the top of the current DJ's head, clad with chunky headphones. "But don't worry — tonight I'll be showing you the ropes, so you just have to follow my lead. Cool?"
"Yeah, cool," Jeonghan nods in agreement.
"Excellent! Well, for starters, obviously we want to keep the volume to a minimum so there's no background noises when we're on air, but the soundproofing in the booth is good enough that you can talk at a regular volume out here and nobody's gonna hear ya. Just no screaming or anything crazy. As you can see over here," he says, pointing to the packed shelves. "We have quite a number of CDs on file. Now, I assume you're familiar with the station's catalogue?" Jeonghan nods, and A.J. continues. "Good. So you know we don't play anything that's even remotely popular — and if it's ever been on the radio, forget it. Most of our inventory is underground artists, garage bands, et cetera; the purpose of this station is to put a spotlight on new or small groups, show them some love and appreciation. So unless you're big into the local scene, you probably won't have heard of most of these bands."
Jeonghan skims over the nearest shelf, sure enough finding nothing familiar. Instead he finds jewel cases boasting all sorts of unheard-of band names — plunk!, Blister, Pisswizard, The Underwater Grandmas, and Groob, to name a few.
"Anyway, few ground rules. First, if the ON AIR sign is lit, you are live. Don't go saying anything you don't want hundreds of strangers to hear. Second, keep up with the queue, but also clean up after yourself. Don't leave loose CDs laying around, and make sure they go back into their actual cases — makes everyone's jobs easier."
Jeonghan nods attentively, trying not to seem nervous, but he feels like he's not doing a very good job. A.J. seems to notice too, but he claps Jeonghan on the shoulder and gives him a grin.
"Third, and this one's the most important if you ask me: just have fun. As long as you're doing a good job, just be yourself. Nothin' to stress over, I promise."
Jeonghan hears the booth door swing open; peering over A.J.'s shoulder, he sees a tall, dark-haired student stepping out into the main room.
"Ope, looks like we're on," A.J. says to him. "Johnny, this is Jeonghan, our new night shift guy."
Johnny walks over, shaking Jeonghan's hand enthusiastically. "Welcome! Nice to meet you, bro!"
"Thanks," Jeonghan replies, slightly intimidated by how friendly everyone is being, but he smiles politely at his new coworkers.
"Catch you guys 'round!" Johnny says as he takes off, giving the other two men a cheerful salute.
"Alright, the queue will be running for another 10 minutes or so," A.J. says as he enters the booth, pointing at the unlit ON AIR sign. "So in the meantime I can show you the basics…"
As promised, A.J. gives him the rundown, going over the master audio mixer controls, how to queue up songs, how to check the logs to see what's already been played, and a few different generic scripts for radio announcements.
"Like I said, you won't be talking on air just yet. But it's good for practice — and the more you practice the more natural it'll feel," he assures him. "Alright, we're coming up on the end of the queue. Grab some discs from that stack over there — doesn't matter which ones, really — and get them ready, I'll make the announcement." He places the bulky headphones on, pulling the mic in front of him and waiting for the song's outro begin to fade. He signals to Jeonghan as he goes live, the ON AIR sign lighting up bright red above their heads.
"That was 'Bitchcraft' by the Lipstick Dollz, and you're listening to WFVC 90.5 — the hottest place for underground punk and badass rock n' roll," A.J. speaks effortlessly into the mic. "Coming up next for you this hour, we've got some more Doomcock, a few from Spaceshuttle, and The Mary Jane Planes with their newest track, "Reefer Renegade" — only here on WFVC 90.5. Don't you dare touch that fuckin' tuner!"
The ON AIR sign shuts off, its red glow disappearing as the next song begins to play.
"See? Pretty easy," A.J. grins.
"Damn, that sounds so cool when you do it," Jeonghan tells him shyly.
"Don't sweat it, man. You'll get the hang of it in no time!"
Jeonghan isn't so sure, but he tries not to let the negative thoughts win. A.J. has him running the broadcast mixer, learning how to fade in and out and how to balance everything just right. He picks up on it faster than he expected, and the rest of the late-night shift seems to fly by. The job isn't the most exciting thing, but it's fun and interesting — and Jeonghan finds he enjoys even the monotony of mindlessly shelving CDs back into their places. But it seems that as soon as there's a lull in the job, you pop into his mind. By the time it's the middle of the night, he's certain you must have gone to bed by now — but he wonders if you were actually listening earlier. Did she like the music? he muses. Did she think of me at all?
He doesn't know the answer, but he really hopes you did.
The next day, Jeonghan doesn't show up to class.
You don't actually have any classes with him this semester, but after your Advanced Creative Writing class you always meet him in the quad underneath the usual tree. He's usually there first, so you waited for him for about 10 minutes — but he never showed.
Fortunately, his apartment is within walking distance from campus, so you make your way there. You knock on his door, but no response. You try again, a bit louder; after a few moments you hear footsteps from within the unit, shuffling their way toward the front door. The door swings open, revealing a messy-haired Jeonghan wearing pajamas, looking very much like you just woke him up.
"Have you been sleeping all day??" you ask with a grin.
"I guess so," he answers, placing his hand over his mouth as he yawns. "What time even is it?"
"3:23pm," you read from your wristwatch.
"Holy shit," he grumbles. "I slept through everything."
"You must've been exhausted," you point out. "Sorry for waking you up, I just wanted to make sure you were alive."
"No, no — don't apologize," he shakes his head. "Here, come on in," he says as he swings the door open, traipsing back into the apartment. "I'll make us some coffee."
You follow your sleepy friend into his kitchen, where he locates a bag of coffee grounds and starts to brew a fresh pot.
"Soooo," you say eagerly, sitting down at the kitchen table. It's stacked with books, CDs, piles of mail, and one very ripe-looking banana sitting atop a toppled box of Lucky Charms — but you're able to clear off enough space for two coffee mugs. "How was it? Tell me everything!"
"It was actually really good!" he responds enthusiastically, leaning against the counter. The warm aroma of hot coffee drifts across the room as the dark liquid begins to drip into the carafe. "Nothing particularly exciting, since I was just training. But it's all super cool, I think I'm really going to like it."
You haven't seen Jeonghan this excited about something since he scored tickets to the blink-182 concert last summer. He's become one of your closest friends, so you know that he's generally a bit of a melancholy guy — but seeing him so passionate about something really warms your heart. Happiness is a good look on him, you think to yourself.
"What's that look for?" he inquires, raising his brow at you.
"Nothing! I'm just really excited for you," you smile at him. "I was listening last night, you know."
His face lights up. "You were?" he asks eagerly The pot begins to sputter as the coffee finishes brewing; he grabs two mugs, filling them with the beverage: one cup black, for himself, and one with a tablespoon of sugar, for you.
"Of course! I said I was going to, didn't I?"
"You did," he smiles, bringing the mugs to the table and setting yours in front of you. You take a sip — it's piping hot, but it's delicious. "Didja hear any new songs you liked?"
"Yeah, I really liked all of it! There was one band called something weird that I enjoyed, I think it was 'Beenis'?"
Jeonghan laughs. "Yeah, I recall seeing a Beenis in the mix. Hey, speaking of new bands…"
He gets up, fetching his backpack and pulling a slightly-bent bright yellow piece of paper from it. He hands it to you, and you see that it's a flier for a show down at Dizzy's Tavern, a local dive bar known for it's cheap beer and loud, live rock music. The two bands listed are Fuckwagon and The Flagstaff Arizonas — names you've certainly never heard of before, but then again you're not too acquainted with the local music scene.
"My boss told me about this show tonight, apparently Fuckwagon are a pretty well-known name around the station. Said they're always bringing in new demos and singles for us to play," he explains. "I don't work tonight, and I don't know what you're up to, but I thought maybe we could go check it out."
"I'm down! I have nothing else going on today, and that sounds fun!"
"Sweet," Jeonghan replies casually, trying to contain his excitement, but his face is positively beaming. "I'll pick you up at 7:45, then?"
"Sounds like a plan," you grin back at him.
[FIVE]
Dizzy's Tavern is, for lack of better words, a shithole. As you step through the front door you are immediately hit with a wall of cigarette smoke that is somehow both stale and fresh. It's dark inside, the only source of lighting being the red lights above the bar and neon signs of various beer brands hanging around the walls; despite the dim environment, the dinginess of the establishment is still glaringly obvious. The place is a decent size, but it's packed — there are people of all ages, most of whom seem to be clad in leather jackets, and many with hair dyed unnatural colors or a multitude of piercings. The vibe of the place certainly screams punk.
"Holy shit, it's crowded," you remark to Jeonghan as you both shuffle into the crowded bar area.
"We don't have to stay if it's too much—" he quickly offers.
"No, it's okay!" you assure him. "I just think this will be more fun once I have a drink or two in me," you say lightheartedly.
"What do you want to drink?" he asks, grabbing onto your arm gently as you meander through the throng of bodies as not to get separated.
"Jack and Coke," you answer. He raises a brow at you.
"Oh so we're drinking drinking tonight," he smirks.
"Hey, you get whatever you want," you tell him, poking him in the chest. "You don't have to drink just because of me."
"Maybe I want to."
"Okay, just be careful though. I know how much of a lightweight you are."
"Hey!" he protests.
"Well, you are! Am I wrong?"
"No, you're right," he concedes with a smile. "As usual."
He finally gets the bartender's attention, ordering a Jack and Coke for the both of you. You sip it as you make your way through the crowd, holding onto Jeonghan as you head toward the small stage at the back of the bar. The band isn't on yet; according to the flier they should be on any minute now, but you have a feeling that being precisely punctual perhaps isn't very punk rock.
"Let's hang out here," you say, spotting a tiny, unoccupied high-top table off to the side. It's less crowded over here, and not too close to the stage. "I'm sure we will be able to hear just fine."
You're in the middle of a very non-serious debate about Halloween costumes when you spot a familiar face emerging from the nearby hall that leads to the bathrooms. It's Joshua, your weed dealer, and you unintentionally make eye contact with him. His face lights up with recognition, and he waves at you, heading in your direction. Jeonghan looks over his shoulder, doing a poor job of hiding his grimace when he realizes who it is.
"Hey hey!" Joshua says cheerfully as he approaches your table. "What's up you guys?"
"Hi Joshua!" you tell him cheerfully. "We're here to see the show," you explain, nudging your head toward the still-empty stage. You want to ask him what exactly he's doing here, considering that this doesn't seem to be his scene in the slightest, but you figure that might be a bit rude.
"Oh, cool!" he nods eagerly. "Hey, by the way," he says, leaning in to the both of you. "I got some new school supplies coming my way soon, if you catch my drift." He winks at Jeonghan, nudging him playfully with his elbow. "I'll make sure to save the good stuff for you."
Jeonghan stands there frozen with awkwardness at Joshua's directness. "Um," he finally manages to reply. "Yeah, uh, that sounds cool. Thanks."
"Awesome!" Joshua smiles at him sweetly. Turning back to you, he gives you a casual salute.
"Well, I gotta bounce," he excuses himself. "Catch you guys on the flip side."
Once he's out of earshot, you turn to Jeonghan, giving him a knowing look.
"Told you," you tease. "He's like that with everyone."
"Okay, okay, fine," he huffs, raising his hands defeatedly, but a smile spreads across his face. "I believe you now."
Several minutes later, the band finally comes out on stage, eliciting drunken cheering and whooping from the crowd of bar-goers.
"What the fuck is up!!!" the lead singer screams into the microphone. "We're Fuckwagon, and here's some fucking music!"
A screeching guitar riff begins, joined momentarily by crashing drums and a bassline that somehow already seems out of sync with the song. The lead singer appears to be playing the shrill guitar, and the bass player also has a mic; they start singing in tandem — sort of. You're not sure if the sounds coming from either of them can even be considered singing, but they proceed regardless, wailing into the mics as the drummer is already flailing crazily at the drum set. You nod your head to the beat as best you can; turning to Jeonghan, you see he also wears a stunned expression, staring blankly at the raucous scene on the stage.
"Is this the same song or a new one?" you ask him a few minutes later, leaning in to speak into his ear.
"Fuck if I know," he shrugs. He tosses back the rest of his drink, picking up your empty glass as well. "Want another one?"
"Yeah, definitely."
He returns a few minutes later with two fresh Jack and Cokes in hand. The lead singer has somehow already taken his shirt off, revealing a plethora of tattoos that you personally would consider hideous. You and Jeonghan down the drinks fast — unintentionally, but anything to make the music more tolerable. There seems to be no distinction from one song to the next, the night going by in a non-stop cacophony of hard, grungy rock sounds. You don't pay too much attention to the music though, instead talking and laughing with Jeonghan the whole time.
"That's not even the weirdest part," Jeonghan continues his story, resting his elbow on your shoulder as he leans in close to your face. "The next week, I get home and the apartment is filled with boxes of potatoes. Turns out, Jun had built a potato cannon, and he thought he had placed an order for a hundred potatoes — but he had accidentally ordered a hundred ten-pound bags."
"Oh my god," you laugh in disbelief. "How did he not notice, wasn't it expensive??"
"I have genuinely no idea," Jeonghan shakes his head, also laughing. "He just does things like that sometimes."
"I think he has to be the strangest guy I've ever met," you respond. "I can't believe you live with him."
"Hey, he's a great roommate. He's clean, quiet, and half the time he's not even there — off doing god knows what."
"And that was our last song!!!" the lead singer screams into the mic over the drummer continuing his solo despite the song having ended. "Goodnight motherfuckaaaas!!!"
The band exits the stage, the next band already setting up their instruments.
"Thank god," you say to Jeonghan, who is all but fully leaning on you at this point. You pick his drink up off the table, finishing it off before he can drink any more; he doesn't seem to notice.
"You think the next band will be any better?" he asks you, his face mere inches from yours, heavy eyelids blinking slowly in his drunken state.
"There's no way they can possibly be worse than that."
You were wrong. Despite it being harsh and grating, the first band at least had upbeat rock music; the new band consists of six people, one of whom plays the trumpet, and all of whom barely fit on the stage — and their music is dull, drawn-out, and extremely repetitive. You're not sure if lead singer is drunk or if he just sounds like he is, but either way, it's borderline insufferable.
You turn to Jeonghan, about to suggest you call it a night, but he clearly has the exact same thought.
"Should we… leave?"
"Yeeaaaah," you nod eagerly in agreement. "We should leave."
It's even colder now as you step out of the bar, but despite the chilly autumn wind the fresh, smoke-free air feels delightful.
"So," Jeonghan asks as you stroll down the sidewalk together. He drove you to the bar, but neither one of you seem to recall that detail — but you're both too drunk to drive, anyway. "What did you think of… that?"
"I think it sucked shit," you reply honestly. Jeonghan bursts out laughing, making you start giggling too.
"Yeah, that was pretty terrible," he agrees. "Sorry I dragged you to this."
"Don't be!" you insist. "I still had a good time."
"Good," Jeonghan replies, a smile lighting up his face. "I did too."
Though your apartment is further than his, he walks you home first. The alcohol in your system has kept you warm all night, but the cold nighttime breeze is starting to get to you. You shiver, tugging the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands and tucking them into you as you cross your arms to try and stay warm.
"Here," Jeonghan tells you as soon as he notices, immediately taking his jacket off.
"No, I'll be fine—" you start, but he's already wrapping it around your shoulders. The jacket is warm, both from its thick leather and Jeonghan's body heat. You accept it graciously, slipping your arms into the baggy sleeves and zipping it all the way up.
"Thanks," you tell him sincerely. "You're the best."
In the dim orange-y glow of the incandescent streetlamps it's hard to tell, but Jeonghan blushes, his face turning even pinker than the alcohol made him.
You arrive outside your apartment a few minutes later.
"Well, goodnight," Jeonghan smiles at you. To his surprise, you suddenly throw your arms around him, leaning your head against his shoulder as you hug him. He tenses up slightly as his inebriated brain tries to process what's happening, but slowly he wraps his arms around you too, sinking into your embrace. It only lasts a few seconds, but the moment simultaneously feels hours long and also over way too fast.
"Goodnight," you reply as you let go, waving as you turn toward the sidewalk to head home. "Get home safe, okay?"
"I will," he nods softly. He watches until you've made it inside, then turns to head back to his own apartment, wondering if you knew that you just completely flipped his world upside down.
[SIX]
You wake up the next day uncomfortably hot.
Prying your eyes open, you see that you're in your living room. Apparently, you were too tired to make it all the way to your bedroom, so you just crashed on the couch, still wearing your shoes and Jeonghan's jacket. Your arm feels like lead as you try to lift it, peering at your watch: 12:16pm.
"Holy shit," you grumble as you hoist yourself up into a sitting position, your head pounding with a killer hangover. A few seconds later, Mina walks into the room.
"Jesus Christ, you're a mess," she tells you bluntly. "What the hell did you do last night?"
"Um, went to a shitty bar and saw a shitty band," you answer, rubbing your aching eyes. "Scratch that — two shitty bands."
"With your boyfriend, I assume?" she asks, glancing at the oversized leather jacket with its many pins and buttons.
"He's not my boyfriend," you mumble through a yawn, shimmying out of the jacket and neatly placing on the armrest next to you.
"Well, you knew who I was talking about without me even saying his name, soooo…"
"Shut uppp," you groan, flopping your tired head onto the back of the couch. With a pleased grin, she heads into the kitchen. You close your eyes, nodding off again, but soon you start to smell fresh coffee, and hear the sound of a sizzling skillet. A few minutes later, Mina returns, carrying a large mug of steaming coffee and a plate of fried eggs and pancakes.
"Here, eat," she says firmly, setting the plate and mug in front of you on the coffee table.
"Thanks, Mina," you smile at her.
After devouring your breakfast, you hop in the shower, standing there under the hot stream of water for far too long — but, you feel a million times better afterward. You toss on some sweats and decide to work on some homework from your bed. After a surprisingly productive afternoon, make your way back to the kitchen to find some dinner. On your way there, you pass by the couch, spotting Jeonghan's jacket still laying there. You feel bad that you didn't remember to give it back last night — after all, this is quite literally his only jacket. You're figure you should just take it over to him after you eat dinner. But, you're pretty sure he mentioned that he was working tonight; and since it's getting late and campus is a closer walk for you anyway, you figure you'll just try and drop it off at the station.
Your walk to campus is eerily empty. You've never seen this few people around, but it is Saturday night, after all. Most people are probably either at home or partying off-campus by this point. You approach the Comms building, suddenly worried that the door might be locked at this hour; but its swings right open when you pull it, and you let yourself inside. You've only had a couple classes in this building before, so you're not familiar with its layout, and you realize you have no idea where the radio station is actually located. You're about to start wandering down the halls in a random direction when you spot a directory by the staircase. The station appears to be on the top floor, so you head up the stairs.
There's no signage for the station, but you figure the bright red door with all the stickers all over it is probably the one you need. You knock at the door quietly, just now realizing that maybe this was a bad idea and that you shouldn't be here. You consider turning around and leaving before you can bother anybody, but then the door swings open. A tough-looking man with long hair and a beard pokes his head out.
"Hi, so sorry to bother you," you tell him apologetically. "But I was wondering if Jeonghan was working tonight? I just wanted to drop off his jacket."
"Oh!" the man replies with a smile, looking suddenly much less intimidating. "Yeah, he's here, come on in!"
You're not sure what exactly you thought a college radio station that plays punk music would look like, but this place seems to fit the bill. You don't see Jeonghan, but then the man points his thumb back to the small window in the far wall.
"He's in the booth right now, but I'll go grab him once we cut to commercial," he tells you. "I'm A.J., by the way," he adds, extending his hand to you.
"Y/n," you introduce yourself.
"Oh, so you're y/n!" A.J. responds amicably. "I've heard all about you.""
"Oh," you reply, feeling your face turn hot suddenly. "Really?"
"Yeah, Jeonghan talks about you all the time. All good things, though, I promise," he smiles. "Hey, I gotta go fax something real quick — just hang out in here for a sec, I'll be right back."
He exits the room, and you walk over to the window, peering into the booth. There's a lot of equipment in the way, but you spot the back of Jeonghan's head, clad with headphones and bobbing his head to whatever must be playing on the radio right now. You can't see his face, but you get the sense that he really is enjoying the job.
A.J. returns in a couple minutes. He waits outside the booth door, glancing at the lit-up ON AIR sign overhead.
"I'll go grab him as soon we're not on air," he tells you. Sure enough, it shuts off a few seconds later, and he slips into the booth. Watching through the window, you see Jeonghan turn around to greet his boss; A.J. points to you through the window, and Jeonghan turns, his face lighting up when he sees it's you.
"Hey!" he says cheerfully as he comes out to greet you. "What are you doing here?"
"Just returning your jacket I accidentally stole from you," you say, extending the garment to him.
"Oh yeah," he chuckles, taking the jacket from you. "I didn't even realize until I was almost home, I was wondering why I was so cold."
"Sorry," you smile apologetically.
"Don't even worry about it," he smiles back at you. "Thanks for bringing it to me, you didn't have to do that."
"Yes I did. I know for a fact that you don't own any other jackets," you tease.
"Okay, you got me there," he grins.
"How's the job going?" you ask.
"It's great!" he answers with more enthusiasm than you're used to from him. "I'm can officially run the show and be on air by myself now, no more supervision required."
"That's so cool," you beam at him. "You seem like you're really liking it so far."
"Yeah," he nods. "I definitely am."
"Well, I should let you get back to work now," you tell him. "Hope you have a good rest of your shift."
"Thanks, y/n," Jeonghan smiles warmly. "See ya later."
The end credits to Law & Order: Special Victims Unit begin to play as you lay on the couch, eating potato chips straight from the bag. It's not particularly the most exciting Saturday night you could be having, but you're enjoying the relaxing night in. You're not really in the mood to keep watching TV, so you grab the remote and shut it off. Mina isn't home yet, so you figure you'd take this opportunity to play your music out loud without wearing headphones. You get up and shuffle over to the boombox perched on the bookshelf, turning it on; it's tuned to the local pop station — clearly Mina used it last. You enjoy this station too, but your mind flashed back to Jeonghan in the booth. Maybe I'll hear him on the air, you think to yourself excitedly. You change the tuner to 90.5 and are greeted by the heavy tune of an unfamiliar but grungy-sounding song.
Plopping back on the couch you reach for your bag of chips again — but over the crinkling of the bag as you stick your hand in it, a very familiar voice comes through on the radio.
"You're listening to WFVC 90.5, the hottest place for underground punk and badass rock n' roll. The track you just heard was "Beautiful Monster" by Meatglove, one of their earliest and most iconic releases. Up next — we've got some Death Day Party for you, as well as a classic from Wunderguts; but first, some local flavor from Z-41 with their newest track "Hell Highway."
You're a bit taken aback by the confidence and air which he delivered his spiel. You can tell he's still getting used to it, but you swear you've never heard him sound so self-assured. The crashing drums of the next song begin; you're getting a bit sleepy, but you're comfy — so you end up laying on the couch for another hour or so, zoned out as you enjoy the music. You're halfway asleep when Mina returns home, so out of it that you don't even hear her come in; but you do hear Jeonghan's voice over the speakers, making you smile as your eyes start to drift close.
"I assume that's your boyfriend on the radio?"
Your eyes shoot open again at the sudden sound of Mina's voice. Looking up, you see her looming above you as she stands beside the armrest.
"I didn't even hear you come in," you tell her, rubbing your tired eyes.
"Yeah, I can tell," she teases. "You wouldn't be swooning and gushing over him like that if you knew I was here."
"I was not," you roll your eyes. "I was like half-asleep."
"Mhmm. Well, I'm going right to bed — goodnight!"
And with that, you're alone with the radio again.
While the commercials play, an idea pops into your head. You remember Jeonghan making an off-hand comment about how the station does take requests — it's just that hardly anyone ever calls them in. You consider for a minute, and then decide, fuck it.
You get up again, quietly heading over to the landline. You're don't actually know the number, so you flip through the phone book, perusing the thin yellow pages for the station. Eventually, you spot it: Foxville College Communications Department, WFVC 90.5 — 555-1004.
You dial the number, the line ringing as you wait for it to connect. You realize you're not even sure what exactly it is you planned to request, considering that the station only plays underground stuff. Anything you would normally request on the radio is off the table.
Before you can think of something, the line picks up.
"WFVC 90.5, we have a caller live on the air," you hear Jeonghan answer the call. "Hi there, whatcha calling for?"
Your stomach drops a bit — you weren't expecting him to actually pick up live on the air. You're not a shy person, but the thought that a bunch of random strangers can hear you right now does make you at least a little bit nervous.
"Hi!" you say cheerfully, careful not to be to so loud as to wake Mina. "Um, I was hoping I could call in a request."
"Of course you can!" he answers. You were wondering if Jeonghan would recognize your voice, but the slight pause and the upward shift in his voice tells you he definitely does. "What are you looking for?"
Thinking on the fly, you say the first thing that pops into your head.
"Well, I don't actually have a specific song in mind," you reply. " Can you play me something upbeat and happy? A song I'd play if I was just chilling with my friend or something."
"I sure can," Jeonghan responds, and you swear you can hear the smile in his voice. "What's your name?" he remembers to ask at the last second — of course, he already knows, but he makes sure he sticks to the script.
"Y/n," you tell him.
"Well, y/n, thanks for calling in — we appreciate ya. Got a special one just for you coming up right now: this one's called 'Heart Attack', by good friends of the station, Fever Baby — right here on WFVC 90.5!"
The call ends, the flat tone humming in your ear. You put the receiver back, heading back into the living room. You're not entirely sure how radio requests work, but you assume there's some sort of slight delay. Sure enough, right as you return the end of your call plays, followed by a light and rhythmic guitar strumming — the song he chose for you. You sit down as you listen, the melody picking up with a bright atmosphere. The song is exactly the vibe you were looking for, and you like it a lot. Turns out the band has a female lead too, something you always love, especially in this genre of music. You must've said that once a long time ago, in some off-hand comment, but Jeonghan remembered. That's the thing about Jeonghan, though — he always does.
[SEVEN]
The semester passes by, days getting shorter and temperatures getting lower as the final weeks of fall come to a close. School has kept you plenty busy, with midterms and papers taking up the majority of your time. You haven't been able to have as much of a social life as you would like, which isn't particularly unusual for this time of year; but Jeonghan especially has been busy — late nights at the station have caused his sleep schedule to shift significantly, rendering your schedules largely incompatible. You miss him, and you really hope you can find a way to hang out with him soon.
You're sitting in your apartment studying one night when the phone rings. The phone doesn't have caller ID, but you expect it's one of Mina's friends calling, as she likes to chat on the phone more often than you do. She's not home right now, so you could easily just let it go to voicemail, but something in you feels the urge to answer.
"Hello?" you answer as you pick up, grabbing the nearby stack of sticky notes and a pen in case you need to take a message.
"Hey y/n," you hear Jeonghan say softly through the line.
"Hannie!" you say, surprised but excited to be hearing his voice. "How's it going? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I know, I've been so busy," he concurs. "I'm tired as hell, but I'm okay. How are you?"
"Same, I'm exhausted but I'm getting by. How's the DJ life treating you?"
"It's good!" he answers eagerly. "I mean, that's why I'm so tired. But in a way it also kinda gives me an energy boost. I know that probably sounds crazy…"
"Not at all," you smile. "That means you really like it! I'm so glad it ended up being a great fit for you."
"Me too," he agrees. "I've been so happy lately. Except for the fact that we haven't hung out like, at all. That part sucks."
"We gotta find some time to hang," you say assertively.
"Actually, that's why I'm calling," he replies. "The Comms Department is having this social thing on Friday night. I wasn't really planning to go, but guests are allowed if you'd wanna come with me. There's gonna be free food."
"Hell yeah, I'm always down for free food," you grin — though, you're much more excited about getting to see Jeonghan finally.
"Cool! It starts at 7, I'll drop by your place around then and we can walk to campus together."
"Sounds good," you say excitedly. "Is this like, a formal event?"
"Um, I don't think so? But like, maybe a little?"
"I'll dress up at least a little, then," you tell him. "I'd rather be overdressed than underdressed."
"Good idea, I'll do the same. Well, I gotta head to work in a few minutes, so I gotta go."
"Have a good shift!" you tell him. "See ya on Friday."
"See ya then, y/n."
Friday afternoon you start rummaging through your closet, looking for something to wear to the social later. You have a few hours until you need to be ready, but you figured you'd give yourself a little extra time to make yourself look at least a little bit nice. It's been a while since you've had an excuse to dress up anyway, so what the hell, why not.
Nothing is particularly catching your eye as you flip through the hangers, until you get to the end and spot a brand new skirt you had completely forgotten about. You pull it out to look at it; it's a black pinstripe pleated mini skirt, brandishing a built-in belt, and it still has the tags on. A bit on the casual side, but you figure if you pair it with a nice sweater and tights that don't have any holes in them the outfit will look just the right amount of sophisticated for the occasion.
Digging through your dresser drawer, you take a look at your sweaters. Most are a bit too tattered, and about half of them are just sweatshirts featuring a band logo, but you do find a deep maroon sweater that you rarely wear. You lay it on your bed above the skirt and grab a pair of tights to lay out as well; all put together, it actually looks pretty nice.
You throw your outfit on and spend a little bit longer than usual putting makeup on, adding some shimmery eyeshadow and some tinted lip gloss to your usual routine of eyeliner and mascara. When you're done styling your hair, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. It's not that you usually look bad, but you definitely tend to dress more on the casual side, so you're pleasantly surprised by how put-together you look right now. Turns out, a little extra effort can go a long way.
You're reading your book a couple hours later when you hear a light knocking at your door. Hopping up off the couch you flutter over to answer it, opening the door to reveal Jeonghan looking the fanciest you've ever seen him. He's still in his leather jacket, of course — but underneath he wears a maroon button-down shirt and crisp black dress pants, and you've never seen his long hair so neat and styled.
"Holy shit, since when do you own dress pants?" you ask with a playful smirk.
"Hey, shut up," he pouts. "I know they look stupid."
"They do not!" you insist. "You look really nice, Jeonghan. I've just never seen you so dressed up. And we even matched on accident!" you chuckle.
"Looks like we did," he smiles. "You look really nice as well," he says, staring at your outfit for a moment but quickly averting his gaze. You typically wear clothes that are at least a little bit baggy, but this sweater fits you snugly, its thin knit fabric accentuating your every curve very flatteringly. Jeonghan tries not to think about it.
"Thanks! Here, let me put my shoes on and then we can bounce."
He steps inside as you grab your Doc Martens, leaning down to slip your feet into them and tighten the laces. Your back is to him as you bend over, and while your skirt isn't super short it does ride up a bit in the process, your thighs on full display through the sheer black tights. He ogles you as you tie the boots up, feeling his face grow hot. He knows you don't notice, but he forces himself to turn away before you do, prying his eyes off of you, but it's too late.
"Um, I'm gonna go pee real quick," he tells you, scurrying off to your bathroom.
"Okie dokie," you reply.
Jeonghan doesn't actually have to pee, but he locks himself in the bathroom anyway. He stares at himself in the mirror, still thrown off by how different he looks all cleaned up.
"Get it together man," he grumbles to himself.
A couple minutes later he returns.
"Ready?" you ask, grabbing your coat.
"Yep!" he says with a smile.
The walk to campus is cold, but there's no wind, so it's surprisingly pleasant. On your way there it begins to snow, huge flakes falling gently through the air and starting to accumulate on the ground. You arrive to the Comms Building, brushing the snow off your jacket before you step through its doors to the warm interior.
"You've got some in your hair, too," Jeonghan points out. You ruffle your hair lightly, shaking the snow off.
"So do you," you tell him, reaching up and brushing your fingers across his hair, brushing the stark white snow out of his long, dark locks. Jeonghan freezes up slightly, grateful that his cheeks are already pink from the cold so you can't see him blushing like an idiot.
"Thanks," he says softly.
You make your way to the end of the hall, where two doors propped open lead you into the event space. Immediately you see that despite your efforts, you are both still noticeably underdressed.
"Welp," he mumbles to you quietly. "Guess I didn't get the memo that this was actually fancy."
"It's okay," you reply reassuringly. "We still look nice." And it's true, but amongst all the suits and heels you still feel a bit out of place.
You make your way over to the food table together, grabbing plates and piling them high with the assortment of hors d'oeuvres on display. It earns you a few judgmental glares from a group of older adults standing nearby, but you're both broke college kids, so you don't really give a fuck.
"Let's go over there," Jeonghan says after you each grab a glass of wine, nudging his head toward the back of the room. You meander through the groups of professors and whomever else standing around and chatting, claiming the two chairs in the corner.
"So, what exactly is this event supposed to be again?" you ask him as you pop a fancy cracker with cheese on it into your mouth.
"Um, I don't actually know," he admits as he sips at wine, glancing around the room. "I thought it was for students and professors to meet each other, but I don't think any of these people are actually students…"
You look around too, and he seems to be right. Everyone is significantly older and distinguished-looking — very clearly not undergraduates.
"Oops," you say, trying not to smile too big. "Does that mean we just walked in here and stole their food?"
A grin starts to spread across his face. "Um, yeah. Looks like it."
He starts to giggle out loud, prompting you to subtly whack him in the leg.
"Shhh, people are gonna notice!" you whisper, but you feel the urge to start laughing too. A voice rings out over the speaker system as somebody starts talking into a microphone. The attendees all turn and face the small stage, where a woman in a sequined navy dress starts to speak.
"Should we go?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah, definitely," you reply, tossing back the rest of your wine. "But let's grab some more food on the way out."
Jeonghan grins. "I like the way you think."
After piling the small plastic plates with as much food as you possibly can and grabbing another glass of wine each, you sneak out the back door of the room, quickly making your way towards the building's exit.
"Holy shit," Jeonghan laughs as you burst through the door returning you to the quad. "That was awesome."
"I love to steal free food," you giggle. The falling snow has picked up, blustering around calmly but shrouding everything in a sea of white. "C'mon," you say to him, zipping off toward your usual spot under the small oak tree. "Let's go over here."
You stand together beneath the branches, accepting their humble offering of any sort of cover as you scarf down the rest of the food on your plates.
"I guess we also technically stole these wine glasses," Jeonghan comments as he stares at the remaining red liquid in the bowl. "I didn't even realize they were real."
"Me neither," you say, finishing your drink. "Whoops."
Hors d'oeuvres and wine now gone, you toss the plates in a nearby trashcan, leaving the glasses sitting on the steps to the Comms Building and zooming off before somebody catches you. When you get off campus you slow your pace, strolling casually down the block through the deluge of snow.
"Maybe I should've driven," Jeonghan chuckles. "But also who wants to drive in this weather."
"True," you smile. "But I don't mind the snow. It's nice."
"Me neither."
You chat the whole walk home, taking and laughing about anything and everything and nothing at all. By the time you make it to your building, your cheeks hurt — not only from the cold but from smiling nonstop the whole night.
"Tonight was really fun — even if it wasn't what we expected," you say, turning to face Jeonghan.
"Same here," he smiles softly. "I'm glad I finally got to see you."
"Me too," you beam back. You're thinking about inviting him up, maybe to smoke a J or something, when suddenly his lips are on yours.
Your whole body freezes. His lips are soft, the kiss is sweet, but you were not prepared for it. Quickly he pulls his face back, his eyes widening with fear like a deer in the headlights.
"Sorry," he stammers, then takes off.
"Wait!" you call out after him. "Jeonghan!" But he's gone in the blink of an eye, running off down the street into the snowy night.
[EIGHT]
Almost an entire week passes, and you don't see or hear from Jeonghan once.
You tried calling him, but you just kept getting Jun, who seemed to be confused but didn't ask any questions. You tried to meet him after several of his classes, but he either wasn't there or managed to completely evade you. You even tried e-mailing him, but as you expected, no response.
So you gave up for the time being. You knew he wasn't going to avoid you forever, that eventually he would come back. But damn, you hated waiting for it.
It's now Thursday night. Six nights have gone by, and still radio silence from Jeonghan. You're not even upset with him, you just want to talk to him. There's too many questions swimming around in your brain right now — you can hardly think about anything else.
Why did you kiss me?
Why did you run away?
Why have you been so scared to talk to me?
Do you love me?
The living room boom box softly plays the local classic rock channel as you lay at the couch, staring at the ceiling and thinking too much. For reasons you can't explain, you suddenly get up and go change the tuner to 90.5. You lay back down, unsure what exactly the point of that was, but also you don't really care. You're not even sure if Jeonghan is working tonight, and even if he is it's too early for him to be on — but the radio station is enough to remind you of him. You feel tears begin to well in your eyes, blinking them away quickly.
The DJ eventually comes back on the air; as expected, it's not Jeonghan, but that doesn't make you any less sad about the whole situation. The next song that comes on sounds vaguely familiar, and awful; it occurs to you about two minutes into the song that this sounds like that terrible band you saw at that bar — Fuckwagon or whatever. The one you saw with Jeonghan.
Tears begin to stream down your cheeks. Unable to shut them down, you just let them flow, softly sobbing into the couch.
This is so fucking stupid, you tell yourself. I'm crying to a Fuckwagon song right now. You let out a laugh through your tears, in disbelief of how utterly stupid this scenario is. After crying for a few more minutes, you eventually calm back down. Your mind is a bit clearer now, and you come to the realization that there's nothing stopping you from marching over there right this instant and putting an end to this nonsense.
Fifteen minutes later, you're standing outside Jeonghan's apartment. All that's left is to knock, but now that you're here that part feels daunting. You take a deep breath, slowly raising your hand to the door, then you knock. It comes out a bit more aggressive than you meant it, but you hope that means he'll hear you right away. You hear footsteps trodding toward the door, and then it opens.
"Oh, hi y/n," Jun greets you. He looks frazzled, like you just woke him from a thousand-year slumber.
"Hey, Jun. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," you tell him apologetically.
"Oh, I wasn't asleep," he replies nonchalantly. You're about to ask him what the hell he was doing then, but you decide some questions don't need to be answered. Besides, that's not why you're here.
"Is Jeonghan here?" you cut to the chase. "I was hoping to talk to him."
"Sorry, no," he shakes his head. "You just missed him — he left for work about ten minutes ago."
"Dammit," you mutter.
"Has he still not talked to you since he kissed you?"
You look up at Jun, a perplexed expression coloring your face. "You know about that?"
"Yes," he replies matter-of-factly. "He came home right after that and was freaking out about it. He wasn't exactly very coherent, but through his ramblings I got the general picture."
"Did he say why he was freaking out?" you try.
"He was scared that it was a mistake, that he fucked it all up."
"Fucked what all up?" you ask, furrowing your brow. "Our friendship?"
Jun lets out a gentle sigh. "So you didn't know, then," he says softly. "Jeonghan is in love with you, y/n. Has been since the day he met you."
You make it to campus in record time, speed-walking as fast as you can, zooming across the quad directly toward the Comms Building. You're out of breath as you enter, groaning as you spot the three flights of stairs you now have to climb. But you move quickly anyway, your body seemingly unable to slow down for anything.
This time you don't even bother knocking on the red door. You fling it open, expected to have to come up with some sort of explanation on the fly with his boss, but you are greeted by an empty office. The door slowly closes behind you as you walk over to the booth window. Peering in, sure enough you can see the top of his head as he sits at the broadcast mixer. The ON AIR sign above you is lit; you wait for the red light to shut off, then you knock on the booth door. Jeonghan turns around slowly, looking confused, but then he sees you standing outside the window. His eyes widen, and he leaps out out of his chair, bolting to the door and swinging it open.
"What are you doing here??" he asks, looking genuinely surprised.
"I don't want to get you in trouble, but we have to talk."
"Nobody else is here tonight," he replies. "Here, come inside."
He shuts the door behind you as you enter, but as soon as he does you grab him by the arm and spin him around to face you.
"What the—"
"Why did you run away?"
"I—" He pauses for a moment. "That's… not what I thought you were going to ask," he admits.
"What? Why?"
"Well, I just thought you were going to ask me why I kissed you first."
"Okay," you reply. "Then why did you kiss me?"
Jeonghan sighs, dropping his head slightly; but a moment later he lifts it again, looking you directly in the eyes.
"I kissed you because I love you, y/n. I ran away because I was scared you didn't love me back, and I wasn't prepared to face that reality."
His gaze is locked onto yours so intensely that you feel like you might burst into flames. He looks like he's experiencing every emotion at once, anxiously waiting for you to say something, anything. But you don't know what to say, so you do what only feels right — you throw your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace.
He gasps softly as you squeeze him tight, burying your face into his chest; you can feel the accelerating pace of his heart, thumping against your cheek. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, leaning his head on top of yours.
"I love you too," you say softly. "I didn't realize it for a while — but it's so obvious to me now."
He kisses the top of your head, rubbing your back as you nuzzle your face deeper into his sweater.
"That's the best news I've ever heard."
You could stay here in his embrace indefinitely, but eventually you lift your head, looking deeply into his eyes.
"Kiss me — but for real this time."
Slowly, Jeonghan grabs your face with both hands, eyeing you hungrily before pulling you into a kiss. This time it's slow, sweet; you slip your hands around his waist, clinging to him as you savor it. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips tug at each other, refusing to let go, pressing your body into his and pushing him up against the door. A soft, involuntarily moan emanates from his throat, and you feel the stiff, growing bulge in his pants against your stomach.
Eventually your lips part, lingering near each other as he presses his forehead into yours.
"Holy shit," he mutters. "I can't believe this is really happening."
He drops his hands from their grasp on your head, unzipping your coat and taking it off of you; tossing it on a nearby desk, he hurriedly slips his hands around your waist, kneading at the soft flesh and holding your body tightly against him. He feels slightly embarrassed by how quickly he got a full-fledged boner, but he's too aroused to care — besides, judging by the burning desire in your eyes, you're feeling the exact same thing right now.
"You're perfect," he tells you, cracking a smile and blushing as the words leave his lips. You grin back, giving him another soft kiss before taking hold of his hands.
"C'mere," you say to him, dragging him over to the sound mixer.
"What are you—oh." You cut him off by giving him a slight push, sitting him down into the thick, sturdy chair. You straddle his lap, pressing your core against his bulge, rubbing yourself against it through both of your jeans.
"Fuck," Jeonghan gasps as your weight presses against his cock; you lean your head down to kiss him again, locking lips as you start to make out, mouths crashing and tongues eagerly dancing against each other. Eventually you begin to sway your hips, unable to contain your excitement. You gasp as your mouths part, tossing your head back as you grind against him harder; his arms around you squeeze tighter, pulling you in as close as physically possible. His face presses against your tits as he rubs his hands over your ass, guiding you as you rock back and forth on top of him.
"Oh my god…" he sighs. He tosses his head back, and you swoop in, kissing the delicate flesh of his neck, making him let out the most pathetic-sounding groan. You moan as you grind your heat against him, getting the both of you off at once.
"F-fuck, that's so hot," his voice wavers.
"If I keep doing this it's gonna make me cum," you tell him, starting to sound whiny and frantic.
"Oh my god, please do."
You increase your pace, pressing your aching clit against his clothed cock. It feels incredible — you simply can't help the soft little cries escaping your lips.
"Can I…" Jeonghan asks, tugging at the button of your jeans.
"Please," you say breathily as you eagerly nod your head. He unfastens the button, tugging down your zipper and opening your pants enough for him to slip his fingers beneath your underwear. You let out a whimper as his fingertips dip into your folds, his lips parting lustfully as he discovers the absolute pool of wetness in your panties right now.
"Fuck," you whine, rubbing your clit against his fingers with fervor. A burning fire builds in your gut, your whole body tensing in anticipation of your release. It washes over you in bursting waves, your body trembling atop Jeonghan as you ride out your orgasm. As your movement slows, you catch your breath, lifting your head to kiss him on the lips. As you open your eyes you get a glimpse at him, you find him looking utterly desperate, and ready to bust at any given moment. You let out a giggle, still in a daze from your high; but you slip off the chair, kneeling down before him between his legs.
"Oh my god, you're gonna kill me," he half-laughs, half-whines. He raises his drenched fingers to his mouth, lapping your juices up feverously, eyes rolling back as he savors the taste of you. You slowly unbuckle the studded leather belt around his waist, unbuttoning his jeans painfully slowly; he wriggles in his seat, silently pleading for you to take his cock out, for you to put your mouth over it…
Finally, you do — reaching into his boxers, you tug them down, wrapping your hand around his hard, thick cock and pulling it out.
"Holy shit," you blurt out, glancing up at him and giving him a giddy smile. "You've been packing this the whole time?!"
He bursts out laughing, cradling your cheek in his hand, slowly guiding your lips to his cock. You lightly circle the tip with your tongue, teasing him; he lets out a sigh, licking his lips as he watches you taste his cock. Slowly you take the head between your lips, suckling it lightly before you start to slide your mouth down his length. You're not even halfway down when it reaches the back of your mouth; you push down further, taking him in your throat, gagging audibly on his size.
"Ohhh, wow," he mumbles as his eyelids flutter back. "That's so good…"
His hips gently push upward as you bob your head up and down, feeding you more of his length as you slide it in and out of your mouth. Your noises escalate, pathetic whining growing louder as you start to increase your pace. He can't help himself — he starts to fuck his cock into your mouth, sliding deep into your throat. Tears well in your eyes, but you continue to stare up at him; the sight is enough to send him over the edge.
"Baby, 'm gonna cum," he groans. A few thrusts later, you feel ropes of hot cum shooting down your throat, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he releases. Soft whimpers escape his trembling lips as he cums hard in your mouth, relishing every moment of the delicious sensation. He strokes your head gently as he finishes; you swallow all his cum, slowly dragging your lips off his spent cock.
"Fuck," he sighs, melting into the chair. Opening his eyes, he looks down at you sweetly, his head still spinning from the orgasm. "Thank you."
"For sucking your dick?" you ask, starting to giggle.
"Yeah," he says with a stupid grin. "That was awesome."
He helps to you your feet, tucking his cock back inside his pants and zipping them up again. He pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again.
"Sorry I kissed you and ran away like an idiot," he tells you, holding you snugly against him. "That was really stupid and embarrassing."
"You're not an idiot," you reply, playfully thumping him in the chest. "I like you just the way you are."
Jeonghan smiles. In the few years you've known him, you've never seen him radiating with genuine happiness like this — you decide it looks great on him.
[EPILOGUE]
You gasp for air as your head falls back into the pillows, chest heaving in the aftermath of your orgasm. Jeonghan remains parked between your legs, lazily lapping at your soaked pussy — his new favorite place to be.
"Fuck," you sigh, dragging your fingers through his hair. "That was so good."
He lifts his head, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices.
"Good," he replies, grinning at you proudly.
"Kiss me," you plead softly; he crawls up the bed to greet your lips with his, planting a deep kiss onto your mouth. A sudden knocking at your bedroom door makes the both of you jump.
"Hey lovebirds," Mina calls out through the door. "Your take-out just got here. I already paid for it, so you owe me $20."
"It was only $15!" you shout back.
"Service fee. For me," she responds cheekily, already walking away. You roll your eyes, laughing it off. Jeonghan starts kissing your cheeks, pecking gently as the soft skin.
"Hey, that tickles!" you giggle.
"But you look so pretty when you laugh," he replies, continuing to kiss you.
"You're ridiculous."
"I just love you, that's all."
He lifts his head, smiling at you sweetly.
"I love you too," you reply, beaming back at him. "We should go get our food before it gets cold—" you say, starting to try and sit up, but Jeonghan holds you pinned against the bed.
"Hey!" you protest, but he's already sliding back down the bed.
"You have a microwave," he says matter-of-factly, taking hold of your thighs as he positions his face right in front of your dripping core again.
"Besides, I'm not done here yet…"
thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, don't forget to REBLOG and COMMENT — your feedback is greatly valued ♡
back in college the golden boy from high school was the perfect summer fling. you went off to pursue your career in a different city, and he stayed in carat ridge and opened a bakery. now you’re both pushing thirty and mingyu has made it clear he won’t let you slip away again.
˙⋆✮ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, exes to lovers, smut
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol, small town
˙⋆✮ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 13.2k
˙⋆✮ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cussing, smut, angst, body insecurities, lover boy mingyu
˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected p in v, creampie, big dick mingyu, car sex, multiple positions, fooling around in the shower, hand job, fingering, oral (both rec), deep throating, mingyu is messy, mingyu is a yapper in bed. Nicknames: sweetie, baby, babe, good girl (hers) baby, gyu (his).
˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this was written for Carats Ridge: A Small Town Collab, hosted by @imnotshua , @100vern and @starlightkyeom. thank you @aeristudios for helping me figure out this story. Thank you @livmarauder for beta reading
🎧: headlights - in color | snooze - sza | honest - the band camino
Highschool wasn’t kind to you. It turns out being a shy nerdy bookworm will earn you some cruel words from bullies. There was one goal you had through school, survive and run away to a college far away in the city.
Throughout high school many of the popular kids were terrible, but there were a few that were always kind. The captain of the baseball team, Kim Mingyu, the golden boy of your high school, was always kind. Walking the halls some snobby girls would always make cruel comments to you. Anytime Mingyu was around he would immediately defend you. It was hard not to have a crush on the golden boy with a crooked smile.
After graduation you were finally free. A scholarship helped you go to college in the city away from Carat Ridge and the pain high school caused you. Originally you planned on staying in the city during the summers. Things changed the summer of your sophomore year going into junior year of college, you couldn’t get into your new apartment until right before the school year. You were unfortunately forced to spend the summer at home with your parents.
You passed the hot summer days by working at your best friend Joshua’s family coffee shop to make some extra money. On your first day working, you met your coworkers, one of them being your former high school golden boy, Mingyu. You learned quickly, the popular jock you remember from your days back in school was actually a kind boy with a heart of gold. You learned he was charming, and loved flirting with you.
What started out as innocent flirting through your shifts quickly led to so much more. Long shifts at the coffee shop together, led to nightly hangouts in Mingyu's small two bedroom apartment living room that he shared with his best friend, Wonwoo.
That summer that you shared so many firsts with Mingyu. At the age of twenty you lost your virginity, to the same boy you had a crush on in high school. As quickly as it all began, it fell apart. Your final day before going back to school you both made a promise to keep in touch. In the beginning you were good at staying in contact but as the days went on, you knew deep down that you were nothing more than a summer fling to your town's golden boy.
ONE: THE GOLDEN BOY AND THE SWEETEST TREATS
You never planned on coming back after college. Hell, you wouldn’t have come back if your mother didn’t beg you to return home and help with her bookstore. Your job as an editor at a publishing house allows you to work remotely, so packing up and moving home would allow you to keep your job.
Being home in the small town you grew up in, things felt just like they used to. You’ve gotten yourself a two bedroom apartment on top of the coffee shop that Joshua now owns. It’s located down in the small downtown area.
After a long day at work you decide to treat yourself. Nothing sounds better than something sweet to snack on. Joshua told you about a bakery across the street that has the best cinnamon rolls in town according to him.
The moment you walk into Sweet Kisses bakery, you're shocked to see Kim Mingyu standing there behind the register. The smile that forms on his face at the sight of you standing there was something you can't quite explain. He looks like the same boy you kissed goodbye all those years ago, now he’s just bigger and looks even more mature.
It turns out the golden boy from high school could still give you butterflies. What was supposed to be a quick trip to grab a cinnamon roll, led to you staying in the bakery for two hours, catching up. Mingyu wants to hear all about your life since college. You learn a lot about what he's been up to. He finished up school at the local college, before going to culinary school. Back during your summer together you were well aware that he was a good cook. You aren't surprised he became a baker.
“Can I ask you to get dinner together tonight?” You stare at him shocked that he seems to be interested in you, after all these years.
“Like right now?”
“Yeah now. Chan is closing up tonight. I’m able to leave now.” Glancing over at Chan he gives you a thumbs up and a smile.
You should say no, going out might bring up some unresolved feelings. “Sure.”
Mingyu leads you out of his bakery. He doesn't bother offering to give you a ride. Carat Ridge is quite quaint and there's multiple places you can walk to for good food in this little downtown area.
Mingyu walks right next to you. He keeps glancing over at you, listening to you talk.
“Is it too forward to say, I still think you’re beautiful.” He gives you that same crooked smile he used to give you back when you were in college.
“Still?”
“You know I thought you were beautiful from the moment I first saw you. Back when we worked at Cups I thought you were so pretty, I could barely focus on doing my job.”
He stops in front of a little Italian restaurant. This is a place you've been many times before. You love the vodka pasta here. Joshua and you used to order pizza here all the time back in school.
Mingyu leads you inside. You instantly recognize your server as one of the girls from high school. She's one of the girls that used to fawn over Mingyu, but she wasn't one of the mean girls. She was one of the few girls who were always kind to you. She's still just as pretty as she was back in school. You notice she's wearing an engagement ring, and is probably seven to eight months pregnant.
"Hey Gyu." She walks towards your table. They must be close if she's calling him a nickname.
"Hi, Dove. How is the baby doing?"
Instinctively she rubs her stomach. "He's getting too big."
"Cheol mentioned they might need to move your due date up." You recognize the name Cheol. All the puzzle pieces are coming together. Dove must be engaged or married to Choi Seungcheol.
"Yeah. I'm seven months pregnant, and it feels like I'm overdue." She lets out a sigh. "Alright enough about me, and my condition Seungcheol caused. Who is this lovely girl?"
"This is ____."
Dove's eyes light up. "You went to school with us right?"
"Yeah."
"You're Joshua's best friend?"
"Yeah I am."
"You must be the pretty girl Gyu has mentioned before." She shoves Mingy’s shoulder.
Glancing over at Mingyu, you see him blushing with the tips of his ears turning red. You didn't think Mingyu would mention anything about you to his friends.
"Alright Dove, that's enough. We'll take a vodka pasta, and the chicken pesto pizza."
She pulls out her note pad and jots down the order. "Did you want anything to drink?"
"I'll take a glass of red wine." You say.
"Make it two." Mingyu hands her the menus.
He shakes his head trying to hide his embarrassment. "So you've talked about me to your friends?" You ask.
"Just Wonwoo and Cheol, and well technically Dove. She's engaged to Cheol and having his kid."
"Choi Seungcheol?"
"Yep, that's him."
"Is Wonwoo still in town?" You remember Wonwoo used to play baseball with Mingyu and Seungcheol. You knew he was big into gaming back in the day.
"Yeah he's started a tech company and works just outside of town. He lives in a house with me a couple streets over."
"What's Seungcheol up to?"
"Other than being engaged and having a baby?"
"Yeah."
"He's a firefighter. Him and Dove got together after she had a bad breakup a couple years ago."
You look over at Dove, she seems happy. She was always so sweet, you're happy she found love with Seungcheol.
"Did you ever date her?" You remember her clearly having a crush on Mingyu in school.
He lets out a little laugh. "No, back in school Cheol liked her. Even though I knew she liked me, it didn't matter. I had a crush on someone else. And I thought Dove and Cheol would be a good pair. It just took them about ten years to figure it out."
You watch as she walks over holding a bottle of wine, and two glasses. "Here you two go."
"We just ordered single glasses." You say.
"I know, but technically I owe Gyu a favor. So the bottle is on the house." She walks away smiling.
"A favor?" You ask.
"I finally got Seungcheol to make a move on her. She's returning the favor." His cheeks are dusted with pink again.
"Oh." That's definitely not what you expected him to say.
"She knows about our summer together. I didn't shut up about it after it happened."
Mingyu pours each of you a glass of wine.
He tells you about how he opened his bakery as you sip on your wine. Dove comes over, dropping off your pasta to share, and the pizza he ordered. You couldn’t help but smile that Mingyu remembers your favorite foods from here. Talking to Mingyu is as easy as it was all those summers ago.
The bill comes and before Dove can even set it down, Mingyu hands her his card. She scurries off and comes back. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out cash to hand her as a tip.
"Gyu, you don't have to tip me."
He stands up and smiles. "I know, but I want to."
"Alright, but that means you have to come over to dinner next week."
He leans over and gives her a side hug. "Yes ma'am. Tell Cheol I'll be over next week. What would you like from the bakery?"
"A cinnamon roll please."
"Okay."
"It was nice to see you again, Dove." You say, standing up as you smooth the creases in your dress.
"It was great seeing you again. You're invited over anytime you would like. If you want to come with Gyu next week, you can." This all feels oddly easy.
"Thank you."
Mingyu leads you out of the restaurant. He glances down the street and back at you. "What's the chances that I can walk you home?"
"Pretty high." You give him a smile and nudge his arm.
Mingyu holds his hand out, hoping you'll take it. Lacing your fingers with his, he leads you down the street back towards his bakery. You can't help but wonder what would have happened between you, if you didn't move away to go to school. If you had stayed, would you and Mingyu have lasted after that summer? You've tried your hardest not to think about the what ifs. You just want to focus on what is happening now. It's clear right now Mingyu wants to get to know you, again.
He knows exactly where you live, leading you down the street. The sidewalk is lit up from the glow of the street lights, and the twinkle lights some of the businesses have up. This city looks exactly how it did when you left all those years ago.
Arriving at Joshua's coffee shop, there is, door on the corner that leads up to your apartment. Mingyu is still holding your hand, definitely not ready to say goodbye.
"Would you like to walk me upstairs?"
"Yeah."
Pulling open the door you lead him up the stairwell. You stop in the entry way that leads to the two apartments up here. One of them being yours, and the others being Joshua's.
"Can I ask for your number?"
"Yeah."
He releases your hand, humbling with his pocket to fish out his phone. He quickly unlocks it and hands it to you. Typing in your number, you give your phone a call, so you'll have his number saved.
"Text me, Gyu."
Leaning up, you press your lips to his cheek for a quick kiss. He pulls away instantly blushing. His bottom lip is captured between his teeth.
"I'll definitely text you."
TWO: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND
It's a chilly morning making you bundle up further under your covers. You're not ready to get up. Your phone buzzes in your nightstand.
8:17am Mingyu: good morning.
Butterflies flutter around your stomach. God, you do want to text him, but you're so nervous. Right now, you just need to talk to someone about this. There is only one person who truly knows what unfolded between you and Mingyu. Luckily that man lives next door. Scurrying around your apartment, you quickly get dressed. It's probably too early to be bugging Joshua, but you don't care.
Knocking on the door you patiently wait for Joshua to answer.
The door swings open and Joshua looks confused.
"Yes?" He asks.
"Mingyu texted me."
Joshua raises his brows and steps aside. He knows you well enough to know that you're indeed about to spiral.
Walking off to the kitchen he grabs a cup of coffee. You stand in his living room waiting for him. He walks towards you sipping on his hot coffee.
"Did you want to start freaking out now, or later?"
You groan tilting your head back. You start pacing in front of him. Coming home, you hadn’t intended on reconnecting with anyone other than Joshua. Running into Mingyu suddenly makes the world start spinning sideways.
"Why is he still interested in me?"
"Because he likes you?"
"Why though? There is nothing special about me." No matter how much time has passed since those not so great years in high school, you still have self confidence issues. Your lack luster dating life over the years probably didn't help.
"You're severely underselling yourself."
You stop pacing and stare at him. "Joshua."
"Listen, you and him were a good pair that summer. Mingyu is a really good guy, just give him a chance." You're curious how much Mingyu has spoken to Joshua about you. There is no way Joshua would be pushing for you to give Mingyu a shot, if he didn't think he was a good guy.
Joshua says your name and pauses. He takes a moment to give you a pleading look. "I know you've been screwed over by men in the past, but I promise Mingyu isn't one of those guys. Just give him a chance."
A heavy sigh passes your lips. "I'll talk to Mingyu."
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you open your text to see Mingyu's name.
9:02am Sweetie: good morning.
It's just a simple text, but it is the start of a conversation.
9:04am Mingyu: I was a little scared you were going to disappear on me.
9:05am Sweetie: nope. I just had a crazy morning.
Joshua is standing there smiling, watching as you text Mingyu.
9:07am Mingyu: do you work today? I know it's Saturday but I'm not sure how your job works.
You know where this conversation is going. He's going to ask you out. You lock your phone and look up at Joshua.
"I think he's going to ask me out."
Joshua lets out a little laugh before taking a drink of his coffee. "Then agree to go out with him."
9:10am Sweetie: I'm off today.
9:10am Mingyu: I'm at the bakery until 11 this morning. What are the chances that we can spend the day together?
You glance up at Joshua and he just raises his brow at you.
9:11am Sweetie: I'm down to spend the day with you.
9:12am Mingyu: I can come over and pick you up, or you can meet me at the bakery and I'll give you a sweet treat.
9:13am Sweetie: I'll meet you at your bakery.
Arriving at Mingyu bakery, you see the same man who was working yesterday. You believe his name is Chan. He's got a girl working with him. The bakery is pretty quiet other than the older lady the girl is helping.
Chan sees you and immediately smiles. "He's in the back. He said to send you back there once you get here."
He waves you to follow him. Walking through the small bakery you walk in the back to find Mingyu dressed in a pair of jeans and white shirt, with an apron covered in flour. He gives you a crooked smile the second he notices your presence.
"You heading out, Gyu?" Chan asks.
"Yeah. I just finished the chocolate chunk cookies, go ahead and put them out."
You walk further into the back kitchen. You see the tray of delicious freshly baked cookies in front of him.
He grabs one and holds it out for you. You remember that summer all those years ago, when Mingyu would bring these same cookies to work. After he found out you liked them, he would often bring you a batch of cookies.
"I hope these are still your favorite."
How on earth does he remember that? "What?"
"You used to love these cookies. I made an extra batch today just for you."
Reaching out you take the still warm cookie. "Mingyu, what is your game plan here?" You need to know how serious he is about you.
He wipes his hands on his apron. "Game plan?"
"Yeah, is this a game?" Maybe he's just trying to see if he can get the girl he had a fling with all those years ago.
He's silent for a moment. He takes off his apron and hangs it up. The kitchen suddenly feels so small. He walks towards you. "Sweetie, I'm a grown man pushing thirty. You're out of your mind if you think I'm playing a game with you. I'm serious about pursuing you."
"Oh." That's definitely not what you thought he would say to you.
"Why don't you try the cookie?"
Taking a bite, you're hit with the sweet nostalgic chocolately flavor. Your mouth instantly waters. It tastes just as good as they did all those years ago. His eyes are locked on yours as he watches you eat the cookie.
"Do you still love the cookie?"
"Yeah."
He gives you a smile. He truly is the perfect man. The way he looks at you has butterflies fluttering around your stomach.
"How about we go get coffee from Joshua's place, and then go out for lunch?"
"Okay."
"Give me a minute to get ready."
Mingyu leaves you alone for a minute so he can clean himself up. You stand there eating the delicious cookie.
He walks back towards you and hold his hand out. Without thinking, you lace your fingers with his.
Mingyu takes you to Joshua's coffee shop and you instantly smile as he orders the same soy vanilla latte you used to drink nonstop that summer. His fingers stay laced with yours. He leads you out of the coffee shop. You run into Joshua coming down from upstairs. The grin that instantly forms on his lips at the sight of you and Mingyu is a firm reminder he will be saying, "I told you so."
"Hey, Shua." Mingyu greets him.
"Where are you two off to?" Joshua asks.
"I'm taking her to the museum and then I was thinking we can grab food."
Joshua smiles glancing over at you. "Have fun you two."
He leads you back behind his bakery. You spot a small black suv parked there. You would know this car anywhere. It's the same car he got a few months before your summer together. You spent many evenings making out in the back seat of his car. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out his keys. He unlocks the doors. He leads you over to the passenger side and opens the door. It's clear he's still very much a gentleman. He releases your hand and helps you inside.
He jogs to the drivers side as you buckle your seatbelt.
"I know I told Shua we were going to the museum, but what do you think about going to the aquarium?"
"Isn't that an hour away?" In your whole life you've lived here you've only taken the drive there maybe three times, and one of those times was with Mingyu. It was one of those random days you were both off. You had stayed over his place, and were woken up when he decided you needed to take a day trip. That day is a memory that lives in your mind on repeat.
"Yeah, but I don't mind driving. If I remember correctly you used to talk about how much you love jellyfish."
"I still do."
"Let's go to the aquarium."
The drive to the aquarium is relaxing. Mingyu sings along to the radio as his hand strums against the steering wheel to the beat of the song. He's truly a different man now, and fully mature, but you realize he's still that same twenty year old boy you spent the summer with.
Arriving at the aquarium, he jumps out of the car the moment he put it in park.
THREE: AN EMOTIONAL CONNECTION
Walking up to the ticket window, Mingyu pays for two tickets. He takes your hand leading you inside. Hand in hand, you walk into the room filled with tropical fish. He lets go of your hand as you walk closer to the glass. It's hard not to be completely enamored by the site of the vibrant fish.
Mingyu stays close to you, never too far away. He follows you with a smile plastered on his face. He loves watching you light up at the sight of all the fishes.
Heading down a hallway, you a huge smile takes over your face, at the sight of all the electric looking jellyfish surrounded by dark water. Mingyu stands behind you watching you carefully. He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of you absolutely captivated.
Your hand rests on the thick glass. You didn't realize you missed coming here so badly. In the city there isn't an aquarium anywhere close.
Turning back you find him holding his phone watching you. "Are you filming me?"
"I don't want to ever forget seeing you this happy, again."
"Again?" You raise your brow.
"I should have filmed you the last time we were here."
The aquarium was amazing. Mingyu followed you around anywhere you could possibly want to go. He never complained even when you went back to the jellyfish room, twice.
Reluctantly you told him it's probably time to leave. For the last hour your stomach has been grumbling reminding you that you're indeed hungry. He mentions that he knows a good Italian restaurant about ten minutes away.
He drives you both over, you can't help but be curious if he knows about this place because he's taken someone here on a date before.
"How do you know about this place?" You ask as you're parked right outside.
"I came here with Wonwoo one day. A girl he likes used to work here."
"Is Wonwoo single?"
"Yeah, he's so wrapped up in work. I don't think he knows how to be in a relationship."
Heading inside you notice how quiet and quaint this place is. The waitress immediately takes you to a booth in the back. You look at the menu and notice this place is a fusion place. There is a miso pasta dish that sounds delicious.
"The uni pasta is what I got here last time." He says peaking up from his menu.
An older woman comes over with a notepad in hand. She takes your order and mentions a good wine pairing for each of your pastas you ordered.
She comes back over bringing you two glasses of white wine, and a basket of warm bread.
Mingyu grabs a warm piece of bread. He starts buttering it. "This is a great date."
He gives you a smile. "I remember how much you loved the aquarium when we were younger. I thought going to it would make you smile."
"It was lovely going back."
He hands out the butter piece of bread to you. "Do you plan on staying in Carat Ridge?" He asks.
"Yeah, my mom needs me."
"That's kind of you to move back home for her."
"I always assumed coming back home would hurt, but it doesn't."
He takes a small bite of the bread. "Why would it hurt?"
"Back in school, people weren't necessarily nice to me. I didn't have many people I could call friends here. I really only ever had Joshua, and Jeonghan."
"I would have been friends with you back then."
"Mingyu, you didn't really know me back then."
He lets out a sigh. He wishes he could go back in time and make his younger self talk to the cute girl with glasses in his chemistry class. He knows back then people were cruel to you, but he would never let anyone he was friends with ever say anything mean about you.
"I wish I would have spoken to you more back then."
The waitress comes over and places the food down in front of you. There is a silence that takes over the table. Both of you desperately want to say something, but neither of you do. Quietly you both start eating.
Taking slow bites of your pasta you watch him eat. There is this little voice eating away at you. You need to know what his expectations are. For a few years you've been struggling with intimacy.
"Mingyu?"
He stops eating and glances up at you."Yeah?"
"I don't know what your expectations are, but I need you to know something."
His brows knit together as a look of confusion plays across his face. "What's up?"
"When it comes to sex, and intimacy, I know we had sex back when we were twenty, but—" You feel so awkward having to have this conversation. "I don't have sex outside of a relationship now. I need a strong emotional connection."
"That's fine. I want that too. I know you probably think I'm some fuck boy, but I'm not. I like to only have sex with women I'm dating."
"Oh."
"We can do this on your timeframe."
He gives you a smile with those golden retriever eyes before taking another bite of his pasta. "Sweetie?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm serious about actually dating you. I'm not just trying to get into your pants."
A smile tugs at your lips. Sticking your fork into the pasta you take another bite.
You've built up a lot of walls over the years. Maybe it's time you start letting them down. Mingyu has made it clear he wants to try and build something real with you.
FOUR: YOU GIVE ME BUTTERFLIES
Things with Mingyu feel like a whirlwind. You never expected to reconnect with him like this. Realistically you thought he would have forgotten you after all these years. No matter how much you cared for him that summer, you tried your hardest after going back to school to tell yourself he was just a fling. It took a while but you eventually moved on. You eventually start seeing a boy you fell in love with. You stayed with him until a year after college. Since then you have tried dating to no success. Coming back home, you had no intention of starting a relationship with anyone, let alone Mingyu.
Things with him are easy. He's attentive and kind. You wake up to a good morning text everyday.
You've spent the day glued to your computer working. You have a draft that you've been looking at the past two days. You haven't done much other than be stuck staring at your computer. You're just about finished and then you're free tomorrow.
Your phone vibrates on your desk. You glance over to see a new message from Mingyu.
4:56pm Mingyu: how is work going?
4:57pm Sweetie: I'm finally finishing up this project.
4:57pm Mingyu: I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place tonight? Cheol and Dove are coming over to have dinner with me and Wonwoo.
Since you started seeing Mingyu, you have been getting to know his friends more. It's not unusual for you to end up at Mingyu place at night. It still feels a little strange hanging out with his friends. You're trying your hardest to let down your walls, and to fully embrace dating Mingyu.
5:01pm Sweetie: Sure I can come over.
5:01pm Mingyu: I can pick you up. What time did you want to come over?
5:02pm Sweetie: I'll be done with work in a half hour. I just need like twenty minutes to get ready after.
5:03pm Mingyu: Can you stay over tonight again?
5:04pm Sweetie: Yea.
In the last week, you've found yourself having sleepovers with Mingyu. Nothing sexual has unfolded between the two of you. The most you've done is have some pretty intense make out sessions.
The moment you finish working, you start getting ready. You pack a small overnight bag. There is a knock on your door. Rushing over, you open it and find Mingyu standing on the other side.
Dressed in a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans, he looks effortlessly handsome. He wastes no time leaning down and pressing his lips to yours for a kiss.
"Hello beautiful." He loves to greet you like this. Every time he does it, those two simple words fill your stomach with fluttering butterflies.
"I'm ready."
You pull away and grab your bag you have sitting on the couch.
As soon as you get to Mingyu's place you sit in the kitchen while he starts cooking dinner. Your laptop is in front of you while you're scrolling around online shopping. You and Mingyu are talking about random things.
Wonwoo pops in from work, and gives you a smile. "What time is Cheol and Dove getting here?"
"I think an hour?" Mingyu responds.
"Okay. I'm going to take a quick shower."
"Sweetie is staying over tonight." Mingyu has really latched on to your nickname he called you all those years ago. It's rare he calls you your actual name anymore. You don't think he's ever said your name around Wonwoo.
"Sounds good."
-
As soon as Wonwoo is ready Seungcheol and Dove arrive. Dove waddles in slowly. She's basically at her due date now. Seungcheol plays the role of the doting husband perfectly.
Everyone meets at the kitchen table. Seungcheol and Dove on one side. You and Mingyu across from them, and Wonwoo is sitting between the two boys.
Everyone is enjoying the delicious meal Mingyu prepared. It feels almost seamless, the way you fit into Mingyu's friend group.
Mingyu's hand rests on your thigh as everyone sits at the table just chatting.
Dove's hand rests on her round stomach as she leans back. "I'm so ready to no longer be pregnant."
Seungcheol reaches over resting his hand next to hers on her stomach. "Babe any day you're going to go into labor."
"Remind me why I let you get me pregnant?" She laughs.
"I wouldn't say you let him." Wonwoo barks out a laugh.
"Oh you're right, Cheol doesn't like condoms." Dove laughs.
Seungcheol's cheeks immediately turn bright red. "Hey, we both knew the risk."
She leans over resting her hand on his cheek. "I know we did. It turns out I love you and thought you would be a good dad."
The way Seungcheol looks at Dove you can tell how much he loves her. Mingyu's large hand rests on your soft thigh. He gives it a squeeze catching your attention. Glancing over at him, he gives you a gentle smile. Without thinking you lean over pressing your lips to his for a soft kiss.
"Let's hope the baby gets Dove's looks." Wonwoo laughs before taking a bite of his food. Seungcheol instantly pouts, Dove leans over and kisses his cheek quickly. "I think my baby daddy is pretty good looking."
"Baby daddy? That's what you see me as?" Seungcheol responds.
"I don't see a wedding ring on her finger." Mingyu says joining in.
"Excuse me. I proposed before I knocked her up. My beloved fiancée is the one who isn’t in a hurry to get married."
By the look and smile plastered across Dove's face, it's very clear they have had this conversation before.
"Cheol if you were my husband, I would still call you my baby daddy."
He lets out a groan and rolls his eyes. "Whatever, baby mama."
"I like the sound of that." She laughs.
After a couple hours Seungcheol and Dove head home. Wonwoo helps clean up the kitchen before heading off to his room. Standing in the kitchen you and Mingyu are sipping on a bottle of beer.
"I like your friends a lot." You lean against the kitchen counter.
"They like you a lot. Dove appreciates having another girl around." He takes a sip of the biter liquid. There is something extra delicious about Mingyu standing there drinking from a bottle of beer.
"Thats good." You set the bottle down on the counter next to you.
He chugs the rest and a little bit of the foam seeps out of top. Without thinking he licks the neck of the bottle. Biting your bottom lip you try not to moan at the sight of him erotically licking the bottle.
He glances at you and can tell you're turned on. "Sweetie?"
"Yes?" He takes a step closer to you.
"I like you a lot."
"Oh?" He takes another step closer to you.
"I like you so much." He stops standing right in front of you. He places the empty bottle of beer on the counter next to you. "Do you like me?" He leans in with his face a few inches from yours. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in against the counter.
"I like you too."
"You just like me?" His nose brushes against yours.
Leaning up, your lips brush against his. "I like you a lot." You whisper slowly.
A small moment passes before he crashes his lips into yours. The kiss is heated, he wastes no time sliding his tongue against the seam of your lips. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to you. He doesn't kiss you like the naive twenty year old he used to be. He kisses you like the grown man that had yearned for you for years.
Pulling away you're both panting. Who knew a small kiss could turn you on like this?
"Maybe we should go to bed?" He says with his nose brushing against yours.
"Going to bed sounds like a good idea." You lean in with your lips brushing against his.
He grabs your hand pulling you off to his room. Things between you cool down a little bit. Mingyu takes a shower and you lay in bed scrolling through your phone.
You're torn between wanting to climb Mingyu like a tree, and wanting to take it slow. You know if you take it slow, it's just going to build your emotional connection more and more.
Eventually Mingyu joins you in bed. He's dressed in a pair of low sitting lounge pants that shows off not only his mouth watering v lines, but the small patch of pubic hair is peaking out. Closing your eyes you push away all the horny lust filled thoughts that are swirling around in your brain.
The moment he's in bed he pulls your body close to him. He's curled up behind you spooning you.
"I love being able to hold you." He says before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.
"I like this too."
It doesn't take long before you're both sound asleep with Mingyu holding you close.
FIVE: WANTING SOMETHING MORE
It's been two months since you started seeing Mingyu. Things between you are great, honestly they're probably better than great. He is basically your boyfriend, but you haven't been brave enough to put a label on things. Mingyu made it clear very early on, that any steps forward in the relationship will be your choice. He said he'll give you anything you want, and follow any lead you give. Things sexually between you, haven't progressed past making out and some dry humping. You thought by now, maybe Mingyu would make a move, but he hasn't. He's been a gentleman in every sense of the word.
Today has been terrible to say the least. Attempting to figure out the books for your mother's business has left you stressed and feeling on edge. You've been working on them all day. You've been locked away in your mothers office. At this point you want to relieve some stress.
Grabbing your phone on the table you open your messages to Mingyu.
6:32pm Sweetie: Hey
6:33pm Mingyu: Hey pretty girl.
6:33pm Sweetie: Today has been exhausting.
6:34pm Mingyu: I'm sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?
6:35pm Sweetie: yeah, just dealing with the books for my mom, feels like it's fried my brain. I just wanna lay down and not think.
6:36pm Mingyu: Have you eaten?
6:37pm Sweetie: I had the croissant you gave me last night.
You've spent the whole day helping your mom on your day off. You're running on a latte with two extra shots and a croissant. You're starting to get a headache and you just want to go home, and honestly you want to see Mingyu.
6:37pm Mingyu: That's not enough food.
6:38pm Sweetie: I know. Can I ask for you to come to my place and spend the night?
6:38pm Mingyu: I'm finishing up at the gym with Wonwoo. Let me shower and I'll come over.
6:39pm Sweetie: Just come straight over. You can shower here.
The lust filled part of your brain wants to see him sweaty coming straight from the gym.
6:40pm Mingyu: okay. I'm going to order your favorite Thai and have it delivered.
6:41pm Sweetie: okay see you soon.
Twenty minutes later, Mingyu is walking into your apartment. He's holding his gym bag, and is dressed in a pair of sweatpants and black tank top that's fitted and sticking to his sweaty skin. He wastes no time leaning down and pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss.
Your hand clings to his tank top. You've had a rough day, and nothing sounds better than being close to him.
"I should shower." An idea pops into your head. You lean up pressing your lips to his for another kiss. "Sweetie, I'm gross and should shower."
"Can I shower with you?" You haven't had sex yet, but a little fooling around in the shower could be fun.
He pulls back and raises his brow. "I thought we were taking things slow?"
"We are, and I'm ready to fool around in the shower." He silently stares at you, trying to figure out what is going on in your mind. "If you're not ready, it's fine." You suddenly feel so stupid.
He tilts your head back with his thumb and index finger. "I'm ready. I've been ready to do everything with you. I just don't want to rush you."
You pull away from him and give him a smile. "Gyu, you're not rushing me."
You take off for the bathroom and hear him following right behind you. Walking into the bathroom you turn on the water, giving it a minute to warm up. Mingyu stands by the door like a statue, just watching you.
You start stripping away your clothes, almost as if you're putting on a show for him. Turning around you raise your brow at him. "Are you going to get naked or just stand there?"
Stepping into the shower, you let the warm water engulf you. The glass door slides shut, Mingyu steps closer to you. Back when you were both twenty, and couldn't keep your hands to yourself, Mingyu looked absolutely gorgeous. Now he's almost thirty and his body is toned and thick. Your eyes travels down to his cock, that definitely is bigger than you remember. He steps closer to you, so that the warm water is hitting both of you.
"How have we not gotten naked before this?" You ask, earning a smile from him.
"You wanted to make sure we had a strong emotional connection." He leans in closer. His wet body is presses against yours. "How is our connection feeling?"
You step back and run your fingers down his wet golden skin. Brushing his belly button, making him inhale a deep breath.
"Super strong," he sighs.
Your fingers drag across his soft length. With each passing moment he's hardening in your hand.
The way he tilts his head back is a beautiful sight. His eyes are squeezed shut, as he takes staggered breaths.
You think back to that summer, and remember all the ways he likes to be touched. Focusing on the mushroom tip, you notice he's still extra sensitive there.
Stepping back away from the water, you drop to your knees in front of him. His eyes go wide, looking down at you he shakes his head.
"Not in the shower, baby. Let's clean up and we can continue on your bed."
"Okay."
True to his word, he takes his time washing both your bodies before he pulls you out of the shower. Wrapping you in a towel, he works on drying you off before patting your ass. Running off to your room, you toss the fluffy towel in the hamper.Laying down on the bed, you naked body is fully on display.
The sight of him standing at the foot of the bed with just a towel wrapped around his glistening naked body is mouth watering. Spreading your legs you make a come hither motion. The bed dips, as he places a knee on the bed. The fluffy white towel is long gone. His gorgeous body is fully naked, on display. His cock is still hard, from fooling around in the shower.
"How far do you want to go?" God you wanna beg to go all the way. You wanna feel his massive cock stretching you out again, but you shouldn't cross every line tonight. Tomorrow is a different story, you should pace yourself.
"I want you in my mouth." During that summer, you only ever gave him head once. The size of his cock, was too much for your inexperienced self. Mingyu was fine with that and never complained. He's always been more of a giver, then a taker.
"I thought I'm too big?" He teases.
"I've learned a few things over the years."
He crawls on the bed, he makes his way over to you. His hands are on either side of you, caging you in.
"Let me taste you first." He leans in with his nose against yours. "I've missed having you like this."
"I remember the first time I ever made you cum." He vividly remembers the first time he fingered you. He thought it was so cute the way you squirmed with his fingers on you. "I bet you taste just as sweet as I remember." He starts leaving a trail of kisses from your lips down your neck. He takes his time to kiss and toy with each of your nipples.
"Gyu, don't tease me."
"I would never do that, baby." He slowly slides down your body. He starts kissing your belly button down to your needy core. The sight of him between your legs is absolutely intoxicating. He parts your folds before diving in. The first lick of his tongue flat against your clit, makes your eyes roll back in your head. He's practically making out with your pussy. He switches between licking, and sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your fingers tangle in his dark locks, holding him closer to you. All the muscles in your body feel alive. One hand stays tangled in his while the other grips your blush colored sheets below you. The lewd sounds of his lips tasting you, aren't even covered by your whiny whimpers and moans leaving your lips.
"Ming—" Your brain can barely function.
He looks up at you with his eyes filled with need. He never stops licking your clit. Your fingers release his hair. Laying down you stare at the ceiling. The coil in your tummy is tightening more and more.
"Mingyu—" his name is nothing more than a whiny plea.
"You're still so good for me." Pushing yourself on to your elbows you look down at him. "You're so close, I can tell. Sweetie, can you cum or me?"
Wordlessly you nod your head. In this moment you think you would do anything he asks. He sucks on your clit a little harder, pushing you over the edge. The free fall off the cliff is like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your walls flutter around his single finger he's started thrusting in and out of you, helping you ride out your earth shattering high.
"Oh my god." You sigh, closing your eyes.
Mingyu slowly pulls away. His eyes stay locked on you, he dips his fingers into his mouth, licking away your release.
Sitting on his knees between your spread legs he finally speaks. "You taste just as sweet as I remember." If you weren't already turned on, you would be now. Your eyes can't focus on anything other than the massive cock that is full hard in front of you. "Baby, you seem distracted." That's an understatement, you're cock drunk, and you haven't even gotten to touch it yet.
He starts slowly stroking himself, staring at you. Pushing yourself up, you desperately want to get closer to him. He tries not to laugh, watching you scramble to move. You're sitting on your knees in front of him. His hand rests on your neck, leaning down, he presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss. There is something intoxicating about the fact you can taste yourself on his tongue.
"Lay down for me." You say with your lips against his.
He gives you one more kiss before laying down on the bed. His straining length is standing there proud and ready. Laying the bed between his spread legs, you slowly start pumping his length. That summer together you mastered the art of giving him a hand job. Start stroking. The base of his length while licking his rosy mushroom tip. Resting on his elbows he watches you carefully with lust blown eyes. Your eyes stay locked on yours.
You start shallowly taking him into your mouth until he's brushing the back of your throat. Breathing through your nose, you focus on letting his slip pass your gag reflex. Your eyes water, and. You let him slip into your throat. A slew of whimpers and moans leave his mouth. One hand rests on your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.
Pulling off his cock, you look up at him through your lashes. You go back to pumping his length while licking the sensitive head.
"Fuck, baby you're so good at this now."
"Thanks," you whisper between licks.
Taking his full length into your mouth, you bob your head up and down. You focusing on his balls, while you take him as deep as he'll go." It's clear he's close to coming. He's starting to babble on and on. He's spewing out sweet words and incoherent sentences.
"Baby—" it's a broken moan.
You pull off him, a string of saliva is connecting your lips to his glistening cock. "Yes?"
"I'm going to cum."
"Okay."
You take him back into your mouth. You want him to finish in your mouth. You bob your head up and down, stroking the base of his length. His fingers stay tangled in your hair.
"Fuck, baby—"
His stomach muscles tighten, as he finds his release. He fills your mouth with his milky release. Without thinking you swallow every last drop.
Mingyu lays there looking dazed for a moment. You sit back on your knees looking down at him.
He pushes himself up. He reaches out, pulling you forward. You straddle his thighs. His hands roam your bare back.
"That was incredible." He says with his nose resting against yours.
Leaning in, you press your lips against his. "I think I've gotten pretty good at that."
He pulls away smiling, "that’s an understatement."
Mingyu takes his time getting both of you cleaned up, before joining you in bed. Laying there with him holding you close, you feel as if this is where you're supposed to be.
SIX: BRIGHT LIGHTS AND CITYSCAPES
It's a day where you and Mingyu decided you were going to spend the entire day together. Mingyu started the morning making you both breakfast. You're dressed in nothing but a pair of panties, and a baggy shirt. Mingyu looks mouth watering in just a tight pair of boxer briefs. His beautiful golden skin is on full display.
Sitting at the kitchen table your laptop is in front of you. You're reading some emails while he’s cooking.
He walks over, sitting a plate in front of you. Closing your laptop you put it away. You just want to focus on him, and not on anything related to your job or your mothers company.
He brings back a cup of coffee, before sitting down across from you.
"I made your latte just the way you like it." Mingyu is a dream, you often find yourself wondering why he likes you so much.
"Thank you."
You both start eating your breakfast and making small talk.
"What do you think about going to see Seungcheol and Dove this evening? They mentioned wanting to see the baby." About two weeks ago, Dove gave birth to a beautiful little girl.
"Sure I would love to see little Luna."
"Dove mentioned wanting to have pasta for dinner. Cheol also asked if we could bring a bottle of beer."
Since you've started seeing Mingyu again, you now see his friends as yours. You love getting to know them. You can't wait to fully get to know their daughter.
-
Arriving at Seungcheol, and Dove's home, you're greeted by Seungcheol, holding his beautiful baby girl. Mingyu immediately starts gushing over the baby. You can't help but smile.
Dove sees you and pulls you off to the kitchen. She looks incredible, you can't even tell she just had a baby. She's dressed in a sundress walking around the kitchen. She makes you a glass of lemonade, and sits down at the table across from you.
"How is motherhood?" You ask before taking a sip of the lemonade.
she lets out a little laugh, "It's been great. God I love Luna. I can't lie and say I'm not exhausted though. Neither me nor Cheol have properly slept since she was born.'
"You don't look like you're exhausted."
"Cheol let me take a two hour nap this morning. I have to say, he's being an angel. If Luna wakes up in the middle of the night, he always gets up." With everything you know about Seungcheol, and everything Mingyu has said, you aren't shocked he's a great dad.
The boys join you in the kitchen. Mingyu is holding Luna, looking absolutely adorable.
Your evening is spent getting to know the newest little edition to the friend group. Dove made everyone a delicious pesto pasta. Around nine they've managed to get Luna to fall asleep. You and Mingyu say your goodbyes before heading out.
You're both standing outside Seungcheol and Dove's house.
"Did you wanna go see the lights?" He leans against his car.
"The lights?"
"You can see the town night up on the hill." Your stomach knots. You know exactly which hill he's talking about. Lookout Ridge is the place all the college kids would go to hook up back in the day. You aren't sure if that's still the case, but it feels strange being invited to go up there.
"Sure."
Hopping into his car, he wastes no time lacing his fingers with yours. It's about a thirty minute drive up the dark hill. The whole way up you don't see any other cars. You're fully alone to take in the sight of your town and the stars above.
There's trees between the road and where you parked, giving you some privacy.
Getting out of the car you walk closer to the edge. Mingyu silently follows behind you. "I've never actually been here before."
"Really?" He's surprised, he thought everyone back in school came here.
"I didn't exactly have boys knocking on my door to hook up. I didn't really have a reason to come to a hook up spot."
"People don't just come up here to hook up." He leans against the hood of his car. "I used to come up here late at night the night before big games. I would stand here and just stare at all the lights. It helped calm me down."
Standing by the railing you look at all the lights. It feels odd being at a place you had always heard rumors about as a teen. Back then you dreamed of what it would be like to have a boy like you enough to bring you up here.
Mingyu walks up behind you, he wraps his arms around your soft stomach. He rests his chin on top of your head.
"The lights are beautiful."
"You know back in high school, I thought you were so cute, but you didn't seem like you were interested in me."
His statement catches you off guard. Back in school you didn't even think Mingyu knew your name. Plenty of other girls chased after him, why would he need to notice you?
"Mingyu, you were the golden boy in high school, and I was just a book worm. I was shy and barely had any friends other than Joshua and Jeonghan."
He squeezes you a little tighter. "When you walked into that coffee shop that summer… I knew I was screwed."
"Screwed?"
"I knew I would fall hard and fast for you."
His words knock the oxygen right of your lungs. You knew you fell for Mingyu that summer during college, but you had no clue he felt the same way. "I watched the way you smiled the moment you saw Joshua, and I hoped and prayed one day you would smile like that because of me."
Back in college you were so insecure, there was no way you could imagine Mingyu would feel that way. He treated you so well, and that whole summer felt as if there was a ticking time bomb hovering over your head.
"It was a great summer." You pull away from him.
He stares at you with a confused look playing across his face. "Yeah."
"I had a lot of firsts with you that summer." You can't bring yourself to admit it to him, but you fell so hard for him. Even after everything imploded, you went back to college with a slowly cracking heart. Days passed since you last saw him, and you knew deep down inside it was over. Even when you tried to somewhat make it work. You never labeled what you had. For the first six months you talked to Mingyu almost every day and then you just slowly drifted apart more and more each day.
He holds your face with both his hands. Without a second thought, he crashes his lips into yours. This kiss feels different, it feels frantic. Almost as if he's trying to prove something to you.
Pulling away you rest your nose against his. "We're technically at a hook up spot."
The corner of his mouth tugs up. You loop your finger into his belt loop and tug a little. He's a large man and a force to move, but you managed to catch him off guard some.
"What do you want, sweetie?"
"I've never had sex in the back seat of a car."
"It's not as fun as people think it is." He leans in close to you.
"Okay, we don't have to." You step back from him.
He watches you walk towards his car. He wishes he could explain what you do to him. He walks up behind you wrapping his arms around your stomach again. He pulls your soft body, flush against him.
"Is that what you want? Did you want me to fuck you in the back seat of my car?"
"I was hoping I could ride you."
"Be my guest." He whispers in your ear.
You pull him off to the car, giggling. Things happen quickly. Sitting on his lap in the back seat in his car you wonder how many times he’s gone up to this same spot before with other girls. Back in high school you heard so many rumors about this place. Everyone talks about this being the spot college kids would come to. You've removed your jeans, and you're left in just your thong and a bra. Mingyu is shirtless, with his pants pushed down to his knees.
His hard length sits between you standing tall. Your hand slowly strokes him. His hands are all over the place. He rotates between kissing your neck, and making out with you. He moans against the delicate skin of your neck, and you focus on playing with the rosy bulbous tip.
"Fuck," he moans. "Sweetie, I'm going to cum if you keep doing that."
You give him an innocent smile, fluttering your lashes at him.
"Condom?" He asks.
"I'm on birth control."
"You're okay with going raw?" He's trying his hardest to speak logically right now. That summer you spent together, he went through too many condoms to count. He never even thought going raw was an option.
"Yes."
Lifting up you pull your panties to the side. Mingyu holds his cock up, helping guide you down his length. Slowly you slide down, his cock giving yourself a moment to adjust to the sheer size of him.
"God you're still so tight." In all your years of having sex since that summer you shared together, no man had compared to your time you shared with Mingyu.
"You're fucking huge." You sigh. The smile that forms on his face couldn't make the strongest person weak.
Your body sings as you roll your hips forward. Your clit brushes the patch of pubic hair, making your body feel like a live wire. His hands grip your hips helping to move your body. Instead of bouncing up and down you've decided to keep up this rolling technique. Mingyu's lips are anywhere they can possibly reach. The car is filled with. echoing moans and the sounds of wet skin hitting wet skin.
"You feel so good." He moans. It's clear even after all these years Mingyu is still very verbal in bed.
Your fingers tangle in his dark locks, holding him close to you. Tilting your head back, your lips part as loud moans spill out.
He cock is curved just enough that he's brushing that special spot inside of you. His lips move down your neck leaving a wet trail in his wake. A few of these love bites are bound to leave a mark. He focuses on your breast. He gropes one while the other nipple is in his mouth. He nips and sucks on your pert nipples. Your eyes are practically rolled back in your head. Thank god you're far away from anyone who could hear your loud whimpers and moans.
He pulls away from your breast and looks at you with his big doe eyes. "Baby, can you move faster?" You would do anything he asks, if he'll look at you like that again.
Using your knees, you start bouncing on his length. His large hands grip your sides. He helps move you up and down his cock, at a steady pace. You both just keep moaning. The windows are covered with a film of condensation. The car is definitely rocking with both your movements. If someone drove up, they would definitely be able to tell what is unfolding between the two of you. Reaching between the two of you, Mingyu plays with your sensitive clit.
"Gyu—" your whole body feels tense.
"Fuck—" he groans rolling his head back.
Your high hits you like a tidal wave. A white hot wave washes over you. Your walls flutter like a heartbeat, squeezing his cock with each sloppy thrust. He holds on to you, lifting his hips. His own high is rapidly approaching.
The air is knocked out of his lungs. He paints your walls with his milky white release. You both stop moving. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. His lips leave a trail of kisses against your neck.
You aren't quite sure you've ever had an orgasm that intense.
"God that was incredible." He pulls back from you slowly.
"That was better than I remember." Even after Mingyu, no man has ever made you cum that hard.
"No woman has ever compared to you." He starts leaving a trail of kisses across your jaw. Mingyu used to always talk after sex, but this feels different.
"I highly doubt that." You pull back a little.
“I never stopped thinking about that summer we spent together?” He leans in close with his nose brushing yours. "Do you still think about it too?"
“Mingyu we were twenty back then, we’re pushing thirty now. We shouldn’t be thinking about a summer that felt like a lifetime ago.” He pulls back and his face instantly falls.
“You act like that summer didn’t matter.” He’s hurt, that summer meant so much to him, and you’re just brushing it off.
“Mingyu—”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.” He shifts pulling away from you.
"Mingyu, of course I think about it. It's just hard to wrap my head around the fact that you still have feelings for me."
"Why is it so hard? We've been seeing each other for two months."
"Mingyu, it's been almost eight, almost nine years. You can't tell me no other woman has caught your eye?"
"I've dated around, but I haven't had anything super serious. No matter how hard I try I've always thought about our summer together. Why are you acting like it's crazy that I love you." Those last three words hit you like a ton of bricks. The air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs.
"Mingyu—"
The back seat of his car feels excruciatingly small. The look on Mingyu's face stings. You've never seen him look this upset before. "I should take you home." He doesn't even give you a chance to respond to those three words.
"Okay." You crawl off him.
Grabbing your clothes off the floorboard you try your hardest to get dressed quickly. Mingyu pulls up his pants and pulls his shirt on. He gets out of the car and stands there staring at the lights for a minute. Silently you crawl into the passenger seat.
Everything you've built has started crumbling down around you. You stare at the back of Mingyu for what feels like a lifetime. He turns around and you instantly notice his eyes are red.
Screaming silence fills the car as he drives you back home. He stops outside your building. He turns the car off and takes a deep breath before turning to face you.
"Mingyu—"
"Goodnight, sweetie." He kisses your cheek before pulling away. There's nothing more he says. He just looks forward down the street. Tears brim your eyes, you and your insecurities have become the downfall of you and him. He confessed he loves you, you didn't even say anything other than his name.
Unbuckling you silently get out of the car. Before closing the door you glance at Mingyu, to see tears sliding down his face. You want to apologize, you want to tell him you're scared, but you can't. Opening your mouth no words come out. The crushing feeling in your chest is a firm reminder that you broke both your hearts. He glances at you, brushing away his tears. He nods his head silently towards the door.
Shutting the door, you walk upstairs. You stop in front of your door. Those silent tears have turned into silent sobs. You don't bother reaching for your keys, you walk to the door next to yours. You knock on Joshua's door, hoping and praying he's home.
The door swings open and Joshua stands there looking surprised to see you.
"What's wrong?" He grabs you and pulls you into a hug.
"I think me and Mingyu are done. I messed up tonight." The flood gates have opened as you sob into Joshua's chest.
Joshua being the good best friend he is, just holds you while you cry. He slowly rubs your back, repeating over and over that you'll be fine.
After some time the tears have finally slowed and you're sitting on Joshua's couch. He reaches up, pushing the tears away from your cheek. "What happened?"
"Mingyu brought up that summer and asked if I thought about it, and I just brushed him off. He then told me it's not hard to believe he fell in love with me now, and I couldn't bring myself to say anything."
Joshua gives you a pained look. "I know you don't want to believe it, but he's always liked you. I think before you try to fix things with him, you need to figure out if you're capable of fully letting your walls down with him."
SEVEN: WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO?
In the morning you wake up and stare at your phone. You don’t see your normal good morning text from Mingyu.
Pulling yourself out of bed you force yourself to shower, and to get ready. You need to get some work done, and try to function like a normal human today.
Sitting on your living room couch you try to figure out what you should even do. You want to reach out to Mingyu, but you're honestly scared.
There is a knock at your door. There is this part inside of you that hopes it's Mingyu. That you'll open the door and you'll be able to fix everything you messed up last night.
Opening the door, you can't be surprised when you see not only Joshua standing there but also Jeonghan. Since moving home you haven't been able to see him. He moved about an hour away from your town, and every time Joshua has gone to see him, you haven't been able to go. When you moved away, Jeonghan always came to see you a handful of times a year. He's always stayed a staple in your life.
Your eyes brim with tears. Without thinking you rush into Jeonghan's arms. He rubs your back, holding you close.
"Shua, said you needed both of us."
Pulling back you silently nod your head. "Did he tell you about Mingyu?"
"Yeah I know all about golden boy." He refers to him as the same nickname he used all those years ago.
"Are you able to take a few days off, maybe more?" Jeonghan asks.
"Yeah."
"Pack a bag, you and Joshua are going to stay at my place tonight."
You look over at Joshua and he gives you a gentle smile. "I'm already packed."
"Okay."
Shutting off your mind, you start packing an overnight bag. You pick up your phone and send your mom a message, telling her you're going away for two days.
Going to your conversation with Mingyu, you read over your last few messages you had shared.
Being brave you send him a message.
10:12am Sweetie: Good morning Gyu.
10:13am Mingyu: Morning.
That was short and to the point. That definitely stings. Grabbing your back you head out to the living area where the boys are waiting for you. You head downstairs to where Joshua's car is waiting. Getting into the back seat you pull out your phone knowing you need to text Mingyu again.
10:25am Sweetie: I wanted to let you know I'm going to Jeonghan's house for a few days.
If he doesn't respond to you, you won't blame him. You're shocked even answered you at all today.
Joshua and Jeonghan are chatting about something in the front seat. Closing your eyes you lean your head against the window.
For a chunk of the hour drive to Jeonghan's town you slept. He pulls into his driveway slowly. He lives in a house in the city by the ocean.
Slowly your eyes flutter open. Grabbing your phone you see a message from Mingyu.
11:20am Mingyu: okay be safe.
The back door opens, Joshua reaches in grabbing your dufflebag.
Heading inside you look around Jeonghan's home. He moved here about six months before you moved back home. He took a job in this town, when he got a big promotion. His place has a modern minimalist design. Joshua often comes out here a couple times a month.
Joshua takes your bag, to where you assume is the guest room. Jeonghan stays in the living room with you.
"How about I give you a tour?"
Jeonghan leads you around his two floor three bedroom place. His house is absolutely beautiful. He ends the tour in the guest room you'll be staying in.
"Hannie, thank you for bringing me here."
Jeonghan leans against the door frame. "I wish I was able to see you sooner. Work has been crazy and I was gone for a month for work."
"I know things have been crazy. I should have driven up here."
"I'm just glad I could be here for you now. Shua called me last night after you went home, and he told me you needed us."
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you look around the room that's decorated with a queen size bed, that sits under a window. There are two grey nightstands on both sides of the bed, and matching grey dresser, across from the bed.
"You can stay here as long as you want." Jeonghan says.
"I told Shua to order food from a really good Thai place."
-
Sitting at the kitchen table, you and the two boys are eating delicious take out and sipping on large glasses of wine. Joshua is too busy going on about some coworker Jeonghan has a crush on. This feels like old times. That summer you went home from school was the last time you and the boys were able to have a sleepover like this.
The boys are doing a decent job at distracting you, but you keep thinking back to Mingyu. You know he would fit in perfectly with you and he two boys.
Opening your phone you look to see if maybe, Mingyu sent you another message. Your chest burns, when you see he hasn't said anything else.
Joshua reaches over and squeezes your hand. Glancing up, you find both boys looking at you.
"Are you okay?" Joshua asks.
"Yea." You lie. No matter how much you wish you were okay, you aren't.
The night goes on and you often keep thinking about Mingyu, you want to know if he's thinking about you.
The next day Jeonghan takes you and Joshua around town. He shows you his favorite book store, and his favorite Japanese restaurant. He's doing a great job at keeping you distracted.
The following morning Joshua heads back home, saying he needs to do something at his coffee shop. You don't go home, you make the decision to stay with Jeonghan. You brought your laptop, so you're able to work from here.
Day four of staying with Jeonghan you can't stop thinking about Mingyu. You've been talking to him over the last few days, but things aren't the same. At this point you feel like you're just making small talk. You miss and you miss the relationship you had built.
It's just you and Jeonghan sitting in the kitchen. He just got home from work, and brought you food from a restaurant near his office that he loves. He's sipping on a cup of tea while you push around the food on your plate.
"So Kim Mingyu?" He's been watching you stare at a photo of you and Mingyu that you have saved on your phone.
You glance up. "Yea, Mingyu."
"So the golden boy never got over you?" Jeonghan asked before taking a sip of his tea.
"I didn't think that summer I shared with him mattered that much to him."
Jeonghan lets out a laugh. "You know after you went back to school, Mingyu never shut up about you?"
"How do you know?"
"Well I'm friends with Seungcheol, which made me friends with the golden boy."
"Oh."
"Mingyu talked about you all the time. He even brings you up anytime he sees me. A handful of times I've gotten drunk texts from him, asking about you."
You never knew that Mingyu asked about you over the years. You sure as hell didn't know that he sends drunk texts about you.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you acted like you wanted to forget the whole thing even happened." Jeonghan is one of your closest friends. Even though you haven't been able to see him in about four months, you know he's always there for you.
"I didn't think that summer meant anything."
He leans forward resting his elbows on the table. "I know that summer was a lifetime ago, but you guys have clearly started something pretty serious."
"He said he loves me."
"Do you love him?" His question leaves an ache in your chest. Tears brim your eyes thinking about Mingyu’s face, as he confessed his love.
"I think so."
"I don't think you need to be afraid of letting yourself love him." Jeonghan leans over, resting his hand on your cheek, he pushes away your tears. "Mingyu is a good guy."
Sniffling you nod your head.
"I think you and Mingyu should talk about this sooner rather than later."
He's right, you should have a long conversation with Mingyu soon. "I know."
-
Mingyu has been absolutely miserable since he dropped you off after that night on the hill. He's thrown himself into work, an attempt to numb the pain. It's been five days and he knows you're staying at Jeonghan's house. He ran into Joshua, and before he could even ask about you Joshua told him you're still gone.
He offered to join Wonwoo and Vernon at the bar, but he couldn't bring himself to go out and act like everything is fine. He's settled on ordering his favorite take out and laying around moping.
He sees a message from you. You've been occasionally texting him, and honestly seeing your message remind him of the pain and sadness.
6:01pm Sweetie: I've been thinking about you a lot. I miss you.
Before he can even respond he sees a text from Jeonghan.
From Jeonghan 6:02pm: Hey, Gyu. I know you didn't expect to hear from me. But (Y/N) is here and to be honest she's a mess.
From Mingyu to Jeonghan 6:04pm: I miss her.
From Jeonghan 6:05pm: You need to give her another chance.
From Mingyu to Jeonghan 6:07pm: Hannie, she doesn't like me, as much I as I like her.
From Jeonghan 6:07pm: Dude, just drive to my place and talk to her. She likes you dude, like a lot. She's just scared.
From Mingyu to Jeonghan 6:08pm: when?
From Jeonghan 6:10pm: drive up tonight. You can stay here, and if things go well, you can bring her home.
From Mingyu to Jeonghan 6:10pm: Okay.
He opens your texts and stares at it for a moment. No matter how hurt he is, he can't deny how hard he's fallen in love with you.
6:15pm Mingyu: I miss you too.
Closing his phone, he tosses it on the couch and heads off to his room to pack a backpack. It's eight at night when he's finally on the road to see you.
The hour drive feels like a lifetime. He's been to Jeonghan's house a few times with Seungcheol, so he knew exactly how to get here.
Parking his car at the curb he looks up at the house. He wonders if he should have told you he was coming. No girl has ever made him feel like you do. Technically you didn't break up, but this feels like a break up. Turning his car off, he takes a deep breath.
Reaching into the passenger seat, he grabs his backpack. Getting out of the car, he heads up the stone path. He knocks on the door and waits.
The door swings open and there you stand looking surprised to see him.
"Mingyu?"
"Hi, sweetie." It's taking everything in him, not to wrap his arms around you and kiss you.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I needed to see you."
"Oh."
Reaching out, he rests his hand on your cheek. Closing your eyes, you lean into his hand. He slowly drags his thumb across your delicate skin.
"Mingyu, I'm sorry." You whisper.
"I shouldn't have left you that night. We should have tried to figure this out." He leans in closer.
"I need you to know, I do think about that summer. I haven't stopped thinking about you. I fell in love with you that summer, and I fell in love with you again now." The weight has been lifted off your chest. It might have been hard to admit, but you are so in love with Mingyu.
His eyes go wide, and a smile tugs at his lips. Leaning in he wastes no time pressing his lips to yours for a desperate kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold him close. One of his hands stays on your cheek, while the other rests on your hip. This kiss feels like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your lips move together, as he slides his tongue against yours. Pulling back a little, he rest his nose against yours.
"I love you so much." He says, smiling.
"Lovebirds, please come inside, my neighbors don't need to see you making out." Jeonghan says, leaning against the couch.
Pulling back Mingyu laces his fingers with yours. You lead him off to the room you're staying in. He drops off his backpack, before you join Jeonghan downstairs. You spend the evening hanging out with him before you and Mingyu find yourselves, naked and tangled up in the sheets.
Laying on the bed with your legs spread, Mingyu is hovering over you. His fingers are laced with yours holding your hands next to your head. He's set a slow and delicious pace, rolling his hips into yours.
He keeps whispering those three sweet words to you over and over.
No man has ever made you feel the way he does, and you won't ever love a man like you love him.
summary; ryul is very good at giving the silent treatment, but he’s much worse at receiving it. you’re only returning the favor but 3 hours later, he’s sulking over a beat and pettiness turns him into a little koala
warnings; ignoring (silent treatment) sulking, slight jealousy, still fluff, a kiss
wc; 2,3k - requested
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you know something is wrong the moment ryul doesn’t talk..
normally he’s literally everywhere at once; commenting on whatever you’re doing, poking your cheek, stealing your drink, complaining dramatically about things that aren’t even close to actual issues
but earlier that afternoon he’d gotten annoyed over something stupid,
tbh you weren’t even sure what triggered him..
all you know is that he muttered a short “whatever,” and gone completely silent afterwards
the ryul silent treatment,
an absolute classic.
so naturally, you decided to return the favor
because of course, you’re generous like that
and now it’s been three hours..
it’s safe to say that he didn’t even notice it at first
he’s leaning against the kitchen counter scrolling on his phone while you walk past him to grab a glass
normally you’d bump into him on purpose, playfully
but today you just… walk by
you didn’t say anything, you didn’t acknowledge that he was standing there, you didn’t even bat an eye
he glances up immediately; “..you good?”
you say nothing, complete silence
open the cabinet, grab a cup, fill it with water, take a sip, turn back around and walk out
no eye contact or
just.. nothing
“..okay?”
he shrugs like he doesn’t care, but he can’t deny that hks eyes followed you when you leave the room, hoping you’d look at him for just a sec
20 minutes later he’s on the couch when you walk past him in the living room
normally you’d flop down next to him, grab his arm or throw you own legs over his
but today you sit in the armchair instead
he frowns while looking at you, scanning your face to see the slightest hint of annoying
“..you mad?”
silence.
“…hello?”
nothing.
he squints at you, but your face expression doesn’t change one bit
“..yn?”
you continue scrolling through your phone like you’re reading the most interesting thing ever posted online
and ryul leans forward a little, his eyes burning holes into
your face at this point
“..baby?”
a pause..
then he sighs, leaning back, crossing his arms as he scoffs softly
“okay,”
another pause..
he huffs under his breath, disbelief written all over his face as he shakes his head slightly as he thinks;
‘two can play this game’
so ever since, the apartment is filled with the most dramatic mutual ignoring imaginable
you walk past each other like strangers,
ryul deliberately looks the other direction whenever you enter a room, secretly still hoping you’d look into his direction
and for a while, ryul commits to it
like actually commits to it, full on taking it very seriously and very very dramatically
but after about an hour…
his petty commitment turns into annoyance, because you’re doing it too well
you don’t even glance at him, not once
you don’t even acknowledge him even the slightest bit, even when he sighs out loud, over exaggeratedly clears his throat or tries coming closer; you don’t waste one singular breath on him or his presence
you’re in the kitchen, making your nightly tea and he tries hovering near you,
once again trying to get a reaction out of you
but.. nothing
he even bumps your shoulder “accidentally”
no reaction.
he doesn’t give up tho
he just watches you for a good minute, his eyes tracing the lines of your face and he can’t help the way his lips curl up into a small smile
for a second he seems to forget that you’re in an active ignoring session
and before his mind can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans in like he’s about to kiss you
but before he actually can, you step aside and grab a spoon out of the drawer
ryul freezes mid lean, eyes slightly wide, mouth gasping open just a little bit
“…did you just dodge me?” he scoffs softly
you just stir your tea and he stares at you, his gaze flickering between your tea and your face
“…wow.,” he mutters
later that night, when the front door bursts open, ryul is sulking on the couch; full on sulking
and louis walks in first, “yooooo!”
you immediately perk up in the kitchen by the sound of the others arriving,
“lou!!” you call out, excitedly
ryul’s eyes snap wide open
louis drops his bag and stretches dramatically, “i made a new beat today, wanna hear it?”
and you brighten instantly, a big smile plastered across your face for the first time that night,
“omg of course!!!!”
ryul slowly sits up straight,
that voice.
that sweet, excited voice.
the one you apparently still have access to for everyone except him?
you grab two capri sun’s for louis and you before following him into his bedroom, plopping down next to him on his lower bunk bed
ryul gets up and follows quietly, his feet shuffling over the floor before he stops to lean against the doorway
inside, louis’s already pressing play on the laptop, excitedly explaining what he did
and music fills the room while you nod along, smiling sweetly
“oh my god wait this part is so good!”
louis’s face lifts up instantly, “right?? wait listen to this drop-“
you lean closer to the laptop as louis taps around on his keyboard
and ryul’s eye twitches slightly when he hears you laughing
you even lightly shove louis’s shoulder when the beat switches, proudly telling him that he did a good job, mirroring the big smile on his face
ryul’s jaw tightens,
he doesn’t say anything tho, he just watches you two
and louis is so immersed in his beats that he doesn’t even seem to notice
“i was thinking of layering another synth here-“
and you nod enthusiastically, “yeah!! that would sound amazing!”
ryul scoffs quietly, pushing himself off the doorframe before walking away
he shakes his head and mutters a quiet, “..unbelievable,” under his breath
ten minutes later he wanders back, purely to see if you’re still ignoring him
which.. you are.
even worse actually,
you and louis seem to have the best time,
you’re sitting cross legged on his bed, louis slide down to sit on the floor with his laptop infront of him
and as a cherry on top, woojin joined your little gathering too
ryul stands in the hallway staring like a ghost,
he doesn’t enter the room, doesn’t even pretend he was going to
and louis and woojin immediately look up when the older guy shows up, woojin calling out for him to join you
but you?
you’re still doing.. whatever you’re doing
you don’t even look up for the slightest bit
ryul loudly clears his throat,
and woojin grins to himself, looking at ryul before whipping his head towards you
“aha.., i get it,” he mumbles, grinning widely now
louis looks up quickly, but continues talking, probably unaware of the ‘situation’
“…so i sampled this old drum kit-“
and you lean in instantly, to listen and see what he was doing
ryul dramatically sighs, drifting off to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge
closing the door a little more aggressively than usual
..no reaction
he twists the cap louder than necessary
.. still no reply whatsoever
he sighs loudly (again)
still nothing.
he shuffles towards louis’s room again
walking past the doorway slowly,
very slowly..
almost like a little cat expecting attention, which is basically him right now
but nothing
he stops, turns back, stares at you while you are nodding while louis explains something about mixing
and ryul whispers to himself, “..wow,” before then storming off to his own room again
a little later, the apartment grows quiet
everyone is in their rooms, logging off for the night
and you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well
while you’re brushing your teeth, the door opens and ryul walks in
well, he doesn’t really walk in
he just leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching you through the mirror
waiting..
you spit into the sink, rinse your toothbrush, put it away and continue the next step in your routine
still nothing..
his jaw tightens slightly, sighing softly as he realises you’re still not acknowledging his presence
“..yn?”
you don’t say anything, you don’t even seem to care that he’s right behind you
you just grab your skincare bottle and he watches you like he’s trying to force eye contact through sheer willpower
unsuccessful of course
you wipe your hands and brush your hair quickly before putting away all your stuff
once you’re finished, you simply walk past him, and disappear into his bedroom
ryul stays there for a second before his mind is fully aware of the fact that you just brushed straight past him, again
“..you’re actually joking,” he mutters
but nonetheless, he still follows you to the bedroom like a lost little puppy
a little moment later, after some needed tiktok scrolling, you turn off the lights and turn away under the blankets,
usually you’d curl up into his arms, resting your head on his chest while he holds you
but tonight, ryul just lies on his back staring into the darkness..
without you in his arms
five minutes pass
and he sighs loudly
ten minutes,
he shifts dramatically, adjusting his blanket even though it was covering his body just perfectly
fifteen minutes,
and there’s still complete silence
your breathing evened out softly, and for a second he thought you already fell asleep,
then-
in the complete darkness, you mumble,
“you can be such a lil bitch sometimes,”
and ryul instantly launches upright
the blankets rustle violently as his body jolts up,
“WHAT-“
he slaps the lamp on on his nightstand, and the light floods the room nicely
he’s staring at you like you just rose from the dead,
“YOU CAN STILL TALK?!”
you blink at him, scoffing softly, “of course,”
he looks deeply offended, like actually offended
“i’ve been suffering for HOURS,” he states dramatically
“good,”
“good??”
he gestures wildly, his hand brushes through his hair before sliding down his face,
“you ignored me like i committed a fk crime,”
you squint at him, your eyebrows frowning a little,
“you started it,”
“i did not,”
“you literally gave me the silent treatment earlier today,”
“..that was different,”
you raise an eyebrow, “how,”
he hesitates, “…it just was,”
you roll onto your back, sighing out loudly,
“see? lil bitch,”
ryul gasps like you just stabbed him,
and you only snort
he glares at you for about two seconds before his expression slowly turned sulky,
“…you dodged my kiss earlier,”
“yes,”
“that was uncalled for,”
“that was revenge,”
he flops down dramatically, groaning softly; “i don’t like being ignored,”
you glance at him, “yeah?”
he mutters, “..yeah,”
“you do it all the time,”
a pause..
then suddenly-
he rolls over and grabs you in a tight bearhug before you could even think of dodging him again
you wheeze instantly at the sudden movement, “ryul!”
“no,”
he buries his face into your shoulder, “i’m claiming you back,”
you try to shove him away but he just tightens his hold like a stubborn koala
“you were being nice to louis and ignoring me,”
you laugh, “because louis isn’t annoying,”
“can you stop,” he groans
“and you were lurking in the hallway like a ghost,”
“because you were flirting with him,”
you stare at him, “flirting?” you echo, “the kid is 15,”
“so what? you were 15 once,”
“…i said his beat was good,”
“you were literally leaning into him,”
“oh my god,”
“that’s physical affection,”
you only scoff under your breath and ryul looks absolutely scandalized
“this is serious,”
“you’re ridiculous,”
“i’m correct,”
you push his face away, “you’re jealous and petty,”
but he immediately denies it, “i am NOT jealous!”
there’s a beat of silence,
“…i just think louis should mind his business,”
you grin, “and you’re petty,”
“i’m not,”
“so if i go tell louis i liked the beat again-,”
ryul groans loudly, and before you can even say anything else, his face comes back up and his lips were crushed on yours
completely out of nowhere, and you had zero chance to even try and protest
it’s messy and quick and very much meant to interrupt your sentence, which was successful
and you blink when he pulls back, “that was cheating,”
he just shrugs easily, “strategic actually,”
you narrow your eyes, “if you kiss me again i’m gonna go hug louis tomorrow,”
ryul freezes, his eyes wide as his mouth drops open, “don’t say things like that!”
and you grin, “louis gives good hugs tho,”
ryul tackles you back into the mattress
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO EVEN KNOW THAT!!”
you laugh as he squishes you into the pillow,
“ryul- i can’t breathe,”
“good, you started psychological warfare,”
you wiggle in his hold, trying to free yourself from the strong grip he has on you,
“you started it,”
he groans, “..fine,”
then he presses another kiss to your lips,
this one slower and softer
less dramatic
and you don’t even try to fight him off, you smirk into his lips as your arms naturally closed around his neck, pulling him closer to you
“…don’t ignore me like that again,” he mumbles against your lips
“maybe,”
he pulls away slightly, squinting his eyes suspiciously,
“…i’m literally gonna lock you in this room,”
you burst out laughing, and ryul immediately pulls you closer again
“i’m being serious,”
“yes a serious lil bitch,”
he rolls his eyes, chuckling softly, “you forgot petty,”
“right my bad,” you reply, “a petty lil bitch,”
he nudges your head into your pillow before turning around to turn off the light,
“ok enough talking,” he sighed as he plopped down onto the bed again, pulling you into his side
“already?” you jokingly said, “i thought you didn’t like the silence,”
“i’m reconsidering my decision,” he laughed
“copied sir,” you replied, “i’ll be quiet again,”
“no. no, no, i’m joking, please keep talking, i like your talking,”
you grin, “i know you do,”
he laughs softly, his arms finally closing around you, pressing a soft kiss on your temple before closing his eyes
and you better believe that for the rest of the night,
he holds you close to him like you might actually disappear if he lets go
and deep down, he’s making a silent promise to himself that he won’t ever give you the silent treatment again..
from now on, the ryul treatment is specifically for woojin and louis
SYNOPSIS. Choi Seungcheol has always been about structure, authority, and control, loyal to his duty in a city where criminal situations become a matter of life or death. On the other hand, you’re reckless𑁋seemingly guided more by your instinct and heart than the rules you’re meant to follow. But as duty forces you both together, Seungcheol finds the protocol he’s bound to stand by begin to bend.
PAIRING. sergeant/tactical officer!choi seungcheol x rookie officer!fem!reader (ft. officer!lee jihoon but he's mentioned as a plot device, mention of detective!wonwoo)
GENRE. coworkers/ideological enemies to lovers, angst, smut (minors dni 🔞), fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, action, police au
WARNINGS. unrealistic portrayal of a police department, guns, violence, blood, injuries (both cheol & reader get hurt at some point), cursing, scars, crimes being committed (robbery, arson, attempted murder, domestic abuse, car chase, illegal narcotics), suicide-by-cop situation, instances of police brutality, workplace toxicity & misogyny, reader taking shit from NO ONE, basically reader vs the system, discussions of trauma, alcohol consumption, kissing, cheol having dirty thoughts; smut warnings: kissing, they almost do the deed on his desk lmao, making out, oral (f + m. receiving), fingering, pet names (sergeant/rookie lol, baby, brat, sweetheart, good girl), body worship, scar worship, praise + slight degradation + dirty talk, grinding, soft dom!seungcheol to switchy!seungcheol, cheol Begging, Sergeant/Rookie authority kink, riding, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, lmk if i miss anything!! still getting used to these smut tugs 😭
WORD COUNT. 19.8k (for part two); 37k (in total)
notes: HELLO EVERYONE and welcome to part two of protocol !!! tysm for being patient with me and i hope you all enjoy this final part to the story. as always thank u to @slytherinshua for reading this over and @etherealyoungk for being so supportive as always. i'm so sad that it's over :< also the final scene is over 6k words. dont ask why. which is prob why this shit is so long but idk i just kept yapping in each scene. but i hope this gives you all the conclusion you hoped for and pls don't forget to reblog and tell me all ur thoughts! thank u guys for giving this fic so much love and support i'm so grateful for all of u 🥹
part one | part two
You didn’t know what to expect when the precinct called you in.
It’s been two weeks since you got notice of the indefinite suspension, and you were honestly beginning to make peace with the idea that you weren’t going back. You figured this visit was it. The formal letter. The final nail in the coffin. Or another drawn out conversation about “appropriate conduct”, about optics and liabilities, and whatever excuse they’d use to keep their hands clean.
So when you show up at the precinct at 0900 hours, you’re dressed in your regular clothes𑁋a pair of clean jeans, a plain black shirt, and a worn jacket. You’re sitting awkwardly in an empty conference room alone, your thoughts wondering if Seungcheol had any say in what this is.
Not that it should matter, right? Not after the kiss or how you slammed the door in his face and called him a coward like some pissed off teenager. You’re not proud of that, but pride hasn’t meant much these days, especially after getting your badge taken.
It’s 0907 when the door bursts open, and you stiffen in your seat when you catch sight of Lieutenant Hwang𑁋because of course he’s the one baring you with the bad news. You’re already glaring directly through him when he closes the door behind, not even bothering to take a seat. He holds out a manila folder to you, a stern look to his face.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Hwang begins grimly. “You’re being reinstated. Effective on Monday.”
You blink puzzledly down at the manila folder in your hands, not opening it yet. “What? I thought𑁋”
“Sergeant Choi made a rather… adamant case for you,” Hwang interjects. “He submitted a formal request to the board to reevaluate your suspension, attached a revised report of the incident, and included a very compelling written recommendation on your behalf.”
You shift your focus away from the begrudging tone of Hwang and open the letter. Inside, it contained your reinstatement documents, your name and badge number, a note from IA confirming the final disciplinary review on your suspension had concluded, and a memo at the very bottom that you nearly gloss over.
Officer Y/N L/N will be set to report under Sergeant Lee Jihoon when reinstated.
Your heart halts into your chest.
“I’m being reassigned?” You ask quietly. “Did he agree to this?”
Hwang’s eyes narrow a fraction. “He didn’t object to it.”
Your grip on the folder tightens a little more. He didn’t object to it. Somehow, that makes it entirely worse than being told he agreed to it.
“So this is… what?” A bitter scoff leaves you. “Punishment for my wrongdoings?”
“No,” Hwang says curtly. “It’s a correction.”
“Of what?” You snap back. “You’ve hated me since day one, Lieutenant. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“And does that matter now?” Hwang takes a deliberate step closer to you, looming over you slightly with his fists clenched. “You’re lucky you even got your badge back. Most rookies wouldn’t recover from a stunt like that. Hell, most wouldn’t have a sergeant jeopardise his own career just to keep your name from being in the disciplinary folder.”
His words zip your mouth up. But he doesn’t stop there.
“You want to know why I dislike you, officer?” Hwang tests sharply. “Because I’ve seen Choi Seungcheol follow protocol down to the damn letter for years. And then you walk in and he’s suddenly second-guessing himself. You distracted him.”
You rise to your feet at that. “You think I’m just a distraction to him?”
“I think he could’ve gone farther without you around his neck.”
“And I think you’re a coward for hiding behind a system that punishes empathy and coddles protocol.” This sends a wave of fury to burn up your spine. “And if that makes me a problem𑁋if reminding Seungcheol what it’s like to care is a problem𑁋then maybe you’re just more scared of what I represent than what I’ve done.”
His eyes burn holes through you, expression unreadable.
“You’ll report to Sergeant Lee on Monday at 0700,” Hwang reminds you coldly. “That’s non-negotiable.”
You stare at him, your chest heaving heavily. You shove the manila folder under your arm and storm towards the door, shoulder colliding with Hwang as you reach for the doorknob. You don’t twist it open just yet, instead turning around to add in:
“I don’t care what you think about him, Lieutenant,” You speak over your shoulder. “But Sergeant Choi is a great cop. With or without me here. So don’t you ever imply that I was some liability chained around his neck.”
You don’t look at him again when you leave the room. You’re already heading towards Seungcheol’s office before your mind can even register it. The tension of the precinct threatens to grapple at your limbs, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Hwang’s words keep repeating in your head like a broken radio.
The blinds are shut in his office when you approach, and you hardly think about anything else as you push open the door and step inside. But all you’re met with is emptiness.
His chair is facing the wrong way with his coat sprung over it, papers strewn all over his desk in a cluttered mess, and a half-empty mug of coffee perched next to a closed laptop. The door clicks shut behind you as your boots click against the floor. The silence of the space swallows you whole, and even though he isn’t here, it’s comforting, in a way, like he’s still lingering around.
You approach his desk slowly, unsure of what you’re trying to look for. You take a moment to organise the bombshell of papers on his desk, setting them in a neat stack next to his laptop. Then your eyes drift up slightly, and that’s when you catch a few small pictures frames half-hidden away.
One shows a younger him, fresh out of academy, grinning uncharacteristically with his dimples showing and his arms around a few other members of his squad. Another is a solo shot of him in dark lighting, illuminated only by the flash of the camera. One of his hands is clutched around a large glass of beer with the other tucked in his pocket. The last one is him standing next to another man in front of a cruiser, slightly older, but the familiarity of it sparks a memory in your head𑁋his old partner. The one he told you about.
He’s… happy in all these. Genuinely, painfully, happy.
You almost knock the frames off the desk when the door suddenly opens, making you freeze up instantly. When you look up, that’s when you see him.
Seungcheol stands just as frozen as you in the doorway. He’s in his uniform, hair a bit mussed like he had been running through it all day, some papers tucked under his armpit, eyes widened for a moment before he realises that it’s you.
“Hey,” he greets you warily, stepping fully inside the room and closing the door behind him.
You step away from his desk, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach. “Sorry. I wasn’t snooping. Just…”
His gaze tracks down to where you’ve been looking, expecting some defensive clapback from him, but his features only soften. “It’s alright.”
You watch silently as he sheds off his bulletproof vest and duty belt, some signs of exhaustion lingering in the way his limbs move with much less coordination and energy than usual.
“Long day?” You ask him.
Seungcheol gives a stiff nod. “Violent Crimes went through hell today. Then had to threaten a guy for CCTV footage to give to Detective Jeon.”
“Detective Jeon?”
“Jeon Wonwoo,” he clarifies, tone seemingly careful. “A close friend of mine from the academy.”
You nod absently at that, only half-listening because your attention is entirely swallowed by the man in front of you and all the tension that’s been persisting since that fateful night in front of the door to your apartment. A night neither of you have bothered to speak about.
A brush of warmth hits your backside as Seungcheol walks behind you to set some papers on his desk. You tense out of habit from the closeness, like your body is remembering the way pressed you up against the wall and his mouth molding onto yours in a moment of desperation.
Finally, you say, “Thank you.”
Seungcheol pauses his movements. You shuffle your body around to face him, only to not expect how suddenly close he’s standing in front of you.
His eyes flit down to you. “For what?”
“For the letter,” You respond solemnly. “For talking to the board. For… fighting to reinstate me.”
Seungcheol’s shoulder sag just a fraction at that, before he straightens again, defaulting back to his careful posture.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “I did what I should’ve done.”
“But still,” You retort, a genuine tone to your words. “Thank you.”
Seungcheol crosses his arms together at that. He isn’t sure what he’s doing right now, and you looking at him like you’d bend the world for him isn’t helping at all. The entire time during your absence he’s stayed up nights feeling unsure of how he’ll be able to make eye contact with you without feeling the gut-wrenching guilt and fear.
But here he is𑁋looking at you, and he doesn’t want to stop.
“I can tell you’re thinking about it,” he says.
You bite down at your bottom lip at that.
“Did you know?” You ask him quietly. “About the reassignment?”
Seungcheol exhales slowly. “No, I didn’t know until this morning.” He steps a smidge closer into your space. “But I expected it.”
“And you didn’t object to it?”
“I did,” Seungcheol responds firmly, with no stutter in his words at all. “I figured Hwang told you the latter, didn’t he?”
Your head drops at that. “Yeah.”
“I told them you were more adept at working with me than anyone else,” he affirms. “Told them you were mine to train, mine to be responsible for. But they framed the entire thing as a compromise𑁋said that for you to be reinstated, I had to accept the reassignment.”
Your heart batters in your chest at his words𑁋mine to train, mine to be responsible for. Mine.
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Seungcheol says defeatedly. “So I accepted it, thought about it more, and figured… maybe it was the right choice.”
You flinch at that, lips tightening up inquisitively. “Right choice for who, exactly?”
He doesn’t answer. His silence, again, answers your question for you.
You only prod into him even further. “Did it feel like the right choice for you?”
Seungcheol stares at you for a few moments too long, lingering over the frustration𑁋that fire you have that scares him more than anything else𑁋etched into your features that makes him ache to cross oceans just for you.
“No,” he says simply. “It felt like hell, rookie.”
Your heart jumps at the acknowledgment. You half-expected him to deflect, or somehow fall back into some version that says this was necessary or it’s better this way, but he doesn’t. He gives you the raw, vulnerable, and ugly truth straight from his core.
“Because I’ve seen the way this place tears people up, how this place tears people up like you, so I believed that reassigning you was the right choice so you’d have a clean slate.” His breath hitches. “And I couldn’t come to you because I felt like a hypocrite. A so-called sergeant who enforces protocol but can’t manage himself for five fucking minutes when it comes to you.”
You don’t say anything yet. You just let him continue, because he needs to.
“I couldn’t even drive home after that night,” Seungcheol confesses shakily. “Drove around the city like a damn coward trying to forget what it felt like to have you under me. Kissing me. Wanting me.”
Your pulse spikes at that. “And did it work?”
His mouth twitches imperceptibly. “No.”
A round of silence blooms between the two of you. The air inside his office suddenly feels all too hot, like your brain finally registering how close he is to you now and your body begging for his touch again. His gaze is dark on you, and you feel yourself being swallowed whole from its intensity.
“All I thought about was how you looked at me that night,” Seungcheol whispers. “Like you wanted me to take you right there in the fucking hallway if I asked. But you… You were drunk.”
He says it like it’ll invalidate everything that happened on that night, as if saying that would negate the way your hands were desperately fisted in his shirt, the way his body was pressing yours against the wall while he let out sounds that made him feel something for once.
You let out a snideful chuckle.
“I was tipsy,” You correct him with a teasing lift of your lips. “And even if I wasn’t drunk, I would’ve let you.”
That sends a shiver of heat running up and down his spine. Seungcheol is practically crowding your space now𑁋so close to the point your hips bump against his desk. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s really, really trying to fight the urge to grab you and show you everything that he’s thought about doing to you since that night. All while you’re staring up at him like you’re almost insisting for him to.
His eyes flit down to your mouth and back up to your eyes.
“You just got reinstated,” he states cautiously. “And you’re already causing too much trouble with that big mouth of yours.”
You tilt your head innocently. “Technically, I’m not reinstated until Monday, Sergeant.”
A slow, dangerous smile curls at the corners of Seungcheol’s lips. He reaches in and cages you in between his arms, hands grasping tightly at his desk. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm,” You hum freely, as if being inside the literal precinct doesn’t erode the fact you’re standing mere inches away from a man who can command an entire squad of officers. “I’m just a civilian in your office right now.”
You don’t break eye contact with him as you say that. You don’t let yourself back down. And Seungcheol looks like he’s about five seconds away from giving in. The tips of his combat boots brush just shy of your shoes, just like that night back in the hallway. His lips are pressed tightly together in restraint and disbelief of your boldness𑁋at this point, he should be used to it by now𑁋yet his eyes are telling you something else entirely.
Taking in a defeated breath, Seungcheol settles a somewhat shaky hand at your waist, roaming under your jacket and knotting at the edges of your shirt. Any distance between you both is completely erased. You’re pressed flushed between his chest and the wall of his desk. You aren’t even sure how he’s managing to stand when his body is wound so tightly together.
“Tell me to stop,” Seungcheol insists softly.
You stare at him dead in the eyes. “Don’t.”
“Tell me what you want then,” he prods further. “To touch you right here? In the middle of my office?”
Your lips quiver at that, and you reach down to cover his hand with yours, slowly guiding it underneath your shirt. The second he makes contact with your bare skin, Seungcheol groans like he’s been punched to the gut, like everything’s hit him all at once.
His thumb draws slow arcs over your waist, making your stomach tighten. It’s the contrast between his rough skin and the softness of yours that wrecks you instantly.
“Fuck, rookie…”
You reach up with your free hand to tenderly cup his cheek. “Kiss me, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate after that. The kiss that follows is far from gentle. The first you both shared was something out of desperation and your stupid, drunken thoughts, but this𑁋this is hunger.
His mouth moves against yours with so much fierceness it knocks the breath out of your lungs right away, but you don’t stop him. You let him. Your fingers dig into the material of his uniform to tug him impossibly closer, making the desk creak quietly as his thigh slots perfectly in between your legs.
A moan leaves your mouth as his hand trails higher under your shirt, his calloused fingertips dragging a trail of fire over your ribcage, stomach, before stopping just short of your bra. His lips refuse to leave yours even as he hoists you up effortlessly on top of his desk, your legs welcoming his body in between them gratefully. A few papers fly off the desk and you almost tip over one of his picture frames, but there’s more pressing things at the matter.
Seungcheol then takes a momentary detour to kiss his way from your jaw and to your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. You tilt your head back to give him more access. Your hands are everywhere on him now, desperate to feel skin. God, he’s solid everywhere, and it makes your head spin at the thought.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he rasps against your neck. “I missed you.”
The new nickname sends a wave of arousal through you𑁋Seungcheol doesn’t even realise he said it. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his teeth graze upon your pulse point, your hips instinctively grinding more into his thigh to chase more of that friction, stealing simultaneously breaths out of both your mouths. You can feel how worked up he is too.
“Missed you sitting next to me in the squad…” He pushes the jacket you’re wearing off your shoulders as his lips journey lower to your collarbone, making you card a hand through his hair to urge him deeper. “...missed the way you pissed me off, the way your bratty mouth challenged me, the way you stood your ground in front of these assholes…”
A quiet gasp leaves you as he kisses every centimetre of new skin that he finds. Your fingers tug harsher at his hair like you’re trying to imprint him on your skin, causing a dark chuckle to rumble out of him. He tightens his grip on you.
“And I definitely missed…” Seungcheol continues roughly, smiling along your throat. “...that pretty fire in your eyes when you’re about to break protocol again.”
You arch more into him at that, eliciting out another low laugh from him that sends shivers down to your core.
“Now, you’re sitting like a good rookie on my desk,” he mutters wantonly as he presses his thumb deeper into the curve of your waist, rolling his hips into yours once just so you can feel what you’re doing to him. “Or are you going to keeping acting like a brat and let me fuck the attitude out of you?”
You inhale sharply at that, a moan tumbling out of your lips that only encourages your grinding on his leg even more. You’ve never heard him speak so openly now that you’ve seemed to have freed him of his shackles and released a side of him that you’ve caught mere glimpses of.
Never in a million years would you believe the fact that right now Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is about to ruin you for anyone else𑁋and that you would willingly let him. Too many lines have been crossed for you both to be Sergeant and rookie right now. It’s a weird, fucked-up mix of want and resentment that shouldn’t be together, but somehow, the finished product comes together dangerously perfect.
Your hands impatiently fly down to his belt, trying to blindly loosen the buckle as he captures your mouth once again. He bites down lightly on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before diving back in for more.
However, before you’re able to undo the clasp to his belt, three firm and impatient knocks at his door slices through the tension in the air. It makes both of you freeze as if a bomb went off.
“Sergeant Choi?”
Seungcheol practically tears himself off of you, hands flying to your hips to steady you. You’re both completely motionless for a few moments, caught between a delicate blend of desire and a laugh threatening to bubble out of your throat.
“Sergeant Choi?” a voice from the other side calls again. “Captain wants a word. Said it’s urgent.”
Seungcheol’s head falls onto your shoulder with a low groan, breathing hard against you like he’s trying to force all of the blood out of his cock and back to his brain. You can tell he’s failing wholeheartedly in the process.
“We’re so fucked,” he mumbles heavily.
You barely manage the giggle rising out of you as one last knock hits the door.
“Sergeant Choi𑁋”
“I’ll be right there,” Seungcheol replies back impressively calmly, yet there’s a subtle gravel to his voice. “Give me a minute.”
There’s a brief pause, before the sounds of footsteps retreat away from the door. Seungcheol curses to himself again, then picks his head back up to check on you. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown wide with heat, taking in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and how your legs are still hooked around his waist like you don’t intend to let go.
“God, you’re trouble,” he mumbles hoarsely, moving to gently help you into your jacket and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You know that, right?”
“I’ve always been that way,” You whisper, lips teasingly ghosting over his. “It just took you this long to finally accept it𑁋to accept me.”
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches at your sass, his focus flitting down to your lips and back up again. “That mouth of yours is a real dangerous weapon, huh?”
You give an innocent tilt of your head. “You gonna arrest me for it, Sergeant?”
Seungcheol huffs out a snarky chuckle at that, gazing at you for a few more beats before pulling away from you. He glances down at himself and fastens his belt, and you gingerly hop off his desk, your body still prickling with heat from his mouth on your neck as you straighten down your shirt. You both hesitate to meet each other’s eyes as you fix away the remnants of an almost.
It takes a minute for him to remember what he was tasked to do, like the heat of the earlier moments completely tarnished his thoughts. You watch as he organises the files in his desk as orderly as he can and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair.
“You should go,” he finally says. “Before someone decides to barge through that door.”
You nod at that, yet your feet refuse to budge off the floor. Seungcheol doesn’t move either.
“You’ll like Jihoon,” he tells you. “He’s sharp. Keeps to himself a lot. Doesn’t tolerate bullshit. But he’s fair and listens.”
You can’t tell if it’s reassurance in his tone as it sure as hell doesn’t come off that way.
“Think he’ll handle me better than you?” You ask.
The corner of his mouth quirks just slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“We almost had sex on your desk, Sergeant,” You claim boldly, crossing your arms together. “I think I’m allowed to be a little cocky.”
Seungcheol gives you a long, pointed look from that. A kind of look that basically says something along the lines of, you infuriate my life but in the best way possible. He can’t even deny it𑁋you both almost lost yourselves completely in his damn office out of all places, happening at the end of an already turbulent week. For both of you.
He swipes a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, rookie.”
“That sounds awfully close to an I like you,” You return back with a mischievous grin.
Seungcheol levels that with a half-hearted glare, not answering at first.
“Just admit it.” You step back up to him with a certain boastful charm. “You like me, don’t you?”
You can practically read his stare so clearly now, like he’s considering lying. A flicker of deflection abrupts his features for a moment, before he sighs and lets his shoulders drop down in defeat.
“...Yes.”
The rawness of it makes your smug expression dissolve into something soft and warm. It shouldn’t have hit as hard as it does. “Yeah?”
“You wanted honesty,” Seungcheol deadpans in his typical composed manner as if he just didn’t drop a bombshell on you. “And if you stay in here any longer, we’ll both end up suspended.”
A giddy smile blooms its way across your face. You step up to him one last time, reaching up to grab at his collar to pull him in for one last kiss. Seungcheol lets himself fall into it. It’s a kiss that screams of finality, of both promise and warning, of reality.
When you pull away, you angle your head slightly to whisper in his ear, “I’ll see you Monday, Sergeant.”
There’s a skip in your step as he watches you walk away from him, opening the door and slipping through the crack, disappearing back out into the noise of the precinct.
Seungcheol gazes around his office for a few silent moments, raking over the few papers still scattered near his feet, the half-empty coffee cup that’s definitely gone cold by now, and then to the somewhat crooked pictures frames staring back at him pensively. He smooths down his uniform shirt one last time as if that will definitely wipe away any last trace you left. But it doesn’t. Far from it. The ghost of your presence has basically found its home within every crevice of him now.
His desk still smells like you as he leaves his office.
It’s 2238 hours by the time Seungcheol arrives back in the precinct.
Most of the precinct is quiet by now, with the exception of a few receptionists and front desk officers that he greets casually on the way through the dull corridors. His body aches a little more than usual, not necessarily from something physical though, he thinks. He doesn’t really know how to put this kind of ache into words.
The day had been mostly normal for him, surprisingly: a few traffic stops he had to supervise because of culprits being uncooperative and disrupting the public, a call about a possible break-in which turned out to be nothing but a drunk neighbour trying to get into the wrong house, and a couple of meetings with detectives about a recent case of narcotics that’s been slowly creeping through the city. The meetings were tense, yet only loose ends and long silences came up for the thick of it.
Seungcheol rubs his jaw absently, the heavy steps of his boots clap on the floor as he makes his way toward the main part of the precinct. A lot of cubicles have emptied out by this point, only some occupied by a couple of overnight supervisors writing up case and incident reports. He stops by the locker room to shed off his vest, duty belt, and radio for the night.
Then he finds himself half-lost in thought while trudging in the direction to his office. However, at the corner of his eye, he notices one of the doors to the briefing room wide open. His footsteps come to a halt instinctively, perching himself by the doorframe as he peers inside curiously. One of the bulbs above is flickering irregularly. The large table inside is mostly vacant. But as his eyes swarm the room, that’s when he notices you.
You’re sitting in a chair, with a sleeping laptop still open in front of you and what seems to be a half-eaten protein bar tossed aimlessly beside a couple of case report papers and an empty water bottle. Your head is resting on your arms, and your fingers are curled loosely around a ballpoint pen, hovering over a notepad covered in illegible handwriting that makes it clear you’ve been fighting through this exhaustion for a while now.
You’re asleep𑁋the kind of sleep that you promised to be only five minutes but never made it back up. Something about the sight of you like this sends a ripple through Seungcheol’s chest.
What could you possibly have done to wear yourself out this much already? You’ve only been working under Officer Lee for a little over a month and he finds you like this? It’s as if the second you got your badge back, you pushed every single one of your senses to the next level just to prove your worth back on the force.
If only you knew how much he’d been keeping a small eye on you from the sidelines the past few weeks. On days where you have to brush past each other in the hallways and pretend that everything is normal between the two of you. Pretend that seeing you climb into another cruiser that isn’t his doesn’t fuel him. Pretend that even the simplest thought of you doesn’t leave his mind dizzy in the middle of briefings. Pretend that the memory of his mouth on yours hasn’t followed him like a damn spectre.
Seungcheol sighs through his nose. He really doesn’t have enough energy in him to play sergeant right now.
Goddamn it, rookie.
Quietly, he steps inside the room and closes the door behind him softly, careful to not let it click too loudly. When he approaches up to you, he crouches down slightly and places a gentle hand on your lower back, letting his fingers splay there for a moment as he traces the circles through your shirt.
“Rookie,” Seungcheol calls out feebly.
You don’t stir, not at first. But after a couple of more shakes from Seungcheol, you mutter something groggy and inaudible.
He leans in a little closer to you. “Hm?”
“...Seungcheol…?”
The way his name leaves your tongue sends a flip to his stomach.
“Yeah,” he answers back. “It’s me.”
Your brows knit together at the low voice travelling through your ears. It takes another minute for your body to slip out of unconsciousness, and you find your head slowly rising up from being buried within the haven of your arms for the past hour or so.
Blinking a few times through your lashes to readjust your vision, your eyes drag towards the warmth orbiting by your side. That’s when you catch sight of Seungcheol knelt beside you and his hand still pressed comfortingly on your back𑁋you can feel him even through your vest.
“What…” You rub at your eyes, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. “What time is it?”
“Late,” Seungcheol replies simply. “Didn’t your shift end an hour ago?”
You sit up straighter at that, a low wince leaving out of you at a sudden knot in your spine. “Shit𑁋sorry, I was trying to finish this report for Officer Lee𑁋”
“It’s fine,” Seungcheol reassures you, letting his hand fall from your back but lingering near your elbow like he doesn’t want to be too far from you. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
You blink at him again from that. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You really don’t have to𑁋”
“I want to,” he cuts your words off.
It’s unlike his tone to be so… soft. Perhaps it’s just from the late night because his face looks as equally exhausted as yours. You give a small nod before standing up to gather up your belongings, but Seungcheol is already one step ahead of you.
He folds the laptop to a close and reaches out to gather any other loose papers scattered around your area like he’s done it a hundred times before. You pause your own movements for a couple of beats to just watch him, fixated on that unreadable look on his face as he organises your things and hands it to you wordlessly without even being told to.
“Thank you,” You mutter tiredly.
Seungcheol only responds with a hum and motion towards the door. You trail behind him quietly in the meantime. Luckily, the precinct appears to be too tired to give a shit that you’re walking side-by-side with him at this late hour. But a few heads do lift up from their computer, and a few night-shift dispatchers pause mid-conversation to steal a glance at you both.
The whispers fly past your ears in fragments. You feel it; Seungcheol feels it too.
“Guess she literally rode her way back on the roster, huh.”
“Never pictured Sergeant Choi as the commitment type, to be honest.”
“Last time he dated, I heard he𑁋”
The rest of the words get cut off by the sounds of the exit doors closing behind. You and Seungcheol enter the desolate parking lot together. Seungcheol unlocks his car with the click of his keys and opens the passenger door for you wordlessly. You hesitate for a moment before climbing inside. He shuts the door behind you, walks around the hood of the car, and takes his place in the driver’s seat.
As the engine roars to life, neither of you say anything at first. Not until the car cruises smoothly down the main road.
Seungcheol clears his throat soundly. “Has Jihoon been working you hard?”
“No, he hasn’t,” You respond with a small smile at his faint worry. “Actually, I think he might be going easier on me than you ever did.”
Seungcheol lifts a brow at that, eyes still trained on the road. “Oh, really?”
“You jealous, Sergeant?”
“Of Jihoon?”
“Of someone else supervising me.”
Seungcheol doesn’t even remember the last time he’s felt this way. Jealousy would be such a plain-sailing way to describe it, but that’s what it is, right? He is jealous𑁋jealous that someone else gets your time during shifts, jealous that someone else now has to deal with your sarcastic remarks and ambitious pride, jealous that someone else gets the version of you that he’s used to by default.
“Jealousy is a waste of time,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
You shoot a side-glance at him. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”
That makes Seungcheol let out a defeated groan. A chuckle of satisfaction leaves you when you’ve realised you caught him, and you lean back against the seat with your arms crossed in victory.
When the sight of your building comes into view and Seungcheol pulls up into a parking space, your hand curls around the door handle, yet you don’t get out just yet.
“For the record,” You start nimbly, shifting your body around to face him. “I liked being yours. On shift, I mean.”
Seungcheol stills in his seat like you’ve just shamelessly carried out a crime right in front of him. As he looks at you, there’s something more vulnerable past the confident twinkle in your eyes now. The smile that crosses your face is small. Shy, even𑁋a look that he rarely ever gets to see on you.
When he hears the sound of the passenger door opening, he has to force himself out of his own thoughts. Without even registering it, his hand instinctively reaches over to grab your wrist to keep you from leaving right away.
“And off-duty?” Seungcheol asks with painstaking curiosity, loosening his grip on your wrist slightly.
The pleased smile on your face brightens even more.
“Take me on a date, Sergeant,” You say with a pleasant tilt of your head. “Then we’ll see whether or not I still like it.”
Seungcheol releases his grip from you as you climb out of his car, and his eyes still refuse to leave you as he watches the skip in your step when you disappear into your apartment building. The warmth of you still swirls around him even long after your departure.
Your phone vibrates the second you enter inside your apartment.
You stare at the message for an entire minute before a grin threatens to split your face in half, because it’s just so him to text like this. No emojis, no fluff. Just a time and decision. A tryst, if you can call it that.
[11:18pm | y/n]
is that an order, sarge?
[11:18pm | sergeant choi]
Don’t make me take it back, rookie.
A laugh of disbelief leaves you, making you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress yourself from digging your grave even further down. You can already imagine him rolling his own eyes through the screen.
[11:19pm | y/n]
yes, sir ☺️
You watch the way the three little dots at the bottom disappear and reappear a few times, like he’s contemplating his own words.
[11:21pm | sergeant choi]
Good.
Now get some sleep.
[11:22pm | y/n]
alright
goodnight, sergeant :)
One minute passes. Then another, before he types back:
[11:25pm | sergeant choi]
Goodnight, Y/N.
Seungcheol texts you right on the dot at 1900 hours that he’s outside your building. Not one minute too late or early.
You’ve changed your outfit at least three times before receiving it, with your thoughts spiraling into a sweaty panic at the fact that you’re really about to go on a date with the Sergeant Choi Seungcheol. Somehow, just somehow, you’ve gotten this far, and you hadn’t actually mentally prepared yourself enough by the time Friday arrived.
Your room looks like an absolute crime scene. There’s an explosion of clothes and hangers tossed all over your bed and a pile of rejected accessories that didn’t make the final cut. The first outfit you tried on was too casual. The second one made you look like you were trying too hard. And the third felt dangerously close to “rookie trying to seduce her superior”, which absolutely cannot be the vibe that you’re going with tonight. The fourth one, which you have on right now, is much more… balanced, you hope.
You give a long stare at yourself in the mirror. The outfit you have on isn’t anything too fancy𑁋a pair of jeans, a fitted blouse that flatters your figure without seeming like you tried too hard, and a simple leather jacket. You scramble to grab your keys and bag before you let the overthinking catch up.
Because this isn’t a meeting in the briefing room, or a field questioning.
This is a date. An actual real-life date.
When the door swings open, the cool evening air strikes you in the face as you step outside. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Seungcheol’s car waiting under a flickering streetlamp, with the man of the hour himself leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed loosely around his chest, posture relaxed yet still manages to scream authority.
He’s wearing a pair of white slacks, hands casually shoved in his pockets, and a short-sleeved black button down with two buttons unclasped at the collar. His dark hair is in its natural state𑁋a soft fringe with a few strands falling naturally over his forehead. It makes him look more unfairly softer. Handsome in a way that’s quietly dangerous. Less Sergeant Choi; more Choi Seungcheol.
He looks up the second he hears your footsteps, stiffening up immediately and approaching you steadily. As he walks, his gaze takes you in𑁋from down to your boots and back up to your eyes. And almost imperceptibly, something in his expression shifts, as if the tightness frequently coiled around him at work loosens just from the sight of you alone. You feel the heat of anticipation crawl up your body the second you both land in front of each other.
“Rookie,” Seungcheol greets simply.
You lift your chin to meet his eyes, a subtle smirk playing at your face. “Sergeant.”
A beat of silence passes. Then he clears his throat.
“You look…” he starts, gaze dipping back down and up again. “...nice.”
Your smirk widens just a fraction. The compliment comes out so stiff, almost like he had to forcibly pry it out of his system.
“Nice?” You fold your arms over your chest in mock disappointment. “Is that all I get?”
A flush creeps up at his nape, almost invisible to the naked eye under the glow of the streetlamp above. He lets an exhale out of his nose like he knows you’re testing his patience on purpose and that he would have to deal with it for the rest of the night.
Seungcheol takes another appreciative look over you.
“You look beautiful.”
You swear you nearly choke on your spit at that, the teasing draining out of your face.
“Wow.” Your voice cracks up into a squeaky octave, a sound between a half-choke and a half-laugh breaching out of your lungs like your brain couldn’t process what he just said. “I𑁋Who are you and what did you do with Sergeant Choi?”
“I’m not your sergeant right now.”
“Old habits never die,” You say playfully while brushing past him and to his car, with him following closely behind you. “I’ll still call you it, regardless. Kinda sexy, isn’t it?”
You say it like a joke.
And you absolutely do not mean it as a joke.
Seungcheol freezes mid-motion in opening the door for you, finger tightening around the frame of the door. A low curse rumbles out of his breath𑁋partially annoyance maybe, although you wouldn’t be here if he was exactly annoyed. But amusement? Definitely.
He shuts the door once you fully climb inside, before walking around the hood of the car and getting in.
The car rumbles underneath you as Seungcheol pulls away from your building. The streetlamps illuminating the night pass by the window in streaks of golden paint. Neither of you say anything for the first few blocks that you drive by, and the silence filling the space makes you feel a lot less confined and rather… settled.
You steal the first glance at him.
Seungcheol is driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping rhythmically on his thigh. His sleeve has ridden up just slightly to show the obvious hint of tense muscle on his forearm, plus revealing the completely healed scar underneath from the arson case. The thought of what happened on that day used to haunt you with guilt, but now you feel like you’re allowed to look at it. Perhaps even honour it if he’d let you.
“Where are we going?” You finally ask him.
Seungcheol turns the wheel smoothly and simply answers, “Somewhere quiet.”
“Hmm… suspicious.”
“You’re suspicious of everything.”
“I’m a cop.”
“So am I,” he retorts. “You wanted a date. This is me trying.”
“Trying,” You repeat, letting the word stretch mischievously through the air. “When was the last time you went on a date, Sergeant?”
Seungcheol remains silent for a moment. Outside, the city bleeds into view. The night life is as beautiful as always, yet your eyes linger only on the man right next to you.
“I’m out of practice,” he admits quietly, almost sheepish.
Your mouth drops open, eyes widening in disbelief. “Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is… out of practice with dating?”
“Work got in the way,” he deadpans in response. “You know the story.”
You hum softly, leaning back in your seat and allowing his words to surround you. Because you do know the story, probably more than anyone else. You remember the unguarded smile he had in those photos in his office, a smile that’s rare to see on his face nowadays. You remember the story of his former partner and how that fateful night changed the entire trajectory of his career, his entire being. How it turned him into the protocol-abiding, hollowed-out, detached officer the whole precinct is intimidated by𑁋the version you first met of him.
And you remember thinking how he uses all of those memories as evidence against himself.
“When you say you’re out of practice, what… what do you mean exactly?”
Seungcheol takes in one long, laboured breath. He brings the car to a steady stop at a red light, which illuminates crimson over his features.
“I can’t control it.”
The confession lands softly as a feather between the two of you. You study his side-profile carefully. He can feel your eyes burning into him from the side, but he can’t get himself to look at you. Not when he’s still driving and genuinely, genuinely, trying not to fuck this up with you.
Slowly, you sneak your hand onto his side, placing it right over the one on his thigh. His hand is bigger compared to yours, but your warmth seeps into his bones as if you’re delicately cradling his heart in your hold. There’s a momentary twitch from his fingers under yours, yet he doesn’t fight it. With you, there’s nothing to fight. No crime to punish.
“Don’t control it then,” You tell him gently, curling your hand more into his. “Be reckless for once. Like me. With me.”
The weight of your words settle atop his shoulders. It rests there patiently, waiting.
And when the traffic light flickers to green, he steps on the gas with a pondering look. Then, in a moment so casually deliberate, he faces his palm upward, and allows his fingers to intertwine with yours officially. The action is louder than any siren screaming from miles away.
The rest of the drive melts into silence.
Seungcheol kills the engine the second he parks. He’s taken you to a secluded section of the city waterfront. There’s almost no nearby cars, a couple of unbothered figures trailing down the bank, only the presence of the moonlight casting ribbons across the dark waters. You’re hardly ever used to this kind of peace now, since you’ve been so used to the noise of traffic and dispatch constantly radioing about ongoing pursuits and calls.
It’s strange to see the world like this.
Neither of you are in a rush to get out. But when the moment ends, Seungcheol reluctantly releases your hand and steps out of the car, striding instinctively to your side to open your door. It’s like a new protocol for him.
When you step out, the fresh scent of the waterfront flows through your nostrils and the cool air kisses against your skin. Seungcheol sticks to your side when you climb out, close enough that your chest almost brushes his as you turn toward him. He meets your eyes warily.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod, offering him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. This… this is nice.”
The corners of his mouth faintly twitch up at that.
“Okay,” he replies relievedly. “Because I’m basically winging the rest of this.”
You hit him lightly in the chest, rolling your eyes. “You’re doing great, Seungcheol.”
Seungcheol catches your wrist reflexively before you can fully pull your hand away from his chest, thumb absentmindedly caressing over your pulse point there, like he’s checking to see if your heart is racing as fast as his. Then he embraces your fingers once again.
“You’re easy to please tonight, aren’t you, rookie?”
You wiggle a teasing brow. “Very much so, Sergeant.”
His head shakes with a chuckle as he steps past you to grab a bag from the backseat of the car, still holding your hand while doing so. The next thing you know, the two of you are silently trailing down the narrow pathway of the waterfront. Only a few dim lampposts bathe the area every few metres, a few benches sitting nearby, accompanied with a light breeze that carries with it the subtle scent of algae from the water.
Seungcheol takes you to a lone bench that sits peacefully under an overgrown ornamental tree, lit up by a singular lamppost that appeared the brightest out of each one you passed. You sit down first and he follows after, his thigh pressed up warmly against yours.
The sounds of the bag rustling perks your ears up curiously, and you watch Seungcheol take out what seems to be a container of homemade gimbap and two cans of beers. Your mouth drops in awe as you take in the colourful sight before you.
“Did you…” You lean forward, peering into the container as if it would disappear if you blink. “Did you make this?”
Seungcheol shrugs, nudging the container to you. The gimbap is cut into perfect slices, each revealing layers of bright orange carrots, sunny yellow pickled radish, rice, and what looks like seasoned bulgogi.
“Learned it from my mother,” he answers, almost self-consciously. “Haven’t made it in a while, so I thought of trying again.”
The mention of his mother seems to soften his features. It makes your chest tighten a little.
You steal a piece of gimbap and plop in your mouth, and immediately, the flavours hit you right in the gut. You taste the savoury beef, the subtle sweetness of the pickled radish, the traces of sesame oil in the rice. It’s good. Like, really good. Way better than most convenience store ones you’ve had. A hum of approval leaves you mid-chew. Seungcheol watches you expectantly from the side.
“Good?” he questions promptly.
You nod as you swallow, a smile lifting at your lips. “It’s great, Sergeant.” Then you take it upon yourself to pick up another piece and offer it to him. “Open up.”
Seungcheol’s dark eyes flit between the gimbap and your face, looking almost stunned like no one has ever hand-fed him in his life. Hesitating, he parts his mouth open, just enough for you to slide the gimbap past his lips, your fingertip accidentally grazing upon his lower lip for a moment.
His eyes lock on yours as he chews. The dim lamplight softens the sharp angles of his face you’re used to seeing under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the precinct. You watch the way his eyes flutter to a close, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, only a low mmh of satisfaction leaving him.
When he opens his eyes back open, it doesn’t take long for the flutters in your stomach to crawl its way back up your throat, a fit of giggles tumbling out of you before you can stop it. Seungcheol swears his brain short-circuits at the sound, and one corner of his lips lift up higher than the other.
“What?” he asks warily, arching up a curious brow.
“Nothing.” You wave a panicked, dismissive hand in front of him, before covering your face in embarrassment. “You just… You look cute.”
He lets out a low, incredulous scoff. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth.
“No one’s ever called me cute since I was ten,” he mutters sheepishly.
“Well, I hereby claim the executive rights to call you cute whenever I please,” You declare, dropping your hands from your face to point a playful, accusatory finger at his chest. “Court adjourned, Sergeant. You can’t run away now.”
Seungcheol catches your wrist before you can pull away. You freeze mid-laugh, eyes widening a little when you notice he doesn’t let go instantly. Instead, he tugs you forward so that any remaining space between you both is erased. Your breath hitches loudly𑁋he smirks faintly at your reaction.
“You forget that I’m your superior?” he jests lowly.
Tilting your head amusedly, you allow your finger to trace down his chest, causing him to suck in a breath as you drift lower, pausing just at his ribs.
“You’re my superior at the precinct,” You tell him teasingly, heat dragging through your words. “But who’s really been in charge when we’re not on-call?”
You, Seungcheol answers in his head. And the worst part is that he knows it’s true.
Seungcheol remains entirely still, like a cat caught his tongue and tied it into a hopeless knot. When your gaze roams over his face, a pleased look crosses over your features, and you lean into to place a quick chaste kiss to his lips.
“Relax,” You assure him, separating yourself out of his grasp to grab your can of beer. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course.”
He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, watching you take a sip from your can without any care in the world. “Unbelievable.”
Time passes by slowly after this. The two of you remain sitting side-by-side, quietly eating the remaining gimbap while the water laps gentle waves ahead to fill the silence. You cross your legs atop the bench, knees brushing his, swirling around the can of beer in your grasp contemplatively. You feel your thoughts circling around you.
You turn towards Seungcheol intriguingly.
“Can I ask why you wanted to be in the police force?”
Seungcheol keeps his focus ahead, but you can tell the question caught him off-guard from the way he leans back against the bench. You don’t push even further than that, not wanting to open up any old scars. The breeze picks up a few strands of his hair.
“My dad was a cop,” he tells you. “Used to stay up at night waiting for him to come home, because he’d tell me all these stories. I guess you can say I was fascinated by it𑁋I always told him I wanted to be like him when I grew up.”
A faint smile twitches at his face at the memory.
“When I turned seventeen, he taught me how to shoot a gun,” he continues. “He’d sneak me into the practice range at the department. He also let me ride beside him too during graveyard shifts without telling my mother. It was… God, it was so fun.”
Seungcheol traces over the rim of the can. The dim light captures the sparkle in his eyes as he continues to speak fondly of his father.
“Reality hit me hard the second I got into this job,” he mutters quietly. “Sometimes I wish my father warned me about the things I’d see in this line of work.”
You take in his words carefully. “Did you ever think about quitting?”
“Many times.”
“And?”
“You get both good days and bad days,” Seungcheol answers simply. “I thought it was worth it to try and keep that balance even if it cost a part of me.”
You faintly smile at that. You understand what he’s trying to say𑁋what it means to sacrifice a part of yourself for the job, for the people and city you swore to protect, for the version of justice you still believe in even when the world keeps trying to prove you wrong.
Perhaps you’re at that point of realisation that you’ve almost sacrificed a part of yourself too: your defiance. Especially during the time you got suspended.
“I joined because I was angry,” You confess suddenly.
Seungcheol lifts his head from your words, not responding yet. A curious look washes over his face.
“I got jumped when I was in high school,” You continue on, the memory flashing visions through your gaze making you tighten your around the can. “Three seniors, two guys and a girl. They got all pissed when I reported them for selling pills behind the school. They cornered me one day𑁋broke my wrist, split my lip, kicked me in the ribs. Classic power trip bullshit. Nothing fatal, thankfully.”
Seungcheol’s heart nearly punches a hole through his chest. He doesn’t interrupt yet, but you sense his shoulders squaring and his jaw ticking. The easy atmosphere from a few minutes before is still there, but underneath it all is a little more… it’s darker. Anger, maybe, but not at you. Never at you.
The memory grows within you, sending discomforting chills up and down your skin.
“The police were, uh… called in,” You resume languidly. “But they dismissed it all with just a slap to the wrist for it simply being a ‘teenage misunderstanding’. And I… I didn’t even get a fucking apology from any of them. All I got was being called the unstable one who couldn’t let it go after graduation.”
Seungcheol bites down at his bottom lip. “Where are they now?”
You shrug, noncommittal. “I don’t know. Heard one of the guys got married last year. The girl is… She’s doing fine, I guess. It stopped mattering after all this time.”
Seungcheol releases a long-winded breath.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while.
“Don’t be.” The laugh that leaves you comes off forced and dismissive. “It’s all in the past now. I’m fine.”
“Still,” he cuts back in, tone fierce but voice calm as always. You can tell the memory is getting to him. “No one should have put their hands on you like that.”
There’s no pity in his eyes. Just plain, unadulterated understanding. It’s almost terrifying seeing how calm and collected he seems to be on the surface, when under all that armour of his it can be quite apparent that he wears his heart on his sleeve𑁋but that’s a sight only for your eyes to see. His heart isn’t the type to announce itself, unlike yours.
Yet two opposite hearts who have seen ghosts can easily recognise each other.
“Are you still mad?” Seungcheol inquires quietly.
You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Means you haven’t given up.”
You narrow your eyes conspicuously at him. “You used to get all pissy at me for being emotional and go on entire tangents saying how feelings cloud judgment. What changed?”
“I still stand by it,” he admits quietly. “Blind emotion gets people killed. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
“So, what𑁋are you saying you like my anger now, Sergeant?”
“Your feelings didn’t make you blind,” Seungcheol answers assertively. “If anything, it made you… see everything more clearly. And that’s exactly why I think you still deserve your badge, even if others say otherwise. And I…”
His voice trails off, hesitating for a heartbeat before he lets his dark eyes meet yours, locking there with a gaze so intense it has your breath hitching. Then a rueful look crosses over his features.
“...I want to be someone who stands beside your fire.”
The confession is soft, but the weight of it feels as heavy as a boulder hitting you square in the chest. For a moment, you can’t speak, the words at the end of your tongue being swallowed back down your throat.
And instead of trying to find those words again, you lean in and kiss him.
Seungcheol meets you halfway immediately, not even hesitating to bring a hand up to cradle your neck and pull you in deeper. Your fingers slide up his side before splaying widely over the wide planes of his chest over his shirt, right over the pounding of his heart. The slow drags of his mouth against yours sends heat pooling down into your stomach, every low sigh escaping him as the kiss deepens intensifying your need even more.
His thumb brushes delicately along the column of your throat, pressing down just enough at your pulse point for him to smirk against your lips as he feels how fast it’s racing for him. He tilts his head slightly, adjusts his body more forward on the bench so his thigh slides in between yours. You gasp into his mouth at the sensation; he drinks it down like it belongs to him.
The kiss only breaks away when you both need air. Your forehead softly presses to his.
“I want you,” You whisper breathlessly, your voice losing itself into the night. “I want you so badly, Sergeant.”
“You have me,” he replies hoarsely, sending chills down your spine at the gravel of his tone. “How do you want me, rookie?”
You pull away just enough to meet his dark, blown-out pupils, flitting momentarily to his kiss-bitten lips. Then you lean close to his ear, your breath tickling against his skin.
“I want you to ruin me,” You say with a wicked grin. “Properly.”
That earns you a low curse from him.
“Fuck, rookie,” he breathes out, crashing his lips back onto yours desperately. “Get in the car. Now.”
The moment your shoes are kicked off in Seungcheol’s place, his lips immediately lock onto yours.
It isn’t rough𑁋not yet𑁋but soft enough to have you melting into complete putty in his arms. He doesn’t shove you against the wall as you half-expected from restraint, but merely only taking patient, deliberate steps down what seems to be the hallway leading towards his bedroom. Every few steps he pauses to kiss you deeper, slower; and somewhere along the journey, your leather jacket falls off your shoulders and down to the floor.
When you reach his bedroom, he doesn’t bother turning on any lights and lets the natural spill of the moonlight through the blinds paint white strips over the room and the two of you. Seungcheol backs you until the back of your knees hit the bed behind, and with a tiny nudge of encouragement, you sit down right at the edge. He steps a half-step back, standing in between your parted legs.
You watch longingly as he unclaps each button of his shirt one-by-one, keeping a tender gaze locked on you the entire time. He doesn’t speak when the last button is undone, and he lets the shirt fall into a heap on the ground. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you roam over his near-bare form, taking in tiny ridges of scars: one on his left pec, a few others sliced across his ribs.
He stands there for a moment, letting you drink him in. But he’s met with your hand grabbing his, tugging him forward so that he’s practically looming above you and your eye-level with his lower half. Then you lean in to press the softest of kisses to one of the scars that run diagonal over his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his pants.
Seungcheol’s breath hitches. “Fuck, rookie… You don’t have to𑁋”
“I want to,” You cut him off firmly. “Let me.”
“Gonna make me lose it before I even fuck you𑁋”
You only trail higher from there, kissing the ones on his ribs, then to the one at his left pec where you teasingly linger, and finally, the one at his arm. A smile graces your face when you meet his lips once more, his hands already trailing underneath your shirt until he’s tugging it over your head and letting it join his on the floor.
His fingers trail up your chest, cupping your breast over your bra carefully. “Can I take these off too?”
You don’t answer him verbally and instead take it upon yourself to reach behind to unhook your bra. His eyes darken the moment the straps fall off your shoulders and the bra falls away to the floor. Moonlight catches the curve of your breasts, the way your nipples tightens instantly under his heated gaze.
“Goddamn𑁋you’re fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, thumb brushing over your breast before cupping it fully, teasing the peak between his fingers. “Lie back, baby. Wanna take my time with you.”
You sink back into the mattress with Seungcheol following suit, his body caging you in as he hovers above you without breaking eye contact, careful not to put all his weight on you.
He starts with your mouth again, before slowly trailing to your jaw, down to the column of your throat, to your collarbones. As he reaches your breasts, he kisses along the curves for a moment then sucks the peak into his mouth, which makes you arch into him. You thread your hands in his hair like you’re trying to mold him into you.
“Oh𑁋Sergeant𑁋”
Seungcheol hums darkly. His hands roam possessively across your ribs and down your stomach, blindly reaching for the button on your jeans.
“You like that, huh?” he murmurs with a faint chuckle. “Love it when your Sergeant worships you like this?”
You nod insistently, unable to form words as he lavishes the same attention to your other breast. Next, he’s kissing down the valley in between, leaving trails of wet heat and praise while his mouth meets your sternum, your ribs, then to the soft skin of your stomach.
“Can I taste you, baby?” Seungcheol asks roughly, pulling away to look at you. Even under the moonlight, you see the way his cheeks are flushed from everything that’s been happening. His thumb draws soothing circles on your hip.
You swallow hard.
“God, yes,” You plead, voice hardly a pitch above a whisper. “Please… taste me, Sergeant.”
The title makes his jaw tick. A low, approving sound tumbles out of his throat as he presses a thankful kiss below your navel. “Such a good girl for me.”
He fumbles with the buttons of your jeans, and you lift your hips without even being told. Seungcheol hooks onto the waistband and drags down your pants along with your underwear. The cool air of the room grazes upon your newly exposed skin and the wetness of your folds, and it’s almost enchanting the way the gift between your legs is already glistening for him to beautifully unwrap.
He brackets your thighs with his broad shoulders, urging you to spread wider. Then he just… stares, his cock hardening even more at the sight of you open for him. Your clit pulses visibly under his gaze, the heat of his breath ghosting directly over where you need him most.
“Jesus… this pretty pussy is soaked,” Seungcheol rasps, running a gentle finger through your slit, which forces you to almost clamp around him. But he forces you back open. “All this for me?”
You can only whimper in response, fingers twisting into the sheets.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“Y-Yes! All for you, Sergeant…”
That undoes him right there like a gunshot to the heart. Seungcheol drags a firm tongue through your folds, and the first proper taste of you has a guttural groan spilling out of him, the vibration going straight to your cunt.
Your hips jerk up instinctively, yet he plants a firm hand on your stomach to keep you still. He licks you again, flattening his tongue to lap a stripe from your entrance and to the swollen bud of your clit. Broken moans tumble out of you as he continues to devour you𑁋going from kitten licks to full on sucks at your bud that has you pulling desperately at his hair.
“My greedy fuckin’ rookie…” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your folds. “Letting me eat this sweet pussy… Gonna feel so good around my cock, baby…”
“Cheol𑁋please𑁋”
Seungcheol pulls away enough to let a string of saliva and your wetness connect his bottom lip to your clit. God, he’s drunk by how needy you are right now, and he’s really trying to restrain himself. But he knows he’s losing the battle𑁋there’s no point in trying to hold back anymore when he’s spent the past how many years doing so.
So he answers by diving back in, messier this time, and slides two thick fingers inside of you. You cry out his name from the stretch, tugging at his hair as your walls grip him perfectly. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a torturous pace, while the filthy wet sounds of him tongue-fucking you fill his bedroom.
“Sergeant𑁋ngh𑁋I’m close!”
“Cum on my tongue, baby,” he commands, voice muffled against your clit. “Let go for me. I’m right here.”
Just from that, your vision grows white as your orgasm snaps like a string and molten runs between your legs. A broken cry rips out of your throat, thighs threatening to close around his head but he pins them back down with his stupidly large forearms. Seungcheol groans lowly, yet keeps lapping at you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation, before finally pulling away with a few soothing open-mouthed kisses to your mound.
He slowly crawls his way up your body, planting kisses up your skin like he’s mapping every inch he claimed. When he reaches your mouth, you taste yourself on his tongue, letting your hands roam over his backside. You feel his aching cock through his pants nudge your thigh, but he doesn’t rush it.
“You okay?” Seungcheol asks softly.
Your heart is still racing as he buries his head into the crook of your neck to breathe you in for a few moments. When he hovers back above you, his hair is sticking out in all sorts of places from when you pulled them earlier, and his eyes are still dark with want yet softened with something tender.
You smooth away some wild strands of his hair before cupping his face in your hand.
“I’m okay,” You whisper, tracing a finger down his jawline. “I… I want more.”
His eyes widen. “Yeah?”
“I want to ride you, Sergeant.”
The tension hangs thickly between you two. Seungcheol stares at you for a minute, as if you’ve physically rewired his entire system with just six words. An exhale of disbelief leaves him.
“Such a brat,” he quips with a chuckle. “Are you sure?”
You respond to that with a gentle push to his chest which forces him on the bed, pulling you with him until you’re straddling him. A hiss leaves his lips when your core meets his still-clothed erection through the fabric of his pants. His hands settle your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to fight the urge to flip you back over. But he doesn’t𑁋just watches you through batted eyelashes and lets himself surrender to your touch.
You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’d like that, huh? Let your good little rookie take what she wants?”
A shudder runs through his entire body.
“I𑁋Yes,” Seungcheol croaks gravelly, voice cracking at the edges. “Yeah, baby. Use me.”
With a grin, you travel your focus down to his slacks. A wanton sigh escapes him when you touch him over the hard line of him through the fabric, abs flexing when you undo the button. He lifts his hips for you to be able to tug his pants and boxers down until they’re bunched around his thick thighs. But he kicks it off, fully freeing himself now.
Your mouth waters and your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight of him all naked and bare. He’s… thick, unsurprisingly. Already leaking precum at his flushed tip, the wetness glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. There’s a vein that runs along his length and pulses with every anticipatory kick of his heartbeat.
He hisses with clenched teeth as you wrap a hand around him. You give him a long, torturous stroke, letting your thumb drive through the precum already trailing down his dick. He has to force himself to keep still as you continue to stroke him languidly.
“Patience, Sergeant,” You coo wickedly. “You told me to use you, didn’t I?”
He did. The reminder sinks in his bones with resignation. His head falls back, exposing the clammy skin of his throat the moment your mouth presses an experimental kiss to the shaft of his cock. His skin immediately sets itself ablaze, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.
Your lips seal around the head, licking up every drop he’s been leaking for you with your hand stroking the rest of him. A subtle twitch of his hips into your mouth betrays him before he catches it, and Seungcheol mumbles out a weak apology.
“Gonna make me cum before I’m even inside of you, rookie𑁋shit𑁋” he stutters out raggedly.
You pull away with a wet pop, replacing your mouth with your hand as you prowl back up his body, pressing kisses along the trembles of his skin. When you’re straddling him again, his hands fly down to your hips to hold you steady. You brace both hands on his shoulders as you roll just once to drag your soaked folds over his length.
A low, needy groan rumbles out of him. His thumbs press bruising crescents into your skin. You reach between your bodies to angle his tip right at your entrance.
“Tell me you want it, Sergeant,” You whisper shakily.
“I want it,” Seungcheol responds pleadingly, gazing up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes that has your heart melting. “Want𑁋shit𑁋to see you fuck yourself on me, rookie, please.”
That’s all you need to have you sinking down on him. Slowly but surely, your cunt swallows his length inch by inch until your hips are flush against his and there’s nowhere left to go.
For a moment, you pause to just breathe him in. He’s so deep inside that you swear you feel him in your stomach. You clench around him tentatively, and the way his entire body jerks from that movement alone has heat coursing through your skin. Then you start to move more confidently, lifting your hips up only to slam back down harder than the last.
“Like this?” You gasp aloud, rolling your hips in circles to chase the feeling of him hitting your walls.
“God, yes𑁋just like that, baby, just like that…” Seungcheol looks down to where you’re both joined together, watching himself disappear inside of you over and over again before flitting back up. “So pretty like this𑁋riding your Sergeant’s cock like it belongs to you….”
The slick sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room entirely. Your moans echo off the walls as he thrusts his hips up to meet you. One of his hands caresses up your sides while the other kneads at your breast, twisting at your sensitive nipple while your nails dig harder into the flesh of his back.
You feel the burn forming in your thighs as you continue to ride him, but you don’t dare slow down𑁋can’t slow down𑁋especially not when he’s peering up at you with hazy eyes that make you feel both worshipped and ruined at the same time. Every time you slam back down on him, it earns you more of those beautiful, sinful grunts of his.
Seungcheol’s hands splay over your backside, tugging you forward so your chest meets his and his lips grazes the skin of your throat. He’s fucking up into you mercilessly now, driving his cock inside a particular spot that punches the air out of your lungs and has stars bursting behind your eyes.
“You close, rookie?” he breathes, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“So close, Cheol𑁋Sergeant𑁋fuck𑁋”
“Cum for me again,” he urges, the command in his voice building up your second orgasm even faster. “Make a mess on your Sergeant’s cock𑁋let me feel you, please𑁋”
Like a wildfire exploding through you, your back arches as your walls spasm around him. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you ride through your orgasm, and the wave of it crashes into you more harder than the first. Seungcheol finds his own rhythm stuttering as well, his own release chasing after him.
“Gonna𑁋shit𑁋where do you want me?” he babbles desperately. “Inside? On you? Tell me, baby, quick𑁋”
“Inside,” You gasp out, looping your arms around his neck. “Fill me up, Sergeant.”
It takes one last devastating thrust up into you to have him spiraling over the edge. You feel his warmth flooding you to the hilt, his entire body locking up as he comes hard, a guttural groan shredding out of him while he grinds through the heat of his release. He presses his face into the crook of your neck as the adrenaline slowly dissolves away and his breathing starts to slow.
Both of you remain there together, your heartbeats in tandem steadying back to a softer pace. You don’t bother getting off him yet because he’s practically clutching onto you as if afraid you’ll disappear, and you find your hands drawing reassuring circles over the sweaty skin of his back.
After a minute, Seungcheol eases back to look at you. His hair is a mess from your fingers and a flush still painted on his cheeks. He looks so wrecked in the most beautiful way possible. His eyes study over you carefully. The worry in his features makes your chest squeeze tightly.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, caressing a fingertip over your bottom lip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shake your head with a bashful smile. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I promise.”
Relief washes over him instantly. Then carefully, he plants his hands at your hips to help you lift yourself off of him, sliding his softening cock out of you. The slow slide of him leaving you makes you both inhale sharply, and there’s fresh trickles of him running down the inside of your thighs.
Seungcheol glances down momentarily and immediately regrets it, nostrils flaring at the messiness between your legs before he has to force his focus back up. He cages you into his arms and adjusts your positions until you’re laying down on the bed, watching him closely while he grabs a tissue from his bedside table and begins to wipe the evidence of your shared releases.
So this is what Sergeant Choi Seungcheol looks like after all the armour is successfully stripped. The man with the armour has edges as sharp as a blade and a posture held up from years of protocol branded into his spine. The man without the armour had just fucked you like the world was ending and is now cleaning you up with trembling hands that have been trained to have an iron grip on guns.
After he disposes of the tissue, Seungcheol climbs back into bed without a word yet and brings the sheets up over your naked bodies.
“Can I hold you?” he asks first.
You nod sleepily. He wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into him so that your face is pressed into the planes of his chest. A contented exhale escapes out of you as you let his warmth entangle you.
His chin rests atop your head. “Still with me?”
“Mhm,” You mumble, nuzzling closer into him. “Just… processing.”
He huffs out a laugh that vibrates through his chest. “Yeah. Me too.”
Comfortable silence engulfs the room for a few minutes, interrupted occasionally by the distant sound of sirens coming from the outside world. It makes both of you tense for a second before relaxing again.
Then you finally speak, “This changes everything, you know.”
Seungcheol’s chest deflates. “I know.”
“People are going to start speaking about us again𑁋”
“I don’t care,” he deadpans firmly. “Let them talk their bullshit. I’m done pretending.”
You lift your head up to see his unnervingly calm yet exhausted expression.
“You’re serious?” You press incredulously. “You’re not worried about tanking your career for me? For us?”
“The only thing I’m worried about is you waking up in the morning and regretting this.”
You blink at that. The honest words hang thickly in the air between you both. But you don’t let the thorn prod at your heart; instead, you reach in to cup his cheek, watching his eyelids flutter to your touch.
“I don’t,” You tell him with quiet certainty. “I don’t regret this at all.”
The corners of his mouth lift up faintly.
“Good.” Seungcheol tightens his hold around you until there’s no room left for regretful thoughts, a hand settling possessively on your lower back. “Now sleep, rookie. We’ll deal with the wolves later.”
“Mmh. Still so bossy, Sergeant.”
“Habit.”
You huff out a hushed breath of relief into his chest.
Seungcheol still finds himself awake as if he’s patrolling a graveyard shift a while after you fall asleep in his arms. Because tomorrow, the world will remind him of every rule of protocol he broke. Tomorrow, the two of you will walk into the precinct like any normal day pretending that you didn’t lose yourselves in pleasure the night before. Tomorrow, you’ll probably brush his hand against his when you walk past each other in the hallway and he’ll pretend his heart doesn’t race with worry with every moment you’re out there without him.
But tonight, there’s no more walls in between you both anymore. Tonight, he’s with the woman who has fully and irrevocably stripped him of his armour.
So yeah. Let the wolves bite. You’ve got each other now to fight them.
And for the first time in years, sleep comes easy for Seungcheol.
— THREE MONTHS LATER.
“Unit 17, what’s your 10-20?”
The dispatch crackles through your earpiece. You clutch the gun tighter in your grip, jaw clenched, your heart hammering like a pounding drum beneath your bulletproof vest.
“10-20. North side of the building, in the alley between 23rd and Sangnam,” You reply sternly through the radio. “Possible visual on suspect movement. Waiting for backup.”
You didn’t expect to find yourself in this situation in the depths of the Devil’s hour. A call was made about multiple gunshots coming from inside an abandoned factory building on the secluded street on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to be a quick check-in, a standard recon. It’s become a routine after being recently promoted from your rookie status and completing your FTO training three months ago. But the second you stepped out of your cruiser, you felt your instincts rise up like the hairs on the back of your neck.
Now, you’re silently positioned behind a dumpster in the alleyway, a dim streetlamp above flickering under your movements. Your eyes squint through a broken window, but the building is too dark inside to properly see anything, yet your ears are catching every sound you could hear.
A slight creak of a floorboard. A scruff within the shadows.
A click of what you believe is a gun that isn’t yours.
“Tactical unit 13 en route, five minutes,” the comms hisses in your ears. “Converging from all points.”
A lot can happen in five minutes.
Your eyes flutter shut as you take in a deep inhale. It’s slow, calming in a way, just like they taught you back in the police academy𑁋draw in through the nose, hold, then out through the mouth. For a moment, the noise around you fades and your senses sharpen instantly. Your thumb brushes against the safety of your pistol.
Five minutes is too damn long. And whatever the hell is inside that building certainly isn’t that patient.
You shake your head, reaching up to click your radio. “This is Unit 17. 10-20, northside access point. Approaching entry for visual confirmation.”
Static on the other line, like a brief moment of hesitation.
“Unit 17, confirm you are entering alone?”
You take in another breath. “10-4. Confirmed.”
You press your back against the wall. There’s a door right next to the window that’s been left slightly ajar, the lock crooked as if it’s been deliberately forced open. Lowering your gun, you cautiously reach in to test it gently with the tip of your boot. It creaks when you push it open a little more to be able to slip into the darkness. The acrid smell is what catches you at first𑁋like a mix of old oil and something moldy𑁋as the building has been forgotten for years, clearly. The beam from your flashlight catches glimpses of faded graffiti on the walls. Some seem to represent gang signs, others appear more like angry scribbles or political manifestos. Most of them are weathered from time.
One of them reads: NO GODS. NO COPS.
Your boots crunch on shards of broken glass as you step inside further. To your left, you see rows upon rows of empty shelves. To your right, your flashlight roams over some abandoned machinery that’s been left to rot for probably decades. It’s quiet, eerily so. Visually, there isn’t anything around you that looks out of the ordinary just yet.
“Unit 17, requesting… status report,” the dispatcher’s voice cuts in through comms. The signal is unstable. Shit.
You press the push-to-talk button on your radio, announcing, “Unit 17, speaking from the northside access corridor, groundfloor level. Advancing to ensure the area is secured. Updates on Task𑁋”
Suddenly, a loud bang of something crashing to the ground rips through the air, bouncing off the walls and making the ground below you shake. You immediately switch your flashlight off and duck behind a large pillar that stretches from the ceiling to the floor, holding your pistol up, adrenaline coursing through your body.
You wait.
Five seconds. Ten seconds.
The factory grows quiet again.
You take in another deep breath, before emerging from behind the pillar. Each step you carry forward is precise and steady, your combat boots barely grazing the floor, avoiding anything that might cause too much noise. Slowly, you head deeper into the heart of the abandoned factory, where you’re breathing in nothing but dust into your lungs.
Another sound echoes down the corridor ahead𑁋almost like the sound of something, or possibly even someone, scraping against the ground. Perhaps it’s only just the skitter of a rat, but whatever your gut is telling you says otherwise.
Then, you pause again. Because what you catch certainly isn’t for the faintest of heart.
When you gaze downwards, you spot a trail of blood on the floor. It’s dark, thick, and fresh. Your eyes follow closer, watching the trail lead up to an opened door. You click on your flashlight and sweep the beam into the room.
Another sound hits your ears. A low breath. Ragged and heavy. Then your light flickers over a something𑁋a figure𑁋slumped against the wall. Male, probably in his mid-thirties, his clothes torn and his skin pale. One of his hands rests his upper arm, where you spot a dark bloom of blood spreading through the sleeve and down his fingers. The man flinches when your flashlight hits him in the eyes, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing when he spots that you’re wearing a police uniform.
“Police,” You call out calmly to the man, kneeling down right beside him and reaching for your tourniquet. “Help is on the way, sir. Can you tell me who did this to you?”
He lets out a wet cough, lips trembling as he speaks, “Down the hall… packaging drugs… four of them… They’re armed…”
His words make your stomach twist into a knot. Drugs𑁋this is the narcotics case that’s been sending the narcotics department and detectives to the pits of hell recently. A case that’s been slowly buzzing fear around the city. The realisation that you’re possibly in the heart of it spreads dread through your veins.
A low groan leaves him when you finish wrapping the tourniquet around his wound, making sure it’s tied tightly so the bleeding stops. Then you reach over for your radio.
“This is Unit 17. Currently with a victim that has a GSW to the upper arm. Requesting medevac and expedited tactical units ASAP,” You repeat evenly into the radio. “The victim reports there are four armed suspects in the building packaging illegal narcotics.”
The radio gives you nothing but static in response, anxiously spiking up your pulse even more. Whatever the hell this concrete tomb is made of is eating the frequency alive.
You give the radio a frustrated shake, pressing your thumb harder on the button. “Dispatch, this is Unit 17, requesting 10-33. I repeat: there are four armed suspects in the building with a confirmed narcotics operation inside. Tactical backup requested urgently𑁋”
When the other end speaks in static once again, you fight the urge to tear your radio off and smash it to the ground. You take in a deep breath to cool down the way your thoughts are racing with pure adrenaline and panic.
Think, Y/N. Think.
You flit your focus back to the injured man. The colour is draining from his face fast. Leaning back in, you press two fingers at his pulse point. His pulse is relatively weak, but still steady. You force an exhale through your nose.
“Hey, stay with me, okay? Backup should be coming in any minute now.” His heavy, yet hopeful eyes peer back up to you. “Keep talking to me. You have any family we could contact after we get you out? Any place you can stay?”
He blinks slowly, as if your words sent him into a painful headrush of memories. “Got a sister… Her daughter is turning… um, five next week...”
You nod, forcing a small, encouraging smile that he probably can’t see due to the darkness. “That’s great. I’m going to make sure you’re there for that birthday cake, alright? I promise. Hang on for me.”
His fingers twitch against the tourniquet like he’s trying to reciprocate the promise. You catch the slightest hint of the corners of his lip lifting up from your words.
Shit. You can’t stay here. The tactical team is coming𑁋Seungcheol is coming𑁋in two minutes or maybe less, but all that time might as well turn endless when someone’s life is leaking onto the concrete and illegal narcotics are being loaded under your feet to be sold to God knows where.
The options flash through your mind: the first one is to wait, guard the victim, and pray to the heavens that the tactical unit arrives before he bleeds out or that the suspects finish loading and disappear into the night again. It’s the safer option; it abides protocol.
The second option is to move alone, with a dead radio, and neutralise the scene before it evaporates back into dead leads. It’s the option your gut and heart is practically screaming for you to do; it’s reckless, definitely stupid, and seems like a death wish. Exactly the thing you’d be chewed out for the millionth time by Seungcheol later… if there even is a later.
You already know which option you’re choosing. You chose it the second you decided to take this on alone. Because waiting feels like surrender, which is something your stubborn self has never been good at.
Rising up into a crouch, you lean back down to the injured man. “Stay here, don’t move, and keep pressure on the wound, okay? I’m going to make sure no one comes this way. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
His dim eyes meet yours in acknowledgement, before giving you the barest, most exhausted nod in return with whatever strength he can manage. Then you quietly rise up to your feet, bringing your gun and flashlight back up, and begin to make your way back into the cavernous corridor.
The smell of burnt plastic grows heavier with every step that you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. You move like a shadow within a shadow𑁋keeping your presence low, taking deliberate steps with your boots so you can avoid the crunch of glass or any other debris that could get you noticed. Up ahead, the hallway ends and bleeds out into a much larger and vast room, which seems to be the main production room. Unmistakably some sort of meth lab or fentanyl process room. Or possibly both. How have they been operating this quietly for so long?
You kill your flashlight entirely to let your eyes adjust to the weak strips of moonlight pouring in from the shattered high windows and duck behind a large industrial pallet leaning against a support column. The room opens up into an array of metal tables lined up in rows, shelves stacked up with red phosphorous jars, blister packs, and tons of empty two-litre soda bottles scattered all over the floor.
Four figures move methodically throughout the room as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. And they probably already have. Two of them are hunched over a table and sealing small plastic bags under a portable lamp, another one is busy loading the narcotics into a duffel bag. The fourth one, on the other hand, has an AR-15 slung over his body, finger resting near the trigger as he paces back and forth around the room like a bored guard dog.
“...hurry it up. We need to sell all this shit by dawn tomorrow.”
“Come press these fucking pills yourself if you’re in such a hurry then.”
Tired chuckles ripple out of the group. You can tell they’re being sloppy now, overconfident. That’s the thing about asshole criminals who think they’re both invisible and invincible.
Your brain immediately begins to map out everything that you were trained to do in a possible scenario like this: calculate the distance to the suspects, note cover points, and find exit routes.
Four suspects. One rifle. Three possible handguns. They’re standing about ten metres from your position. There’s two possible exit routes you can take in case anything goes wrong. But then again𑁋you’re outnumbered. Yet somewhere behind you, a man is bleeding out on the floor, and you promised him that you’d be back to make sure he sees his niece’s birthday.
The most dangerous one is clearly the one with the rifle, while the others barely glance up from their work. Rifleman seems to have a pattern with his rotations around the room, and you realise you have at least three seconds of opportunity with every turn he makes to ensure you have a direct, clear shot.
You wait until his next turn𑁋three, two, one𑁋and the second his back faces you, you take in a deep breath and move, standing up from your crouched position and raising your pistol.
“Police! Put your hands where I can see them! Drop your weapons now!”
All four heads snap around to you instantly. The entire room bursts into immediate chaos.
“Fucking cop!” the duffel bag man exclaims, already diving behind the nearest table for cover while yanking out a pistol that was hidden from view.
Rifleman acts the fastest𑁋he swings his AR-15 around as fast as lightning, already mashing his finger on the trigger before the barrel is even properly level to aim. You drop and roll away to the seek cover behind the industrial pallet as the first bullet rips through the air right where your head was, more rocketing in your direction like hail and slamming into the pallet with booming clangs that echo throughout the factory.
Your heart is slamming so hard against your chest enough to possibly crack a rib, because this is it𑁋this is the moment all the academy drills have prepared you for; the moment where protocol dies and survival takes hold. Your ear perks up from the sound of an empty magazine dropping to the floor. That’s your cue.
You use the half-second chance to step out from cover, align your pistol, and shoot two bullets into the rifleman’s direction before he could fully slam a fresh mag inside. One hits him in the shoulder, and the other splits him in half at centre mass. His body jerks hard and stumbles to the floor with a wet gurgle, his gun clattering away.
“Shots fired! Shots fired! Multiple armed suspects at the north main production room!” You wail into the radio, even if it’s useless at this point.
The moment is over when another handgun cracks from somewhere else, forcing you to flee back into cover as a bullet punches through the corner of the pallet and sends sawdust exploding in your face. Another ricochets close enough you feel the heat of it graze your cheek.You shift your position behind the thick support column. Your breath is ragged and heavy as sweaty beads of stress stream down your warm skin.
God dammit. You need to move.
Swallowing down your fears, you squeeze a ready finger to the trigger as you duck out of hiding, eyes locking on the next threat. One of the bag-sealers is closest to you now, and you don’t hesitate to open two shots of fire, sending a clean shot right through his upper thigh and another one lower on the same leg. He buckles instantly to the ground, blood already pooling down around him.
“Fuckin’ shit, my leg!” he bellows out in agony, rocking in pain. “You bitch, you shot me!”
“Stay the hell down!” You bark back, kicking his gun out of reach under the table as his screams of pain reverberate through the building.
That leaves two left.
You catch sight of the other bag-sealer’s head poking out from behind a couple of some abandoned chemical drums. He’s breathing hard, visible panic in both his eyes and in the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders, no visible weapon in his grasp. The duffel bag man, on the other hand…
…he’s charging toward you.
You barely have any time to act before his shoulder slams harshly into your midsection, sending you tumbling down and your gun scurrying across the dirty floor. The air is punched out of your lungs from the affliction, pain exploding through your chest as the man drives a knee into your ribs.
“Fucking cop cunt,” he hisses through his teeth, pressing his forearm down on your throat. He’s much bigger and stronger than you, and just the sheer size of him is enough to make it feel like a boulder is forcibly pinning you down. “Gonna break every bone in your pretty little body before I kill you.”
Your vision swims. Your gun is nowhere to be seen. His fist is already driven up and ready to drive down into your face. There’s no space. No time. But you still have some fight left in you.
And you use it to buck hard and crash a knee straight into his groin with whatever remaining strength you have left. His entire body seizes above you, face contorting in pain as some sort of animalistic wheeze tumbles out of his cracked lips, and his grip slips off your windpipe. It buys you enough time to shove two hands at his chest to have him rolling onto the concrete with a disgruntled curse.
You scramble to stand up to search for your pistol, but a hand grabs at your ankle and yanks you completely off balance. You hit the concrete hard, the impact worsening every possible bruised rib and sending fresh splinters of pain through your already screaming body. But with gritted teeth, you twist your foot and drive it directly into something solid𑁋his jaw. The man’s head snaps back with a splintering crack, his grip loosening around your ankle just enough for you to crawl away.
More black dots begin to swarm your vision as you manage to lunge out and grab your pistol. With shaky fingers, you steady the grip in your hand, just as the man reaches out for you again𑁋
𑁋before a blinding white light fills your vision directly in front of you.
But it isn’t a flashlight. It’s a tac light shining directly on you.
“Police!” a booming voice demands. “Get your fucking hands away from her!”
Even through the distortion ringing in your ears, it’s unmistakable who the voice belongs to. And… he seems to be alone.
The tac light of Seungcheol’s M4 carbine flits down to the duffel man on the ground, painting a red dot perfectly at the man’s chest.
“Put your hands behind your fucking head, asshole,” Seungcheol spits out angrily, squeezing a threatening finger at the trigger to urge him faster. God, his eyes are absolutely fuming. “I won’t tell you twice.”
With a groan, the duffel man finally complies and puts his hands behind his head. Seungcheol then draws his gun to where the other bag-sealer is still huddled with the chemical drums, his unarmed palms sticking out into the air.
“Out! Slow! Hands where I can see them now!” Seungcheol barks out sharply, every word leaving his lips laced with barely there restraint.
The bag-sealer stumbles forward on his knees and presses his cheek down into the filthy floor. “I’m down, I’m down𑁋please don’t shoot me𑁋”
Seungcheol doesn’t take his eyes off either of them for a long minute before directing his focus back to you. He slings the M4 behind his back and kneels by your side immediately, cups your face gently with a gloved hand and wipes a streak of blood from your temple.
“Baby𑁋fuck, talk to me,” he urges, voice softening as if all of his Sergeant steel had been stripped away upon seeing you. “Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? GSW? Stab?”
“Ribs… blunt force,” You rasp out airily, gripping onto his arm for support. “Fuck… Nicked at the head when I hit the ground.”
Seungcheol’s jaw locks so hard you can see the muscle visibly jump. He rips out his IFAK from his vest and presses a gauze pad to the gash above your brow. In the distance, boots pound louder and louder on the floor. The rest of the tactical team floods inside the main room all at once, their sharp commands overlapping over each other. Red dots sweep over the room like lasers, the sounds of handcuffs clicking reverberating through the air.
“Clear left! Clear right!”
“Four suspects! Three in custody, one DOA!”
“Officer down, priority one!” Seungcheol shouts aloud, not even letting his eyes trail away from you once to acknowledge the rest of the team coming in. “Possible internal injuries! Head laceration and no visible GSW!”
You wince as you try to sit up, but Seungcheol refuses to let you.
“Don’t. That’s an order,” he commands lowly, pressing a firm palm to your sternum to keep you flat on the ground. “You try to move one more inch on your own and I’ll cuff you to the gurney myself, rookie.”
You manage a weak smile at that. “Mmmh… sounds kinky, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol just shakes his head in playful disbelief at that, but he brings a hand up to softly cradle your cheek. Behind him, the sounds of flex cuffs are tied around the remaining suspects hands before they’re dragged away and out of sight. Someone loudly calls for the medic unit again. When a singular second passes, Seungcheol only sighs impatiently.
“Goddammit,” he mutters.
Then in the blink of an eye, he shifts his weight, sliding one arm under your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. You barely even register the shift until you find yourself being smoothly hoisted in the air and your temple is suddenly pressed to the hard planes of his chest.
“Sergeant, I can walk𑁋”
“No.” One word is all it takes. Final.
You don’t argue back after that, even if you want to. Seungcheol carries you away from the scene, not stopping until he’s slipping through the open metal door you opened earlier. When the cool air of the night hits your face as he takes you outside and towards a waiting ambulance, you flit your widened eyes around to the absolute chaotic scene of countless other cruisers parked nearby and other officers swarming to secure the area.
Seungcheol sets you down carefully on the retractable steps of the ambulance. His hands still refuse to leave you even as you’ve sat down, letting his body shield you from the noise. One stays cupped at the back of your neck like he doesn’t even trust gravity itself to keep you upright, while the other is braced by your waist. His tactical vest is covered in grime and spots of your blood, still rising and falling too fast from whatever the hell his mind just got dragged through.
You bring a hand of your own up wrap around his wrist in silent reassurance.
“Hey,” You murmur quietly, gazing up at him. “I’m okay.”
He gives you a long, pointed look. “No, you’re not, rookie.”
“...okay-ish, then?”
“No.”
A pained chuckle punches at your ribs from that. But then you barely get to take another breath of the outside air before another voice slices through chaos.
“What the fuck happened here?”
Ah. Lieutenant Hwang, of course. Both you and Seungcheol lift your eyes to see the man of the hour storming in your direction. He takes in the scene around him with a singular brutal sweep, before glancing at the way Seungcheol is practically hovering closely to you that doesn’t exactly scream protocol.
The man’s expression hardens instantly.
“Explain, officer.”
“She needs medical attention, Lieutenant,” Seungcheol cuts in firmly before you could even open your mouth.
Hwang shoots a warning glare at him. “I wasn’t speaking to you, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol doesn’t even blink at that. “If you cared enough, you’d make sure your officer is treated for her injuries so she can answer to whatever the hell you’re about to turn into a disciplinary lecture.”
The air between the two of them quickly becomes taut. You can feel it from where you’re sitting on the ambulance step, the tension cutting through the chatter of nearby officers and the rapid flashing of the red-and-blue lights from surrounding cruisers. A tension between two men of rank and ego who seem to be seconds away from tearing each other up in public.
You give a subtle squeeze to Seungcheol’s wrist. His shoulders visibly relax in the slightest hint. Before either of them could escalate the situation even further, you decide to open your mouth.
“I entered the building because of a suspicious activity call,” You explain hoarsely. “Northside access corridor on the ground floor. I heard movement inside, made a call to go investigate and found a victim with a GSW to the upper arm.”
Hwang’s attention cuts to you. “And?”
“And he told me there were four armed suspects inside packaging illegal narcotics.”
“And your first move was what, exactly?” he asks. “Rush four armed suspects by yourself? Turn this narcotics bust into a full-blown OIS clusterfuck?”
You swallow against the dryness in your throat, your ribs protesting against the movement.
“I had a victim bleeding out behind me and a live narcotics operation in front of me,” You tell him as calmly as possible, even if your own thoughts are ablaze with frustration. “Concrete interference wouldn’t push my radio through. I requested medevac and updates on the location of Sergeant Choi’s unit multiple times. No response. Just static. Everything’s on bodycam, Lieutenant. Review it.”
Hwang’s jaw tics. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It does,” Seungcheol interjects. “You just don’t like the answer.”
“Stand down, Sergeant.”
“She found the source site.” Seungcheol refuses to back down, taking another half-step between you and Hwang. “She identified it, kept a victim alive long enough for the tactical team to breach through smoothly, and handed you the centre of the operation on a fucking silver platter. Officer L/N made the best decision she could with the information she had.”
Now it’s Seungcheol’s turn to get stared down by you and Hwang. You, with surprise at how much he’s come to defend you with breaking protocol; on the other hand, Hwang is staring at him as if he’s grown a second head on his shoulders. Because at the end of the day: when protocol is clashed with the face of urgency, who wins?
Hwang looks like he might actually explode. His mouth is zipped so tight his lips might tear apart and burst open. But he’s smart enough to not do that in front of the entire department𑁋majority of the precinct is already watching anyway, even if they’re pretending not to be.
“I really am watching the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol transition from nihilism to absurdism right before my eyes,” Hwang mutters backhandedly. “Are you forgetting your place because you’re… emotionally compromised? Broke protocol by separating from your team because your heart got in the way?”
Seungcheol stills at that. For a second, you think he might actually say something that’ll get him suspended, and the thought of it sends an anxious punch to your ribs. Instead, he just huffs out a snicker of disbelief as if he genuinely, genuinely can’t believe the shit he’s hearing right now. But Hwang isn’t wrong though𑁋is he emotionally compromised? Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe you both are. He isn’t the same Sergeant Choi Seungcheol that he was known as before.
“If keeping my officer alive and supporting the fact that she singlehandedly shut down a narcotics bust on her own makes me ‘emotionally compromised,” Seungcheol bites back harshly. “then write the report, Lieutenant. But don’t stand there and reduce my objectivity just because she made a decision under pressure and it worked.”
Hwang stares at him. You’re staring at him too, but for entirely different reasons. As he’s about to open his mouth to retort, a detective in the narcotics department dashes up to him, whispering into his ear something that you can’t exactly make out. But then you watch Hwang’s facial expression deflate like a sad balloon.
His gaze dances between you and Seungcheol as he asks the detective without looking away, “How much product?”
“We calculated an estimate of about twenty-three kilos, sir. Mostly fentanyl presses and crystals. First significant takedown in this quadrant in over a year.”
Hwang pokes a tongue at his cheek. Then he straightens his posture and gives a dismissive, curt nod to the detective.
“You maintained scene integrity and kept all evidence intact,” he speaks with a low, cutthroat tone. “Successfully neutralised three felons with one lethal. Nearly killed yourself in the process with your cowboy mindset. But the outcome…” He pauses hesitantly. “…speaks for itself.”
You blink at that, wondering if you heard the man correctly or if you’ve actually got some sort of concussion. It’s the closest thing to praise he has ever said to you. Hwang then visibly shifts his weight and turns his attention to the paramedics who have been hovering in the sidelines at a respectful distance.
“Get her to a hospital now,” he finally orders the EMTS and begins to turn on his heel. But he takes one last glance at you over his shoulder. “Good work, officer.”
Seungcheol doesn’t move until Hwang is out of earshot, running a hand down his face as if that entire conversation just shaved on ten years of his life.
“Fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath.
You let out a pained laugh. “Takes one to know one, Sergeant.”
He lifts up a thick brow. “You calling me a prick now, rookie?”
“Yep,” You quip with a faint smirk. “But you’ve definitely toned down a lot ever since we… you know… started this.”
Seungcheol gazes down at you with nothing but a look of affection. He tucks away a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger long enough for you to press your cheek against it.
“Yeah. Guess I have,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Now let’s take you to the hospital, rookie.”
Swiftly, Seungcheol and the other paramedics work together to haul you onto the gurney on the ambulance, even though Seungcheol could have really carried you all on his own.
As you’re loaded up into the ambulance, a younger EMT seems to stop Seungcheol in his path from climbing inside.
“Sergeant, you can’t𑁋”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Seungcheol deadpans, levelling the kid with nothing but an even look, leaving no room for negotiation.
The EMT merely blinks, glancing between you and Seungcheol curiously. Then his expression shifts to something more softer and understanding, like he’s seen enough trauma bays to know when not to push. He steps to the side and allows for Seungcheol to hop inside the ambulance and settle onto the seat right next to you on the gurney. They conduct some tests on you: checked your blood pressure and the bruising blooming over your ribs, questioned whether you LOC’d at some point, and made you rate the pain out of ten (you said 5, but Seungcheol’s small glare at you made you confess 8).
“The victim inside…” You mumble, angling your head to Seungcheol. “Did they…?”
“They got him,” Seungcheol reassures you calmly. “The medical team is transporting him now.”
“He’s alive?”
“He’s alive.”
Relief hits you straight in the gut at that, somehow even harder than the gut punch that fucker gave you earlier. You allow your head to fall back to the thin padding of the gurney behind, letting your eyes squeeze shut for a few moments of calmness.
The doors swing shut and the sirens kick on again. The EMT swiftly starts an IV drip into your arm, murmuring about your vitals. You barely register the words that are being said because your focus is solely locked on Seungcheol. He looks so… small compared to the way he looked earlier when he breached inside the factory alone. His gaze is staring down at the space between his combat boots, and his shoulders are curved inwards in a way like he’s trying to hold something𑁋or more specifically, himself𑁋together.
“Sergeant,” You call out to him softly.
Seungcheol picks his head up immediately at your voice.
“You’re shaking.”
He bites down at his bottom lip, his gloved hands are stained with your blood. Then his eyes dart between the IV drip going into your arm, to the bruise beginning to paint your neck where you were grabbed, and taking in the way your breathing sounds so shallow from the pain in your ribs.
“I’m fine,” he says instinctively.
You don’t buy it for a single second.
“Seungcheol,” You say properly this time, reaching over to cover your hand over his. “Talk to me.”
You don’t want him to shut down𑁋you can’t let him shut down into himself. Especially not after all that’s happened between you both. Seungcheol stares down at the way your hand is gripping onto his, desperately trying to coax him out of the imaginary claws of his own thoughts that’s been clawing at him. For a minute, he just says absolutely nothing. You watch his throat bob hesitantly.
“You have… no idea how fast I broke protocol the second I heard the gunshots, how fast I separated from the damn team,” he says roughly. “I couldn’t even fucking breathe when your radio kept cutting out. Couldn’t even…” His voice trails off, jaw flexing. “I thought I was too late by the time I reached you. Thought I would find you on the ground the way I found him.”
Him. You don’t even need to ask him for clarification to know who he’s talking about.
“I can’t turn my brain off,” Seungcheol croaks out shakily, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand. “No matter how many times I tell myself that you’re alive, it just keeps replaying in my mind over and over again and I can’t𑁋”
He’s interrupted when he feels his body suddenly get pressed up against yours. You ignore the sharp protest in your ribs and the tug of the IV line as you push yourself just enough to wrap both arms around him.
Seungcheol seems to fold without any sort of resistance, his hands coming up to bracket your sides like he’s afraid of putting any weight on you, but he lets his head fall onto your shoulder. You slide a hand through the short hair on his nape to tug him closer. The bulkiness of his tactical vest digs into your shoulder slightly, but you don’t give a crap about that. You swear you’d take a thousand bruises if it meant he’d allow himself to break for a single minute in your hold.
“I’ve got you,” You whisper into his ear, and you feel the shudder that rumbles through him. “I’m right here, see? I’m not going anywhere.”
He adjusts his head so that his face is buried into the crook of your neck. Then you feel the softest press of his lips to the skin there. It’s not exactly a kiss, but more like him making sure that your pulse is still beating soundly under his mouth.
“I thought…” His voice cracks again. “Fuck𑁋I thought I lost you, baby. If I was just thirty seconds too late𑁋”
“No,” You hush him quietly. “You got to me just in time. Trust me.”
Seungcheol draws back slightly to roam his eyes over your features, the fluorescent lights casting a streak of shadow across his softened features. He flickers back and forth between dried blood crusting at your brow, down to the heaviness in your eyes from exhaustion, and finally, down to your chapped lips, where he lingers for a few moments too long. He traces his thumb carefully over the side of your jaw.
“You stupid, recklessly stubborn, goddamn beautiful pain in my ass,” Seungcheol mutters. The suddenness of the words nearly hit you like a slap to the face. “Who has zero self-preservation and always thinks she’s bulletproof. I hate it. I hate that you scare me like this. That you drive me up the fucking wall every time you open your mouth.”
Then he drops his forehead onto yours and lets his eyes squeeze shut. A shaky inhale from him caresses over your lips.
“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” he whispers with a shudder. “And… And I’m still going to love you for it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me, rookie, and tonight almost broke me. I-I thought I almost lost you without ever getting to tell you.”
You sense the exact second the words register in you. You swallow down a lump in your throat, tasting copper and antiseptic and the saltiness of tears gathering in your eyelids.
“Say it again,” You whisper.
Seungcheol pulls back a hint to meet your gaze. He doesn’t even try to look away or take it back. A tiny, crooked smile breaks across his face as he runs a gloved fingertip over the dried blood at the corner of your lip.
“I love you,” he repeats more steadily this time. “I do.”
You don’t hesitate after that. You grab him by the vest and seal his lips onto yours with whatever strength you have left. A low groan tumbles out of Seungcheol’s throat before he’s kissing you back just as fiercely. He cups the side of your uninjured face while the other hand braces on the gurney rails so he doesn’t put any weight on you. The kiss tastes of blood and fear and leftover adrenaline, but also love.
You ignore the uncomfortable tug of the IV line on your arm and the sharp stab of your ribs with every shallow inhale. All that matters right now is the man in front of you who is kissing you back while the rest of the world burns outside. It’s living proof that you both made it out together.
When you both break away from air, he presses his forehead against yours.
“I love you too,” You tell him finally, letting out a tired, happy chuckle. “Choi Seungcheol.”
And for once, the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol appears completely wrecked. The man who abided protocol by the book has been cracked down, leaving away the hard shell of Sergeant until only Seungcheol remains. His lips meet your forehead with his eyes squeezed shut𑁋less like a kiss and more like him trying to imprint himself on your skin.
Because tonight, you both almost lost everything. But in the end, you gained this. Two officers, opposites in personality, yet similar in many you both hardly realised until now. Somewhere along the way, between protocol and emotion, your hearts collided and refused to bend to the rules of the world together.
This will always be the moment that stays with you: the moment a man who once kept the world at arm’s length chose you instead.
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au
Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?
Warnings: This part is SFW, Reader is cold & blunt but also shy, Mingyu is gullible and impulsive, lack of communication, profanities, heartbreak, breakup alluding to emotional cheating.
Word Count: 6.5k
[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]
Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue
The sun is shining brightly in the clear sky with white, fluffy clouds drifting across in it. Just like the clouds, Mingyu has been drifting away in his pool of thoughts. As he sips his favourite beverage which he decided to get before starting work for the day, the smile on his lips never leaves.
Life has been good to Mingyu lately. His boss has boosted to him about the surety of him being promoted to the Head of Brand Marketing, a position he has been eyeing for a long time, which would also mean an upgrade in paycheck so he could contribute more in the care of his parents, pampering his sister a bit more even though they have always been content.
A notification breaks his blissful reverie and the contact name on the screen widens the stretch of his lips. It's a text from Sora, his girlfriend of five years. But his lips curl down as he reads the message stating she's extending her stay at her home for some reasons again, for the third time. A frown sits on his face at the thought of spending another series of nights in his empty shared apartment without being in the embrace of the love of his life.
Mingyu wears his heart on his sleeves. He can be defined as a pure romanticist, an absolute sentimentalist. He's liked by everyone. Apart from sculpted physique and height, he's lovable because of his nature as well.
It's a daily routine, he walks into his workplace and a swarm of bee like people come to greet him, some wanting just a glimpse of him, some wanting to get running guidance on how to maintain work-life balance, others just to confirm that Kim Mingyu isn't just a myth but an actual existence.
It's also evident that Mingyu is popular not only because of looks but also how he always helps his coworkers, a great leader to his subordinates, an outstanding resource to his bosses and a reliable asset to the company. The year-end performance evaluation knocks around the corner and everyone is busy to clock details, set the impression right. Mingyu has a good feeling about it.
He isn't much of a private person, he flaunts everything he is proud of, never to rub off arrogantly but with a sincere smile and soft eyes. But only his family and group of close friends know that he's planning to propose to Sora once she returns, that he has already bought the ring that sits hidden in his apartment closet.
After work, he decides to visit the Game Parlour where he can't be dimed as a regular but he definitely visits it often. Mingyu had a knack for gaming since childhood, he was a pro gamer during his university days often being called to participate in the championships, winning many of them. Though he would have loved a career in the gaming industry but that teenage boy wasn't courageous enough to take the risk.
The first thing he seeks after logging into his gaming account is for a specific Id. As soon as he sees the green dot beside he puts on his headphone and pings in the chatbox.
phoenix_726 is another gamer whom no matter what Mingyu is never able to beat nowadays. He always bags the second position and when they team up, it's a given no other can be the winner.
Mingyu often throws banter to the gamer, to whom he assumes is another closely aged man from the voice he has heard while gaming. They stay anonymous to each other and share bits and frustrations of life. No one else knows but Mingyu has another friend in form him, whom he ocassionally confides in, there's an sense of goodfaith. Having a great sense of humour and gaming skills, he definitely helps Mingyu shake off his worries and have a good time. So Mingyu casually slips that he's gonna propose to his long time girlfriend soon and invites him to the wedding already. All giddy, he says he can't wait for the day to come.
Mingyu is a crying mess when that day finally comes. He's inconsolable. He feels like his world has collapsed. Not only did Sora slap a rejection to his proposal, she also had admitted to emotional cheating on him before leaving. Another batch of fresh tears stream down his cheeks when he remembers her words from before.
"I'm sorry Gyu, I can't do this anymore.", Sora says urging him to be off his knees, closing off the ring box, "I don't love you anymore, I've outgrown you."
Mingyu stands frozen. He can't believe his ears, none of the people present believe what they're hearing.
"I had gone back home to take a break from everything, to sort out my feelings. Your presence was overwhelming, it was suffocating me.", she says tearily, "And I realised a lot of things. The reason I kept delaying my return is because I was preparing myself to tell you the truth."
Mingyu snaps out and quickly grabs her hands, "I'm sorry. Please give me another chance, I'll be better.", he swears in tears, "I'd not bother you much, let's start afresh, I'm willing to do everything you want me to.", he begs, "Please, just don't leave me. I love you, I can't live without you."
Sora's sobs echo throughout the venue, "I can't, I have developed feelings for someone else. So please let's end it."
That served as the last nail in the coffin. Mingyu stands straight looking at her and says in hollow voice, "Go. Empty the apartment before I get back. And never show yourself again."
"Come on buddy, let's go my to place.", says Jeonghan, trying to get Mingyu up but failing nonetheless, "What are you doing? Come help me.", he side-eyes and hisses at Soonyoung.
The said man quickly scrumbles on his feet and they both manage to take him to the car.
"Seokmin & Hansol have gone to drop uncle, aunt & Minhee. And now we'll head to my place not Jeonghan's.", Junhui says as he waits in the driver seat patiently for the other three to settle in, ignoring the protests from Jeonghan.
Mingyu takes a whole week off, which is something he has never done before. He also hasn't got his heart crushed before so....
The guys regularly check upon him, dropping by casually. There are some calls from his family and they always keep it short. Everyone hopes for him to be okay but the pain in his chest never subdues. The whole apartment reeks of Sora. The memories flash before his eyes and he hates that he wants them back, wants to go back to the time when they were happy, when there was only love and bliss. He checks his phone every now and then in hopes of getting a text or call from Sora saying it was a mistake and she wants him back but that never happens.
Mingyu thinks he might die from this heartache.
But he tries, tries his best to go on with his life. People notice the change in his demeanor but they don't pry because of the respect they have for him.
Seokmin, one of his closest friends and also colleague visits his cabin to check upon him.
"You don't have to babysit me, Min.", Mingyu sighs as he looks at the chocolate box, his friend places on his table.
"I'm not, Min. But you don't exactly look good currently and I'm afraid more people will come for me now that my rival is lacking.", Seokmin dictates dramatically.
Mingyu laughs, "Yeah sure. The throne is all yours. Don't you have work?"
To that Seokmin instantly deflates, "I'm knees deep in work.", and looks at him with expectant eyes, "We're gonna crash at Jeonghan's tonight."
"Oh, does he know that we're gonna crash at his place for the whole weekend?", Mingyu snorts already knowing the answer.
"Why does he have to know?", Seokmin says, "We're just gonna barge at his place, that guy's bitchless so that shouldn't be a problem--"
Seokmin bites his tongue but it's already late.
"So am I", Mingyu tries to joke smiling sadly and looks at him, "You don't need to feel bad, I'm getting used to it."
The second betrayal comes to him in succession and rather quickly after a month and half later, when in the year-end evaluation it was announced that it's not him but Kim Hanjun, the relative of someone who works in a higher slash powerful position, gets promoted as the Head of Brand Marketing. His hardwork and dedication gets defeated against connections.
Since that day, Mingyu is a changed person within the work space. Once a bubbly personality now is nothing but aloof employee who comes to office and is off his desk as soon as the work hours are over. He doesn't indulge in conversations or attend adhoc works. He already has a resignation letter drafted and saved in his laptop.
Kim Mingyu wishes nothing but misery for the people who have wronged him. He wants nothing but healing for himself.
Your trained gaze alone is enough to send the person lining infront of you six feet under.
"I gave you a whole month to come up with the concept of character design and you bring this to the table.", your tone is dangerously low, "Am I supposed to show this to the Design Director?"
The girl is sweating, as she manages to speak, "I-I'm sorry, I'll get back to you with new inputs."
"How long?", you ask.
"A week. I'll make sure to complete it in a week.", she says with scared eyes.
You sigh, taking your glasses off, "We have a deadline, keep that in mind. You can reach out to Kwon Soonyoung of Art and Naration Department for guidance. Don't bother him much, he's a busy man."
Before she leaves, you add, "Mail me the initial drafts and also coordinate with Dowon, the main characters should complement each other in the terms of their appearance, weapons etc."
Your walking out of the cabin, silences the whole office. As you pass by, all people do is bow to you, they never dare to look at you, nor do they dare to strike a conversation.
Neither are you interested in indulging in any kind of talks with these people who are plain gossipers and can only think of judging people by materialistic bases.
'Ice Princess', that's the cliche nickname you've acquired, which still confuses you but you could care less. All you could care about is work and getting it done.
The day continues and it's during the lunch hour that you get a call from your uncle. And you'd have never imagined, this meet-up would lead him to say something so bizarre, something that would change your life.
"You're getting married.", he says, with all seriousness making your stomach churn.
And before you could open your mouth, he continues, "Trust me this once. You know I would never compromise your happiness with anything less."
Next day, you suddenly find yourself sitting in front of the guy you're supposed to marry.
It's strange and beyond awkward, with neither of you clearly having no idea of what to talk about, where to start and above all how did it come down to something like this.
"Did my uncle threaten you to marry me?", you stay poised, voice stone cold, eyes looking out through the window glass.
Mingyu almost chokes on air but he's quick to regain composure, "Well hello to you too and no, he didn't."
"Then why did you agree on marrying a stranger? I'm sure you don't even know me."
Mingyu sighs, "You should know that your uncle is one of the Senior Executives in the company I work for and I respect him a lot. When he came to me with the proposal, I was taken aback but you sure are beautiful and independent and I have been also meaning to settle down so I couldn't find myself refusing it."
You scoff, "Do you know what you're getting into? I'm not easy to handle, I'm more than capable of making you rip out your hairs."
You continue further, "I don't treat the concept of marriage as some sort of joke or treaty where two involved parties would make a deal or whatever. Uncle has been nagging since forever asking me to get married but I have been pushing it back because...", your voice drops and gaze wavers, "Nevermind. I'm not doing it."
Mingyu gasps at your words before gruffing out, "No please, give me a chance. Look, I have been in a rough patch for past months. I want this marriage to happen just not to bridge connections or to push through any other motives, I want to start afresh."
You squint your eyes at him, "Doesn't sound sincere at all. But I trust uncle and he must have a solid reason if he chose you and you're good looking so it's a bonus. Hence, I'm willing to give it a chance."
You get up from your seat and walk up to him, one hand on the table, other on the armrest of his chair. Hovering over you say, "Kim Mingyu, I have already warned you, if I find any discrepancy after getting married, you'll be a dead meat. I can tolerate anything but betrayal."
Mingyu instantly breaks in cold sweat.
"You're gonna do what?", Minhee asks, in case she has heard it all wrong from her brother.
Mingyu sweeps his gaze across the faces of his parents, his sister and all his friends. They all echo the same expression, they all are utterly dumbfounded.
"I'm getting married", he repeats again, "to Lee Y/N."
"And who's that?", asks his father.
"What do you mean by getting married so suddenly?", this time his mother raises her voice, "Aren't you still silently moping over that girl?"
Silence falls upon the room, until Soonyoong's loud gasp erupts through the room.
That's not something abnormal for Soonyoung to do but Mingyu exactly gets the reason behind it and gestures him to keep his mouth shut.
"Do you know her--", Jeonghan gets cut off.
"Do you have a pic of--", Hansol gets cut off.
"Did you even meet her--", Junhui gets cut off.
"Does Y/N even knows that you're marrying her?", Soonyoung is the one who gets to finish his question.
Mingyu heaves a breath after getting bombarded with non stop questions. His head spins and he hasn't even started yet.
Seokmin is unusually quiet. There's seriousness ghosting him which is rare. Once Mingyu goes out to send off his family, it's Seokmin who tells the others about the whole situation because apart from Mingyu and your uncle, he's the only one who has the grasp of the situation to the fullest.
When Mingyu returns he sees a bunch of disappointed faces except one. Soonyoung is eyeing him with uncertainty, something one could mistake as remotely scare.
"I think Soonyoung needs a breather.", Junhui says, "Because he works with Y/N, not directly but he knows her well enough."
The said man throws a very curious gaze at Mingyu saying, "Nothing is making sense to me. You two are polar opposites, Gyu. And not the kinds that fit in the criteria of opposite attracts."
"I don't support it.", Jeonghan retorts, "This is wrong. If this ever gets out, you're so gonna regret it."
"I have made up my mind.", Mingyu tells him with all certainty, "This wedding is going to happen and I'm not letting anything get in the way to my happiness anymore."
And that's how the preparations of the wedding starts.
You and your uncle meet Mingyu and his family. Though you had expected it to be another one of the awkward meetings but it turns out rather pleasing. His family is welcoming, especially his younger sister, Minhee. While everyone inside discusses the date of engagement and wedding, Mingyu slips you out of the conversation.
You both take a stroll in the neighborhood.
"How was it, meeting them?", Mingyu asks.
You walk straight, not meeting his gaze, "I like them, they have an amiable aura surrounding them.", you suddenly halt and look at him, making him halt as well, "But not you."
Mingyu creases his brows, "You'll come to like me, that's me, I'm lovable."
You scoff, crossing over your hands, "We'll see about it."
The engagement date is set to a month later, followed by the wedding.
You gradually sink back into work and it's a relief that you don't hear from Mingyu but that's cut short when you receive a text from him a week later.
So that's how you landed in your soon to be fiancé's apartment. You sit quietly, gaze constantly sweeping back and forth on the new faces.
Mingyu takes a seat beside you and starts introducing his friends. The text Mingyu had sent primarily stated something along his friends wanting to meet you, which you had bluntly rejected. But when he called you immediately after, saying that they're his extended family and it's important for you and them to get along because it's them you're gonna have to deal with more than his own family, you scolded him for good five minutes for blocking your time during workhours before agreeing on a meet-up.
So far, you've learned that they all belong to almost same age group. Seokmin is a childhood friend who works in the same company as Mingyu, practically indicating that the two are inseparable. The rest are his friends from university days, some he acquired while playing tournaments, others from being a regular at the same game parlour etc.
Jeonghan is a lawyer and eldest among all. Junhui is a dentist and you're immediately setting an appointment with him. Hansol is a photographer who tells that he's gonna manage all the shoots starting from the engagement to the wedding.
And the last one is a very familiar face. You would rather introduce him well to the others because he works with you. And that's the reason he's seated stiff throughout.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?", you ask Soonyoung.
Yes, Soonyoung wants to say this but rather he settles with it a subtle shake of head. He breathes a silent sigh of relief when he feels your gaze off him.
"I guess Soonyoung has already made all of you aware of my reputation. But that's how I am at work.", you say smiling wide.
The rest all relax and exchange smiles before going stiff again when you add, "I'm exactly the same off work as well."
Mingyu nudges your elbow but you don't bother to look at him.
"Stop scaring them.", he says in a hushed voice and you quip back immediately.
"I'm just letting them know that I may not be the perfect sister-in-law they want or picturing me to be. When expectations are less, people on both ends won't get hurt."
The atmosphere turns rigid, the room turns silent.
"What about your parents, Y/N? Do you have any siblings--", Mingyu is late to hush Junhui's failed attempt to wave off the tension. Jeonghan is about to knock his friend's head when he remembers that Junhui was absent the last time when this topic was brought up.
"I'm sorry, Y/N.", Mingyu is quick to aplogize.
You look at a very confused Junhui and tell him, "My uncle is my only family. Sixteen years ago, I lost my parents, aunt and my cousin in a car accident. Since then it's me and uncle. We do have some distant relatives but they're not in touch. Hope this resolves your query."
Checking your watch, you get up, "I'll get going."
"So soon? Please stay till dinner", Seokmin requests, "We all have cooked for you."
Your eyes go wide for a brief moment, as you accidentally speak out your mind, "No one has ever made an effort to cook for me except my uncle."
And before you could slip out, you're almost being dragged into the dinning space. There's no denying that you haven't had this good food recently. And though you say that you've no shame but you don't meet anyone's eyes when you tell them to pack some of the leftovers for you.
You sit silently, watching the crowd, observing the people. You have just been engaged to Mingyu and though it was meant to be a private ceremony, you realised how you quantify it might be completely different from your fiancé.
The only person from your side who's attending is your uncle and it'll be the same in the wedding and all other ceremonies as well. But as you have counted there are a total of thirty people who can be deemed close by Mingyu and are attending the engagement ceremony.
And you can see that it's not a bluff. Everyone is smiling wide, dancing and singing to their hearts will. What made your heart swell once again is that you can sense how each one of them congratulated you both with goodwill and sincerity.
The corner of your lips are twitching to stretch in a smile as you watch your would-be father-in-law being successful in dragging your uncle to the dance floor. It's been long since you've seen him laugh heartily, enjoy wholly.
You wonder if that's what having a family feels like. To be always surrounded by the people you love, who loves you unconditionally. To always have someone to lean onto. The trauma has led you to suppress the memories but you do remember vaguely something similar, a familiar backdrop, smiling faces and warmth.
Your heart suddenly constricts within your chest and you find yourself in the balcony catching breaths. Staring into the abyss of darkness, you don't notice the tears those stream down your face.
"Found ya.", you hear your now fiancé's voice and as he situates beside you. You try to discreetly wipe away the tears but Mingyu sees it.
He doesn't evade your space though, he just stands beside you, speaking nothing which is unlikely but you get what he's conveying and you're thankful to him.
The pre-wedding shoot is a headache, you think. You should be working on finalizing the designs and launch dates of the game but rather you're here at a beach, all dolled up and in a beautiful dress, hues matching to the shirt Mingyu's wearing.
You hate how warm the weather is. You hate how calming the sounds of sea waves are. You hate how soothing the gentle breeze is. You hate how beautiful Mingyu is looking just donning a polo shirt and chinos.
"You're staring a little too hard."
You get startled and crane your neck to see Hansol now changing some settings in his camera with a teasing smile on his lips.
Clearing your throat, you ask, "How long would it take?"
"For how long do you want it to go on?", Hansol enquires back and you want to duck his water underwater for acting smart with you.
A lot of things happen during the shoot. The remarkable ones are you being too shy to hold an eye contact with Mingyu for which you knew you're gonna get teased. Mingyu being scared off by some bugs, shouting, cowering behind you which settles the score, neither of you are getting teased by the other. You are almost whacking Hansol every time he takes a little too long to click the shots when you both are posing, smiling ear to ear, arms linked or hugging each other.
"I'll kill your friend.", you say through gritted teeth while smiling.
Mingyu controls his laugh as his eyes turn into slits, "Be my guest."
Hansol suggests a shot where Mingyu is standing in the water as waves graze his feet while he's cradle carrying you in his arms.
"We're done for now!", Hansol shouts, "Let's get going to the next location."
You immediately link your arms strongly around his neck when Mingyu tries to settle you down.
"My legs are aching.", you say resting your face on his shoulder, so that he doesn't get to see your face.
Mingyu squints his eyes, saying teasingly, "I thought you didn't like me?"
"Correct. I don't like you", you tell him, "I'm tired. Plus what's the use of those muscles if you can't carry me?"
Mingyu doesn't reply rather he sprints towards the rest of the people making you scream for you life as you hold him tighter.
The whole team cheers and shouts and Hansol does what he does best, takes thousands shots of you both throughout.
You open your eyes to hushed murmurs and coos only to find all eyes on you as you wake up nestled in Mingyu's chest as he's still sleeping unaware of the disastrous, as you would state, state you both are in. Your gentle push wakes him up and they inform that they're at Mingyu's address and he drops off by asking Hansol to take you home safely.
"He's good guy, Y/N.", Hansol says as the van heads towards your location, "Not saying because I'm his friend but genuinely, he's keeper."
You just give a subtle nod, choosing not to say anything.
You hate your personal space being evaded but for some reasons it's tolerable as you watch your would-be mother-in-law cooking in the kitchen of your apartment while Minhee aids her.
You stand quietly by the counter, eyes quizzically moving along with the movements of the two people present along with you.
"I have cooked enough for you to last a week.", Mingyu's mother tells you, "Stop eating those instant, frozen, junk food.", she says unimpressed as she clears out the cupboards.
"Don't tell him that I said this but my brother's a great cook, have him cook for you both everyday.", Minhee telltales.
The three of you have chat where they're the ones mainly speaking and you become an ardent listener. It feels nice, you think, to have people care for you, to evade your space when you say you hate it but actually want them to have around you.
That night when they try to head off back to home, you don't let them go, rather you insist them to stay the night and they do stay back. It's not another usual lonely night at your apartment.
Your uncle gifts you both a new apartment, ignoring your protests. He insists, you both need to start afresh, on the right foot. Jokes about your own apartments to be cool off place to crash in if you both have fights.
"Why do I have to be here?", you ask sitting unfazed along with Mingyu's friends (yours as well but you won't admit yet).
Mingyu whines, "Who else would finalize on my wedding suit? They're of no use", he points at his friends who jokingly throw hurls at him, "And I don't trust her choice.", he says pointing at his sister who's too used to his antics to be bothered.
"Such a baby", you roll your eyes, "I have a meeting at 5. Be quick."
Oh you did well in muffling the gasps every time the curtains raised and Mingyu appeared in trying the attire.
Let me buy them all, is what you wanted to say. But sadly, you had to settle for one. But Mingyu doesn't get the privilege to choose your wedding gown.
He sees you walking down the aisle along with your uncle. Mesmerizing would be an understatement he's beyond that. He is nervous and shows. You're nervous as well but as always you're a master in hiding it. The vows are exchanged and as the crowd chants, your lips meet for a brief moment.
Your uncle starts off with teary speech, making you and almost all others cry silently. You walk up to him hugging tight because he has the only constant throughout your life, raising you as his own child, to be present and cheering on you on every important event of your life.
Mingyu has a long list of people lining up for giving speeches for him but what surprises you is even though they share tales about him, they include you in bits and your heart feels at ease thinking about how you might have found a family and people you can call them as your own. Which also leads Soonyoung to get too comfortable, almost getting an earful from you in front of the guests if Mingyu didn't intervene for daring to challenge you for a gaming match with all cockiness. Man lives as if he has nine lives.
You meet his colleagues and he gets to meets yours as well. Mingyu wonders, he has been wondering for as long as he has known you that where did you seek solace on hard days. How come you had no friends, not even one. Or maybe you had, but somehow you've lost touch. He can only speculate.
The first week for the newlyweds goes by settling into the new space. Everything sets in fine and you both divide the duties. Mingyu would be in charge of cooking, you'd do the groceries and he'd join in too obviously. You'd both would be aware of the each other's whereabouts and respect the spaces.
"I'm fine with everything and I want to make this marriage work.", Mingyu's tone changes to a defensive one, "Also, please never go to my office room, no matter what.", he says pointing towards the same, "It's a request and I hope you'd respect it."
You nod understandingly, you're also not a big fan of people messing or evading into your workspace so you agree.
Mingyu has gotten used to it but not the others so when his friends gather at your home one night to catch up they're gurgling out the drinks they're having when you hear you speak.
You call Mingyu, Husband.
"Husband!", you call him seated on the couch. Ignoring the turning of heads, as soon Mingyu comes in your sight, you say, "I have ordered the takeout, none of you needs to spend time in kitchen, rather spend time with each other."
Everyone smiles wide. The rest throw a knowing glance at Mingyu. You take it as a cue to give them space and get up to leave the room.
"I'll take a walk outside. Have fun catching up.", you say stoicly, already beelining towards the passage, "Will be back once the food arrives."
"You're one of us, Y/N. We don't need any space but if you do, then please go ahead..", Jeonghan says making you stop in tracks.
You turn back and sweep gaze among the faces, specially your husband's for any disagreement and when you find his pleading eyes, you see yourself beelining back to your seat.
Work's hectic as ever and you both try to adopt into the change of lifestyle. But what's not happening is work - life balance. With the new gaming launch event nearing, you are expected to stay in the office till late. It's nothing new but something is actually new.
And that's Kim Mingyu. You're still getting used to receiving texts asking about your expected time of return, extending the offer to pick you up if needed. It's also nice to have food served on the table when you reach home.
It's warm when you sleep into the sheets quietly but your husband somehow finds you, holding you in his arms albeit of his sleepy state.
"Why are you hugging me?", you ask with your voice muffled against his chest one morning.
Mingyu has just stirred from his slumber when your voice reaches him. He gets to look at the top of your head and cranes his neck to see the tangled limbs.
"You were spooning me as soon as I got into the bed.", you further add.
His eyes widen, as he tries to untangle himself mumbling apologies, "I'm sorry. I have a habit of clinging while sleeping. I'll try to be careful from today onwards."
And he misses to notice that one of his hands circling your waist is now in your grip, "Who told you to retract?", you down your head further into his so he doesn't get to see even an inch of your face, "I was just asking."
Mingyu goes silent. He's not in love with you and he knows neither are you. But moments like this make him realise something.
He reminiscences another fairly recent memory.
"There's something bothering me.", you come into his view as he pauses the movie he was watching.
Your eyes don't meet his, "I have noticed how your parents deflate whenever I call them uncle and aunt."
Mingyu listens, unsure of where this monologue is going.
You now turn to the front facing the television, your back facing him as your voice toning down as you continue, "I know being their only daughter-in-law they have some expectations. But I'm not good at coining terms, especially the terms like mother and father since I haven't... When I haven't--", you pause sucking in a sharp breath.
Mingyu gets up and turns you to face him, "You don't have to try so hard. Be easy on yourself. There's plenty of time and my parents do understand where you're coming from. And trust they're not disappointed or anything."
And he proceeds to do the most assuring thing, he knows of. He softly pecks your forehead.
Your eyes widen and you grab his arms gaping at him.
"Do it again.", you blurt out and though he smiles a grim realisation gnaws on Mingyu.
Many of the basic acts of proximity and affection, you're experiencing them for the very first time, hence it always comes to you as a surprise. Mingyu's heart constricts in the chest because as a person who has been surrounded by love and people, he can't fathom how you have managed to live on your own, in your lone company.
You're six months into the marriage and things have changed. Changed for good, you think.
You think being in the office and being at home are not the same anymore, it does make a difference. It's not bad, having someone checking upon you. It's not all bad having someone cooking for you. It's absolutely amazing to hear someone rant out, eating your ears off about work and whatnot and not expecting any words of comfort in return.
That someone being your husband. You think your husband is bearable, maybe a little more than bearable.
Mingyu sits still with the phone in his hand as his eyes trace over the photo repeatedly. There's an ache in his heart, he can feel his chest tighten. There are tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, throat closing up suffocating him.
During the lunch break, just to kill some time Mingyu decided to scroll through his abandoned social media account, the ones he hasn't bothered to check since the breakup. And he it turned out to be a mistake as the first picture that popped up on his feed was of the one Sora posted flaunting her new man.
And as he clicks on her account, it breaks his heart to see all of the photos they've posted together or if them clicked together were gone. As if it never happened, as if none of that were true whereas his account is still all about her and their memories.
"It's time for you to delete those pics as well."
He hears Seokmin's say.
"Are you seriously wasting your energy on her?", Seokmin takes a seat beside him, "When you're married and have a such a wonderful wife waiting for you at home?"
Mingyu gives melancholic smile, "Home? Sora was my home, Min. It was supposed to be her waiting for me at the end of day."
"You're sounding like a loser. And I might throw hands at you for uttering nonsense.", Seokmin gets up abruptly making the chair screech, "Don't ruin your present by living in the past."
Dealing with you is not easy and Mingyu had decided to marry you knowing all ifs and buts. At the start it felt more like living with an uncooperative roommate. Then, as days passed he became aware of your habits. Nowadays he thinks you've become habituated to him and it's a good sign but what tires him out is it's only him who's trying.
"I got promoted, Y/N!", Mingyu says all excitedly as soon as you're back from work and into his sight.
"Oh, congratulations.", you say plainly.
He waits with expectant eyes for you to say more but you don't. You don't pat him, neither do you smile. You just simply saunter towards the shared bedroom to freshen up. Eyes turned dull, heart heavy, dejected Mingyu goes to bed empty stomach, his appetite now gone.
You're still cold, to the extent that it's freezing a strain on the relationship. You don't open up, you never appreciate his efforts openly, neither are you interested in his matters. All that matters to you is work.
"Mom was asking if we could visit them anytime soon. As you know their wedding anniversary is approaching and I was thinking if we could spend some days with them around that time?", Mingyu asks you on a call one day when you had to work at office on a weekend because of some changes in timeline.
"You can go.", you tell him, "I don't think I would be able to attend the anniversary party."
"Could you please try? It would mean a lot--"
"Mingyu, you know I can't. I'm sorry.", you say hanging up.
Mingyu doubts if he'll ever love again, he doubts if he'll ever love you. And being a person who wears his heart on his sleeves, he wants being vocal and receiving affirmations, you do neither. Though he knows there are many things which you're experiencing as a first but that doesn't justify anything when he's trying, you should try as well. He contemplates every night if made a mistake by marrying you, if he was too much consumed by greed.
The company's hosting a dinner and everyone's expected to bring a plus one. Some take the opportunity to introduce their partners to their colleagues, for others it's free dinner and socializing. For the past years Mingyu attended the event just to flaunt his partner, Sora and make her aware how much he's looked upon at his workplace. He liked the way people worshipped them, deemed them as the perfect couple, he lived for the vibe of it.
But this year though there's a lot of anticipation about him bringing his wife, Mingyu attends the party alone. He hadn't informed you about the party, simply because he doesn't want you to be here. He's still disappointed at you, plus he knows you wouldn't even care to come even if he asked so to save his dignity from another rejection he decides not to inform you. And if your uncle asks, he'd make some excuse.
The dinner party swings on and it's kinda mundane for Mingyu with Seokmin also not attending because he's out of town until he hears everyone applauding. His gaze follows the crowd when he sees your uncle entering.
And he instantly freezes on the spot when he sees you walking behind.
Synopsis: It was love at first sight ever since you laid eyes on Jeonghan. To him, you are the annoying co-worker who keeps asking him out. No one is new to your courting agenda which only pisses off Jeonghan but what happens when you stop, all at once....
Word Count: 6k
Warnings (specific to this part): this part is SFW, pinning, unrequited love, lots of office jargons, profanity, tears, mention of alcohol consumption, aloof Jeonghan, reader is a love sick puppy, second lead Seokmin, wholesome co-workers Wonwoo, Soonyoung, Jihoon and Joshua, wholesome bestfriend Myeongho (lmk if I missed any)
Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3
A/N: To be added to the taglist for the next part please send an ask or comment under this or the announcement post.
Please heart, comment and reblog, it would really help to keep me going <3
[Svt Main Masterlist] [Svt Flick - Fic Masterlist]
Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue
The cubicles are neat, the marble floors are shining brighter than crystals even after getting padded every now then. The fruity smell of the room refresher is strong enough to go on for days but the continuous clicking of keyboards sound loud enough to give a year worth migraines.
You duly wait by the office entrance, your daily routine, holding a takeaway paper cup which contains Iced Cinnamon Cappuccino.
A familiar car passes by towards the parking and you know that the person you're waiting for is gonna grace you with his presence soon.
Just in cue, that person walks by ignoring you and passes through the security check. You line up behind him, instantly feeling better just by seeing his face.
"How do you always manage to look so gorgeous?", you ask him giddily knowing very well that you won't be getting a response from him.
The security at the check smiles when you direct your requesting gaze at her. She let's you pass by and you're doing large strides in your heels.
"Here..", you are handing him the beverage cup, "Have a great day, Hannie!", you wish him and he doesn't even bat an eyelash as he saunters over to avail the elevator.
You stand there watching him as your lips curl up because your gazes meet for the first time for the day before the elevator door closes.
When you had switched to the current company you're working for two years ago as a Senior Developer you had never thought in your wildest dreams that you'd be turning into a lovesick puppy for the technical analyst of the team you had gotten assigned to.
Yoon Jeonghan got you enchanted the moment you had your eyes on him. You could vividly remember, it was your first day after getting assigned to a project and your manager was introducing you to your teammates.
Everyone seemed nice and greeted you with enthusiasm except one. Yoon Jeonghan was stoic throughout and for you, that heart within your chest thumped vigorously, eyes glued to him while the surroundings seemed to freeze.
Love at first sight was just a funny concept until Jeonghan made you experience it.
You would admit it unabashed that working in corporate world had given you chance to meet a lot of person but no one could ever do justice to suits more then Jeonghan.
Always been a spontaneous person and upon getting a confirmation that he's single your journey of courting him kickstarted.
It's been two years since then.
Everytime you ask him out, Jeonghan rejects you even without sparing a moment of thought.
You are currently working on debugging a piece of code which every other member of your team failed to solve and it ultimately fell into your court.
"I'm gonna run by the canteen, do you need anything?"
You lift your head to see Seokmin hovering over the partition of your desk.
"One strong black coffee, thanks Min.", you quickly say before focusing on the screen again.
You don't see the empathetic smile Seokmin throws at you.
It's almost afternoon and your prying eyes are stuck on the door of the cabin, adjacent to your desk.
Soon Jeonghan comes out of his cabin which prompts you to follow him to have lunch to together.
It's same everyday, Jeonghan not intending to let you sit with him but you do it anyways.
"Did the bug get resolved?", he asks, eyes set on the plate, "I think we have been stuck on this on for long, need to get it resolved asap."
You chew on the salad filling in your mouth to quickly gulp it and answer him, "I got the chance to look at it today. Hopefully, I wouldn't be spending much time on it."
Jeonghan nods making a brief eye contact with you.
So you proceed with the most important part of your daily ritual.
"Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?", you ask.
"No", comes his recorded response.
You smile mischievously, "Why? I thought I should be rewarded for fixing the code?"
Jeonghan scoffs, "You're knocking on the wrong door. Ask your manager to reward you. If he doesn't, go to the HR department and discuss the matter."
"But they're not you, Hannie.", you slip out the nickname on purpose knowing it irks him, "You're the one I want."
Jeonghan blatantly ignores you and when he's done eating, he cleans the corner of his lips with the tissues and then walks out of the canteen grabbing a water bottle.
Even his back profile should have a seperate fandom of its own, you ponder dreamily.
"Snap out of it, you're drooling."
You crane your neck to see that the seat beside you already occupied by Seokmin.
"Another rejection?" he asks and you nod.
The two of you continue to eat silently before Seokmin brings up the topic again, "Join our team Y/N, Wonwoo is moving out."
You give him a pointed look wishing it was as easy as it sounded. When you started working in the team, you worked under Jeonghan and within this span, everyone moved out or transferred except you. To work closer to Jeonghan and out of sentimentality, you stayed.
"It'll be a lot less hectic", Seokmin assures and points at your face, "Your concealor is doing a very bad job at hiding those dark circles."
You gasp and hit his arm, "Atleast Pandas got a competition even though they're cute and I'm just..."
"Beautiful." Seokmin says in a beat, "You are beautiful Y/N and Jeonghan is blind for not appreciating a woman like you."
He says with so much sincerity that you have to cower your gaze away.
"How long until you stop pursuing him?", he asks.
So that I can start courting you, he doesn't say.
"Until he accepts or...", you sing along, "the day I run out of my patience and the rejection finally settles in my bones."
Red might be your favourite colour but currently you're seeing green.
"Who's she, Wonwoo?", you hiss, lamenting on how you have to witness such a sight.
Apparently a woman whom you've never seen before is standing too close to Jeonghan, much to your disliking and the man in the picture seems unbothered with her hogging over and he's smiling.
He's smiling at whatever nonsense she's uttering!
"She's Seonji, my replacement.", Wonwoo speaks calmly, "Since it's my last week, I'll be giving her KTs before my departure."
"You don't care about me or Seokmin, do you?", you say sadly, "How would I function at all without your inputs?"
Wonwoo is another efficient co-worker who works with Seokmin and is a very good friend of yours.
"Not everyone will be a fool to stall their growth because of sentiments Y/N.", he retorts, meaning no malice.
Your throat closes up for a moment but you somehow manage to speak, "We're not having this conversation now, Woo."
"I know this won't go anywhere but there's a limit to everything. How long until you see it's not Jeonghan but someone else who deserves you.", Wonwoo thinks it's time he rats out Seokmin's name because he himself would never.
"What do you mean by someone else?", you counter back confused.
"It's been two years Y/N, people can go through whole lot of loving in this span, don't you think he's behaviour towards you should have been different if he cared even a bit?", Wonwoo is ruthless because he knows he needs to be the one to tell you because no one else would, "Has he ever smiled at you like that?"
"Woo please stop...", your eyes are teary, voice cracking, "You think I don't know that?"
Then you are walking away, wiping your tears. When there's something on your mind you always go to the rooftop to clear your mind out, of course not alone, you always find a lot of others, some shedding tears, some smoking cigarettes or some staring at the abyss.
You don't realise how much time has passed because you don't have your phone with you. Just as you are mentally preparing yourself to indulge into work you hear the call of your name from a very familiar voice.
"Do you think this company is paying you for slacking off?", Jeonghan says nonchalantly as he stands in front of you, "I can't even reach you on your phone."
Your lips curl up instantly, tiredness disappearing from your eyes, "Did you miss me Hannie?"
Jeonghan turns back & walks towards the door. You follow.
"When you're done fixing the bug, bring it to me for review.", he continues, "The clients have scheduled a meeting with us at 7pm. Be there."
"Aye aye captain!", you say from behind, "Can I ask you a question?"
You don't wait for Jeonghan to respond and ask right away, "Do you hate me?"
"Yes.", comes another of his recorded response.
You wonder how many more yes you can take for an answer.
The meeting ends at 10 and you're quickly collecting your belongings and almost parading so that you could avail the last bus since your car is given up for servicing.
You are sure that availing the bus is far fetched so you're taking out your phone to book a cab when you hear honking.
The familiar car stops by the road where you're standing and Jeonghan rolls down the window.
"Get in, I'll drop you.", he's looking at the way ahead and you are instantly getting in the passenger's seat.
"Wanna go to a restaurant for dinner?", you ask robotically, your tone dry. Jeonghan notices and sweeps a glance at you.
You look exhausted and he hopes it's only because of work.
"No", he says, "Put your address on the system's GPS.", as if it's not already instilled in the system.
You do as asked and Jeonghan sees you putting a different address.
"Did you change places?", he asks.
"A friend's address.", you don't explain further and it doesn't resonate well with him.
You thank him when he drops you at the doorsteps and watch him drive away until the car disappears from your sight.
The product deployment is scheduled for next month meaning work's gonna get more hectic than it already is.
You are knocking on the door and upon hearing a 'come in' you enter the cabin.
Jeonghan is seated on the revolving chair, the coat is hung on the headrest meaning that his only white shirt clad body is making you salivate. His head is laid back and you want nothing more than to stroke those luscious locks with your fingers. But for now, you push away your thoughts.
"I have mailed you a scheduler for the new product release.", you inform, "I think it's best if you arrange a meeting for all the teams involved and I'll give them a walkthrough on deployment and checkout procedures."
Jeonghan immediately straightens and checks the calender before scheduling a meeting for the next day.
"Tomorrow, 5 PM.", he stretches his arms out, "Anything else?"
The sight of viens protruding through his arms almost has you choked and you think it's best for your eyes to be up, "Y-Yeah? Oh well, I'll run by the Batch Ops department, do you have anything you want me to relay to them?"
Jeonghan searches for some files and takes out one from the stack and gives it to you, "Give it to Jihoon and tell him to send me the report by EOD."
You nod and ask, "There's this movie I have been meaning to watch, do you wanna go with me?"
"No.", he responds right away and you're already turning to exit the room when Seonji enters.
"Hannie!", she's intentionally loud and emphasizing and you are almost biting your tongue when you hear the nickname you've given him, to be called by her.
Not wanting to breathe in the same room as her, you are just taking a step ahead but you freeze on hearing her next words.
"The restaurant you took me to on Tuesday after work, I recommended it to my friends and they also loved it. Let's visit again sometime!"
You head whips to look at Jeonghan, to find him already staring at you.
It hurts your pride so you walk out of the room.
You're currently in the Batch Ops department, waiting for Jihoon. The said man is always busy, running on his heels and termed as the workaholic assistant supervisor of the department.
"Hey Y/N, did Jeonghan send the file?", you nod handing him the file and remind him to send the report.
"So how's your courting agenda going on?", he always asks and is even amused by the fact that how persistent you are to get Jeonghan when he doesn't show an ounce of interest in you.
You are generally joking with him on this but today you don't throw a banter and Jihoon is quick to understand that you're having a bad day so he doesn't pry further.
And on the way back you meet Seokmin who asks you to accompany him to the designated tent bar you both often go to. You agree instantly.
That night the owners of that tent bar knew how much you hate a woman named Seonji. They already know about your love for Jeonghan, since your alcohol tolerance is terrific, you cry river worth tears for that man everytime you're wasted and they feel pity for Seokmin who has to always clean up after you.
The product release approaches and everyone is pulling late nights or all nighters. Those who working in higher posts have to almost use office as a makeshift home mainly because they are dealing directly with the foreign clients and the time zones differ.
Though you are tired tattered, you make sure a cup of coffee of his preference always awaits him when Jeonghan enters his cabin. You also arrange the files, putting sticky notes in each section so he doesn't have to waste time searching for something. You make sure the cabin smells good and the place is neat. The towels are kept warm in the bathroom attached to the cabin and his favourite fragrance is filling the air inside cabin, so even if he's spending time at office, your efforts makes him think it's home.
When the rest ask how you do this, why do you do this, your answer is simple.
Isn't this what love is, to keep giving and not expecting anything in return.
"I think it's time you move on, Y/N.", your best friend Myeongho says after he shows up at your apartment one day.
Before you could retaliate his arms are up in his defence as he continues, "You know I'm never the type to judge or disregard anything casually. But this has been going on for long and it might hurt you but it's stagnant. You both made no progress. Two years, definitely a very long time and you can appear all happy and unfazed but I know every rejection must be hurting as hell."
You don't need words, the tears those stream down your facr speak volumes. Myeongho's presence is itself soothing and maybe that's why you are not loosing yourself in pits of sorrow for the moment.
What are supposed to do, you're so in love with Jeonghan, you're so used to him, so dedicated to him.
Myeongho pats your back while he's talking to his wife on his phone. You ponder over how Myeongho met her a year ago and now they are happily married with a baby on the way.
No one's story is comparable to other, each having it's own circumstances and pace but as your best friend said yours is totally different.
Unrequited and stagnant.
The product release is a success and now the work load is a lot lesser.
And as expected you're in Jeonghan's cabin.
"Are you free today?", you ask, "Wanna go to dinner? Not as a date, some people from our & Batch Ops team would be present as well."
Jeonghan is unabashed as usual, "I'm busy today."
He isn't explaining himself, it's his way of defining things. He's implying that on other days he's rejecting your advances without a reason and today he's doing it with a reason.
This time your face falls.
"Do you hate me?", you ask.
"Yes, you're annoying."
"Would you miss me if I leave?"
"No, a good riddance."
This time your heart hurts.
You are currently in a restaurant with Seokmin, Jihoon, Chaein and Joshua both working in your team, Soonyoung of Support Team and you've managed to pull Wonwoo in this eat out.
Wonwoo is currently making a disgusted face at Seokmin, who's doing some questionable mimicking of Jihoon, the man being mimicked being totally vested in eating whatever is there on his plate.
"Isn't that Jeonghan?"
Five pair of eyes follows Soonyoung's gaze and lands on Jeonghan.
"Wait that's Yoora with--"
Seokmin is late in slapping his hand over Soonyoung mouth because you have heard the name and it rings in your ear.
Kwon Yoora, Jeonghan's ex-girlfriend. The woman accompanying him tonight.
You have heard a lot about her from your colleagues because she used to work in the company you're working in. Well you're her replacement in terms of the position when you joined in. She worked with and under Jeonghan before you did.
This is the first time you're seeing her.
"I heard they had mutual breakup, seems they're still good friends.", Joshua comments.
Your eyes are glued to the table space where Jeonghan's hand is atop Yoora's. And he's smiling as he says something to her.
He never smiles at you like that.
"You guys continue eating.", Seokmin is already up grabbing his coat, "I'll get our food packed."
When Seokmin leaves, the rest four look at you worried and you feel pity for yourself. How could you not guess, Jeonghan had never lead you on, always being indifferent, constantly rejecting all your approaches for the last two year.
He didn't like you at all, he has been saying it all along but you were to stubborn to admit and accept. But now you do.
For you, it has been always him.
For him, it would be anyone but you.
You are grabbing your belongings, "Tell Seokmin, I'll be waiting by his car."
Then you sprint out. It's only when Wonwoo calls out your name, Jeonghan notices you.
He sees you running towards the exit, only if he didn't know better, he watches as you wipe your tears while do so.
Tonight it's not only you who's suffering from heartbreak, Seokmin's heart breaks yet again seeing those tear stained cheeks, hearing those wrenching sobs. He puts you to bed and sets the food on your table so that in the middle of night when you wake up hungry, you don't have to look around for food. He runs the bath for you, sets the towels and knowing that you'd be having a terrible headache later, he keeps the glass filled with water and the medicines on the nightstand. He does more and all while wiping his own tears.
Because like you, he too knows nothing breaks like a heart.
Next day Jeonghan doesn't see you at the office entrance. You don't greet him when he walks by your desk to his cabin. It's almost afternoon and you haven't walked through the cabin door even once. At lunch you don't sit with him, you're happily chatting away with Chaein while eating.
Jeonghan thinks something is wrong with him. Everytime he hears faint sound of footsteps his eyes perks at the cabin door. He doesn't like the coffee Seonji makes him. He doesn't like it when some random guy sits in front of him at lunch and while his eyes stray at you almost every second, you don't spare him a glance.
It's around 5 in the evening when you knock on his door.
Jeonghan can't describe the sensation his feeling right now, as if he has waiting for this moment lifelong.
You place a file on his table and say, "The Scheduler team wants to know about all the applications which are planned to retire from our system before the next monthly cycle. I have made a list for same, please have a look once and let me know in case of any concerns."
"Okay.", he says and you give him a nod.
"Don't you have anything to say?", he asks and you look at him confused, "No, I think this is the priority task at the moment, I'll let you know if anything else comes up, Jeonghan."
His own name feels foreign to his ears. By the time he's about to say something again, you are already out of his cabin.
This goes on for the whole week and Jeonghan feels he can't function anymore. He makes unnecessary trips within the office premise everytime walking by your desk just in hopes of getting called by you. You never do.
He waits for you at lunch but you're always gone. He never sees you smiling at him again. You never ask him out now. The coffee doesn't help to keep his stress away, the office doesn't feel homier anymore.
Isn't this all he wanted, Jeonghan asks himself. Aren't you the annoying co-worker who was always getting on his nerves?
And he's scared to listen to the answer his heart has to echo.
It's Monday, the first working day of a very new week and Jeonghan still looks at the entrance expectantly just to see you this time. He double takes to make sure he's not hallucinating and a smile tugs on his lips.
His face regains the seriousness as he approaches you and much to his dismay you don't notice him. He clears his throat to have your attention.
"Morning, Jeonghan.", you greet him curtly.
"Morning", he asks, eyes glancing over your hands to see if they have any takeaway coffee cup in them but they are empty, "Aren't you going in?"
"I'm waiting for someone.", comes your dry response.
Ain't that someone me?
"Okay....", he has no reason to linger anymore.
You are exhausted, sleep deprived blame the late night marathons of your favourite shows you've been pulling.
Reason, to keep your mind occupied with something which is not Jeonghan but the ache in your heart never dulls. Even though you have choosen peace with the fact that he'll never be yours, it's so new and difficult for you act indifferent towards him when you have been in love with him for two whole years.
When you're phones notifies you of a text, it has you rubbing your eyes just to make you're seeing it correct. You have got a text from Jeonghan reading-
Please make me coffee, it's a request.
When the Yoon Jeonghan who never texts you, never bothers to type back a response to your greetings or queries other anything related to work sends you a text, you're shocked.
Jeonghan feels like he can finally get the productive cells of body to work when he sees you entering holding a cup of coffee.
"You don't look good.", you say placing the cup on his table, "Are you okay?"
When he doesn't respond, you continue, "If you're not feeling well, please take the day off, I'll notify you of any urgent matters from our team prospective."
Jeonghan thinks it's the only chance he'd get to clear the misunderstandings so he speaks, "Me and Yoora are still good friends, that night at the restaurant she treated me because of a promotion she got at her company."
"Great to know. Good wishes on my behalf.", you are poised when you say, "From next time please refrain from sharing anything other from work related matters. I have no interest in your personal life and I think we are not close at all to be sharing updates on same."
Either he's mishearing or you're possessed, he's sure it's either. This ain't the you he wants. This ain't the you he needs.
Your tone emits grief when you speak further, "I deeply regret for the inconvenience I've caused you for the past years. I'm really sorry. But rest assured I won't be causing any more trouble, I'll out soon."
"What do you mean by that?", he's off his seat and in front of you instantly, "Did something happen?"
"Indeed.", You nod while smiling, "I accepted that you won't go out with me. I also accepted that you hate me. So there's no more pestering you from my side."
Jeonghan never thought his words would come back to him biting in his ass which he's not capable of taking.
"You can't do this...", he's not even sure of the words he's uttering, "Are you giving up on me?"
"Yes, I'm giving you what you wanted by giving up on you."
Jeonghan realises how much that he has gotten used to you. You're like the good parasite that clogs his mind whenever you're around and even if you're not. His mornings used to start with your messages, you used to magnetize yourself on him during the office hours and the last notification he got before sleeping was also from you.
So now he doesn't like the lack of attention from you at all and he'd do anything to have it back. He'd do anything to have you back.
He tries to be in your shoes for the next days. He waits for you at the entrance holding four cups of takeaway coffee cups because he doesn't you what like. Everyone who passes throws him a questioning gaze. Everyone except you. You walk pass by him, unfazed and unbothered.
"Y/N wait!", when you don't stop, he is following you, "I bought these for you and also if you could tell me what you like so that I can buy that."
You give him an incredulous look, "What are trying to do?"
"Just trying to get you morning coffee..."
You scoff and walk away.
When you go for lunch, Jeonghan pops up out of nowhere and not only he's tailing you, he's even occupying the seat beside you. He's suddenly texting you good mornings and good nights and throughout the day something or other but there's no progress.
Roles reversed, you don't even bat an eyelash at him now.
It makes him realise how ass of a person he has been to you and how angel of a human you were to tolerate all this and still love him with your all.
"What's wrong with Jeonghan nowadays?", Joshua asks genuinely curious. You all are gathered for a coffee break, as he stands opposite to where Jeonghan is stood from accross the room, he constantly notices him throwing glances, "He keeps looking at you Y/N."
"Jeonghan is that thick brain who realises what he had and lost when it's too late.", Jihoon snorts as he takes a sip casually, "What the hell, who put sugar in my coffee?"
Joshua is suddenly walking away and you laugh which makes Jihoon aware of the culprit.
Next he's chasing Joshua.
You are still smiling, gaze lingering on those two when you notice Jeonghan approaching you from the periphery of your vision. Not wanting to waste any energy on him you think of leaving the hall when someone bumps into you.
It's Seonji.
"Heard you stopped chasing Jeonghan?", she taunts, "Good that your brain's finally working."
"I want to you know if this concerns you anyway and why?", you ask and quickly turn to check if Jeonghan is in hearing vicinity. He is.
"I thought it's obvious? That we're close and might be together soon.", she says confidently, "You've noticed how behaves towards you is completely opposite of how his behaviour is towards me."
"Congratulations", you pat on her arm and incline closer to her as you whisper in her ear , "Let's see if Jeonghan is aware of this as well?"
Seonji's freezes for a moment when she realises that Jeonghan has been present there all along and have listened to the conversation that just happened.
"Congratulations to you too Jeonghan.", you wish him, "I can see, a match made of likes."
"There's nothing going on between us Y/N", he pleads as his hands itches to grab you so that you don't slip away before he finishes but out of professionalism and respect he doesn't, "She's just a junior from my university."
'You don't have to explain, I'm not interested.", you tell him before walking out.
Jeonghan is furious and Seonji thinks his glare is enough to make her evaporate without any trace.
"Jo Seonji", his voice is dangerously low and threatening, "I was being nice to you just because we're acquaintances from before but I realised how wrong it was."
"Han--"
"It's Jeonghan for you. If I hear you uttering such nonsense one more time, I'll report you to the committee for harassing me.", he's practically glowering, "And I want the database for all the transactions that occurred between us and our oldest clients with the analysis document by EOD."
"But that's too much of data Jeonghan, how would I be able to--"
"That's for you to sort out.", he says, "If I don't get the design model, I'll report it to your manager and she'll handle it from there."
Seonji is all sweaty and faltering when she hears, "I see you anywhere near Y/N without any official need, I'll make sure you're stepping down your position."
To those who thought Jeonghan has changed, they just witnessed the infamous scary Yoon Jeonghan again today.
They also realised that Jeonghan is still the same authoritative, strict and stoic faced coordinator for all.
He has changed, just for you.
"When are you gonna tell her?", Soonyoung asks wrapping his arm around Seokmin's shoulder as they gather on the rooftop during the lunch break.
Seokmin is torn.
"She's coping up with the pent ups because of Jeonghan and I don't wanna add to her stress.", he laments.
"I hate to admit that you're correct but I'm worried because I think if you don't shot your shoot now then it'll be gone.", Soonyoung's concern is evident in his tone.
"I can't just tell Y/N that I love her all of a sudden when she's in love with someone else for a long time.", it pains him to speak it out, "Because I know how painful unrequited love can be..."
Soonyoung sighs, as he frames his next question carefully, "When will be the right time, Seokmin?
There's never a right time, he thinks.
Jeonghan doesn't avail the elevator, he's climbing down the stairs hurriedly.
When he decided to go the rooftop to cool off after the Seonji episode he again unintendedly overhears the conversation between Soonyoung and Seokmin, the two men obviously staying oblivious about his presence.
His anger from before morphs into a mix of shock and scare. Shock because it didn't occur to him ever that Seokmin could be in love with you. Scared because, well he is yet to figure out the reason.
Walking through the hoistway door leads his chance encounter with Mr. Choi, your manager.
"Jeonghan", he calls him, "I have been meaning to meet you."
"Anything urgent Mr. Choi?"
Mr. Choi smiles, "It might be, for your concern. Y/N has requested for transfer, she wants to move out the team."
Jeonghan stiffens, all the strength in his body dwindles.
Carefully studying his face, his unfocused eyes and a lack of response urges Mr. Choi to speak further, "Since you're her immediate senior and she has been working under you for these years, your say would matter because I know no one would want to loose an efficient member like her. If the team has enough effort excluding her then I'd approve her request "
"Thanks for letting me know Mr. Choi. Please put it aside for now, I'll talk to her and get to back to you.", Jeonghan requests and the older man obliges.
You are currently working on reconciliation of a piece of code with all your concentration when there's a knock on your desk. You look up to find Jeonghan who's mutters a serious 'in my cabin now' when your gazes meet before walking into the said room.
You think of everything and anything you could have done to cause any trouble but nothing comes up, so you are immediately off your seat and entering the cabin.
Jeonghan has never felt this exhausted in his entire life, never because of you. When you used to clinge to him it had became a normality, though he never admited it was the only fun and good part of the office hours. You made him feel the belongingness, when everyone was scared of him, you were brave enough to step up and court him.
And now when he sees the indifference in you towards him, learns about Seokmin's feelings for you, he's beyond frustrated.
Another mistake, he channels it in a wrong way and at a wrong time.
"Jeonghan?"
Your call of his name breaks his reverie.
He looks you dead in yours eyes and asks, "You requested a tranfer?"
You knew your manager would be informing Jeonghan and the only obstacle in that request to get approved would be him, the reason you wanted the transfer in first place.
Before you could assert an answer Jeonghan scowls, "Are you really going to bring your personal life to your workspace? Suddenly one day you decide you'll stop liking me or whatever and then you're requesting to be assigned to a different project? Is that what you call professionalism Y/N?"
You are rendered speechless. You don't let those tears pooling in your eyes fall even though you are hurt.
"I thought two years is long enough to know someone", you inhale sharply, "But you don't know me at all. I wasted two years of my life for the guy who just now disregarded my love for him by calling it liking or whatever."
Jeonghan bites his tongue hard when he traces back on the words he had uttered.
"When I had asked you that if it would matter to you if I leave, you had casually slipped out a good riddance. So I'm doing us a favour and you should be happy but you're not.", you are hot in anger and rage, as your gaze tows upon the man infront of you, "You're not happy because no one's buying you coffee, no one's keeping you company, you don't have your files organised, you don't have anyone to take shit from you without retorting. Have you been always this selfish?"
It's his turn to be speechless. He has seemingly fueled every occurance for the past years to work against him currently.
"This is professionalism Yoon Jeonghan.", you tell him, "Me not stalling my growth anymore and letting in space for productivity and skills showcasing for myself is my professionalism. I stayed because of you but I won't do that anymore."
"I'm sorry, please let me clarify things", Jeonghan is eyeing you alarmingly as he walks towards you.
You hold out your arm and his feet instantly roots to the ground.
"Thanks for assuring me that I've made the right decision. You aren't worthy of my love, you never were. I'll stop loving you one day and I'll make sure that day comes soon."
A tear falls down your cheek and then they are streaming altogether. You fail to choke the sobs and Jeonghan says nothing, knowing that the only way he can help you is by keeping his silence.
And when you sprint out of the cabin, he wants nothing but to stop you and engulf you in his embrace. Although he's physically frozen but his mind deducts several conclusions.
He senses by hurting you, he hurts himself tenfold.
He laments on the fact that office is just all work and nothing to look forward to anymore because he misses you.
He likes his personal space invaded only if it's by you.
Maybe it's late but he's sure that his heart is constricting in pain within his chest because it's broken.
This time he's choking a sob, legs giving up as he falls to the ground when he finally accepts that he got his heartbroken even before he realised that he's in love.
