♡ pairing: xu minghao x gn!reader
♡ theme: best friends to lovers, college au, fluff
♡ wc: 3.1k
♡ warnings: none
“why did i sign up for this stupid class?”
you mumbled it under your breath, but your best friend still heard it from across the room. he looks up from the book he’s reading, a concerned frown on his face.
“what’s wrong with the class?” he closes his book, his eyes resting on yours.
“the class is fine it’s just… i’m just bad at it.”
“i highly doubt that.” he gets up, joining you at your kitchen table currently cluttered with textbooks, homework, and various drawing materials. he reaches for your sketchpad. “let me see.”
“nuh-uh,” you say, closing the book. he grabs it from you anyway.
“minghao! come on,” you shout at him. he ignores you, flipping through the pages.
“most of those are shitty reject drawings that i started and gave up on, nobody needs to see those.”
he continues perusing through the book quickly, but pauses at a particular page. you take the chance and reach for the sketchpad again, grabbing hold of it.
“wait! i like this one.”
you glance at the drawing he’s looking at. it’s the side profile of a classmate, drawn as a warm-up exercise.
“what? that was just a warm-up sketch, and it’s not even good. it looks nothing like the girl i was drawing.”
minghao looks up at you. “that doesn’t mean it’s bad. art isn’t necessarily about drawing things exactly the way they look, it’s about your interpretation of the subject. that’s like the whole point.”
“i wasn’t interpreting anything here, i was literally just trying to draw her face.”
“but look,” he says, turning the book so you can see it. “look at the way she’s looking into the distance. she looks sad, but in a nostalgic way.”
you stare at the sketch. “i don’t see it.”
“but that’s part of it too - art isn’t always about knowing the exact meaning of the piece, it’s also open to interpretation on the viewer’s perspective. and i like the way you portrayed her emotion.”
you narrow your eyes at him. “you’re just making that up to make me feel better.”
“i’m not! i promise. i really like your art style, y/n.”
you want to roll your eyes at him, but he looks too sincere. “okay but how can i have an art style if i literally started drawing two weeks ago at the start of the semester? i don’t even know what i’m doing.”
“look at all your drawings though,” he flips the pages one at a time. “you press really hard when you draw, so it gives everything a very bold, sharp look. and combined with the way you shade, it gives it a dramatic edge.”
you look at your sketches again. they’re still unsightly in your eyes, but you do kind of see what he means.
“well, that’s good to know i guess. but it’s still hard,” you mope. “i thought this would be an easy elective to get an A in but now i’m worried.”
“it’s an intro class - i’m sure the professor isn’t expecting you to be picasso on day one. just keep practicing and you’ll be perfectly fine.”
one of the many things you love about minghao: he always knows how to make you feel reassured.
“you’re probably right,” you reply. “i don’t know what i should draw for practice, though.”
“well, what do you want to improve the most?”
you think for a second. “our next project is a life drawing, but drawing people is so hard. so maybe that but what am i supposed to do, just draw random people?”
“sure, why not?”
“because that’s weird!”
“okay, well it doesn’t have to be a random person. here, try drawing me.”
“you?? right now?”
“yeah.”
you open your mouth to protest, but you pause, realizing it might not be a bad idea.
you shrug as you reach for your pencils. “okay, i guess. you can't get mad when it turns out terrible though.”
minghao smiles softly. he situates himself in the chair, focusing his gaze off in the distance. you pick up your sketchbook, holding it at a comfortable angle as you hold your pencil above the page. you think for a minute - you never know where to start when you have to draw a face. you glance back up at minghao, skimming across his features - naturally, you land on his eyes. you always forget how pretty they are: dark brown, soft, calm - giving him a permanent aura of being deep in thought.
you look back down at the blank page, it's emptiness seemingly taunting you. with a sigh you touch the dulled lead tip to the paper, making your first stroke - the curvature of minghao’s eyelid appearing on the page. you peep back up at your subject. to your surprise, your shape isn't too far off from reality. you continue, sketching his lower eyelid, his iris, his long dark eyelashes. you erase your marks a few times when they don't look quite right, but before long the image of an eye that looks mostly like minghao’s has formed.
you move to his nose, drawing the line of its sharp bridge, sketching a circle to render its round, button-shaped end - bringing the shape of his face to life. you peer up at his face, your pencil continuing its strokes, but you pause as you arrive at his lips. they are soft, plump, perfectly formed, highly kissable. you sketch the delicate curves, emphasizing their pillowy nature. you find yourself absentmindedly in a trance when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long - you’ve already finished drawing his mouth. you feel your cheeks turn warm, praying he can’t see you getting flustered out of the corner of his eye.
you move on, sketching his soft but strong jawline, his ears - adorned with his usual jewelry, adding quick wispy lines to form the shape of his long hair. before long the essence of minghao has materialized in your notebook.
as you finish, you hold your sketchpad up to compare your drawing to your subject. you don’t love it, and it’s nowhere near perfect. but it is decidedly good enough.
“okay, i’m done, i guess.” you set the notebook down, hesitantly sliding it across the table toward minghao. he picks it up, turning it to face him as he looks at it for the first time. the edges of his mouth twitch upward into a subtle smile, but he doesn’t say anything.
“you hate it.”
minghao looks up at you. “what? no, i love it.” he looks back at the paper with a pleased grin. “i’m telling you, you’re really good at portraying emotion.”
“and what emotion exactly did i portray?”
he shows you your drawing. “i look wistful - like i’m caught in a daydream of unrequieted love.”
you feel your stomach do a flip, but you play it cool, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes at him. “well, i didn’t do that on purpose. but i’m glad you like it.” you extend your hand to take back the notebook, but he turns it toward him again, taking another look.
“can i keep it?” he looks up at you, his striking brown eyes making contact with yours. you stifle a gulp as you reply.
“um… sure, i guess so. if you really want it.”
he gives you a soft smile, pleased at your response. “i really do.” he carefully tears the page along the perforation, separating it from its spiral binding. he closes the sketchbook and hands it back to you. you return it to its place in your backpack.
“well, thanks for letting me practice on you, i appreciate it.”
“of course. if you need any more practice let me know - since i see you most days anyway.”
“you’re the best.”
“i know,” he replies smugly. you pick up your eraser and lob it at him. he manages to catch it with one hand, giving you a sly look as you jump out of your chair, running from him before he can throw it back. he follows you, chasing you around your apartment - you shout at him, feigning anger, but your laughter gives you away.
another thing you love about minghao: being with him is always so easy.
—
you didn’t mean to make drawing minghao a regular occurrence. but on one particularly crisp fall day, you find yourself absentmindedly sketching his features as you eat lunch together in the park. he’s reading for his literature class, and you’re supposed to be studying for your sociology course, but you keep zoning out. it’s not your fault that the text is dull, and that the cherub-like rosiness coloring his cheeks makes him look more ethereal than usual. renaissance paintings of angels have nothing on how beautiful he looks right now, you think to yourself.
you also definitely didn’t mean to start falling for your best friend, but here you are.
delicate pencil strokes paint the wisps of his bangs falling over his eyes as he is studiously engrossed in his book, his long eyelashes peeking through the curtain of hair. you focus on perfecting the shape of his face - glancing up to compare your rendering to your subject - when you notice him looking back at you.
“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely curious.
you’re about to shut your notebook in a panic, when you realize that would only look more suspicious.
“nothing, just…”
he reaches for your notebook, his fingers brushing over the top of the page as he tilts it down so he can see. he lets out a soft chuckle.
“practicing again, i see,” he says, casually, but clearly teasing you a little. “i thought you were supposed to be studying for your sociology exam.”
“i am,” you insist. he raises his eyebrow at you. “i was just taking a break,” you add. the look on his face tells you he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t press you further.
“it looks good, i can tell you’re getting better at drawing from a reference.”
“i guess it is getting a little easier,” you admit.
minghao smiles. “good,” he affirms, before going back to his text without another word.
you find yourself gazing dreamily at the man before you, lost in aimless thoughts, imagining the feel of his hair tangled around your fingers, his skin softly pressed against your cheeks, his lips brushing against yours. eventually he notices, peeking up at you through his bangs. you swiftly return to your drawing, only to realize you've already finished. his portrait looks slightly cartoonish, and nowhere nearly as beautiful as the real thing, but you decide it's not half bad.
you half-heartedly resume your studies, sneaking glances at minghao here and there. every glimpse makes your heart flutter - you feel like an idiot, you're in college for christ's sake, and here you are having an entire crush on your closest friend.
just tell him how you feel, part of your mind tries to convince you.
but what if it ruins our friendship? another part of you worries.
you realize you're staring at him again when he looks up from his book, his gaze meeting yours.
“hmm? what is it?” he asks you calmly.
“i…”
you hesitate. his eyes rest on your face attentively.
you let out a small sigh. “i’m getting cold. can we go inside?”
he smiles softly, marking his page as he closes his book. “of course.”
minghao walks you to your next class, which is conveniently located in the building next to his next class.
“well, see ya later,” you tell him as you turn to enter the building.
“y/n…”
you freeze as he grabs your arm. you turn back around, looking at him expectantly. he lifts his hand up to your head, tenderly reaching for your hair. you realize you're holding your breath. you exhale as his fingers graze your scalp softly, plucking something off of your head.
he holds a small yellow piece up to you. “you had a leaf in your hair.”
your panicking ceases, leaving you a bit disappointed, but you can't help but smile at him.
“thanks, minghao. what would i do without you?”
“walk around with leaves in your hair all day, probably.”
you playfully give him a light shove. he reaches for the door, opening it for you as you head off to class.
“i'm coming over tonight, if that's alright,” he says as you step through the doorway.
“of course,” you say, turning over your shoulder to face him. “though, i should probably start charging you rent as much as you're at my place.”
he smiles back at you. “see you later, y/n.”
he disappears as the door shuts quickly. you spend the rest of the afternoon in a daydream, impatiently counting the hours until you see him again.
—
“how’s the studying going?” minghao asks from the other end of the couch. he sets his book down, pausing so he can take his hoodie off. his plain black t-shirt rises up as he does, revealing his entire midriff. you try not to gawk too hard. he stares at you as he tosses the hoodie aside - you realize he is awaiting your response.
you look down at your notebook, where you’ve once again been sketching his face. “um… pretty good,” you lie. “are you hungry?” you ask, changing the subject.
“starving, actually,” he admits.
“well, i can offer you ramen, or… actually, that’s about it.”
he grins at you. “ramen sounds great. want me to make some-”
“nope,” you respond as you flip your notebook over, setting it face down on the seat next to you. “i got it.” you rise and head to the kitchen.
you cook the noodles, serving them into two bowls and carrying them back to the living room. you set the bowls on the coffee table, reaching over to set one in front of minghao - but you feel your leg bump against something. you look down to see your notebook fall to the floor - landing right side up. before you can grab it, minghao has already picked it up for you. he goes to hand it back to you, but pauses as he sees your sketches. you go to swipe it out of his hands, but miss as he pulls back, looking at his own face doodled on your pages.
“you were drawing me again.” it wasn’t a question.
you try to quickly think of some excuse, anything, to get you out of this one, but your mind comes up blank. you decide to try and play it off.
“yes,” you reply with feigned confidence as you sit down next to him. he looks up at you, then back down to the paper. you stare at him, waiting for him to say something else, but he says nothing.
“i like to practice whenever i can,” you add with a shrug.
he flips through your notebook. “whenever you can, or whenever you’re with me?”
“um… i-”
“because these all sure look like me, y/n.”
“so?” you ask him. you meant for your tone to be casual, but it came out a bit more defensive than intended.
his eyes meet yours again. he looks at you warmly, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. your heart beats rapidly in your chest.
“so,” he answers as he sets the notebook aside. “i'm wondering, if…” he scoots closer to you, lifting his hand to your face, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. your skin feels like it's on fire. his fingers tucked under your chin delicately, he draws your face in toward his. you gasp softly.
“if you feel the same way about me, as i feel about you.”
your heart is racing. you feel dizzy. he's so close to you, a few more inches and your noses would touch. his plump lips wait enticingly.
“and how do you feel about me?” you manage to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. his deep brown eyes stare longingly into yours. you’re pretty sure you know the answer, you hope you know the answer, but you need him to confirm it.
suddenly, he kisses you.
he kisses you, setting alight fireworks inside you. his soft lips touch against yours ever so gently, his nose pressing against your cheek, his hand holding your face tenderly in his palm, then sliding to the back of your neck, drawing you closer still into him. your chest presses against his, his other arm wrapping around your waist, his large hand settling upon the small of your back. you kiss him back, your lips locked onto his like your life depends on it. you've thought of this, dreamt of this, so many times before, all the years you've known minghao - yet you never could have imagined how thrilling, exhilarating, freeing it would be to finally be here, in his arms, world stopped, nothing matters except you and him, so lovingly embraced - together.
electricity pulsates through your skin, every nerve in your body dancing. slowly, minghao’s lips part from yours. you lock eyes with him - in all the time you've known him, he's always been a sentimental person, but you've never seen such love and adoration beaming from him like you see now.
and it's all for you.
a giggle escapes you. minghao looks at you, a wide grin spreading across his face. you run your hands through his hair, a sensation you've waited so long to experience - it's every bit as delightful as you imagined.
“hao…” you start.
he plants another kiss on your lips. “hmm?” he asks, still glowing at you.
“how long have you felt this way?” you ask softly.
“i've had feelings for you since the day we met, and i've loved you more every day since.”
you boop your nose against his, giving him a fake stern look.
“and why didn't you tell me?”
he feigns a pouty face back at you. “why didn't you tell me?”
you blow a tiny raspberry at him. he smiles, pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he kisses your cheek repeatedly. you laugh, held in his warm embrace, overflowing with emotions.
finally, you can admit it: you're in love with your best friend - and he just so happens to love you back.
in aeternum /in iˈtɜːrnəm/ Latin phrase — forever; into eternity
🔮 pairing: xu minghao x f!reader
🔮 genre: fantasy, magical realism, smut [18+ mdni]
🔮 wc: 10,627
🔮 warnings: sort of lore-heavy, scary imagery, mild weapon use, some morally gray plot points, mentions of prior physical abuse (not reader), drugging/poisoning, possessiveness, strangers to lovers, size kink, breast play, oral, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv sex (pls don't do this), marking, whining/whimpering, cum play, cum eating, fingering, reader passes out once, praise kink, a bit o' manipulation, petnames (baby, darling, good girl)
🔮 a/n: huge thank u to my goat @miniseokminnies for beta-ing ily!!!
written as part of my Cluetober Series — [masterlist]
SYNOPSIS: You know the woods like the back of your hand. There's little danger to be found, and you feel at home here; but there is one rule: Do not stray beyond the Outer Creek. A rule you've never broken, until today, when you got a bit too carried away foraging for mushrooms. You try to find your way back, to no avail; you are now undeniably lost deep in the forest, a sitting duck for the terrifying beasts that are rumored to live out here. You are very nearly attacked by something when a mysterious stranger appears, fending off the creature and saving your life. The stranger is kind, offering you shelter for the night. You are wary, but you decide to trust him — praying to the gods that it's the right choice.
Today was a perfectly ordinary day picking mushrooms until you got too curious.
You've been in these woods hundreds of times. You know not to stray beyond the Outer Creek — the unexplored part of the forest, where dark necromancers and foul beasts are rumored to live. And so for the most part you stayed far away. The only times you'd venture slightly toward the creek are when you were following the fungi — which is how you found yourself much deeper in the forest than you'd planned to be today. But the trail of puffballs was too good to pass up. I'll only go for another half-mile, you told yourself. Then I'll turn back around.
But you got carried away. It wasn't until you were mere feet away from crossing over the Creek that you realized how far you'd gone. You were about to turn back when you spotted a glowing pair of eyes coming from the dense brush ahead. Startled, you freeze, but a fluffy brown house cat appears from the shadows. He sits down, staring at you with his intensely-green eyes.
"Well hello there, friend," you say softly to the sizeable but tame-looking creature. You approach him slowly, as not to startle him. "What are you doing all the way out here?"
"I could ask you the same," the wind whispers in your ear as it suddenly picks up. making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The voice is clear as day, but there's nobody else in sight.
"Who said that?" you question, looking around carefully.
"It's me," the voice whispers from where the cat was sitting, but when you whip your head back around to where the feline was sitting you find it empty.
"Come and find meeeee," you hear the voice upon the wind again.
"I don't think so," you remark, collecting your mushroom basket and turning right around to head back the way you came, except… You're not entirely sure which way that was now. You're pretty sure it's this way, the way you were headed, but it all looks the same at this point.
"It's this way, of course," the wind breezes by your ear, but something in your gut tells you it can't be trusted.
"Who are you?"you call out.
"Nobodyyyy…." you hear off in the distance behind you. You instinctually turn towards the voice, but now you've gone and got yourself even more turned around.
"It's this way, I promise," you hear from the same direction as before.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You can't…"
You scan your surroundings one last time. The way the voice is telling you to go is the most logical direction you should head — but you still have an uneasy feeling about it. With a sigh, you take off, hoping you've made the right choice.
You walk for nearly 20 minutes. The voice doesn't speak again, and everything seems to indicate you are going the right way, but you still can't seem to find the main trail. The already-sparse sunlight peeking through the canopy is starting to fade — it is soon going to be dark, and you are lost deep in the forest.
You don't think you've passed the Outer Creek, but with each hesitant footstep you become less and less certain of that. The forest grows dimmer and dimmer, and soon night is upon you. The trees you've known and loved since you were a child no longer seem friendly — they loom tall and ominous above you, shrouding the path ahead in endless shadows, obscuring any sense of direction you had left. Finally, with dread, you admit it: you are incredibly lost.
Soon, the howling begins. It's distant, nowhere near you, but it is wholly unfamiliar — eerie and hollow echoing cries that linger far too long, chilling you to the bone. With every nearby rustle of the brush you brace yourself, expecting some horrible unknown creature to jump out and ambush you at any moment.
It's just the wind, you tell yourself. If something were there it would've attacked you by now. But you cannot be certain — and you can't seem to shake the feeling that you are being followed.
Though you can hardly see, you have a grave feeling you are only going deeper into the unexplored regions. The foliage starts to turn alien — trees larger than you've ever seen before, ambling vines snaking up and around their trunks, as if suffocating them. Brambles in the dense brush keep reaching out as you pass, snagging your dress and forcing you to pause and untangle yourself. To make matters even more terrifying, you start to see strange wooden figures hanging from the trees — bundles of sticks tied together with string to form various shapes. You try not to think about how some of them look… humanoid, like little dolls almost.
Despite everything you trek onward. You swear the howling sounds nearer now. You're nearly about to cry when a low rumble from behind makes all the hair on the back of your neck stand up in a prickle of terror. The approaching footsteps that follow are faint, undetectable if you hadn't been paying attention — but the deep thump, thump, thump, thump resonates through your skull as your heart pounds fearfully in your ribcage. The only thing you have on you to defend yourself is the small foraging knife you use for collecting mushrooms; you grip its wooden handle tight, brandishing the stout blade — a pathetic weapon, but better than nothing… right?
You slowly turn, bracing yourself for whatever horror may jump out at you from any given tree, but you find nothing. Suddenly a grotesque snarl fills your left ear — as if in slow motion, you turn, finding an enormous pair of furious red eyes attached to a gargantuan shadowy figure lunging directly toward you. You throw your arms up, hiding behind them as you brace yourself for the thing to attack you, but the impact doesn't come. You hear it screech, a shrill and awful sound — daring to open your eyes you look up to see a cloaked figure, human-sized, driving a spear into the indiscernible beast. It immediately retreats, scuttling off horridly back into the trees. The cloaked figure starts to turn; you instinctively raise your meager knife — because if they could fend off whatever that thing was then surely they could kill you in a swift second too. But instead you are greeted by a soft face, kind dark eyes looking at you from beneath long straggly waves of black hair. The man sets the end of his long spear onto the ground, carrying it now as a staff.
"It's okay," your savior whispers. He reaches toward you; you instinctively tighten your grip on your knife, raising it in defense, but he gently grabs your wrist, lowering the blade for you.
"Come with me," he orders in a hushed tone. "We're safe for now but it could come back at any moment. Maybe even with a friend or two."
He tugs you along, dragging you hastily through the trees. You know you shouldn't trust a stranger — not out here, especially. But the man did just save your life, and you don't really have much of a choice right now anyway.
"What in the gods' names are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" the man asks as he leads you with purpose. You're unsure where he is taking you, but he is seemingly very familiar with this part of the forest.
"I didn't mean to be. I was picking mushrooms but I got a bit, uh… carried away," you answer, slightly embarrassed. "Next thing I knew I had accidentally crossed the Outer Creek and gotten myself very lost."
"I take it you're from the Southernlands, then."
"Do you mean the Heartlands?" you ask, confused.
"Oh, yes. I've heard that's what they're calling it now."
"What do you mean, 'now'?"
The man turns briefly to look at you, a curious look upon his face.
"I'll explain later," he shakes his head, pulling you along as he picks up speed. "We're almost there, but we must hurry."
"Almost where?"
"My home."
Sure enough, you soon arrive at a small clearing. A humble but cozy-looking cottage awaits you; the man pulls out a skeleton key and quickly unlocks the large wooden door, shuttling you inside.
Whatever you were expecting, the cottage's interior is far from it. It is a small, one-room home, almost cluttered with the amount of tools and trinkets laying upon every surface, but everything seems to belong right where it is. Intricate tapestries adorn the walls, illuminated by the flickering glow of the numerous lanterns hanging from the low ceiling or sat upon a shelf; the furniture all appears to be handcrafted from dark spruce wood, rustic-looking but sanded and polished to near-perfection. A large fireplace stands built into the left-hand wall, its flames wispy and dying but welcoming; past it in the corner is a tiny kitchen with a wood-burning stove and a simple water basin, pots and pants decorating the area as they hang from hooks on the ceiling, surrounded by bundles of fresh drying herbs strung upon thin lines of twine, barrels of fresh-looking fruits and jars of pickled vegetables sitting scattered upon all the tables and counters. On the other side of the cottage sits a large bed, lined with plush pillows and draped with thick woolen blankets; beyond the bed is a massive bookshelf, leather-bound books of all shapes and sizes crammed into every nook and cranny.
"Wow," you whisper as your eyes feast upon your incredible surroundings. "This is so lovely."
"Oh, thank you," the man replies as he locks the door behind him. He sets his staff against the wall and removes his long cloak, hanging it upon the coat rack. As he turns you get a clear look at him: he's much younger than you expected, around your age, and for all the rumors you've heard of the crooked and evil folk who supposedly live out here he looks so… normal.
"Who are you?" you ask as he saunters over to the fireplace, throwing another log upon the dwindling hearth. The flames rise as it catches, radiating warmth throughout the room. You whisk over and kneel before it, warming your cold hands in its heat.
"My name is Hao," he tells you as he fetches a blanket and drapes it around you. You're not that cold, but you welcome its comfort anyway. "And what may I call you?"
Your lips part as you're about to tell him your name, but some small voice in the back of your mind whispers to you: don't tell him.
"You can call me Rosie," you reply. It's not technically a lie — you haven't gone by the old childhood nickname in years, but you figure there's no harm in playing it safe.
"Well, Rosie — you can stay the night here. It's not safe to be out there in the dark. When the sun rises I will lead you back to the creek — you should be able to find your way home from there, yes?"
You nod. "Good," he responds, shuffling past you and into the kitchen. "May I interest you in some stew?"
"Yes, please," you eagerly reply, realizing just how hungry you are by now. A small pot hangs above the stove's flames; he removes the lid, steam filling the air as he dips a long wooden ladle inside, spooning some stew into a ceramic bowl. Its delicious smell hits you as he carries it back into the living room for you, making your stomach gurgle excitedly as he places the bowl into your hands.
"Careful, it's hot."
It is hot, but that doesn't stop you from digging right in. You scarf the whole thing down, graciously accepting seconds when Hao offers them.
"What's it like in the Heartlands?"
He had been silent the entire time you were eating, watching you curiously from the other end of the couch; you were so absorbed in eating that you hadn't even noticed.
"Have you never been?"you ask as you slurp the remaining broth directly from the bowl.
"Not for a very long time," he answers. He speaks casually, but you detect a certain somberness to his words. You want to ask more, but it seems it might be a sore subject, so you don't.
"Um, well, it's pretty nice, I guess," you start. "I run my father's bakery, so I don't have too much free time, but when I do I usually spend it foraging in the woods."
"Like today."
"Yes, exactly. The mushroom trail was particularly good today," you say with a satisfied grin.
"Do others join you?"
"Oh, um, well there's some other foragers in the village, but I prefer to be alone."
"Alone in the woods," he muses. "And you're not scared?"
"Of course not. I know every inch of these woods," you nod confidently. "Well, not these woods," you quickly correct yourself. "The Inner Creek forest, I mean. A lot of people talk, saying that I'm some kind of odd loner for spending all my time in there. But I find it peaceful — I feel very at home."
You're not sure why you're telling him all this, but he's a very an attentive listener. He watches you with interest, his kind eyes resting upon you warmly. He's a stranger, your brain reminds you. You can't trust him. Yet a strange sense of kinship lingers in the air.
"I get it," he nods. "I feel the same way."
You wonder if you should inquire as to what he's doing living all the way out here — it can't hurt to ask, right? But you deliberate for just a moment too long.
"It's getting late," Hao remarks as he glances out the window. "You should get some rest, the walk tomorrow will be quite long."
As much as your mind is racing right now, you are exhausted. The thought of sleeping alone in a stranger's house does make you a bit anxious, but you don't really have any other options.
"You can take my bed," he instructs, gesturing in its direction.
"Oh, no, I couldn't—"
"The linens are fresh. I'm not going to sleep much anyway," he informs you. "I tend to be the most productive in the middle of the night."
You're about to decline again, but what does it really matter anyway? You're going to be unconscious regardless, so safety is a moot point — you might as well be comfortable.
"Okay," you agree with a shrug. "If you say so."
The bed is surprisingly plush. You cozy yourself beneath the sheets, sleepiness quickly washing over you despite your nerves. Your eyes drift closed, and you lay there listening to Hao tinkering with something in the other corner of the cottage; the soft sounds lull you into a trance, and soon you are asleep.
You wake an unknown amount of hours later absolutely freezing.
You tug the blankets all the way up, tucking your chin beneath it as you try to warm yourself, but the cottage air is frigid. Glancing over to the fireplace, you see its embers dwindling, long forgotten by the man aross the room. The only light in the house is the dim glow of the single lit lantern upon Hao's desk where he sits; you can only see the back of his head from here, tilted down between hunched shoulders — but he appears to still be deeply immersed in whatever project he was working on when you fell asleep.
Shutting your eyes, you try your hardest to go back to sleep, but your incessant shivering is unignorable.
"Hao?" you eventually call out quietly into the room. The tinkering stops, his head lifting as he peers over his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"I'm cold," you murmur timidly. "Do you have another blanket?"
"Oh," he replies, swiftly rising to his feet. "Of course," he answers as he zips across the room. He retrieves a thick woolen blanket from a large chest and brings it to the bed, unfolding it and gently placing it over you. His hand brushes against your hair as he pulls the blanket up to your face, and you swear it lingers there for just a second too long.
"Thank you," you tell him sheepishly from your cocoon.
"No problem at all." He looks down at you for a moment, eyes tired and dulled, then turns to head back to his desk.
"You should sleep too," you blurt out before he can walk away. He turns back to face you, looking at you curiously.
"You needn't stay awake just because of me." You scoot toward the edge of the bed, making space for him to lay beside you. "I don't mind, really."
He seems to consider for a moment, but without a word he turns and shuffles across the room. Your heart sinks slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed at your perhaps too bold suggestion; but then you hear a soft puff of air, and the lantern upon his desk is extinguished. It's now dark, but you hear approaching footsteps. The blankets lift as he slips beneath the covers, laying himself as close to the edge of the bed as possible.
"You can get comfy," you tell him with a small giggle. "It's your bed after all."
"I am," he lies, resting his head stiffly upon the pillow.
"Alright," you concede. "Goodnight, then."
"Goodnight," he replies softly.
Hao lays there uncomfortably for the next fifteen or so minutes. You've flopped onto your side, your back to him, seemingly asleep — but that's not stopping his mind from wandering. Imagining how soft you'd be in his arms; imagining running his fingers through your hair; imagining your scent lingering upon his skin even after you've left…
Stop it, he tells himself sternly. This was a bad idea…
He's about to give up on sleep and head back to his desk in defeat when you roll over to face him.
"Can't sleep either?" you ask quietly. You gaze up at him — eyes seeming to glimmer even in the darkness. Hao feels a rush of warmth course through his body; he shifts awkwardly, trying to think of anything in the world to stop him from getting aroused right now, but you are a terrible distraction. It's no secret that he's lonely — he loves living alone in the woods, it's a peaceful way of life and he's never been bothered by the lack of companionship. But you looked so pretty out there, so mysterious and alluring that he had to know more — and now here you are in his bed, a beautiful and dangerous temptation laying right there in his reach.
He shakes his head. "No," he answers, looking back up to the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. But it doesn't stop his heart from racing at the mere thought of you. You watch him for a minute; you roll over a little futher, bringing your body just a bit closer into his.
"I'm still a little cold," you say, casually sliding your hand over the mattress toward him. He tries not to read into it, tries not to delude himself — but then he makes the mistake of glancing over at you again. The way you're looking at him right now is undoubtedly sensuous; he met you mere hours ago, and you are already driving him fucking crazy.
"I can get you another blanket—" he starts, moving to get up, but your hand reaches his beneath the covers. He freezes — the coolness of your palm stings tantalizingly against his warm skin as you rest it upon the back of his hand, sending sparks through his veins. He instinctively turns his hand, letting yours slip into his grasp.
"Tell me to stop," you whisper as you intertwine your fingers with his; Hao lets out a sharp exhale.
"Tell me not to do this." You squeeze his hand, holding it tightly. He resists for a moment, his hand limp in yours, and you begin to think you've gone too far — but you let out a soft gasp as he squeezes back, taking your cold hand in his warm one.
"I can't," he responds, turning his head to look at you.
"Why not?" you ask as you brush a few strands of dark hair out of his eyes, running your fingers delicately over his cheekbones. His round, widened eyes peer back at you — eager and desperate.
"I want you to do this," his voice nearly wavers. He reaches for your face, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand as he draws you into him — close enough to feel his breaths falling on your lips. "I want you."
Slowly he drags his lower lip over yours, a shaky exhale hot against the delicate skin making your arms tingle with goosebumps. You waste no time, pressing your lips into his as you grasp at his loose shirt and pull him into you; he begins to kiss you, strong with heated passion like nothing you've ever experienced. He savors you — long, slow kisses that elicit a fire in your belly as his hands wander over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you. His fingertips drift to the side of your thigh, tugging up at the fabric of your skirt, requesting its removal. Your lips part briefly, an excited grin coloring your face as you lift your hips, allowing him to pull your dress up and over your body. He drops it to the floor, eyes widened in amazement at the sight of you before him, in nothing but thin linen undergarments, the sheer fabric only barely obscuring the enticing curves beneath. You pull at his shirt, lifting up to reveal his bare chest and toned stomach as he lets you undress him. Your nipples poke through the thin fabric, erect with anticipation; he runs his fingertips over them, feeling the hardened buds, causing an immediate rush of blood to his cock. He can wait no longer — he pulls your top off of you, your soft breasts falling free.
"So beautiful," he whispers as he takes your breasts in his large hands. He rolls over on top of you, sliding down until his tongue greets your nipple, flicking against it gently.
"Ohhh," you sigh, letting him lap lazily at the perked and pebbled bud. A mess of moans quickly arise from your throat, your body squirming beneath his as he licks incessantly at the nipple. Eventually he takes it between his lips, suckling on it as he kneads at the flesh of your breasts.
"That feels… wow," you exhale, words eluding you in the face of such pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut, head falling back into the pillow as the tip of his tongue dances against the hardened nub. He suddenly switches to the other breast, nipping at the bud gently. You cry out, running your fingers through his long hair and grasping at his head; you hold him in place as he sucks away, your hips rocking as your legs spread open further. The heat of your clothed cunt against his bare stomach only worsens his erection; soon, he is painfully hard, trying not to move as not to cause any friction, but the movement of your hips makes that inevitable. He grinds into the bed, the pressure only making his cock throb against the mattress.
"Gods," he gasps as his mouth suddenly unlatches from your breast, lifting himself off the bed slightly, but you quickly grab at his sides and pull him up. His torso sinks into your body, the weight of his large but slender frame crushing you delightfully. You wrap your legs around his hips, grinding your core against his cock. It feels thick, heavy — and you're certain you've never wanted anything more in your life.
His forehead presses against yours, heaving breaths greeting your face as he locks onto your gaze with burning intensity.
"Let me love you," he whispers. "Please."
You stare longingly up into dark eyes, eyes that stare back at you with all the lust in the world. You've never felt so wanted, so utterly desired with pure carnal instinct; it makes your pussy ache deliciously. You nod, desperately eager — a lazy grin spreads across his face, staring down at you like he could devour you.
You reach for his pants, unfastening them and reaching within. Wrapping your palm around his warm cock, you let out a soft gasp — it's thick, and heavy, its weightiness causing an excited pang in your gut. You pull it out, your hand dwarfed by its size in your grasp. You give him a few strokes, squeezing gently as your hand glides up and down its length, making his eyes roll back into his head. The tip is wet, dripping with precum already.
"Your cock is so pretty," you whisper, eyes locked onto the massive shaft in your hand.
"Don't say things that," he grumbles, kissing you fervently. "I'll fall in love," he murmurs into your lips between kisses.
Soon, he cannot wait any longer. He sits up on his knees, reaching for your underwear and yanking them off of you. You lift your legs, allowing him to pull them up and over your feet, tossing them aside hastily. His hands slide to your inner thighs, spreading your legs, revealing your drenched and eager core. He says nothing, stunned into silence by how pretty you are, mouth agape and salivating at the sight of you.
Without warning he dives face-first into your pussy, making you cry out with pleasure. He laps up your juices with feverous need, savoring your incredible flavor on his tongue.
"Hao," you whine, stroking his hair again as he goes down on you. "Feels amazing…"
His mouth never departs your cunt for a single second, dragging his tongue through your slick folds and slipping it in and out of your hole before moving to your clit. He flicks quickly it over the stimulated bud, incessantly and hungrily, causing a white-hot sensation to burn in your stomach.
"Don't stop," you plead, and he doesn't. The burning sensation builds and builds, making you squirm and whimper as you reach orgasm. As you cum on his tongue he grips your thighs tightly, holding you still beneath him as your legs quiver and your back arches with ecstacy. Sure, you've had orgasms before — but they were nothing like this.
Your squirming begins to slow as you come down from your high. His grasp on your thighs loosens, but he still holds onto them as he lets you finish. Your chest heaves deeply as you attempt to catch your breath, but Hao needs to be inside you now. He crawls on top of you again, face hovering above yours as he takes his cock in his hand, guiding it to your entrance. He presses the head in; it slips in with ease, your soaked hole accepting his cock graciously.
"Ohhh, wow…" you mumble, clinging to his sides as he pushes his length into you. You whimper softly as he fills you up, your walls squeezing tightly around his thickness. His full length now inside you, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he gazes down at you longingly.
"Is this okay?" he asks, making sure you're comfortable.
"More than," you reply, staring up at him with eyes begging him to fuck you — a request he is more than pleased to fulfill. He thrusts into you, slowly dragging his cock out and pushing it back in, reaching depths you didn't know were possible. Your nails dig into his back as his pace begins to increase, gradually at first, but before long he is fully fucking you with uninhibited enthusiasm. Soft groans escape his lips, his eyelids fluttering as he strains to keep his gaze on you. But it feels too good — he dips his head into the crevice of your neck, swirling his tongue over the tender skin before planting his lips into your flesh and sucking on it eagerly while he fucks his cock into you. Nothing in the world has ever felt better than this.
"You feel like heaven," he moans into your neck. "So divine."
Unable to form words, you can only reply by whining pathetically — and it is music to his ears. You drag your nails down his back, scratching him and breaking skin in a way he knows will leave a mark. The thought turns him on impossibly more.
"I'm gonna cum, love," he growls into your ear. "Gonna fill you up and make you mine."
He kisses your cheek, dragging his lips across your face to find your mouth again. He kisses you and kisses you until he can hold off his climax not a moment longer. His lips break free from yours, groaning into your mouth as he releases inside you, cock pulsing as his hot cum spills into your cunt. You whine at the incredible sensation, wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him in as close as physically possible as he cums inside you.
"Fuck," he groans as he finishes, his body slowing and sinking into yours. He's practically squishing you, but you delight in the sensation. You relax your grasp on him, dragging your fingertips slowly up and down his marked back. With a kiss, he carefully pulls his cock out of you, watching as his cum drips out of you all over his bedsheets. He collects it on his fingers as it spills out of you, pushing as much of it as he can back into your pussy. You reach for his wrist, pulling it to your mouth and licking the cum off his hand.
"Gods, you're perfect," he praises as he lays down beside you again. He places slow kisses into the fresh bruises on the side of your neck, his large hand resting on your stomach as it rises and falls with your heavy breaths. You close your eyes, relishing in the sweetened intimacy, savoring the delicate attention as a deep sense of relaxation washes over you.
But before long, the noises begin; it starts with the howling wind, rushing angrily around the cottage exterior; then, the scratching sounds come, as if every tree surrounding the house is trying to break into the walls and snatch you away; but the worst is the growls and snarls — they're distant, and barely audible, but they chill you to the core.
The relaxed state you were in quickly dissipates, your muscles tensing anxiously. Hao notices, lifting his head to look at you.
"Relax, love," he mutters softly, taking your face in his hand and cradling it tenderly. "We're safe in here."
"How can you be so sure?" you ask timidly.
He smiles slighty. It's a knowing smile — but honest. "Trust me," he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I promise."
You nod silently. You do trust him, at least you think. You trusted him enough to let him fuck you, anyway.
He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. His body is warm — comforting in the same way as sitting beside the gently roaring fireplace. Sleepiness starts to overcome you, but the many questions swirling around your mind are keeping you awake.
"Earlier, you referred to the Heartlands as the Southernlands," you say quietly. "What did you mean by that?"
Hao's sleepy eyes perk open a bit. He gazes at you silently for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.
"How do you refer to this region of the forest?" he inquires.
"You mean, beyond the Outer Creek?" You think for a moment. "I suppose there's not a specific name for it. The townsfolk don't like to speak of it, really. The elders simply tell us it's forbidden."
"And what do you know of the Banishing?"
"The Banishing," you repeat. You had learned about it in history studies in school; you don't remember all the details, but you're familiar with the story.
"Well, I know that the Heartlands used to live in harmony with the Outer Creek folk," you begin. "But four hundred years ago, an evil witch who lived out here started practicing dark magic. The practice spread, and eventually the witch had corrupted everyone who lived beyond the Outer Creek. The rulers of the Heartlands feared it would spread — so they banished the Outer Creek residents, forbidding them from ever entering our region of the woods again."
Hao nods slowly. "I see."
"But… I've never heard of the Heartlands having the name of the 'Southernlands'," you add. "I still don't understand that part."
"That's because the history you know of is a lie."
"What?" you ask, giving him a strange look. "What do you mean?"
Hao sighs reluctantly, but he starts to explain.
"You said the Heartlands used to live in harmony with the Outer Creek folk," he repeats your words. "That itself is not a lie, but it's also not the full truth. You see, the Heartlands used to be called the Southernlands, and the Outer Creek region was called the Northernlands. The Northernlands have always been sparsely populated compared to the many towns of the Southernlands — those who lived out here long ago did indeed go to and from the Southernlands, mostly for trade. But your polished history neglects to mention perhaps the most critical part of this story: magic was everywhere. Sorcerers lived in the Northernlands as well as the Southernlands, and mystical beasts roamed freely — magic was as commonplace as your mushrooms after a storm. And there was no such thing known as 'dark magic' — people would seek help from the sorcerers just as they would a healer or a priest, they were trusted and integral members of both societies."
He pauses, letting you absorb his words. You have about a hundred questions, and you don't even know where to begin.
"So… there was no evil witch?" you finally utter.
"Not… quite. There was one sorcerer who was discovered to have given numerous women in the town potions to kill their husbands."
"Oh how awful," you remark, a look of disproval coloring your face.
"That is what most people thought of it, yes. But the sorcerer insisted it was only intended for men who abused their wives. Beat them, screamed at them, threatened them — these women were terrified, and no one else in town would do anything to protect them."
"Oh," you reply quietly.
"The sorcerer maintained that if the husbands weren't taken care of, the women would have been killed themselves," Hao continues. "That it was the only way."
"That still doesn't make murder okay."
Hao nods slowly, but he seems to be in disagreement. "The majority of the town shared that same sentiment. The Council immediately outlawed magic, inciting a witch hunt against anyone who disobeyed. All magical creatures were banished to the Northernlands, and — fearful for their lives — the remaining users of magic soon followed them. The irony is that the Council kept one sorcerer captive to do their biddings — so they could maintain the 'peace'." Hao scoffs slightly. "But it was entirely about control. They forced the sorcerer to cast a spell of protection around the Southernlands, a boundary along the Outer Creek which segregated the Northernlands entirely, so no other sorcerers or beasts could ever return."
"What happened to them?" you ask. "The Council and the sorcerer?"
"Eventually they got old and died. The sorcerer vanished, presumably fleeing to the Northernlands to rejoin the others — and the spell behind the barrier was lost. But by that point nearly 100 years had passed. The banished sorcerers and creatures continued to keep to themselves beyond the Outer Creek, never to return. Eventually the history was forgotten — the Southerlands had long since rebranded to the Heartlands, and those old enough to remember the Northernlands had all died by then. The tale lived on only in stories, but those stories became nothing more than distant myths."
You're exhausted, but your mind spins with questions and more questions. One in particular stands out to you, though.
"So why do you live out here?" you ask, a deep yawn overtaking you.
"Well now that's a long story," he chuckles back, clearly equally as tired as you. "But it's getting quite late — I'll tell you in the morning."
He leans in, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.
"Get some rest, darling."
You wake the next morning to an empty bed.
Your eyes slowly flutter open to unfamiliar scenery. You blink, looking around for a moment, before you remember where you are.
Hao's cottage looks rather different in the serene glow of the little sunlight that can reach through the thick canopy. Without the warm luminance of the many lanterns, the cottage has a colder feel to it — but not necessarily in a bad way. The clutter is more apparent in daylight, odds and ends stacked in every possible nook and cranny, giving it a strange and mysterious air that wasn't present before. Also not present is Hao — you scan your sleepy eyes across the small home, but it is still and silent and lifeless.
You wait a few minutes, remaining patiently beneath the covers. A few minutes pass, and you wait a few more — but he doesn't return. A bad feeling starts to arise in your gut. Where did he go? Did he abandon me? What if he never comes back??
Fear begins to flood your veins. You can sit around no longer — you quickly hop out of the bed, scurrying to get dressed and gather your belongings and leave before it's too late. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears as you rush toward the door; you grab the handle, swinging the heavy wooden door open — and come face to face with Hao.
You jump at the sight of him. He looks startled, and then concerned.
"Rosie? What's the matter?"
You freeze, staring up at him like a frightened deer.
"Are you alright?" He looks down at you, spotting your cloak on your body and your belongings in tow. "Are you leaving?"
"I— I thought you left," you stammer softly. "I got scared, I don't know…"
He lifts his arm, showing you the small basket resting over his wrist. In it are an assortment of herbs and a few handfuls of berries.
"I was just in the garden," he explains. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Here—" he says as he steps across the threshold. His body is now terribly close to yours, causing an anxious pang in your stomach. "Let me make us some tea and breakfast."
You quickly take a small step back, lest he lingers a moment too long. Not that you would mind it…
He shuts the door behind him as he walks to his kitchen. You stand there for a moment, still considering running for it, but you figure a bit of breakfast wouldn't hurt. You still have a long journey back, after all.
As you put your things back down, Hao puts a small pot of water on to boil and then returns to the herbs, sorting and pruning them before tossing them into the pot as it begins to bubble. He unwraps the cloth off of a loaf of bread, gently cutting it into thick slices.
"Baked it yesterday," he tells you over his shoulder. "It's quite fresh. Though might not be so impressive to a professional baker," he adds lightheartedly.
"I'm sure it's delicious," you smile as you head over to the table. He serves you the bread with freshly-churned butter and an array of delicious-looking jams, accompanied by this morning's pick of berries and the piping hot tea. The tea's aroma is inviting; you gently blow into your cup as you take a small sip, finding it tastes as lovely as it smells.
"I must thank you for your kindness," you tell him as you spread some blackberry jam across your slice of bread. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't scared off whatever that was last night. And you've been more than generous to me with… everything." Memories of your intimacy last night begin to flutter through your mind; you do your best to ignore them — a task easier said than done.
"Of course," he smiles at you softly. "I'm more than glad I could help."
You sip your tea in silence for a few minutes, musing in the silence about the tales he told you last night. It all seems too impossible — but what reason would he have to lie to you?
Hao seems to be able to read your thoughts. "I understand the stories I told you last night may be difficult to believe."
"I believe you," you tell him. It's mostly true, anyway. "It's just… so much to think about."
You let out a small yawn, your eyelids drooping slightly. The warmth of the tea is starting to make you sleepy again. Unsurprising, given how little you actually were able to rest last night.
"I don't understand why they kept this from us though," you comment.
"The truth can be difficult to swallow," Hao replies with a shrug. "Sometimes the lies feel safer."
You yawn again, bigger this time. Your eyes suddenly feel quite heavy — your cup still has some tea in it, but you return it to its saucer. Best not get too sleepy before you have to go.
"You haven't told me why you live out here, yet," you tell him. Your tired eyes lose focus for a moment; you blink a few times, but the image of Hao before you is still a bit blurry. You press your palm into your forehead as it begins to throb achingly.
"Are you alright?," Hao asks, staring at you with concern. "You don't look so well."
"Yeah," you mumble. "I'm fine, I just…" Your head aches as the room around you wobbles a bit, then begins to spin.
"Rosie?" Hao asks, rising from his seat and catching you just in time before you collapse.
Your ears ring loudly. Faintly and far in the distance, the last thing you hear is him asking "Rosie, can you hear me? Rosie!"
The room goes dark around you, and you are now unconscious.
You wake to the cottage dim and shadowy again. You try to sit up, but can't — your body feels stiff and leaden. A soft groan escapes you; you can't see clearly, but you detect sudden movement in the near distance — a figure rushing toward you.
"Rosie!" Hao's voice calls out as he kneels beside the bed. He holds your heavy head in his hands as your eyes slowly focus on his soft features. "You passed out hours ago, I was so worried."
"What time is it?" you mumble, trying to get out of the bed. "I have to go home—" But you sit up too fast; head spinning dizzily, you fall back into the mattress.
"You're in no condition to travel," he tells you, brows furrowed with worry. "Please, take it easy, I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"What happened?" you ask him, rubbing your temples to sooth your aching head.
"You collapsed at breakfast," he answers, rubbing your arm softly. "You've been unconsious since then." He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. "You feel feverish — you must rest."
You shift back into the pillows, laying down again. You cover your face as tears begin to well in your eyes, quietly starting to cry.
"Hey, hey," Hao softly soothes you, holding you gently in his hands. "I'm going to take care of you, I promise. You're going to be alright."
He crawls over you to lay beside you on the bed. He takes you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest. His heart beats softly in your ear — you find it calming. You sink into his grasp, letting him hold you as close to him as physically possible. Laying there for several minutes in silence, you calm down again. You feel safe here; as long as you are with Hao, nothing can ever happen to you.
Hao watches you intensely. Your beauty is intoxicating; he doesn't know how he can ever let you go.
You feel his gaze on you, but you don't mind one bit. You fiddle with the hem of his top, lifting it slightly to expose his stomach. You press your hand against the warm skin, gliding your palm up and into his shirt. He lets out a huff of laughter; you glance up at him, meeting his eyes that remained fixed on you.
"You really know how to drive me crazy," he mumbles, planting a kiss into your forehead. His hand drifts to your hip, rubbing you through your dress and not-so-subtly squeezing at the flesh of your ass.
"Sorry," you tell him with a smile. He leans in, kissing your lips this time.
"Don't be."
He gathers the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up above your hips to expose your core. His fingertips flirt with the hem of your underwear, brushing against the soft skin of your stomach.
"Is this okay—"
"Yes," you immediately answer, nodding excitedly. He smiles, slipping his hand beneath the fabric, the pads of his fingers dipping into your heat. You sigh, relaxing as he touches you, gently circling around your clit. His movements are slow, but you quickly become aroused; your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as you can't help but squirm against the bed. He pushes one finger into your hole, eliciting a small whine from your throat. He pulses it in and out slowly, but your hips begin to rock restlessly.
"More," you whisper, staring up at him with aching need. He slips a second finger in, pushing them in as deep as he can. As he fucks you he curls his fingertips, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body as he easily reaches your most sensitive spot.
"Oh my gods…"
"You're so pretty," Hao murmurs as he leans in to kiss you. His lips tug hungrily at yours as he fucks his fingers into you, his tongue eventually slipping into your mouth to taste you fully. Your moans drift into his mouth, turning him on immensely. He works in and out of your cunt, your juices coating his hand as you drip with arousal. He recalls the sweet flavor of your pussy from last night, and he simply has to taste you again. He pulls his fingers out and lifts them to his lips, shoving them in his mouth and sucking your juices off — delicious, but he's nowhere near satiated.
"You're incredible," he praises as he quickly takes his place between your legs, yanking your underwear off with urgent haste. Immediately his mouth is on you; he flattens his tongue, licking a thick stripe over your slit. You bunch your skirt up in your hands, making sure you can enjoy the view — and gods is it a sight to see. Hao's tongue dances around your folds with expertise, lapping up the incessant wetness dripping from your core.
"Never tasted anything better," he mumbles into your pussy.
With that he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as his fingers take their place inside you again. The pressure against your g-spot combined with the delicate suction upon your stimulated bud kindles a fire in your gut, overwhelming pleasure building and burning white-hot throughout you whole body.
"Hao," you whine, trying to tell him how good it feels, but your release quickly overtakes you. You cum on his face and fingers with an explosion of blissful moans, his name slipping out a few more times in a way that makes his cock throb.
You brush your fingers through his hair as he releases your clit. He carefully retrieves his fingers from inside you, licking the glistening wetness off his hand; he then returns to your cunt, dragging his tongue slowly as he wastes not a single drop of you.
"Kiss me," you mutter softly. He flicks his tongue against your hole for a few more seconds before rising, crawling up to you and pressing his lips into yours. His cock is hard, straining against the fabric of his pants and forming a heavy bulge. You reach for it as he kisses you, stroking his length slowly through the thick canvas, making him moan into your mouth.
"Please fuck me," you beg quietly against his lips.
"Of course, darling," he mumbles through another kiss.
You make quick work of removing his pants, freeing his stiff cock, running your thumb over its reddened, leaking tip. He does not bother to fully undress; in the blink of an eye he is rubbing the head over your pussy, wetting it and making you whimper at the stimulation to your still-throbbing clit.
"Need to feel you," you groan quietly, wriggling your hips as you try to lower yourself onto his cock.
"My baby's so needy," he hums, his dark eyes staring down at you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Without warning he slips it inside you, making you whine sharply, a pleasurable sensation of fullness overcoming you as he sinks his full length deep into your cunt.
"Never wanna leave this perfect pussy," he mutters into your ear, nipping at your earlobe gently as he begins to drag his cock back out, nearly all the way, then plunging into you again. You let out a loud moan, and he's certain he could cum from the sound alone. He pumps his cock in and out, trying his hardest to go slowly, but the sensation of your walls squeezing against him tightly is overwhelmingly divine.
"More," you plead, gazing up at him with watering eyes.
"You want more, baby?" he croons, fucking you faster now.
"Yes," you moan desperately.
"Gonna fill you up, darling," he promises as he grabs your thighs, lifting them up and over as he practically folds you in half. His cock can reach even deeper now, flooding your eyes with tears at the overwhelming pleasure.
"Tell me you want my cum," he orders sweetly.
"I want it," you whine.
"Tell me this pussy is all mine."
"It's yours, baby."
"Good girl," his voice rumbles, low and husky through his heavy breaths. He gut burns with desire, his release imminent. A few more powerful thrusts and his climax overtakes him, his body stilling except for his pulsing cock spilling his cum inside you and his chest that heaves with racing breaths.
"Fuck," he groans, cock throbbing with a final few bursts of hot white ropes. "Fuck, your pussy is so good."
He catches his breath, slowly pulling his cock out of you, careful not to let his cum spill onto your dress. He fetches a towel, quickly cleaning you off before climbing back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace.
You lay there in silence, thinking. You feel Hao's gaze locked onto you; lifting your head you greet him face-to-face, finding intensity in his eyes but also softness.
"What are you thinking?" you ask him softly, running your hand beneath his shirt to grasp at his waist. He stares at you curiously for a moment, but then he shakes his head.
"Nothing," he tells you, planting a kiss on your forehead. "You should really get some rest, we'll need to leave at the break of dawn to get you back safely."
You know he's right, but your heart still sinks.
"What if I don't?"
His head tilts, brow furrowing at you with confusion.
"What do you mean?" he asks softly.
"What if I want to stay here with you?"
His eyes darken, but he just shakes his head. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling seemingly deep in thought.
"It's too dangerous," he says quietly. "There's nothing here for you."
"There's you," you tell him quietly, brushing your fingertips against his hand. He seems to stiffen — an unexpectedly cold gesture.
"Don't say that to me," he grumbles, averting your gaze.
"Why not?" you ask, tracing light circles onto the back of his hand.
His jaw clenches for a moment.
"Because," he sighs. "I'd let you stay. Forever, if you asked."
Your palm drifts to his torso, resting your hand atop his stomach.
"Maybe that's what I want."
He shakes his head. "I can't let you do that, Rosie. I'm sorry."
You lay in silence for a minute or so. The terrible sounds from out in the woods have begun again, furious winds against the cottage's exterior that perturb you, animalistic howling that chills you to your core.
"My name isn't actually Rosie," you tell him quietly. He perks up slightly, but still doesn't look at you. "I have been called that before — it was an old childhoodhood nickname. I was known for stealing flowers from every garden in town, the neighbors did not appreciate it one bit," you smile. "But my name is really y/n."
"Why are you telling me this now?" he questions.
"You were a stranger deep in the dark woods, and I was scared. I wasn't sure if I could trust you before," you admit.
He rests his hand atop yours, rubbing your skin softly.
"And what makes you think you can trust me now?"
It is uttered barely more than a whipser, but your stomach drops.
"W-what?" you stammer, your heartbeat beginning to accelerate in your chest. He slips his hand into yours, fingers intertwining as you lay there, frozen with anxiety.
You think back to how you got here in the first place: the mysterious cat, the voice in the wind leading you astray. All of it suspicious, sure, but you hadn't really given it much thought before — you were a bit busy trying not to get killed, and then spending intimate time with Hao…
"It was you," you say to the man laying beside you, voice small and shaky as the realization sinks in. "You led me astray."
"Beautiful and smart," he says calmly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. He turns his head, greeting you with those dark eyes that pierce right into your soul. "Yes, it was me. I lured you in the wrong direction."
You stare back at him, frightened and enamored and feeling all sorts of conflicting emotions that shouldn't go together.
"Why?" you finally ask, the word whispered faintly as you remained trapped in his alluring gaze.
Hao looks at you as if deep in thought, staring back silently for a few moments.
"I'm not entirely sure," he admits at last. "You just were so beautiful out there — strolling through the woods lithely, foraging your mushrooms without a care in the world. I simply had to know more."
"But… how did you even do that? The voice in the wind, I mean. It called to me, almost as if by magic—"
You stop, horror washing over you as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly all clicking into place in your head. There was only one reason why anyone would be living this deep in the woods in the first place, and you cannot believe it didn't dawn on you sooner.
"You never told me why you live out here," you utter cautiously under your breath. Hao smiles softly, though it is a somber smile.
"I knew you would figure it out before long," he says, releasing your hand in favor of cradling your face in his palm. His touch is warm against your cool skin, yet you shiver. "I live here because I was banished those 400 years ago — all for the crime of seeking justice when no one else would."
Your eyes widen. You had already figured he was one of the magic-users of the old tales, but justice? That can only mean…
"You're the evil witch?!" you stammer in disbelief.
"Sorcerer, darling," he corrects. "We prefer the term sorcerer. As for evil… well, that's all a matter of perspective, isn't it?"
"So you're the one who poisoned all those people," you say, glowering back at him. "I'd say murder is pretty evil."
"I never harmed anyone who didn't deserve it," he says calmly, but you can tell a deep, honest anger is stewing within him. "Those people who received the unfortunate potions were worthless bastards, violent, abusive drunks who treated their wives and children like they were worthless — men that were truly the scum and filth of society."
He pauses, heavy breaths escaping him in his resentment. He stares past you now, his mind hundreds of years in the past.
"I ran the town's apothecary shop. People came to me for all sorts of reasons, seeking everything from common cold cures to tinctures that could calm their nerves. But soon I came to realize a disturbing trend: many women would come in bearing injuries, claiming them to be from household mishaps. But I saw the fear in their eyes — these were no accidents. I mended their wounds and sent them on their way, but I hated that there was nothing else I could do. One very late night a woman actually came to my home, banging on back door and sobbing inconsolably. She had the worst bruises I'd ever seen, accompanied by a broken rib and a wholly shattered spirit. Her husband had very nearly killed her, and she came to me in search of anything that could ease the pain — but I had seen enough. I gave her a small vial and told her to slip it into her husband's coffee; he died the very next day of heart failure. Nobody suspected a thing. Other women came started visiting me, looking for solutions to problems of their own. I was discrete, treading with caution as not to draw attention to myself. Nobody could prove a damn thing, but the town council had always had it out for me. One day a councilman was bucked off his horse and trampled to death; I had nothing to do with that, but they blamed me anyway. Said I placed a curse on him — trust me, if I had thought of that I would've done it sooner." His jaw clenches, tensed by the sour memories. "Never liked him anyway."
Your head spins as you process Hao's words. He admits he killed all those people, and you fucking slept with him. The thought makes your stomach curdle. But if what he says is true, you're not sure if you can really blame him.
"So, they banished you."
"They gave me one of two options: immediate banishment, or being hung at the gallows." He lets out a single huff of a laugh. "Some options, really. Anyone else who was known to have ever so much as attempted to conjur a spell was banished alongside me. Many were angry with me, while others sympathized. But regardless, we all set out for the deep woods of the Northernlands. A new village was formed, but I stayed out here, far from the others. Figured it was for the best that I kept to myself from then on. They went on with their lives, but eventually most of them grew old and died."
"But not you," you say quietly.
"But not me."
"So, you're immortal then."
He shakes his head. "Not quite. But I certainly have a much longer lifespan than the others. As far as I know, there may be a few still out there, but we all keep to ourselves now."
"But, how??"
Hao turns to you, a sly grin appearing on his face.
"Magic, my love."
You lay in silence together for a few minutes. Hao still holds your hand, and for reasons you can't explain, you let him.
"I have one more question," you eventually speak. "Did you drug me this morning?"
Hao is silent, but that's enough of an answer for you.
Eventually, you drift off to sleep. Hao doesn't sleep a wink.
You wake at the brink of dawn at Hao shaking you gently.
"Y/n, wake up."
"Hmm?" you question, popping one eye barely-open.
"You have to leave."
You yawn, not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed. "Right now?"
"Yes, right away."
He pulls the covers off, the coldness of the cottage hitting you abruptly. Reluctantly you allow him to help you up; he hurriedly fetches your boots and cloak.
"Why the rush?" you inquire as you lace up your shoes. Rising to your feet again, he wraps your cloak around you, unanswering. He walks you to the door, handing you your basket of puffballs.
"Hao—" you start, but he shakes his head, opening the door escorting you out.
"Go," he speaks quietly, staring solemnly down at the ground. "Before I try and stop you."
"How will I—"
"You'll know the way," he cuts you off. "Just follow your instincts."
He starts to shut the door, but you reach up and stop it before it closes.
"How can I ever find you again?"
He looks up, gazing back at you through the slim crack in the doorway.
"You shan't," he answers.
"Well I'm going to," you reply, refusing to accept that you will never see him again. He smiles sadly, but says nothing else. The door shuts, and you are once again alone in the woods.
You try not to cry as you start off through the trees again. You don't really know where you're going, and the forest's canopy is too dense for you to tell from where the sun is rising; but through the softly filtered dawn light, you set off in the direction that feels the most like south.
You walk for ten minutes or so in nearly complete silence. There is no breeze, no birds singing; no other signs of life to be seen.
Probably for the better, you think to yourself, remembering the fright you felt two nights ago as you were stalked by the mysterious beasts. But just as the thought passes through your mind, your ears tingle at the rustling coming from the nearby brush. You freeze, unsure if you should be still or simply run for it, but the creeping fear rising in your gut has your feet seemingly glued to the forest floor. You stare at the bush; whatever is in there seems small, but that doesn't necessarily quell your anxiety. Suddenly a pair of glowing eyes appears through the leaves, followed by a small furry creature pouncing out before you. You jump, but recognize the soft brown fur as your feline friend from before.
"Hey there," you say to the familiar animal, leaning down to pet it. "You almost scared me, cat."
The cat rubs against your legs, circling you a few times before heading off in a slightly different direction than you were headed. You watch it walk away, but after a few meters it stops, turning back around to stare at you. The cat makes no sound, but its eyes gaze at you intensely, as if saying follow me.
And so you follow after the cat through the woods. You walk and walk, eventually starting to wonder if it were a mistake to blindly follow after an animal, but soon the familiar sound of gently-flowing water pricks against your ears. Sure enough, a few moments later the Outer Creek comes into sight. You rush towards it, grinning ecstatically as your home forest comes into view. The cat stops before creek, sitting next to a sequence of large rocks you can easily use to hop across the water.
"Thank you," you say to the creature, kneeling down to pet it. It purrs gently, then with a swoosh of its tail knocks your basket out of your hand.
"Hey! You troublemaker," you say to the cat as you scramble to grab your mushrooms before they fall into the creek, but it's already prancing off. As you return the puffballs to the basket, a brief glimmer of something shiny at the bottom catches your eye. You reach in, hand closing around something small and metallic; as you pull it out you realize that it is a compass. It looks antique, with ornate designs etched into its polished gold exterior, but something seems slightly off about it. You rise to your feet again, turning in a circle and watching the needle swivel in a direction that is not north; instead, it points back into the forest — pointing in the direction you just came from.
Standing there at the edge of the brush is the cat. It watches you with a familiar gaze, staring at you knowingly. You grin softly, tucking the compass into your coat pocket for safekeeping. The cat watches as you hop across the stones in the river, making it safely to the otherside — home at last.
You look back at the cat one final time. It watches you for a few more moments, as if saying goodbye, then turns, disappearing into the dense foliage once again.
📸 pairing: grad student bf!minghao x fem!gf!reader
📸 genre: mild mild angst, fluff, suggestive
📸 summary: your boyfriend learns no one knows he's dating you and feels guilty about it.
📸 a/n: AHHHHHH I've made my return with this sh*te story i wrote almost two months ago. I had a dream about this and it could've honestly been more smutty but as I've shared before, I'm starting to stray away from writing super detailed smut so ig you can just use your imagination LOL! I hope u enjoy! my minghao fics tend to not get lots of love but for my minghao luvrs out there, I hope u enjoy! fun fact: minghao was the first member to catch my eye like truly truly when i first got into svt so he is very special to me.
thank u to @/cafekitsune for the dividers!!
Minghao straightens the baseball cap on his head, watching Joshua and Mingyu laugh at their dear friend Soonyoung. This house party started two hours ago, and Soonyoung is deep in the realms of drunkenness. He’s falling prey to Jun’s horrible magic tricks, eyes wide and shiny, mouth agape, clearly confused about how Jun made a card appear behind his ear.
“Hey Hao,” a voice flutters in his ear, interrupting the scene in front of him. Minghao turns around and sees Insong, one of the girls from his friend group. She’s very pretty with long legs and smooth, silky hair that she always wears down. He hasn’t known her for very long, since she and her girlfriends only joined the master’s program he’s in this year.
Lately, the two of them have been conversing more as she seeks his expertise in the classes he took the year before. He finds that she’s been texting him constantly, asking for his opinions on a fabric she’s choosing for her latest projects.
Minghao isn’t a moron and he’s certainly not blind. He knows Insong is into him, but since she hasn’t explicitly made any moves on him, he’s not doing anything about it. He keeps his answers short, refraining from answering her when he’s in bed right next to you.
His girlfriend of three years.
There is no one on planet Earth whom Minghao loves more than you. You’re his shining star, and he’s merely a planet, orbiting around you. His perfect match, his missing piece. The day he met you, he knew you were the one. There was something about the way you held yourself, bold and beautiful, that he knew he needed to be with you.
Turns out the universe agreed. You both had so much in common- your desire to experiment in fashion, adding chains, mixed metals, furs, diamonds to what was once a simple piece. Your confidence entranced him; how you walked to class in unique outfits, with different hair colors, styles, and cuts.
It took just one date for you to feel the same way.
Now he has endless access to you. Your lips, your body, your mind, but most importantly, your heart.
Insong places a hand on his shoulder, shooting Minghao a dimpled smile. Eyes peering down at her, he notes the half-empty glass in her other hand.
“Hao, I don’t know how to say this, so I figured I should just tell you. I’m,” she pauses to look into his eyes. “I’m interested in you. Like, interested interested. You’re so hard to read, but I can’t wait any longer. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date?” She bats her eyelashes, moving closer so that their chests are an inch apart. One more step and they’d be chest to chest.
Minghao places his hand on top of Insong’s and softly lifts it away. “Insong, I’m very flattered. But, I’m not single.”
Insong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as she opens and closes her mouth, clearly in shock.
“Oh, oh my gosh. Oh, I’m so sorry, Minghao. I just- I thought you were single. I, I just assumed you were single because you never show any girlfriend on Instagram. I should’ve never assumed, I should’ve asked the others,” Insong is blabbering now, and Minghao interrupts her with a soft hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about this. I promise this won’t change anything about our friendship,” he softly smiles, looking directly into her eyes.
Insong flushes, still clearly embarrassed about her incorrect assumption. “Really?” she asks meekly. “Yeah, you’re fine. Here I’ll grab you another drink.” Minghao reaches behind him to hand her a cold can of beer.
Insong meekly runs away after thanking him for the drink, not without throwing out a few more apologies.
Now alone, Minghao frowns. Did he really never post you on his Instagram? Minghao wasn’t one to share so much of his personal life on there, but if he could share selfies or mirror pics of himself, surely he had to have shared a pic of you. Right?
His Instagram profile boasts one photo, a picture of himself at an art museum in graffiti-covered jeans that you gave him on his 24th birthday. He goes through the archive of his stories and finds it full of pictures of himself that you took, or pictures of his friends, or concerts, or parties. Not one clear, direct photo of you. His heart is pounding in his chest. There is no proof you exist in his life. The three years of love you’ve given him aren’t displayed on the platform that represents who he is to the people from all around his life.
Desperate, Minghao approaches Joshua. “You know I have a girlfriend, right?” Confusion flashes across Joshua’s face.
“What? No, you don’t.” Minghao’s face must be full of horror because Joshua pauses to think back to Minghao’s romantic history.
“Oh, wait. Are you still with Y/N? I never knew if you guys were actually together?”
“We’ve been together for three years now,” Minghao says flatly. Joshua’s eyes widen. He drags Mingyu into the conversation. All Minghao hears is white noise as Mingyu also confesses he had no idea Minghao had been with you all this time.
He’s spiraling.
There was the time you went to one of these stupid parties with him, yet you spent the whole night apart with different friend groups. He never kisses you in public, always hating public displays of affection. He prefers to show you just how much he loves you in private, sensually pressing his lips against yours, making love to you over and over.
There is no doubt that he shows you just how much he loves you. But he doesn’t show the world.
Setting his drink down on the closest table, Minghao quickly waves his friends off, itching to get back home to be with you.
“You’re back early,” you say with a big stretch, clearly surprised that your boyfriend is back from a party before midnight.
“Hey,” he greets you softly, immediately making a beeline towards your curled-up figure on the couch. You’re in a tiny black tank top, making it easier for him to touch every surface of your warm skin. After three years together, there is nothing your boyfriend can hide from you.
“What’s wrong, babe?” you ask, playing with the two silver hoops on his left ear.
“You remember Insong?”
“Yeah, the new grad student, right?”
“Well, she asked me out, but I told her I wasn’t single. And she said she didn’t know because I’ve never posted you on my Instagram,” he says, finally looking into your eyes to gauge your thoughts.
“So you think I’m upset that you don’t post me on your Instagram?” Minghao nods, tightening his hold on your arms.
You break into a beautiful smile.
“My love, I don’t care about that. I love you, and you love me. Who cares?”
“But I do!” Minghao suddenly exclaims. “I care that no one knows I’ve been with you for three years, and there’s no proof. We go on so many dates and we take so many pictures, yet I never post any of them. I don’t share how much I love you. It feels like I’m hiding you or embarrassed by you, which I’m not. I feel like I’ve fucked up,” he says slumping back into the couch.
Minghao grabs your arm and pulls you into his chest.
“I love you, infinitely. I’m sorry I don’t say it louder,” he whispers in your ear. To seal the deal, he holds your chin between his thumb and index finger, staring deep into your eyes, lips ghosting yours. “I love you,” he says, sinking his tongue into your mouth. “I’m sorry.” Lips brush against your jaw, a big, strong hand wraps around the base of your throat.
Arms encircle your waist, a cheek is pressed against your shoulder, a face buried in your neck.
“You’re it for me,” he says softly, voice muffled.
You run your fingers through his long hair. Minghao loves experimenting with different hair colors. You’ve been with him when his hair was bleached blond in the fall, silver in the winter, caramel brown in the spring, red in the summer. Five more hair colors since then, and it’s now in its natural state. You’ve loved Minghao throughout all his hair phases, but you’ll always remember the Minghao you fell in love with three winters ago, when it was pitch black, just like how it is now.
“Babe, you’re it for me too,” you reply back with a big, beautiful smile.
Minghao is looking at you with lidded eyes, and when he shrugs your tank top sleeve down your shoulder, he’s determined to show you just how much he loves you.
*xuminghao_o just posted a story
Eyebrow raised, you click on the story.
It’s the mirror picture you took earlier today. Minghao’s chest was pressed against your back with his arms wrapped around your stomach. A kiss pressed to your cheek and a huge smile on your face. Much like the smile you were sporting right now.
You’ve never been one to care what your boyfriend does or doesn’t post on his Instagram. But this picture on his story is evidence of your relationship. Evidence that he loves you enough to share you with everyone who follows him.
syn. when you receive a photo of your boyfriend from his best friend.
𝒾. MA CHÉRIE──ot13 x gn!reader, suggestive (?), pet name (mingyu), not shipping joshua and jeonghan, crack & fluff smau ⟢ cœur
美麗 ⦂ this week, has been the CRAZIEST WEEK so far. i cried seeing edits of howoo, watched demon slayer (100/10) and cried every three mins, take a shot by hoshi, members sending howoo to military, OT13 FRICKING CONCERT AHHHHHH!!!
prompt / request — "when’s the last time you ate something?"
pairing — reader + boyfriend!joshua
word count — 467
genre — fluff
joshua damn near barged into your apartment, startling the hell out of you. “you know for a gentleman, that entrance wasn’t very gentle,” you tell him, shutting your laptop.
“you,” he points a finger at you and you raise an eyebrow. “hello to you too,” you say. “when’s the last time you ate?” he asks.
“uh, i had lunch earlier,” you lie, only realizing now that you had skipped a meal. “liar!” joshua exclaims.
“what? have you been stalking me or something?” you raise an eyebrow at him. “no, I’m not that crazy,” he rolls his eyes.
“but you always post an instagram story of your food whenever you eat. you haven’t posted anything today,” he accuses.
“for someone who’s so chronically offline, you’re very caught up with my social media,” you say. “this isn’t about me! you haven’t eaten!” he says like it’s the worst thing you could ever do.
“babe, relax. i just got caught up with my work. besides, I’m not hungry,” you shrug and he just steps over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the kitchen.
“nope. we are going to have a nice, healthy meal together. so sit your pretty ass there and let me cook for you.” joshua says, pulling out the stool for you to take a seat at the counter while he put an apron on.
he goes through your fridge and cupboards, looking for ingredients to whip up something quick.
his cooking was going well… until it wasn’t. he tried making you kimchi fried rice and it started off great until he started substituting ingredients that you didn’t have.
“i think it’s a bit burnt, babe,” you say, peering into the pan. “and i think you might’ve also ruined my pan,” you point out when the rice seemed stuck to it.
“I’ll buy you a new pan– actually, I’ll buy you a whole new set of pots and pans, but right now, I’m taking you out for dinner,” he grins, placing the pan into your sink and tossing the apron onto the counter.
“wait the mess–” you start as he leads you out. “I’ll clean after we get some food,” joshua wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of your apartment.
“just not fried rice,” you say and he sighs. “you’re never letting me live this down are you?” he asks and you just laugh.
“hey shua?” you start as he opens his passenger door for you to get in. “yes honey?” he hums, leaning down to meet your eyes as you got into the car.
“thank you for always making sure i remember my meals,” you say and he smiles warmly, kissing you softly. “of course, i love you,” he starts.
“enough to break my chronically offlineness to stalk your instagram stories.”
prompt / request — minghao finds your old fan account, and finds out that it wasn’t for him
pairing — fan!reader + boyfriend!minghao
word count — 923
genre — fluff
when you and minghao first started dating, you’d mentioned that you had a fan account before meeting him. you’d asked him if he wanted to see it but he declined and it never really came up again.
until today.
you’re just on your couch, peacefully reading your book when your usually calm boyfriend barges into the apartment.
“babe, we need to talk,” minghao states and you sit up, thinking it was a serious conversation.
“is everything okay?” you ask, seeing the serious look on his face. “no! nothing is okay! how could you!” minghao exclaims and now you’re really worried, trying to figure out what you’d done.
“what exactly did i do…” you trail off, not able to think of anything you’d done wrong recently. unless he was mad that you didn’t put the laundry away immediately or make the bed as neatly this morning. you knew your boyfriend liked everything to be neat and tidy but surely he couldn’t be this mad about that.
“i was just peacefully scrolling on my instagram explore page today when a certain fan account popped up,” minghao starts to explain, pacing the room a little.
“they posted a nice photo spread of my photo cards with a pretty tea set so i decided to stalk their page–”
“you stalk your fan’s accounts?” you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. “i like to see my fan’s creativity. that’s not the point! anyways, i realize that this entire account is pretty much 90% dedicated to hoshi,” minghao says.
“and what’s worse is that i continued scrolling through it to find a photo of you! my girlfriend!” he exclaims.
“wait, this is why you’re upset? because you found my old fan account? babe, i told you about this when we started dating and i even asked if you wanted to see it,” you remind him.
“I’m not upset about the account. I’m upset that it’s dedicated to kwon soonyoung!” your boyfriend clarifies and you can’t help but be amused.
“seriously? it’s not that big a deal, babe. i has that account before we started dating– hell, before we even met,” you shrug, picking your book back up.
“okay but why hoshi?” he practically whines. “he was my bias back then–”
“he was your what?!” minghao gasps. “you biased hoshi? kwon soonyoung? hoshi?” he just stares at you.
“jealous?” you tease. “you biased him? your bias is a furry!” minghao gapes at you. “why did you even have so many photo cards of his,” he asks.
“okay it wasn’t my fault i always ended up pulling his photo cards in albums,” you shrug. “you should’ve sold them. and bought mine instead,” minghao states, his expression dead serious.
“aren’t you the one who tells your fans not to buy photo cards?” you give him a look. “this is different! you’re my girlfriend and you’re collecting a furry’s photo cards,” he argues.
“in my defense, i wasn’t your girlfriend when i was collecting him. besides, it’s not like hoshi’s the only one i posted on that account! I posted spreads for pretty much everyone, including you! it was just mostly hoshi and jeonghan because they were my biases,” you point out.
“oh great, so you biased the guy who thinks he’s a tiger and the one who has a pet rock,” he says dryly.
“i might’ve biased them but you’re the one I’m in love with now,” you assure him, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
“so… where is your photo card binder?” he questions after pulling away and you raise an eyebrow at him. “you are not burning my collection,” you warn.
“i wasn’t going to burn it. i was going to sell it. and then use that money to buy you photo cards of me,” he corrects.
“it’s okay babe, i don’t need a photo card of you when i have the real thing,” you tell him, kissing him again before you focus back on your book.
you think minghao lets it go after that but you’re proven wrong a few weeks later when they have their comeback.
he comes home with a gift bag for you, making you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t i be the one giving you a gift to celebrate your comeback, not the other way around?” you ask but happily accept the gift.
he watches as you pulled out every album version. you don’t realize that the plastic seal had been broken on all of them as you open it.
you open the first album, checking your photo card pulls as your boyfriend watched with a smirk on his face.
“oh my god, all three hao’s? i don’t think I’ve ever pulled only one member before,” you say, setting down the three different photo cards of your boyfriend.
it wasn’t until you opened the carat version that you realized your boyfriend had done something.
“seriously?” you give him a look when you flip the photo cards to reveal, once again, all of his. plus the carat binder was also his.
“i guess you’ve lost your hoshi luck, honey. you got lucky pulling all of mine,” hao says innocently.
he watches as you pick up your phone, expecting you to take a photo of your pulls but instead he sees you tapping on it, most likely texting someone.
“who are you texting?” he asks and you look up at him. “hoshi. to ask for his photo cards,” you say, dead serious.
“hey! i posed cutely for all of my photo cards just for you and you still want his?”
you think minghao is already asleep by the time you lay down beside him, body finally relaxed after such a long, hectic day.
your hair is a bit damp from how hot the shower was, but you don't mind - and you know that neither does minghao. in fact, as you make yourself comfortable on the bed, you feel one of his arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you closer to his chest.
"you changed your lotion."
it isn't a question, but it's not a full statement either; it's as if minghao has commented on something in his sleepy state. you even doubt if you have actually heard him, but then he lays his lips on the back of your neck, nostrils breathing in your scent.
you did in fact change your lotion to a new one.
"you like it?", you ask him, a soft smile on your lips.
minghao only hums, telling you he did. you think you hear him mumble something like 'it's good', but right after you hear his soft snores in your ear, and you know he's back in dreamland again.
• genre/warnings: non idol au, major angst, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, mom's friend's son trope (idk what to call it ¿), minor age gap (jeonghan is two years older than reader) one sided love, slowburn, lots of crying, kissing, skinship, use of petnames, mild suggestive themes, mentions of being sick, minor slut shaming, some scenes inspired by first frost and one dialogue inspired by yjhd (sorry) jeonghan is a heartbreaker (but also a healer bcs i said so) uhm yeah that's it
• summary: falling in love at eighteen was never in your bucket list, but when your mom's childhood friend lands in your country with her son, all it takes is two months for you to feel emotions that excite you before scarring you.
• wc: 11k
read you wish here
author's note: oh my beloved i wish is finally here! i spent nearly a year writing this, and big big biiiig love to @kissbyoon without whom i totally would've dumped this. this fic is especially close to my heart because well it's inspired by my own experience at first love, except i gave these babies the happy ending i never got :) so i hope all of you who read this love it as much as i do!!! 🤍
One flight.
Two months.
And a few words.
That's all it took for your world to fall apart six years ago. For your heart to sink into an endless blackhole. For Yoon Jeonghan to make you fall brutally in love with him, then leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere.
You had not seen the face of an airport in the last five years, yet on one cold October night, you stood before the arrivals gate, your gaze fixed on the large screen displaying the status of incoming flights.
San Francisco → Seoul (Landed 09:45)
Seungkwan buzzed in excitement beside you, jumping every other second. He had expressed his impatience a dozen times since you reached, and you felt bad that you couldn't reciprocate his enthusiasm. You were trying, every second, to not drown into your anxiety.
Air seemed to not fully reach your lungs when your eyes spotted him many meters away, pushing the trolley of his luggage past the arrival gate.
A shaky breath left your mouth, and your nails dug in your palms as his warm eyes found yours from afar. Then he smiled — the soft, knowing smile that made you forget everything all those years ago. The smile that still made him feel like the only person in a sea of people.
In that moment, you decided that you were not ready for Jeonghan’s presence in your life again.
***
Six years ago
Summer
The night felt endless. You tossed and turned, unable to find sleep, all thanks to your late night studying and a messed-up sleep schedule. At least tomorrow was Sunday, and you had a chance to sleep in.
Just as sleep finally started to claim you, your bedroom door flew open. Your mom's loud voice cut through the quiet. "Y/N, wake up! The flight has landed!"
You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your mom tugged at your blanket. You wanted to shout, maybe even cry, but you held back. Slowly, you opened your eyes, immediately squinting at the bright light.
"It's one in the morning, Mom. What are you talking about?" You asked, trying not to sound annoyed but failing.
Your mom's eyes widened dramatically. "Hyesuk's flight! Didn't you remember we were going to pick her up?"
Your brain finally caught up, reminding you of what you had completely forgotten. It didn't make you any less frustrated. You loved Aunt Hyesuk, but she would understand if you didn't come because you weren't feeling well.
"Mom," you sat up slowly, rubbing your eye. "Can't you go alone? Take Kwannie. I don't feel good."
A light smack landed on your back, and your mom's voice rose, making your head pound more. "Is that how much you love your aunt?! She kept asking for you, and you're making excuses!"
You winced, trying your best to stay calm. You wanted to scream and cry.
"Seungkwan is ready! Get up, we're waiting."
"Mom!" You tried to keep your voice down, but it rose anyway. "My head hurts, and I haven't slept enough! I'll see her when she comes home!"
Silence fell. Your mom looked at you quietly before turning off the light. "Fine. Do what you want."
You groaned in frustration as your door clicked shut. Your eyes burned, and your head spun, but you knew sleep wouldn't touch you anymore.
After staring into the darkness for a while, you decided you could handle a few hours of headache for your mom and her best friend. Ten minutes later, you were in the car, wearing a simple white sweater over black sweatpants. You hadn't even bothered to brush your hair. You probably looked terrible, but no one seemed to care at this hour.
Except for your annoying little brother.
"You could have tried to look a little nice," he whispered in your ear. You glared at him, again trying not to yell, because if you two started fighting, your mom would likely kick you both out.
"How old is her daughter?" he asked again, nudging you. You sighed, rubbing your aching head, keeping your voice low. "She's your age, but please don't fall in love with her, Kwan. You're both kids."
"Seventeen is not a kid."
"Pretty much is."
"You talk like you're twenty-eight. You're only a year older. Don't act so old."
You chose to ignore him because his voice had gotten louder and definitely reached your mom's ears. You didn't want to start a fight and make her angry. All you wanted was to meet Aunt Hyesuk, bring her home, and go back to sleep.
Your headache got worse when you reached the airport. At the arrivals area, many of your mom's friends were waiting with their kids for Aunt Hyesuk. You hadn't expected such a big gathering, but it made sense since all the childhood friends were there to welcome their only friend returning from overseas after twelve years.
Aunt Hyesuk had moved to the US after getting married and had only visited twice in all those years. Once before you were born and once when you were six. You vaguely remembered playing with her kids, but as you grew up, you had secretly started to dislike them. There were many rumors about her son — that he was supposedly rebellious, left home young because of a girl, was very proud, and definitely hated Korea.
You didn't care much about him or his sister. You just wanted to meet your sweet Aunt Hyesuk and get it over with. It was a little annoying that her kids would obviously be staying at your place with her during their vacation, but you had accepted it.
You really didn't like the crowd of people because a lot of noise was the last thing you wanted to hear. Seungkwan kept bothering you with questions, and your mom made you greet many of her judgmental friends.
It was chaotic when Aunt Hyesuk finally arrived, but it also made you a little teary-eyed. Your mom started crying, and Aunt Hyesuk had tears in her eyes too. The whole group of friends was meeting her after so many years, so it was bound to be emotional.
You hugged Aunt Hyesuk, and she commented on how much you had grown. You told her how much you missed her and that she should have called more often. You also met Soobin, her daughter, who looked a little unfriendly because she quickly looked away from you. You didn't notice her son until Seungkwan whispered in your ear, "I heard he wasn't good looking, but wow he's so handsome."
That's when your eyes went to the guy standing a few feet away, leaning against his luggage as he chatted with your mom with a kind smile. Yoon Jeonghan.
He wore a simple black t-shirt, and the watch on his wrist looked too expensive to be ordinary.
He seemed harmless and rather nice. All the things you had heard about him felt like lies, and your heart might have fluttered a little, but you didn't pay attention to the feeling.
You didn't care about this guy. Not in the slightest.
All you cared about was your precious sleep that had been stolen from your tired eyes. But your mom had other plans. An hour later, you were all sitting in your mom's friend's restaurant, enjoying late-night drinks and snacks.
How Aunt Hyesuk and her children didn't have jet lag was beyond you, and you couldn't understand how energetic everyone was at this hour. You were also starting to get a little annoyed that this guy hadn't greeted you or even looked your way.
Sure, he was surrounded by all the women – even the young girls who were obviously flirting – but he could have at least been polite enough to say hello. You were dealing with this terrible headache for him and his welcome. It only made sense that he acknowledged you.
The women properly started introducing everyone to him so he could remember names since it was his first time back after growing up. You sat back, hoping your turn would come and the rude jerk would finally greet you.
But it didn't happen. Before you could be introduced, something else caught everyone's attention, and they all forgot about introductions.
Well, you weren't going to let yourself get upset. You already felt awful, and a burning sensation graced your chest. You tried your best to ignore it until you got home.
Aunt Hyesuk didn't come home with you, saying she had booked a hotel and they would stay there. Your mom let her go for the night, but you were sure they would be at your house within a few days.
It was around six in the morning when you finally collapsed into bed. Your stomach rumbled with hunger, but you didn't have the energy to eat. The burning in your chest felt stronger in the quiet now, but you closed your eyes, trying to ignore it.
Your phone buzzed, and you realized you hadn't brought it with you. Unlocking it to check notifications, you saw a message from your friend about your favorite celebrity couple breaking up.
The news was recent, only published a few hours ago. It may have seemed silly, but you couldn't stop the tears that instantly welled up in your eyes. All the emotions you had been holding back all night came crashing down, and you couldn't help but sob into your pillow.
***
"Y/N!" Your head shot up from your textbook at Seungkwan's voice as he walked into your room without knocking. "Get ready, we're going to hang out with everyone."
You raised an eyebrow at him and then looked back at your unfinished studies. "I'm studying."
"Yeah, but Mom said we should go. Auntie wouldn't like it if we don't entertain her kids, at least. They don't know anyone here."
You rolled your eyes, sighing as you closed your book. "Is that my problem? I saw how friendly her son was with everyone at the airport. They both definitely didn't look like they wanted to hang out with us. I'm sure they can manage."
"Don't be a party pooper, Y/N! I want to be friends with them! You know Mom is going to force you to go anyway. Just get up already."
You buried your face in your desk, trying to hide your anger. It had been a few days since they arrived, and they hadn't visited your house once, like your mom wanted. Why couldn't she see that maybe they just didn't want to be around you guys? That's what you guessed, and it made sense.
"What's the plan?" you asked, watching Seungkwan's eyes light up. "I don't know! I just heard Mom say they're at Chaeyoung's place, and we should join them for a sleepover!"
"Chaeyoung? Why is she having a sleepover? She didn't even tell me?!"
Chaeyoung and you went to the same middle school and had been friends for a long time. She lived nearby, and her mom was part of your mom's friend group, so you often hung out at her place.
"Well, I don't know. Just get up, please. You can ask her when you get there!"
An hour later, as the sun was almost setting, you found yourself at Chaeyoung's house. What you didn't expect was about a dozen other people who were apparently going to stay the night.
Chaeyoung just told you that her mom insisted she take care of the “US Kids,” and she had no choice but to host this little party.
There were people you already knew and some you didn't – all kids of your mom's friends. You had seen some around since childhood, like Seungcheol and Joshua. You also knew Sua and Heeso as really nice girls, but tonight, they seemed overly eager to impress.
The movie was playing on the television, and you carefully sat down next to Chaeyoung.
I've already seen this movie was the excuse you gave yourself for your wandering eyes that kept watching Jeonghan. He sat at the right end of the couch next to Seungkwan, who seemed to really like the older guy.
His smile looked really nice, and he spoke every now and then, commenting on the scenes in the movie. You couldn't help but notice how he seemed to already know everyone in the room. Well, except you.
You somehow got through the movie and were now in the kitchen with Chaeyoung as she prepared snacks for everyone. The moms were on the rooftop, having a good time.
"I've been holding this for you to take for the last five minutes, Y/N," Chaeyoung said, and you immediately looked at her. You sheepishly took the water bottle from her hand as she stood up, closing the last cabinet. "Sorry. I was lost in thought."
"Exactly. What were you thinking about?"
"I'm just hating this whole thing, you know? Mom knows I'm preparing for college entrance exams, and she's still dragging me out to entertain these prideful siblings," you said, sounding annoyed.
Chaeyoung chuckled, pouring some chips into a bowl. "A little fun won't hurt you, sweetie. Just relax and enjoy yourself like everyone else if you're here anyway."
You groaned, not bothering to explain yourself. You were just glad you had Chaeyoung to talk to. Soon, you were both back in the living room, putting the snacks on the coffee table that everyone was sitting around.
You heard Heeso introducing herself in a voice that sounded too fake. She was talking about her hobbies, and the guys were making fun of her without her realizing. It made you feel bad as you sat down next to Seungkwan. One person away from Jeonghan, not that it mattered.
"What's happening?" you whispered to Seungkwan, who laughed before whispering back. "Jeonghan said he wants to know everyone here, so everyone's introducing themselves one by one."
You rolled your eyes, annoyed at who knows what. Maybe just this guy's presence was enough to irritate you. You heard everyone's introductions, only missing Joshua's because you were in the kitchen back then. The jokes did make you laugh, and after a while, you felt a little more comfortable than you thought you would.
"Your turn, Y/N." Seungcheol looked at you after Chaeyoung finished introducing herself on your left, and you blinked a little. Suddenly, all eyes were on you, and even though the attention made you a little nervous, it also made you finally feel noticed.
Without thinking, your eyes went to Jeonghan to see if he was looking, and you almost choked because he was.
You didn't know what to do with that information.
"I'm Y/N, eighteen years old, starting college in two months," you said, unsure what anyone was expecting.
"Have you decided on your major?"
Your breath caught in your throat when you looked at the person who spoke, and you blinked. For a second, you were confused. Was he really talking to you?
"Uh, yeah. Psychology."
Jeonghan's mouth opened slightly, and then he clapped once. "That's really great! I was waiting for someone to talk about something intellectual. You seem intelligent, Y/N."
Your first reaction was to laugh awkwardly and then look away. You weren't always good at taking compliments, especially not such direct and bold ones. Your face felt warm as you tried to process his words.
You knew Jeonghan was studying engineering – he was already two years into college. Maybe he had high standards, but the way he was getting along with everyone made him seem like a people-pleaser too.
You couldn't answer, and you were glad when Seungcheol spoke up. "Are you saying none of us are intelligent?!"
"Well," he leaned back against the couch with a lazy smile. "Maybe, but I believe no one is more intelligent than me."
Oh. So he was self-centered too?
His response started another discussion among everyone, and as much as you wanted to join in, you were too flustered by the interaction.
You were laughing with everyone now, surprisingly starting to enjoy this sleepover that you initially dreaded being a part of.
***
You had always held onto a romantic ideal of love.
No matter how many breakups, betrayals, and divorces you saw around, it never changed your idea of how beautiful love could be.
So, naturally, you had a picture of your future partner in mind – a checklist of desirable traits, each one a step on an imaginary ladder.
But that was always for the distant future. Definitely not two months before you started college.
Aunt Hyesuk planned a beach day for everyone on the weekend. You were glad you didn't have any studying to do that day because you really wanted to go to the beach. Especially now that you started to really enjoy everyone's company.
Soobin also became more open, and you realized she wasn't the mean girl you thought she was. She was just shy, and it was sad that quiet people were often seen that way. But you liked her – she often didn't make jokes but laughed the loudest at everyone else's.
Your eyes secretly followed Jeonghan everywhere he went, wearing a maroon shirt and shorts. Even in such simple clothes, he easily stood out among all the boys.
The time at the beach became a very happy memory – everyone's laughter mixed with the sound of the waves. By the time you all went to a restaurant for lunch, it was late afternoon. All the kids sat around one table, talking and teasing, while Jeonghan and Soobin were treated like the most important people.
You quickly learned that Jeonghan was playful, a tease, and very annoying too. He had ways of getting on the nerves of those who slightly offended him, and he got away with it too easily. He was good at witty comebacks, and he loved to praise himself.
You felt annoyed whenever he took time to praise himself during group conversations, but you didn't say anything. You didn't talk much, and it wasn't a bad annoyance anyway – you strangely felt little flutters in your stomach every time he spoke, even though you also wanted to strangle him.
It happened when you were all taking a group picture. Jisoo had asked a random man to take a photo of you all right outside the restaurant while the moms were still eating.
One second you were squeezed between Sua and Chaeyoung, smiling for the picture, and the next you were blinking at what was happening in front of you.
Jeonghan was being held back by Seungcheol while he cursed at a group of boys who were now running away.
"Let me go! How dare they— freaking hell!"
"Don't make a scene, man! It's okay, they're gone anyway. Relax," Seungcheol said, rubbing his shoulder, trying to calm his anger.
You felt a little scared at the sudden change in mood. "What happened?" you whispered to Chaeyoung beside you, who bit her lip before answering. "There was a group of boys who said something about us. The girls. So he got angry."
You felt a small weight settle on your chest as your eyes went back to Jeonghan. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then quickly chuckled at something Seungkwan said. Heeso and Sua were all around him, gushing about how attractive that was.
He didn't directly protect you. He protected all the women he was with, and you knew it was the least any man should do. But you couldn't help your heart.
Yoon Jeonghan had just climbed the first step of your imaginary ladder.
***
Jeonghan slipped down that step when you were stuffed with Seungkwan sitting between you both in the backseat of Seungcheol’s car.
It was a ride back from a usual hangout — a day to show the US kids around the city. Soobin had fallen under the weather so she didn't come along. It left you, Seungkwan, Seungcheol and Joshua.
Jeonghan specifically asked for Heeso and Sua to not be welcomed without his name being mentioned. He said he didn't want to hurt them, but they weren't an easy presence.
You understood that much, and it made you wonder how he perceived your presence.
You were subtly a part of whatever conversation was going on, until it shifted to Jeonghan’s love life and you became quiet. Involuntarily so.
Seungkwan kept prodding him, asking if he ever dated, or if he was currently. One thing you learnt about Jeonghan was that he never answered properly. He was always twisting words, saying too less or dragging too much.
That's what he was doing again.
“I have four girlfriends back in the states.”
Seungcheol nearly hit the brakes too hard. Joshua laughed at him. “You cannot believe that bullshit and get us in an accident.”
“He believed that?!” Seungkwan laughed harder, and you didn't know why, but you interjected. “It's the west. You never know if he's telling the truth.”
Jeonghan’s gaze found yours as he tilted his head, and you regretted saying anything instantly but didn't let it show. He smirked slightly, chuckling. “You're innocent, Y/N.”
You cocked a brow, somehow feeling bold even if your ears were burning. “I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult.”
Jeonghan did a double take, and laughed. “Woah, relax. You look like you'll bite me.”
Your insides felt giddy at having a plain conversation with him directly like this, but you were sure to not let anybody know. At least you thought so. You rolled your eyes. “You're really annoying.”
“Hey!” Seungkwan held Jeonghan’s arm protectively. “Don't call my brother annoying. Just because he dates four girls at a time doesn't mean he isn't nice.”
“Oh that makes him very immoral.” Seungcheol remarked between a laughter.
“You should try scoring at least one girl before calling me immoral.” Jeonghan seethed, his smirk annoying you.
You couldn't help but speak again. “You're not talking about a sport, Jeonghan. Maybe have some respect?”
There was a beat of silence before his head tilted towards you again, something indecipherable passing his eyes. He smiled. “My bad.”
You felt even more annoyed now because was that all he had to say? The guys busied themselves in a conversation again as you looked out of the window, rolling your eyes at yourself.
Yoon Jeonghan wasn't going to climb up your ladder.
***
You were terribly wrong.
Jeonghan jumped two steps at a time.
It was a friday, and you weren't about to waste it by playing cards with everyone. But you did.
It was finally a weekend when aunt Hyesuk decided to stay at your place with the kids. So when everyone was asleep after a good game night, you found yourself taking a breath of fresh air in your garden.
That was where Jeonghan found you.
It gave you a jolt when he suddenly showed up next to you, sitting on the steps to your front gate.
“You scared me,” you sighed, a hand clutching your heart. He grinned, looking at you with his beautiful eyes softer than usual. Your heart throbbed.
“My bad,” he muttered, looking up at the sky sprayed with sprinkles of stars. “Why are you not sleeping?”
“Why are you not sleeping?” You shot back.
He let out a sigh. “New place. New bed. It's a little hard.”
“Would it have been easier to stay at a hotel?” You asked, recalling all the times you'd heard aunt Hyesuk say that he complained about staying anywhere but a hotel.
He nodded, then shrugged his shoulders. “But I'm glad it turned out this way. I like all of you. If we stayed at a hotel, I wouldn't have gotten to spend as much time with you guys. It's fun.”
You smiled, forgetting anything that had pissed you about him. The flutter of your heart was becoming a living thing that made you look away from his face.
“You know,” he said after a while of silence. “I don't actually have four girlfriends.”
You turned your head to look at him again, only to find his eyes already trained on you. A brief eye contact that held many keys to your heart, and he chuckled, looking away. “You really think I'm some player?”
You cleared your throat, trying to steer away the emotions that clouded your brain. “You made yourself sound so.”
He shook his head, scratching his temple and looking at you again. His gaze amplified a dull ache in your heart. “I'm not someone like that. I may joke around to look cool and stuff, but I'm really pathetic.”
You furrowed your brows. “Why would you think that way? Nobody's pathetic. Humans and their emotions are not—”
“Oh, are you going to start your psychology lesson?” He interrupted, his voice gentle and playful as he smirked at you. You suddenly wanted to smack him across his attractive face. Your open mouth closed on it's own, and you looked ahead, shutting yourself up.
“I was kidding,” he smiled. “You're cool when you talk about psychology. I just didn't want to know that my emotions aren't pathetic.”
Your heart did a little somersault, and the dull ache increased a notch. “Why?”
“Well because,” he paused, meeting your eyes for a second before looking down at his slippers. “People are not accepted for feeling too much. For romanticising the scent of coffee and rain. For smiling at the clouds and talking to the leaves. For loving too much and wanting it back as desperately.”
You stared at him with your heart squeezed tight, and registered his words with a blinding uncertainty. Somebody was speaking the thoughts only your journal was inked with.
“So sometimes, I tell myself that these things are pathetic. Coping mechanism, you'd call it, right?” He looked at you with a smile at the end of his sentence, and you blinked at the sudden attention. You were far too tuned out to quickly look away and respond. Your heart was going to kill you.
“Yeah.” You let out. “Coping mechanism, it is.”
He hummed, and a comfortable silence fell in. In a while, you decided to break it, your thoughts sorted after being all over the place. “It's the first time I've heard someone talk exacty like me.”
Jeonghan's head turned to look at you, and he chuckled. “Really? Are you saying you're pathetic like me?”
You didn't dare meet his beautiful eyes again, and continued to stare up at the sky. Your face burned, and your heart contracted a little too tight. “No. I'm saying that we're alike. But not pathetic, though. It may be a curse to feel deeply, but it's also a blessing.” You paused to take a breath, feeling uneven at the weight of hie gaze. “I think that people like us are beautiful, even if rare.”
He smiled, his eyes softening ever so slightly. He looked down at his enclasped hands, biting his lip to deal with the conversation. A hum vibrated through him. “I think the same. I could never say it out loud because I never found someone who thought the same.”
You could practically feel the drumming of your heart in your ears. Jeonghan looked at you again, chuckling. “You are something, Y/N.”
You met his eyes hesitantly, but your voice came out strong. “What do you mean, something? You are something. People who feel a lot don't date four girls at a time.”
The laugh that left Jeonghan's mouth made you struggle to hide your smile.
“They do if the four girls are hot and gorgeous.” He said, with a smirk touching his lips.
Yeah, you were going to smack his beautiful, beautiful face.
***
Another thing you learnt about Jeonghan was that he was secretive. Not in the subtle way, but in the I will drop hints and you will spend your whole life second guessing everything way.
He liked to keep people on edge, never telling all but never keeping all either. You realized you were a victim to his game, because you often found yourself infuriated by his teasing.
You sat on the floor of Chaeyoung’s living room once again, having just finished a dumb game of charades when Jeonghan brought it up.
“Someone confessed to me,” he said out of the blue, causing everyone to gape at him in shock. You realized he had a way of making heads in a room turn his way.
Excluding you, everyone was now pestering him to tell who it was. Popular guesses were either Sua or Heeso, and Seungcheol even had the audacity to say Chaeyoung. She laughed and slapped his shoulder in offense. “Have you looked at him? He's not my type at all.”
And it was true. Jeonghan was not Chaeyoung’s type at all. She was already pining after Joshua hopelessly for a few years. Jeonghan, however, was your type but you'd never admit it. Not even to yourself.
Your spiraling thoughts made you lay back a little with your head on the edge of the couch Jeonghan sat on. You stared into nothingness, trying to not think about how insignificant you were in the moment.
Your phone buzzed in your hand. Distracted, you tapped on the lockscreen to check your notifications.
[08:43] Yoon Jeonghan 🙄: stop laying down all sad
[08:43] Yoon Jeonghan 🙄: i’ll tell you who it is eventually
You tilted your head to look back and watched him pocket his phone with his gaze trained on you. You could clearly see a small smirk on his face as he shrugged his shoulders before quickly looking at Seungkwan and answering him.
Slowly, you turned to look ahead, straightening your posture as your heart nearly throbbed out of your ribcage. It didn't have to count as anything. Just because he chose to promise telling you something in a room full of people who were already bugging him for the information did not mean he had to climb up your ladder.
He did, anyway.
***
You liked to pride in your ability to feel things deeply.
People always told you things like sensitive people get nowhere but you always disagreed. You knew that it was a blessing in disguise for you to feel everything with bone crushing depth, for it wouldn't have made you you if you weren't so calamitous.
However, you hated your trait that Saturday night.
It was a usual hang out at Seungcheol's place. The floor was occupied with all the kids sitting in front of the TV, having put on a karaoke video. It was noisy because of how loud everyone was singing, especially Seungkwan and you got there late because of studies.
You could have dumped the hang out, but you liked these now. You liked being in everyone's presence, and playing silly little games while Jeonghan singlehandedly swiped out anyone's chances of victory. You always suspected that he was a cheat, but he never left concrete proof.
“Where's Jeonghan?” You whispered in Chaeyoung's ear, stopping her off-key highnote. Ever since you got here, you hadn't seen him even once.
Chaeyoung sighed deeply, looking at you before pointing towards the terrace. “Fought with his mom.”
Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked between the terrace and her. You never thought he could have differences with his mom, not after you had gotten to know that he stayed with her during the divorce of his parents.
“About?”
“Well, she wants him to go meet his dad. He doesn't want to. That broke out an argument between them earlier.”
You blinked slowly at her, before your eyes drifted to the terrace again. You couldn't really see him anywhere, but you would if you went…
No.
You wouldn't go. You didn't need to go. You didn't have to care if Jeonghan was upset. It didn't have to matter to you.
But it did. You cared, and you told yourself that you'd have cared if it was anyone else too — which was true but would your heart also hurt? That was a question you were terrified of answering.
***
Unfortunately, you did not get to see Jeonghan for the next two days. Your head was clouded with thoughts you were too scared to voice out, so you stayed locked up in your room with the excuse of studying.
(You were not studying at all)
All you did was gape out of your window all day, or stare at the ceiling where you could see Jeonghan's presumed sad face. It was beginning to itch you, and you desperately wanted to know if he was even alright.
You did not ask Chaeyoung again because you'd have looked suspicious for caring too much when everyone was going on just fine with their lives. Why had yours stopped then? Why were you holed up in your room, doing nothing but hoping Jeonghan felt better?
Your isolation had to end one way or the other, though. You heard Seungkwan screaming at your door right when you were starting to focus on studying.
“Jeonghan and Soobin just got here! Come out, we're going to go get ice cream!”
A few weeks ago, you'd have groaned and dropped your head in your textbook, not wanting to go. That part remained the same — not wanting to go — but this time, it wasn't because you needed to study, or your social battery was running out. It was solely because you were terrified of the way your heart started beating louder at the mere mention of Jeonghan.
In a while, you found yourself standing in your doorway, clad in a pink skirt that you only ever wore on special occasions. You tried to not be anxious, or still think about Jeonghan's mood but your hands shook on their own.
“Okay Y/N is already waiting! Let's go!” Seungkwan yelled as he messily put on his shoes, and you watched Soobin follow him right behind. You told yourself you were not waiting for Jeonghan to appear, but he walked right behind Soobin with an alluring smile on his face, and that was the closest you came to your heart exploding.
He looked at you, then did a double take as if noticing you, and his smile broadened a tad bit. Or maybe you were seeing things.
“You good?” The words left your mouth before you knew, as if it was a breath you were holding and you couldn't wait to release it once you were sure he wasn't sad anymore.
The door creaked, indicating Seungkwan had opened it and stepped out, but your eyes remained glued to Jeonghan's smile. He looked so beautiful, and you realized you'd like him to smile more.
He nodded once, closing his eyes for a split second as he tightened the edges of his lips. It was as if he knew you were worried, and he reassured you.
You sighed in relief, watching him give you one last look before he walked ahead while saying something to Seungkwan. You stood at the doorway, staring blankly at the empty spot where he stood a second ago.
You tested breathing a few times, and then your hand involuntarily went to your chest, pressing at your heart that suddenly felt too big. It rhymed with a beat, and you came to the devastating admission that it was Jeonghan's name.
You were in love, and you couldn't deny it anymore.
***
You wanted to tell someone. At least, Chaeyoung. You felt like your feelings were becoming a burden on your chest — one you wanted to carry but were failing to. And you also failed to tell anyone, especially Chaeyoung.
You would've actually found the words to spell out your emotions in front of her if she didn't come bawling to you about Joshua’s girlfriend. It broke your heart, and you tried your best to comfort her. It didn't help that you wondered how you would feel if your heart was broken too, and you cursed your emotions for being all over the place.
Perhaps, love only looked good in fiction, and when practical, it failed to live up to the expectations you'd built around it. You wanted to feel like you were floating in the air in love, but all that you registered was the fear of an impending calamity that would leave you hanging on the edge of this beautiful cliff.
You sighed out loud, tired of waiting in your living room. Seungkwan was the only one beside you, holding his gaming console and screaming at the screen while you were drowned in your thoughts.
It had been a little over half an hour since you were both waiting for Jeonghan and Soobin to get here. They did inform they'd run a bit late, but you hadn't thought it'd be this late. You were not interested in this game night anyway. The only reason you left your room was Jeonghan.
How stupid.
You stood up and tied your hair quickly, grabbing Seungkwan’s attention. He spared you a brief glance. “Where are you going? They might get here any second.”
You rolled your eyes, walking past him. “Yeah like they have for the past hour. I don't have that much time.”
“What do you even have to do?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes still glued to the game in front of him. You preferred to not answer, instead locking your room and opening your books to study. You really had much important stuff to do than waiting for someone you were in love with.
It was maybe a total of ten minutes that had passed when your phone buzzed with a notification that made you stop breathing momentarily.
Yoon Jeonghan 🙄[🤍]: hey psych come out
Yoon Jeonghan 🙄[🤍]: i just got here
You realized you were far too pathetic to ignore his texts.
***
After a lame game night that Jeonghan won by gaslighting everyone, you were walking side by side with him to the nearest convenience store. It wasn't your plan to be alone with him, but Soobin had knocked out mid-game while Seungkwan excused himself to sleep right when Jeonghan suggested getting ice cream.
You didn't have the heart to say no to him when he looked at you with a sad pout, so it resulted in this poor assault on your heart as his shoulder brushed against yours in the lone street.
“So who confessed to you?” You asked, desperate to strike a conversation because Jeonghan looked way too comfortable in the silence. You cursed yourself for talking about that out of everything because the look Jeonghan gave you made you realize that you probably looked really desperate.
Desperate for what, exactly? You weren't sure. You heard him chuckle, his hands in his pockets as he briefly glanced at you. “Did I promise to tell you?”
You rolled your eyes. You really hadn't met someone as infuriating as him. He bumped your shoulder intentionally, and pointed his chin towards the convenience store in front of you. “I'm gonna go buy ice cream. Which flavour do you want?”
“Chocolate,” you answered, beginning to dig in your purse for money when he held your wrist, stopping you. The touch sent a jolt up your spine, and you met his droopy eyes. “My treat. Chocolate is so basic, Y/N. What are you? A kid?”
You blinked slowly at him as his hand went back in his pocket and he spoke, “I'll get you mint chocolate.”
“No!” You protested almost instantly, recovering from the momentary shock of his touch. “I hate mint chocolate, Jeonghan. Don't.”
But he was already walking away with a wicked grin on his face. “It's my treat~ I decide the flavour~”
“Just take my money, for God's sake!” You stomped your feet, waiting for him with a frown on your face that quickly dissolved into a sheepish smile when he walked back with two chocolate flavored ice creams in his hands. He handed one to you with the same grin painted on his face and you couldn't help rolling your eyes. How insufferable of him.
“So,” Jeonghan began, taking a lick of his ice cream once you both started strolling again. “Have you ever been confessed to?”
You nearly dropped your beloved ice cream.
Your eyes shot open, head tilting in his direction at the sudden question. He smirked, relishing in the fact that he caught you off guard. “Come on, don't tell me you've always just been a nerd.”
You cleared your throat, looking ahead. “I have not.”
“What?” He quirked a brow. “Been confessed to or been a nerd?”
You sighed in borderline annoyance. “You'll be surprised to know that a fair share of boys have indeed liked me and confessed to me.”
He made a sound of excitement, turning so he could face you and walk backwards. “And let me guess. You ran away everytime, didn't you?”
You scoffed. “You’ll also be surprised to know that I'm very brave. I do not chicken out.”
“Well,” he pursed his lips. “I do chicken out. So we have a difference there. I was starting to think we were the same soul in different bodies.”
You chuckled, looking ahead at the street lights illuminating your way. “What makes us so alike?”
“Our love for love, first of all.” He said, making your heart skip a beat as you met his eyes again. “You're observant and I'm observant. I can tell we're both sensitive, trying really hard to win in life, people pleasers. I could go on and on.”
You licked your lips, faintly tasting the ice cream that was melting in your hands. You couldn't look away from his face for a few seconds, and it dawned on you just then. He was right. You really hadn't met someone as similar to you.
“For someone who's so cocky,” you looked away, taking a long lick of your ice cream. “You sure have observed me a lot.”
“Of course!” He stressed, licking his stick clean and tossing it in the nearby trash can before walking with you. “You're the only real friend I've made here. Others seem to be very fake.”
Once again, you found yourself staring at Jeonghan in awe, his words echoing in your mind like a repeating alarm you couldn't turn off. Were you special to him? Were you not? You couldn't tell.
“You still want to please the same fake people all the time,” you muttered, diverting your gaze from him. You could remember all the times he'd invited people he didn't want to hang out with just because he feared upsetting them. He stopped in front of you, folding his arms and looking at you as if he was observing you. “Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't do the same.”
You couldn't help the small smile that bloomed on your face, and you sighed. “Yeah, you win.”
“I always do,” he said with a smirk, watching you throw your ice cream stick in the trash can outside your house. Before you fully turned to look at him, he spoke again. “It was Sua.”
You raised your eyebrows, confused. He just stood there without saying another word, his arms folded like he was waiting for you to register his words. And that you did.
It took a few seconds before your face pictured surprise, mouth hanging open and eyes widening. “Sua likes you?!”
He nodded once, and shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. “Yeah she said she did, but it was just a crush, said she moved on and stuff. I don't know, it was kind of weird. How do you like someone for a day and then move on quickly?”
You fell silent, eyes scanning his beautiful, beautiful face. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you clenched your fists to try and keep your emotions in check. Your head shook on its own as if you were in a daze. “You don't. It's impossible.”
Jeonghan took a step closer to you, head bending to look in your eyes closely like he had just caught everything. “You sound an awful lot like someone who's secretly got a crush.”
You blinked, unable to breathe with him in your space like that. Thankfully, before you could swat him off, he moved away, laughing at the absurdity of your reaction.
You gritted your teeth, annoyed at his laughter, and how beautiful he looked in the moment even if he was laughing at you.
“Come on,” he shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “You can tell me. I'm good at keeping secrets. Who's got your heart?”
You.
You bit your tongue to not scream in his face — to not grab him by the collar and kiss your love into him. Tears pricked at your eyes like thorns, and you quickly chuckled, looking away from his playful gaze.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Oh,” Jeonghan's voice lowered an octave, as if a realization hit him. He squinted his eyes, cocking his head to a side to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “So you do like someone.”
“Of course, I do!” You said, albeit it sounded more intense than you intended. Shutting your eyes, you breathed through your nose. “Ugh, you're so annoying.”
Before he could answer, you walked past him and into your house, watching your mom look at you from the doorway. You blinked at her easy smile, and rolled your eyes before walking in.
“I like the idea of whatever is going on, you know,” your mom teased, walking beside you till you reached your room. You held the door knob, turning to face her. “What do you think is going on? Nothing is going on. We just went to get some ice cream!”
“Well,” your mom grinned. “You both would make a lovely couple. But, I’d still like you to focus on your studies right now.”
“I am,” you answered instantly, “I am focusing, mom. Don't worry, nothing will side track me.”
Your mom nodded with a smile. “I do trust you.”
You sighed. “Goodnight, mom,” and before you heard it back, you went inside your room, flopping on the bed.
All night, you saw Jeonghan's face on the ceiling above you, heard his voice in your ears, and felt your heartache bleed through your tears.
***
Jeonghans departure dates were nearing, and everything was becoming a tad bit overwhelming for you. You were almost everywhere he went, stayed with the friend group for any stupid games they played or places they went.
You visited museums and parks and cafés as well as every single night market in all of Seoul. Boring game nights were suddenly starting to entertain you, and everytime the excitement got a little too much to your head, you had to physically sit down and study your brain through it.
In a week, Jeonghan will be gone, and your life will go back to the usual studies pyramid. Nostalgia hit you even before the moments had truly ended, and it resulted in you beading bracelets for everyone as a memory of these times.
Sure you didn't speak your sentiment out to anyone, but Jeonghan sat beside you on the stairs of your porch the same night, staring at the bracelet around his wrist. “Nostalgia, huh?”
You blinked up at him slowly, eyes divering from your own bracelet before you registered your quickening heart beat. “You got me.”
He chuckled, his eyes raking over your wrist before going back to his own. “I like your first ever gift for me. It's really pretty.”
You felt your ears burning as you kept staring straight ahead at the garden visible from your porch. “You are the one who came from the states. You should've brought something for me.”
He clicked his tongue. “I didn't even know about your existence until I got here. If I knew, surely I would've brought a hundred thousand gifts for you.”
Your heart stopped and restarted, your eyes briefly scanning the side of his face. You could feel your cheeks warming at his words, before you felt his eyes on you. “Or,” he said, his voice dropping. “Maybe you don't even need my gifts. I'm sure this dude you like buys you many.”
You bit your lip, diverting your eyes to meet his for a split second. It was enough to see the glint of mischief in there, and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “What gifts? He doesn't even know I like him.”
“Oh,” he let out, scratching the ground beneath his shoe. “That's bad. Do you plan on telling him?”
You paused, turning your face to look at him. He raised his gaze just in time to meet yours, and you swore you forgot how to breathe.
“Maybe,” you whispered, observing how his face reflected the dim light of your porch. “Should I tell him?”
Jeonghan sputtered a little, looking away and chuckling briefly. “I don't know. Do you think you can trust him with the information? Boys these days are dogs.”
“I trust him,” you muttered, eyes still fixed on his face. For a split second, you wondered if he knew you were talking about him, but the thought flew out of the window as soon as his eyes met yours again. He smiled softly, making you want to smack his beautiful face yet again. “You can tell him then. But make sure it's your own decision.”
You quickly looked away, afraid of your own transparent face. You didn't trust yourself to keep looking at him without kissing him, so you just hummed softly, confirming that you understood what he said.
***
You wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead after finally placing a plate of alfredo on the kitchen counter. Jeonghan sat on the stool across from you, eyeing the food almost suspiciously.
“What?”
“I'm just wondering if this tastes like wet garbage.”
Your face morphed into disgust at his statement, “I cook well! Ask Seungkwan!”
“I would if he was home,” Jeonghan said, grabbing the fork and digging it into the penne pasta. “It's highly suspicious that you're cooking for me while there's no one at your place. You could be poisoning me.”
You rolled your eyes, snatching the fork from him and taking a bite yourself. “Look, I ate first. Are you now assured that I don't plan on killing you?”
He chuckled, tugging at your heartstrings even while you were annoyed by him. His fingers brushed against yours when he took the fork from you, and dug in.
“Hm this is really good,” he hummed with a mouthful, and despite your best resistance, your lips twitched up in a smile.
“Well,” you shrugged, taking off your apron and walking to hang it beside the refrigerator. “One cooks well when it's their love language.”
“Is cooking your love language?”
You hummed in response, and the apron dropped from your hands at his next question.
“Are you saying you love me, then?”
The ground beneath your feet rattled. You thought your skin was burning, and you could feel Jeonghan's heavy stare on you even when you were facing away. Fuck, had you been obvious? How could he just ask you that? How would you ever look him in the eye again? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
You had two options.
A) Freeze for many more minutes and confirm his speculation.
B) Face him head first.
You decided the latter was better. You spun on your heels, your eyes squinted at him while your heart drummed against your ribcage. “What?”
The look on Jeonghan’s face told you he saw right through you. It was as if he'd known you forever, or better yet he'd learnt you well in a short amount of time. Either way, you wanted to run away.
“Well,” he glanced back down at the pasta, before smiling up at you briefly, “since you, you know, cooked for me.”
Your response was curt and quick. “Do you also think you're a bit too self centered or is it just me?”
Jeonghan shrugged, not smiling or smirking like you'd expect from him in such a situation. He was unreadable, and that scared you. “Who's it then? The one you want to cook for?”
You felt your throat run dry, and you chugged down a large gulp of water before standing across him at the counter. “I think I told you enough about him.”
“Do you think,” he paused, playing with the pasta in his plate, “your mom would approve of him?”
The moment he looked up, you knew you were in trouble. You realized that he knew. He knew it was him you liked. But a tiny voice in your head convinced you to keep up your act. He might not know too. You might just be overthinking.
“Why does that matter?” You shrugged, fidgeting with your fingers absentmindedly. “Besides, I think she would. He's really…” you trailed off, continuing to look in his beautiful eyes, “...nice.”
A chuckle that almost sounded bitter left his lips, and you noticed that he wasn't really eating anymore. “You’re too positive. People are not as nice as you think they are.”
“But he is.” You muttered almost immediately. Jeonghan looked at you again, his eyes holding questions you couldn't read. Licking your lips, you continued. “He’s the first person who makes me feel like I can also be loved.”
Jeonghan continued to look at you for a few seconds in complete silence, before he nodded with a small smile. “Well then, why haven't you told him yet?”
“I'm scared.”
Jeonghan pushed the plate of pasta towards you, his smile wider now. “I'm full, you can have this.”
You bit your lip, watching him get off the stool. What was this mess you'd landed yourself in?
“Hey,” you heard Jeonghan say close to you, and you jumped slightly to find him right beside you. He smiled, ruffling your hair softly. “It's better to let it out than bottle it up. Good luck!”
He gave you a victory salute with a click of his tongue, and walked off, leaving you stranded in the middle of nowhere.
But this time, you knew what you had to do.
***
Jeonghan was leaving.
He had a flight back home in less than 24 hours, and you wanted to cry. As a matter of fact, you knew he didn't like you back. You didn't want to expect it and live in a bubble of delusion. But a tiny part of you still hoped for a chance.
You had decided you'd tell him. Ironically, he'd also been the reason why you decided to tell him. He was right. It's always better to let it out than bottle it up. If you didn't tell him, you knew you'd spend your whole life pining after someone who couldn't be yours. And if you do tell him, you'll know his answer. You won't be hanging by a thread somewhere in between. It'll be death or life.
Your house was packed with everyone who'd come to say goodbye to him and his family, so you couldn't really talk to him. All day, you'd only stared at him from afar, memorizing his features and the lines on his face. You didn't know when you'd see him again, or if you'd see him again the same way. You wanted to bask in your love till you could, till he snatched it from you in the form of a rejection.
Yoon Jeonghan 🙄[🤍]: on a scale of 1-10, how sad are you about me leaving
You saw his text when you were by the kitchen counter, and you lifted your head up to find him directly looking at you from the living room’s couch. He had a lazy smirk on his face, and you hated the way your face warmed.
You had to do this.
You had no way out. Whether he accepted you or rejected you, you had to tell him for your own sake. You didn't want to die in between heaven and hell.
Psych YN: meet me at the rooftop
Yoon Jeonghan 🙄[🤍]: shady
Psych YN: in five minutes
—
You barely heard his footsteps over the loud beating of your heart, turned the other way as you stared at the star filled night sky. The hum of conversation drifted from downstairs, reaching your deaf ears faintly while you prepared your speech in your head.
The hopeful, delusional, lovergirl part of your heart kept giving you scenarios to daydream about — a long distance relationship, surprise meetings, a kiss as you confessed and what not.
A hand at your shoulder startled you. You turned with a sharp breath leaving your mouth, finding Jeonghan right in front of you. He had his brows pinched in concern. “Are you okay? I called for you quite a few times.”
You felt your throat run dry, wishing you had enough space behind you to run away. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just lost in thought.”
Jeonghan hummed, not pressing or teasing you otherwise. “You wanted to see me.”
You realized it would've been better if he was in his usual element. Him teasing you was better than whatever this was. You couldn't look him in the eye while he looked at you like this. Like he liked you. Like the tiny part of your heart was right.
“Jeonghan.” You began, licking your lips and finally mustering enough courage to meet his eyes. “I'm gonna say it.”
He exhaled, shoulders slumping back in defeat. His eyes stayed glued to yours, turning droopier every second as he waited for you to speak what he'd known since forever.
“It's you.” You muttered, your voice so small you were afraid he missed it. “The person I like.”
As the words left your mouth, you felt the world spinning a little faster. The night sky was suddenly more quiet than before, and the only sound you heard in a second was Jeonghan's exhale.
“You probably figured it out,” you continued, your voice trembling at the edges. Your head ducked down, unable to continue looking in his eyes that looked tired. “I just needed to get this off my chest. I know you don't like me, and that's okay. I just hope you know that I really like you for who you are, and you made me want to believe in love.”
Your eyes drifted back to meet his unreadable ones, and you gulped. All you wanted to do was shut off, so that's what you did. You turned the other way, looking up at the night sky with a burning heart. “That's all.”
There was a beat of silence in the air before you heard a rustle. Jeonghan slipped his hands out from his pockets, and took a step closer to you.
You felt his touch on your wrist, featherlight and careful as he tugged you behind until you crashed into his sturdy chest. The world tilted on its axis. You forgot what breathing felt like, as his arms wrapped around you from behind, holding you softly.
“You're right,” he said in a while, his voice more soft than you'd ever heard it be. “I figured it out, and I'm…” he trailed off, and your eyes shut tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You couldn't believe you were wrapped up in Yoon Jeonghan's embrace, and hearing his rejection.
“I can't like you currently for a reason,” he said, and the words lodged themselves in your heart like an axe. “But it's not because of you. You're wonderful, I promise. You're genuinely the best person I've met in Seoul. You're intelligent, funny, and you make such a good friend. I don't even deserve you.”
You wanted him to shut up, tears pricking at your eyes. But he continued, his soft voice echoing in your ears. “It’s hard for me to say this too. Turning you down isn't the easiest thing I've ever done, but I'm really sorry.”
You clenched your jaw hard to not cry. The least you wanted was to fall any weaker in front of him, and with his arms around you, you weren't sure if it was possible.
Shifting a little, you took a sharp breath in, and turned to look at him. Jeonghan took a step back to create enough space between you, his eyes holding something you couldn't really read.
You thought you'd cry if you looked at him, but strangely, you heard a weak chuckle leave your mouth. “You look like you practiced this speech.”
Jeonghan didn't laugh, didn't even smile. He just tilted his head to the side, silently asking you to not put up a show in front of him. Your smile faltered, and you looked down at your feet. You had expected this, so why did it hurt more than you thought it would?
“Can I at least ask why?” You muttered, eyes still darting between his feet and yours. You did not want to look at his beautiful face anymore. It wasn't yours to stare at.
There was a long silence that seemed to stretch forever. You wanted to look up and see if he was still looking at you, if he was conflicted, if he was smiling and teasing you. For a split second, you wondered what if he said it was a prank and he actually liked you?
That made you look up, but Jeonghan was not smiling. He did look conflicted, and panicked, and there was a fear in his eyes you couldn't comprehend.
He blew some air from his mouth, running a hand through his hair. “I…I just—”
You heard a loud thud.
Both you and Jeonghan turned to see Chaeyoung standing at the door of the rooftop, the door shut behind her. A weird fear of how much she'd seen clawed your chest, or heard. This wasn't how you wanted her to find out.
“Sorry, I thought no one was here,” she said, and instantly turned to open the door. Then she stopped, turning to look back at the both of you. “Jeonghan, your mom was looking for you. Seemed pretty urgent.”
Before Jeonghan could respond, she was scurrying away. He turned to look at you, lips flattening in a tight lipped smile. “Let's talk about this later, yeah?”
You wanted to yell no. You did not want to talk about it later, or again. Your chest ached with the weight of everything, and you watched as he jogged away, leaving you stranded on your rooftop.
Despite the open space, you felt suffocated. Your fist reached up to hammer your chest as a sob ripped out of you, raw and painful. Your knees buckled, and all you could see was your own tears as you collapsed on the cold, hard ground.
You lost your first chance at love, and you desperately wished the subject of your affection saw you. Worse, he did see you, just not in the way you wished for. And that crushed your heart like nothing else.
***
The late afternoon wrapped around you in a soft breeze, doing very little to dull the ache in your heart. The scent of the airport suffocated you as you trailed behind Jeonghan, watching him drag his suitcase along.
Soobin seemed sad as she walked beside him, and so did Aunt Hyesuk. You knew it was going to be a tearful goodbye paired with promises of coming back, but you couldn't wait for it all to be over. You couldn’t wait to not see Jeonghan anymore, for that seemed to be the only way you'd stop hurting.
Seungkwan strangely kept sticking close to you until Jeonghan stole you away to the airport cafeteria. You were reluctant to go with him, but the way he looked at you with his eyes softer than usual, you couldn't help but surrender.
He bought a regular glass of watermelon juice and extended it towards you. God knows how he knew it was your favourite. You took it just because you wished to avoid speaking to him, but he had other plans.
“Y/N.” He called out on your way out, making you hum around the straw.
“Are you mad at me?”
You blinked, and shook your head quickly. “No. No. Why would I be mad?”
You heard him sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “Everything seems to have changed between us.”
You didn't respond, opting to continue walking beside him slowly. You didn't know what to say to that, and you didn't know what he expected from you either.
“Look,” he stopped walking, looking at you softly. “I know how you must feel. I understand. So you can take your time processing it and I—”
“You didn't answer me.” You cut him off, something ugly bubbling up your throat. Jeonghan raised his brows in confusion.
“I asked you why you can't like me. I think I deserve to know that much.”
For a second, Jeonghan just stared at you in silence. You hated not being able to read him, and somehow you felt humiliated in this position.
He bit his lip, looking down at the ground before meeting your eyes. This time, he didn't look conflicted. “I like someone else.”
You wished you didn't have ears.
The moment his words registered in your brain, you wanted to wail and collapse and die. As if it was even possible, the ache in your heart grew tenfold, and you couldn't stop the tears that glistened in your eyes.
“That's why I do want you to move on,” he continued, his voice somehow even more small than before. “Because as incredible as you are, I already find someone else that.”
In your head, you could picture yourself fallen on your knees, covering your ears and sobbing like a five year old. But in reality, you just stood stunned in front of Jeonghan, staring at him with watery eyes and a broken heart.
“I'm really sorry,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze as he said so. Somewhere afar, the voice of the announcer bounced off the walls, calling for boarding.
You saw Soobin run towards Jeonghan, waving at him and saying something you couldn't hear. Following her was Seungkwan, and you saw Jeonghan turn to you. He had such a pained look on his face that it hammered your heart. He pulled you in a short hug, his hand resting at the back of your head as he whispered. “Take care of yourself, and keep in touch with me.”
Soobin followed right after, hugging you and saying her goodbye. Aunt Hyesuk hugged you the longest, promising she'd come back soon to see you become a successful psychologist.
And just like that, it all ended.
Jeonghan turned to look at you one last time before he entered the departure gates, and as your final act of love, you smiled at him. It earned you the exact, beautiful smile you'd fallen in love with, before Yoon Jeonghan disappeared from your life and you collapsed on your knees, hot tears running down your cheeks.
footnotes: yes, i know there's been a lot of angst, i'm sorry 😔 part 2 will be out as soon as tumblr stops acting like a bitch <3
ᯓwho☆: 𝒿eonghan x reader (fluff, lil angsty x fic)
ᯓwhat☆: jeonghan’s always been in love with you, even when the world insisted you didn’t make sense together — until you decide you don’t care, and prove that the ballet girl and the skater boy were never wrong at all. inspired by sk8er boy by avril lavigne, but not completely!
ᯓwc☆: 3k (3616)
ᯓa/n☆: ...i love punk jeonghan <3 also i just realized it's SK8ER BOY, not SK8TER BOY.... ignore that mistake on the banner.
jeonghan wakes up late. again.
the alarm on his phone has been screaming for a good five minutes before his hand finally slaps around the bedside table, fingers clumsy, knocking over an empty water bottle before he finds the screen and silences it. the room falls quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside his window and the soft whir of the old ceiling fan that never quite works right. sunlight leaks through the blinds in thin, uneven stripes, cutting across his unmade bed, his discarded hoodie on the floor, the guitar case leaning against the wall like it’s been waiting for him all night.
“shit,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.
he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for half a second longer than he should. he does this every morning. gives himself a tiny moment of denial, like if he lies still enough, time might slow down for him just this once.
it never does.
jeonghan swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, stretching his arms above his head until his spine cracks pleasantly. he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror opposite his bed. messy hair falling into his eyes, dark circles he never bothers to hide, a face that looks permanently caught between bored and tired. his uniform shirt is crumpled where he tossed it last night. the school logo is peeling a little at the edge.
he looks like trouble. or at least, like what people think trouble looks like.
the shower is quick and too cold because he forgot to turn the heater on again. water drums against the tiles as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, then letting it fall forward again because it never stays put anyway. steam fogs up the mirror when he steps out, towel slung low around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders.
he doesn’t rush. not really. he never does.
by the time he’s dressed, the clock on his phone reads 7:46. school started at 7:30.
he pulls on whatever’s clean enough. a faded band tee with the print cracking at the edges. baggy black jeans that hang low on his hips, frayed at the hems from being stepped on too many times. a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves swallowing his hands. the fabric smells faintly like laundry detergent and something metallic, like guitar strings.
his mother used to sigh every morning when she saw him dressed like this. you could at least try, she’d say. jeonghan does try. just not in the way people want him to.
he grabs his guitar case, checks his phone, ignores the three missed calls from his homeroom teacher, and slips his feet into worn sneakers by the door. as he leaves, he catches his reflection in the hallway mirror. guitar on his back. hoodie zipped halfway. expression unreadable. punk, they call him, as if it’s a diagnosis.
the walk to school is familiar. cracked sidewalks, the convenience store on the corner where he sometimes stops for coffee he doesn’t need, the shortcut behind the basketball courts that saves him a few minutes. by the time he reaches the front gate, the morning bell has already rung. students are streaming into the building in neat uniforms, laughter echoing off concrete walls.
jeonghan slips through like he always does, head slightly down, guitar case bumping lightly against his leg.
he can already feel the looks.
teachers frown when they see him. security guards sigh. girls whisper. boys nudge each other. it’s always the same.
there he is again.
"what a loser!"
"why does he bring that stupid guitar everywhere?"
"stupid fucking punk."
he pretends not to notice, but he does. he always does.
his first class is history. he opens the door quietly and slips into the back row, dropping into his usual seat just as the teacher pauses mid-sentence. there’s a beat of silence. “yoon jeonghan,” the teacher says, tired rather than angry. “you’re late.”
“traffic,” jeonghan replies easily, not meeting his eyes.
a few students snort. the teacher shakes his head and continues the lesson. jeonghan leans back in his chair, gaze drifting to the window. sunlight catches dust motes in the air, turning them gold. and then, he sees you.
you’re two rows ahead, posture perfect, probably because of ballet. your notebook is already open, pen moving smoothly across the page. there’s something about the way you focus that always gets him. like the rest of the room fades away for you when you’re paying attention.
he’s been wanting you for two years.
two full years of stolen glances, of sitting just close enough to hear you laugh but never close enough to touch you. two years of watching you from across classrooms, hallways, the courtyard during lunch. two years of knowing exactly how you take your coffee, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, the way your lips press together when you’re trying not to smile.
you don’t look like someone who would ever notice someone like him.
perfect girl, they call you. not always kindly, but always accurately. you’re grace and discipline and clean lines. you move like everything you do has purpose. even walking down the hallway, you look like you belong somewhere else. somewhere softer. brighter. he’s all rough edges and late mornings and noise.
he knows what your friends think of him. he’s seen the way they wrinkle their noses when he walks past, how their eyes flick to his clothes, his guitar, his piercings. he’s heard the whispers—bad influence, trouble, don’t get involved with someone like that. but nobody has ever seen the real him.
your friends sit with you now, one of them leaning over to whisper something in your ear. you smile faintly, but your eyes flick back for just a second. they meet his.
it’s brief. barely a moment. but it’s enough. his chest tightens in that familiar, stupid way. he looks away first, jaw clenching as he taps his pen against the desk. he wants you.
he’s wanted you for so long it feels like a constant ache, something he’s learned to live with. he’s imagined a thousand versions of you and him—skipping class together, sharing earphones, you sitting on his bed while he plays guitar just for you. versions where you don’t look so careful all the time. versions where you laugh freely, where your friends don’t watch you like hawks.
but he’s never said anything. neither have you. because wanting someone quietly is safer than wanting them out loud.
the bell rings and the class dissolves into noise. jeonghan slings his bag over his shoulder and stands, guitar case following the movement like an extension of him. as he steps into the hallway, he nearly bumps into your friends.
one of them clicks her tongue. “watch it,” she says, eyes flicking pointedly to his clothes.
jeonghan lifts his hands in mock surrender. “my bad.” they move past him, whispering, gossiping about him. when you pass, you hesitate for half a second. just long enough for him to notice.
“hey,” he says quietly.
you give him a small smile, blush creeping up your cheeks. “hey.”
but your friends tug you along before anything else can happen. you glance back once, apologetic, conflicted. jeonghan watches you go, fingers tightening around the strap of his guitar case. he knows your friends have a problem with him. they always have.
what he doesn't know is that you wanted him too. but sometimes, in moments like that—when your eyes meet his, when your voice softens just for him—he wonders if maybe, secretly, you do. and maybe that’s enough to keep him coming back late every morning, guitar on his back, heart a little too hopeful for his own good.
the next morning, jeonghan wakes up before his alarm.
it’s unfamiliar enough that he lies there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling, waiting for the panic to kick in. it doesn’t. instead, there’s a strange calm settling in his chest, the kind that makes him feel like maybe today won’t trip him up the way most days do. his phone reads 6:12. plenty of time. too much time, even.
he exhales softly and sits up, running a hand through his hair. the room looks the same as always — guitar case against the wall, hoodie slung over the chair, yesterday’s clothes still on the floor — but something feels different. lighter. like the weight he usually carries hasn’t quite settled onto his shoulders yet.
his routine doesn’t change much. shower, cold water biting into his skin as steam curls around the small bathroom. he dresses the same way he always does, baggy jeans, and a vintage jacket on top of a black shirt. the only difference is the skateboard he grabs from beside the door instead of just slinging his guitar over his back. the deck is scuffed, wheels worn down from years of use, grip tape peeling at the edges where his shoes have rubbed it raw.
outside, the morning air is cool and quiet, the streets barely awake. jeonghan pushes off once, twice, then lets the board glide beneath him, familiar and steady. the sound of the wheels against concrete is grounding, rhythmic. this is the version of him that feels the most real — moving fast enough that he doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to worry about what people expect from him.
by the time he reaches the school gates, students are only just beginning to arrive. jeonghan checks the time again, lips quirking upward when he realizes he’s early. actually early. he slows as he rolls onto campus, hopping off his board and tucking it under his arm, scanning the courtyard without meaning to.
and then he sees you.
you’re walking with your friends, bag slung neatly over your shoulder, hair catching the light as you laugh at something someone says. he feels it instantly, that familiar pull, like his attention has no choice but to lock onto you. before he can stop himself, his gaze meets yours.
your smile changes when you notice him.
“you’re early,” you say, surprise clear in your voice as you slow down.
“don’t get used to it,” jeonghan replies easily, lifting the skateboard slightly. “thought i’d try something new.”
your eyes flick down to the board, then back up to him, bright with interest. “you skate to school?”
“sometimes,” he shrugs. “beats walking.”
you fall into step beside him without really thinking about it, your friends lingering just a pace behind, watching. jeonghan feels the shift immediately — the way the air between you feels warmer, lighter. conversation comes easily, like it’s been waiting for this moment all along. you tease him about actually making it on time, he jokes about you being way too awake for this hour, and before he realizes it, you’re laughing, head tipped back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
it’s stupid how much he likes the sound of it.
for a few minutes, the world feels small in the best way. no teachers. no whispers. no judgment. just the two of you trading jokes, brushing shoulders as you walk. jeonghan almost forgets himself enough to believe this is normal. that this is allowed.
until someone calls your name.
you pause, turning toward the voice, and jeonghan watches the moment slip away as quickly as it came. your friends close in around you again, expressions unreadable but firm. you look back at him, lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for him.
“see you later, boy,” you say lightly, like it’s nothing at all.
he watches you walk away, skateboard tucked under his arm, heart doing something unsteady in his chest. he knows what it sounds like. dismissal. distance. a line drawn neatly between where he stands and where you’re allowed to be. he knows people would say he isn’t good enough for you, that you’re too polished, too careful, head a little too high in the clouds to see someone like him clearly.
but the way you smiled when you said it tells him otherwise.
and as he heads to class early for once, wheels echoing faintly behind him, jeonghan can’t help but think that maybe one day, you’ll come back down to earth — and maybe, just maybe, you’ll come looking for him when you do.
the next few days blur together in a way jeonghan doesn’t like.
he still wakes up early, still skates to school with the morning air biting at his cheeks, still brings his guitar like it’s part of his spine. but something shifts after that morning with you, something fragile he hadn’t realized he was holding onto until it started to crack. you don’t walk beside him anymore. you still notice him — he sees it in the way your eyes flick to him across classrooms, in the way your shoulders stiffen when your friends go quiet around him — but there’s distance now, careful and deliberate.
it makes his chest ache in a way he doesn’t know how to fix.
in the hallways, you smile at him like you’re afraid to smile too much. in class, you don’t turn around anymore. at lunch, you sit a little farther from where he usually lingers, laughter softer, eyes elsewhere. it’s subtle enough that no one else would notice, but jeonghan notices everything when it comes to you.
he tells himself it’s nothing. that he imagined the closeness, the easy laughter, the warmth of walking side by side. maybe he read into it too much. maybe see you later really was goodbye dressed up as kindness.
he starts skipping class again.
not because he doesn’t care, but because being in the same rooms as you and pretending it doesn’t hurt feels worse than detention ever could. instead, he ends up behind the gym, sitting on the concrete steps with his guitar balanced across his knees, fingers pressing into the strings until they bite. the notes that come out are messy and unfinished, breaking off halfway like he doesn’t trust himself to finish a thought.
he plays quietly, but the sound carries anyway.
sometimes, he imagines you hearing it from somewhere inside the building, recognizing the melody even though he never plays the same thing twice. he imagines you pausing mid-step, heart tugging in a direction you don’t want to admit. it’s a stupid fantasy, but it’s the only one he has.
one afternoon, he sees you with someone else.
it’s nothing dramatic. no touching, no laughter too loud. just you standing by the lockers with a boy from your class, his uniform neat, hair perfectly in place. he’s leaning in, listening intently as you talk, nodding along like every word you say matters. it shouldn’t mean anything. it doesn’t have to.
but jeonghan’s stomach drops anyway.
your friends are there too, watching approvingly, smiles sharp with satisfaction. when your gaze lifts and finds jeonghan down the hallway, your expression falters. for a second, it looks like you might say something. then one of your friends steps in front of you, blocking the view, and the moment is gone.
he doesn’t wait to see what happens next.
that night, he stays out later than usual, skating until his legs burn, until the streets blur and the noise in his head quiets enough to breathe. when he finally gets home, he drops his bag by the door and collapses onto his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. he thinks about how you laughed with him so easily. how you’d said his name like it belonged in your mouth. how you’d looked at him like he wasn’t a mistake waiting to happen. he wonders if you ever think about him the same way.
the next day at school, he doesn’t look for you.
when you pass him in the hallway, you hesitate, clearly torn, but he keeps his eyes forward, jaw tight, pretending he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze on his back. it’s easier that way. if he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to see the question in your eyes. he doesn’t have to wonder if you’re hurting too.
because wanting someone who’s afraid to choose you hurts worse than wanting someone who never noticed you at all.
by the end of the day, the rumors start.
nothing concrete. just whispers. about jeonghan being bad news. about you needing to be careful. about how people like him don’t fit into futures like yours. he hears it all without meaning to, words sinking into his skin like bruises.
and for the first time in two years, he wonders if maybe everyone else is right. maybe he really isn’t good enough for you. and maybe that’s why you said see you later instead of stay.
it happens on a random evening, the kind that doesn’t announce itself as important.
the sky is already bruising into twilight when you reach the skate park, the air warm and heavy with the smell of concrete and grass. wheels scrape against ramps, laughter echoes, music hums faintly from someone’s phone. jeonghan is there like he always is, hoodie loose on his shoulders, skateboard moving under him like it’s second nature. he looks freer here than anywhere else, like the noise in his head finally quiets when he’s in motion.
he notices you only when you step closer, slowing, hopping off his board when he realizes you’re really there. surprise flickers across his face, followed by something cautious and gentle. he walks toward you, board tucked under his arm, eyes searching yours.
“hey,” he says.
your chest tightens. suddenly, every thought you practiced on the way here tangles together. you nod, fingers curling into your sleeves. “can we… talk?” he doesn’t hesitate. “yeah. of course.”
you sit on the edge of the concrete, shoulders close but not touching. the park feels louder and quieter at the same time, every sound blurring into the background as you stare at your hands. it takes a moment to find your voice. when you do, it shakes. “i know,” you say softly. “i know how you feel about me.” jeonghan stills beside you.
“i’ve known for a long time,” you continue, forcing yourself to look at him. “and i’m sorry. i never said anything. i should’ve. i was scared, and i let other people’s opinions get in the way, and i didn’t mean to hurt you—but i think i did anyway.” for a long moment, he says nothing. his gaze drops to the skateboard, fingers tightening around the edge. then he exhales, slow and shaky, and lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more tired than amused.
“i thought i imagined it,” he admits. “thought i just wanted it so bad i convinced myself it was real.” you shake your head immediately. “it was real.” that gets his attention. he looks at you fully now, eyes wide, unguarded. “then why—”
“because i didn’t know how to choose myself,” you interrupt gently. “and i didn’t know how to choose you without disappointing everyone else.” the words hang between you, heavy but honest. jeonghan swallows, jaw tight, like he’s steadying himself. “i like you,” he says finally. not dramatic. not loud. just the truth. “i’ve liked you for a long time.”
your heart stutters painfully. “i know.” you hesitate, then add, “and i like you too.”
the silence that follows is electric. not relief exactly. not resolution. just the shared understanding of something fragile and unfinished. jeonghan looks at you like he’s afraid to move, afraid this moment might shatter if he reaches too far. he doesn’t ask you out.
instead, he says quietly, “i don’t want to rush you.” you shake your head, smiling faintly through the ache in your chest. “i don’t want to hide anymore.”
that seems to be enough for now, for both you and him.
when it’s time to leave, you stand and, without thinking, reach for his skateboard. he blinks, surprised.
“hey—”
“i’ll bring it back,” you say, already pushing off, laughter slipping out despite everything.
he watches you skate away, heart full and unsettled all at once, smiling so fondly it hurts, shaking his head. when you disappear down the street, he picks up his boardless walk home, hands in his pockets, replaying your voice over and over like it’s proof this wasn’t just another almost.
the next morning, you skate to school.
the board hums under your feet, confidence unfamiliar but steady in your chest. heads turn immediately. whispers ripple outward. “wow, she’s hot—” someone murmurs. another voice cuts in, louder. “WAIT. is that YOON JEONGHAN'S skateboard?”
you don’t answer. you don’t slow down.
jeonghan is standing in the school garden, guitar bag slung over his shoulder, fingers fiddling with the straps as he waits for the bell. the sound reaches him before you do — the unmistakable scrape of wheels on pavement. he looks up just in time to see you glide past, sunlight catching your face, skateboard unmistakable.
without thinking, he reaches out.
his hand closes gently around your wrist, stepping softly on the skateboard, stopping you just enough so you don’t lose balance. you look at him, startled, heart racing. he steps closer, thumb warm against your skin.
“careful,” he murmurs. you smile. “you caught me.” he doesn’t say anything else. he just leans in and kisses you.
it’s brief, soft, steady. not a promise, not a declaration — just truth, shared openly, right there where everyone can see. gasps ripple through the garden. whispers explode. neither of you pull away quickly.
and that was how the sk8er boy got the ballet girl.
Warnings/tags: suggestive MDNI, established relationship, playful banter, mentions of oral sex, Joshua is baffled at the request, fluff.
A/N: I giggled while writing this, it's so dumb, but I was bored and came up with it on a whim, and it may have a part two idk. Enjoy, and as always, this is a work of fiction and I do not depict the idols like this in real life!
Dividers from @cursed-carmine
"Shua..?" You called out to your boyfriend who was chopping up some vegetables for your lunch as he hummed in response. "Can I put a bow on it?”
The chopping sound paused, Joshua placing the knife down as he took in the question.
"Can you put a bow where, sweetheart?" He turned around, looking at you with a slightly confused expression.
He could feel that you were planning something inappropriate, but he'd really rather clarify before jumping to conclusions.
"You know what I'm talking about, Joshua.. so, can I put a bow on it or not?" You punctuated your question, waiting for him to answer.
"Sure. What the hell, why not?" He shrugged, still in the dark about whatever you were going on about.
That's when he saw your grin, his jaw clenching as regret coiled in his stomach. Did he just agree to something stupid?
"So, you'd let me tie a pink bow around your dick?”
There it was.
The stupid idea he agreed to without clarifying. Of course, you'd ask that of all things.
You had asked for something similar about a week ago, but with his bicep.
"What is with you and tying bows on my limbs, baby?" He raised an eyebrow, sass lingering in his tone. He genuinely wanted to know.
"Nothing— it's just a trend.. unless you'd also let me stack donu—”
"No. That'll give me a yeast infection."
"Aw man..." you pouted before returning to your original idea, stubbornly pursuing it. "But will you still let me tie a bow on it, pleaseee?”
You drawled out, practically begging him to let you seek out your ideas. Joshua grunted, crossing his arms before eventually sighing.
"I already agreed to it, so," he murmured, tired but entertained by your antics. "Whatever makes my girl happy.”
"Then can we do it now?" You suddenly asked, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend, wanting to convince him.
Joshua groaned out your name, looking at you with a bored expression. "I'm cooking lunch.”
"I'll give you head right after." You added soon after, your boyfriend's cock twitching in interest at the mention of oral sex while Joshua's ears tinted red.
— synopsis: you and mingyu have been broken up for a year, and yes, it was over something as stupid and trivial as you'd imagine - something where nuance is important. will you thrown caution to the wind when he's calling you drunk from halfway across the world to beg for you back?
– genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff. slightly suggestive.
— pairing: ex-boyfriend!kim mingyu x fem!reader
– word count: 8k
— rating: 18+. minors do not interact.
– warnings: swearing, alcohol, food mentions/eating. reader is very stupid. they have a semi-nasty breakup. they fight a bit. but they're lovers who gives a shit. i also don't know how airports work so whatever!
— what to listen to: who knew - p!nk ; i don't know - notd, astrid s ; please don't leave me - p!nk ; fast car - luke combs ; so beautiful - dpr ian.
– author's note: mingyu brainrot is so bad that i wrote this overnight and i'm running on no sleep, so i don't care about typos. thank you to @/saradika here on tumblr for these cutie beaded star dividers. as always, dedicated to thee gyuldaengie ever @gyuswhore (i hope you get some rest soon, emberly ♡. read this whenever!)
VOICEMAILS ARE THE BANE OF YOUR EXISTENCE.
He’d been there when you set yours up. New phone after he’d accidentally dropped yours in a lake after your date, and there’s a stupid laugh at the end of your message that makes your teeth clench with embarrassment.
He loves that laugh.
Or he did.
Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I missed your call, leave a message and I’ll get right back to ya!
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 | 11:09AM, SEOUL.
(1) Missed Call – Kim Mingyu.
(1) Voicemail – Kim Mingyu.
Hey, it’s me.
Well, you know it’s me...right? [LAUGHTER.] God, I miss your voice. Even if it’s just your outgoing message...and your laugh. I miss that laugh. I miss you, baby.
I’m getting drunk in Chicago with Seungcheol, but I’m thinking about you and I know I shouldn’t. I know I should have some shame, but I’ve never done this. The...breaking up over something small. Well, it’s not small, because it means something to you. It meant something to you, the reason you dumped me, and it means something to me because I love you and everything that matters to you matters to me. I just don’t know how to function without being able to talk to you everyday, and that’s selfish of me. It’s selfish of me to even leave this voicemail...but I can’t help it. I know my job kept me so busy, and I know you’re still probably so pissed at me but I still love you – even when I’m in Chicago and you’re all the way back home, getting pretty for work. Even when I’m back home, I love you and I think about you. I’m not drunk, before you say that. I’ve only had one beer and it was straight ass, but I think I’ll have just a few more so I can excuse the fact that your name is all over my call log in the morning.
I love you.
I miss you.
I’ll see you whenever you want me back.
When you think about it: not-drunk, not-sober Mingyu has a point.
You did break up over something very small, but in the moment...it meant something to you. It meant so much to you – and it was only by a few minutes. He was late, again – only by a handful of minutes but you will always stick to your guns and say it’s serious, and he knows it is. You’d told him at the start of your relationship that you hate being late and you hate it when people are late to any event they may have planned with you; and Mingyu had been understanding for the most part. He was rarely late and if he was, he had a good excuse prepared the moment he got in your face for his kiss in greeting.
You tried to settle your own stomach about it – he'd been in Chicago for work the week before your breakup, and you were convincing youreslf that he was just adjusting to the time difference. The whites of his eyes were pink with fatigue, and you felt the urge to run your fingers through his hair as he rested his head in your lap just for five minutes before he fell asleep.
But this had been the third time in one week. He’d been late by twenty minutes to dinner on Monday, arriving with nothing but a breathless sorry falling off his lips as he pressed them to your hairline. He’d been sweaty, like he ran to your apartment – but you let it go, because you also told him that your building elevator was under maintenance.
You still expected him to plan accordingly and arrive punctually – you'd told him that at nine in the morning, and dinner was at six in the evening. He should have planned ahead.
The second time was on Wednesday. Your friends had hosted a quick game night, one you’d invited Mingyu to with their permission and they asked you to stop for a bottle of wine. You’d gotten the wine on your way home from work to save time, and texted Mingyu three times within your arrival at your apartment – reminding him that he was driving, reminding him at the game night started at eight, reminding him that you do not like to be late.
He arrived at your apartment five minutes to eight, and your friend that was hosting the game night lived thirty minutes south. You couldn’t even dream of getting there by the start of it, and you got two text messages letting you know that they were starting a game of Monopoly and they’d start over when you got there. Mingyu’s jaw was as tight as yours was as he drove you both in silence, only for you to shoot a text off in the group (that had Mingyu in it) that you wouldn’t be making it. You made Mingyu pull over five minutes away from your friend’s apartment and handed him the bottle of wine, telling him you’d get a rideshare home.
It was the first real fight the two of you got into, and in the middle of a gas station parking lot. You were embarrassed as people peered through his crystal clear windshield at your frustrated attempt to make him understand, only for him to tell you he tried. That you knew he was busy, that he was doing the best he could to show up for you and you weren’t cutting him any slack. You’d scoffed, asking him if he’d ever cut you slack when you attended his work events with him, when you’d go to dinners with him and his friends.
“You don’t have to, and that’s because I plan accordingly! I tell you everything down to the minute and you can’t even give me a tapback reaction so I at least know you saw the message? Why are you acting like I’m being irrational for asking you to communicate with me?”
Mingyu turned his read receipts on after that fight. The drive to your apartment was silent, and you held in your frustrated tears until he pulled into his visitor parking spot in the garage of your complex. You pushed your own door open and slammed it shut, your heels clicking against the asphalt of the garage – but you didn’t get very far as Mingyu rounded the side of the car and grabbed your arm gently, pulling you into him with a very soft whisper against the shell of your ear.
“I’m sorry.”
You ignored it, turning your face away as he held you close to his chest – the soft smell of his cologne filling your nose and making your knees stupidly weak.
You don’t remember much about that night, but you do remember the way he’d hoisted you over one shoulder and carried you to your apartment. You remember the way he apologized on his knees inside your apartment, before pinning you under him on the couch and kissing you fervently. You remember how easily your anger melted away as he pulled your dress off, as he kissed down your body, as he sank his teeth into the flesh of your soft thighs before he made you forget why you were even mad to begin with.
The bottle of wine was empty by the end of the night, and you had a horrible hangover that made you call in sick to work – only to lift up your blanket and see your legs littered with nips of your boyfriend’s teeth.
Then, Saturday came.
Date night. Starting at four in the afternoon and ending at eight in the morning on Sunday.
Mingyu loved date night and he was never late to date night. He brought flowers, he’d kiss you stupid on your couch for a good hour before your plans took effect. Sometimes it was dinner, a walk, a movie. Other times it was staying in and snuggling together after a long week of being apart and bitching about your work schedules.
Other times, though rare...Mingyu was all over you the entire night. From the moment he stepped foot into your apartment, his lips were on yours and his hands roamed any and every part of your body you allowed. It was, admittedly, one of your favorite types of date nights – and you always made it a point to wear a cute little set under your outfit just in case he was feeling froggy.
Four came and went.
Five in the afternoon, six in the evening.
Seven rolled around and you stared at the new bottle of wine you’d gotten to share with him on your way home from work on Friday. A nice Merlot, bitter on the back of your tongue as you finished your second glass. You took the pretty clips out of your hair, tossing them onto the coffee table and doing the same with all your jewelry before grabbing the bottle by the neck. You tucked your legs beneath you as you grabbed your television remote, clicking around the screen before some boring news segment crossed the screen and you tossed it into the couch cushions.
You drank from the bottle for a total of fifteen minutes – the news segment ending and a broadcasted dating show taking over before your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. It buzzed twice, before it started ringing. It rang, and rang, and rang – and you felt tears prick at your eyes as you glanced down at your dress. Picked by Mingyu ages ago at a department store, one that he’d practically manhandled you into the dressing room over.
You turned the television off at ten to nine – just as Mingyu pulled your apartment door open. You could see the lines of sleep against his cheek, his eyes bloodshot as an apologetic look coated them. You’d pressed your lips together, before a laugh of disbelief fell from your mouth as you sighed. You shook your head as he toed his shoes off, guilt crossing his features as you slid the bottle onto the coffee table and grabbed your accessories in one hand. You didn’t care if your necklaces tangled – they had all been gifts from him anyway.
You stood on wobbly legs, kicking the heels you’d planned to wear that day out of the way as you moved to stand in front of him. His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to touch you as you gave him a wavering smile.
“Slept well?” You tilted your head, before holding your hand out and dropping the accessories in his hand, “you can have those back.”
“Baby.”
“That’s not my name.”
You shrugged, smiling wider still as you skipped to your bedroom. You pulled the dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor before pulling open all your dresser drawers and pulling out every article of clothing he’d ever given you and dropping it on top of the very same dress. Shirts, skirts, even a couple pairs of his sweatpants and a pair of his socks you’d stolen at the beginning of your relationship because you’d worn open-toed heels in winter.
He stood in the doorway of your bedroom as you tugged on a pair of pajama pants, his lower lip trembling as you pulled a shirt that wasn’t his over your head. You beelined back out of your bedroom, grabbing a garbage bag from your kitchen and prying it open before shoving everything inside it.
“Drive safe, Mingyu.”
“Baby, let me explain—”
“I waited like an idiot for five hours. I don’t do late. You know I don’t. You knew my one rule, and this week has just been a shitshow. Go home, get some rest and I’ll pick up my stuff next week.” You were fighting tears the entire time, covering your face with a trembling hand as he knelt in front of you, “stop! Go home, Mingyu!”
“Please. Please, baby, don’t do this—”
“Go! Get out!”
You were crying by the time Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your hips, burying his face in your shirt as he begged you to let him explain. You couldn’t hear him over your tears and the frustration festering in your belly, and you managed to twist yourself out of his hold despite wanting to melt right into him.
He left reluctantly – his face blotchy with tears and his shoulders heavy with fatigue. You knew he was tired. You knew he had this trip to Chicago every year and it was hard on him.
You had one rule. Don’t be late.
However...as you laid in your bed that night, barely able to breathe through your tears – you came to the conclusion that you had been a jerk. You knew you had been a jerk, but you had pride and you weren’t going to beg him to come back.
And now you’re sitting in your cubicle, a year later – wiping silent tears from your cheeks as you play his voicemail over and over.
I miss you.
I love you.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 | 12:19 PM, SEOUL.
(4) Missed Calls – Kim Mingyu.
(1) Voicemail – Kim Mingyu.
Hi, baby. It’s me again! I miss you.
Just realized I said I was drunk in that last message and then said I wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter anyay because I’d tell you all of this sober. Did you know I got a promotion? I didn’t get to tell you, but I had meant for it to be news that night we broke up. I was going to tell you but everything just crumbled and I should’ve said more. I should’ve fought you on it, I think.
You didn’t really look like you were ready to let me go.
Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t. But, I’m still here. Kind of like an anchor, I guess, and you’re the ship. I guess that’s why they call boats she, right?
I’m just waiting for you to pull me out of the water again and say you love me like you used to. Maybe kiss me, too. I miss your voice. I miss your lips, too, and your cherry lip balm. God, I miss you. I can’t sleep without you, and Chicago fucking sucks. I hate Chicago because all I can think about it you when I’m here. Three years strong, thinking about you when I see the damn Bean and eat deep dish at Lou Malnati’s.
[MUFFLED NOISES] Anyway, Seungcheol wants to take off. I’ll talk to you later. This is call number...four? I think, yeah. Oof, bad luck, huh? [SOFT LAUGHTER]
I’m six beers in, baby. Still in Chicago, still missing you, still loving you and still yours. I’ll see ya, sweets.
Again, he was right.
God, you hate when he’s right.
He’s so smug about it sometimes, Kim Mingyu. He’s insufferable when he’s right – when he guesses something correctly, when he figures something out before you can, when he beats you at a damn game of Scrabble. You’d learned to roll your eyes at him, and really – it was endearing. Kim Mingyu was a champion, a master of all trades – and he’d won your heart over and over again.
You hadn’t wanted to let him go.
Your swollen eyes had been hidden behind a clunky pair of sunglasses and glued to the ground as you dropped off his last box of things on his stoop the following Monday, but he didn’t answer the door. You knew he was home – his car was parked in front of his apartment and the Ring camera clicked on and off. You knocked on the door for five minutes before groaning.
“Give me my stuff, Mingyu!”
He didn’t open the door, opting to talk to you through his camera like a coward.
“You’re insane if you think we’re breaking up.”
“We are breaking up! Give me my shit before I break your door down.”
He’d laughed through the camera, clicking it off before you heard the locks on his front door coming undone. He barely cracked the door open, holding a singular purse out to you and something about it made your gut churn.
“Mingyu, let me in.”
“No, you said give you your shit. This is all you’ve got here. I know, I looked.”
You shoved the door open further, only to see a mess of boxes in the living room piled up. Everything was labeled with your name, clothing of yours folded neatly on his couch – books you left there carefully wrapped in newspaper and pairs of your shoes neatly held together by black zipties. Your stomach hurt as you let your eyes scan over it, the room far too dark with your sunglasses on but you had too much pride to take them off and let him see that you knew you were making a mistake.
“...You don’t have to be so nice about it.”
“Stop being a douche and take your sunglasses off, then. You’re indoors, it’s bad manners.”
You hadn’t looked at him yet, but the thickness of his voice told you everything you needed to know. He was near tears and your shoulders tensed as your heart clenched in your chest, and you peered over your shoulder to see him thumbing at the strap of your purse in his hand. You pried it from his hands swiftly, your fist tight around it as he sniffled, blinking back tears as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.
“Are you gonna help me load this in my car or what?” You muttered, shoving the purse over your shoulder as he chuckled dryly.
“I’ll just drop it off. It’s too much for you to carry back alone and I can’t let you do that.” He shook his head, and your ears picked up on the music playing in his living room. You looked around, before spotting his television on YouTube – playing I Don’t Know Why by NOTD and Astrid S. You trilled your lips them, shoving your hand under your sunglasses as hot tears spilled over. Your shoulders shook as you cried inwardly, and he tentatively slid his hands over them, making you jolt against him.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please.”
“Stop! Stop telling me you’re sorry, Mingyu!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot as you shoved yourself away from him then. You pulled the sunglasses off your face, haphazardly wiping your hand across your face as more tears spilled down your cheeks. You heard a crack in the plastic of the glasses from how tight your grip was, and you simply shoved them in one of the open boxes before facing him and blinking rapidly. He was blurry in your vision, but he was a mirror of you – splotchy eyes, pleading, begging...
Don’t leave me.
Fight for me.
For us.
“Please, Y/N.”
“I don’t even know what you’re asking for, Mingyu. Just...drop my things off with the doorman. And leave your key with him, too.”
You sighed, running your hands over your face and feeling the warmth of your swollen eyelids beneath your fingers as you tried to walk past him. Your fingers urged to touch him, to feel him close and breathe in his scent – but he caved first, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him. He kissed you then, too – his lips chapped but you cared nothing of it as you melted into him like a fool. Your hands clutched at his sweatshirt like you needed him to stay grounded as he held you against the front door, his own hands gripping your waist like you were going to disappear.
“Stop, stop.” You pulled back, your eyes staring into his. So full of love, adoration and hurt – a perfect image of you engrained in those molten brown irises. His pupils were dialated as he peered at you, but he blinked and let you go, pushing himself away as he cleared his throat with a mumbled apology.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Mingyu.”
Those had been your last words to him as you slammed out of his apartment – booking it to your car with tears in your eyes and the taste you missed on your tongue.
Him, him, always him.
You’re still sitting in your cubicle as you listen to this voicemail – your eyes probably just as swollen as you poke around a bowl of oxtail soup you’d packed for lunch from your leftovers the night before.
It doesn’t taste as good as when he used to make it.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 | 2:11 PM, SEOUL.
(9) Missed Calls – Kim Mingyu.
(1) Voicemail – Kim Mingyu.
Caller number nine! Claim your prize, me!
Hi, babe. I’m still in Chicago, but I’m in a different bar. Cheol is sick of me talking about you but I can’t bring myself to give a shit. This bar has a really nice plum blossom syrup they put in their lemon drops, you’d love it.
Do you remember our first kiss, actually? In Japan?
It was under all those plum blossoms and I put one in your hair, and you were so nervous that you didn’t kiss me back for a good three seconds. I know that’s probably a bit embarrassing for you but it’s one of my favorite memories of us...of you. God, I miss you.
I made you dinner that night, too, and we had that nice gin that I can’t remember the name of. But, I do remember that you told me you’d never been in love and I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t think I had ever been in love, either. Looking back, though, I think I was in love with you, even then.
Pft, wait. No. I know. I know I was in love with you. I know because your perfume was still lingering on my pillowcase, and I remember begging you not to go back to your room because we weren’t together yet. Do you remember that? Mingyu, don’t book one room! We’re not together yet!
Ugh, but that ‘yet’ hit me so hard. It was such a huge risk for us to go on that trip together when we weren’t together, and that ‘yet’ really told me everything I needed to know. That I was for you, and you were for me, endlessly. Timelessly.
So...I think, no. Fuck. I don’t think, I know you were in love with me, too.
I am currently...six beers, one plum blossom lemon drop and three shots in the hole. Tequila, too. Horrible, I still hate it...but I miss you.
I’m still in Chicago, and hopefully...somewhere in your heart.
Later, winner winner. I love you.
You do remember your first kiss, and you’re sitting at the cafeteria at your job with your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee with seasonal plum blossom creamer in it. You’re done with meetings, your coworkers worriedly patting your shoulders at the swelling in your eyes, your lips bitten raw from holding back your sobs in the ladies’ room.
You’d been dating Mingyu for a few weeks at that point. Dating, not his girlfriend – you'd been on six dates and something about him made your skin prickle with excitement. His smooth words paired with clumsy movements, pouted lips that brought you to a steaming hot blush every time they brushed your cheek as he dropped you off to the door of your apartment...
Hands that snaked around your waist every single time he tried to go in for the kiss, and you turned away.
“You can wait a little longer,” you’d roll your eyes as he brushes his nose to yours, and you’d crinkle it as you patted his chest. He would wait, he’d been open about it – he'd wait as long as you needed him to...because Mingyu was absolutely smitten with you.
It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, or to figure out that if he insisted just a bit more – he'd be in your bed before the word girlfriend even followed his introduction of you to his friends.
You wanted Mingyu just as bad, if not more.
He proposed the trip to Japan on the sixth of December, to leave by the eight and be back home by the fifteenth. Six days and seven nights, and he’d book you separate hotel rooms.
“I just want to spend time with you...uninterrupted. God, that sounds perverted but I don’t mean it that way, I swear!”
You’d only laughed then, and threw caution to the wind, accepting his invitation with a shy smile. The eighth came fast – and you were buckled into your seat on the plane next to him as he told you all the things he had planned for the two of you to do once you landed. You tried to argue that you’d need to take a power nap, only for him to roll his eyes and say there was no way you were going to waste time sleeping in Japan of all places.
“We’ll have plenty of time to sleep, beautiful. Just trust me.”
And you did. So blindly, so willingly.
He took you all over Osaka, and you’d spent the ninth of December with your fingers intertwined between your hips and walking around an indoor arboretum, a giant greenhouse of sorts. Plum blossom season in Japan wasn’t for another handful of weeks, but he’d insisted he’d been to this garden before and they had them in December – and he was right.
Again.
“I haven’t kissed anyone in a while,” you’d admitted quietly, your hand rubbing your neck nervously as he shook his head, pulling you closer as the area seemingly cleared out of couples and families. You both stood looking at the trees surrounding you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin before he pulled you slightly closer, “Mingyu.”
“I heard you, honey.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple as he picked a blossom off the tree, tucking it carefully into your hair. “You’re so pretty.”
“Shut up.” You muttered, leaning your cheek against his bicep as he peered down at you. His fingers carefully pinched your other cheek between his knuckles, making you scoff as he leaned slightly into your space. Your eyes had darted down to his lips, pink and plump and smelling of cherry lip balm you’d given him on the train ride there...
And you didn’t kiss him back for three seconds when you felt him press his lips to yours carefully. Your eyes were wide, before you squeezed them shut and kissed him back carefully. You’d both broken into giggles not even five seconds after, but he held your face in his hands gently and peppered chaste kisses all over it before asking if you wanted dinner.
It was one of the first times he’d made dinner for you, and one of the absolute best to date. A beautiful white fish with roasted lemon and brown butter served over a bed of creamy risotto and broccolini. You’d both eaten in silence and on the floor, and you’d been amused at how much he’d been able to whip up on a two-burner hot plate he’d brought from home. He turned his nose up at you as you laughed at him, but smiled smugly as you were rendered speechless by the dishes he’d plated for you.
You were both laying on his bed with the balcony doors thrown open when the words fell from your lips without thinking.
“I’ve never been in love.” You blurted, and he stilled next to you. You'd cautiously peered at him out of the corner of your eye, only to see him deep in thought before he turned to look at you.
“I don’t know if I have, either.” He offered, almost as if to soothe anything you maybe have disturbed. He furrowed his brows, folding his hands on his stomach as he hummed, “I have no idea what that’s like, but...I’m willing to find out.”
You’d felt your face grow hot then, and you sat up abruptly, “with me?”
“If you’d allow it.”
“We’re not together yet.”
He smiled, his cheeks tinging pink as he grabbed the pillow you’d been laying on and covered his face with it, “stop saying that! It makes me nervous and then I can’t stop smiling like an idiot and I lose my cool guy demeanor.”
“You have zero inkling of a cool guy demeanor, Kim Mingyu.”
“Nuh uh! You told me I looked cool when we met at that tangsuyuk place! That you liked my jacket.”
You’d snickered then, crawling over him as his eyes widened. His fingers on the pillow tightened as he looked up at you through his lashes, lips parted as his ears burned bright red. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his carefully. He kissed you back almost immediately, his hands finding your hips just as you pulled back.
“I said your jacket looked cool, not that you were cool. And you tripped after asking for my number, so I say that knocks a couple points off,” you murmured against his lips, only for him to pout as you laughed in his face. You pressed a chaste kiss against his mouth before patting his hip, “I’m going to my room. I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Kim.”
“You’re such a tease.”
You only smiled as you climbed off him, holding a finger up as you made your way to the door and looking over your shoulder with a scrunch of your nose.
“Well, I suggest you learn to love it!”
You stare down at the cup off coffee in your hands as the voicemail plays for a fifth time in your headphones. Your lipstick is on the edge of the ceramic cup, the very same lipstick you’d worn the day he kissed you.
If you flipped the tube over, it’d say Plum Blossom Baby.
And you’d remember every single time he kissed it off you like a man starved.
“I miss you, too.”
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 | 4:46 PM, SEOUL.
(12) Missed Calls – Kim Mingyu.
(1) Voicemail – Kim Mingyu.
Hi, baby! This is call number...twelve! Yeah!
That’s our anniversary date, by the way. December 12th. Mark your calendar, ‘cause it’s almost here!
Can you believe we broke up a year ago today, though? Well, it’s barely the seventh here in Chicago, but the seventh is almost over for you. Do you miss me? I miss you. Maybe that’s why the alcohol isn’t as bitter as it usually is, though.
Anyway, I know I’m probably not super intelligible right now because I’m now six beers, one plum blossom lemon drop, three shots and two whiskey sours in. Because of this information that I’ve just bestowed upon you, my love, I’m just gonna be honest, yeah?
Again.
I miss you.
You know, I probably would’ve introduced you to my parents this Christmas. I had it planned for last year, but then...well, you know. But, I wanted to bring you home, ‘cause that’s what you do when things get serious enough, right? When things feel right and you wanna pop the question, right?
I wanted to bring you home because then that means the future holds that big ass ring you deserve. The ring and the beautiful dress and the nice house I want to buy you and maybe some kids, right? You still want kids with me, right? I would’ve been such a good husband. I’d never be late, either, because I’d be your house husband, too. I would have given up everything for you, even when you tried to say you were just kidding, I know you. I know that glint in your eye...I know you and I love you and I would’ve given up everything to make you happy.
I still would.
I still want to, just like I still want you. I still need you, Y/N.
[SLURRED WHISPERING]
Cheollie wants me to hang up, but I had to tell him you’re not even talking back! God, you’re not talking back and I miss your voice so fucking bad, Chicago feels like Hell right now. I miss you so much it pains me. My stomach hurts, actually, thinking about you right now and missing your voice. Missing you.
I think...I think this will be my last call.
It has to be.
I miss you...so much. Even in Chicago, especially in Chicago. I feel it worse when I’m here, and I’m positive it’s because I was in Chicago the week before we broke up. You looked so pretty in all the outfits and selfies you sent me when I was gone on my trip...God, and you were so beautiful in that little red set you got. Fuck, I can’t think about that. It’s not right.
[SILENCE]
Oh, I never gave you the snowglobe I got you when I was here last year! I got it personalized, it had a picture of you and me the day I asked you to be my girlfriend! It’s still in the trunk of my car, though, and it’s buried inside one last box of stuff I couldn’t bring myself to give you when I dropped it all off with Myungjae. How is that guy, by the way? Still flirting with you? Dipshit.
Sorry.
God, I miss you. I miss kissing you...holding your hand and making fun of you for crying at Shark Tale when Angie confesses to Oscar that she was in love with him when he was nothing.
You loved me when I was nothing, too.
I’d be nothing without you.
...Do you think you’ll miss me too, someday? Maybe as bad as I miss you? Ever?
[SILENCE]
Bad question to ask. I’m sorry. I miss you.
Well.
My name is Kim Mingyu. I’m 28, and I am drunk in Chicago, Illinois. I am desperately missing you, I am irrevocably in love with you and I’ll see you as soon as you want me.
I’ll catch ya when I can, baby. December 12th, don’t forget. I love you.
God, I love you.
Bye, baby.
You’re thankful that you’re sitting on your couch when that voicemail comes in.
You’re so grateful no one can see your trembling fingers as you press play on it, or the way you burst into tears the moment the word baby crosses his lips. You can hardly hear him speaking, but you turn the volume up as high as it will go and sob into your throw pillow. You cover yourself with one of the blankets you’d thrown over the edge of the couch that morning, and you feel your chest ache as you get a whiff of his cologne.
You know Mingyu wanted to marry you.
You’d seen the velvet box in his dresser a few months before the breakup. It wasn’t at all the reason behind it, and you were confident in that. You would’ve married him in a heartbeat, he wouldn’t even have to ask you. He’d have to do nothing of the sort like he did when he asked you to be his girlfriend – no fancy rented restaurant, no engraved bottle of gin, no begging to go down on you after finishing inside you for the very first time.
You think it scared you, though.
God, it scared you so much.
To be Mingyu’s forever – it terrified you to know that you’d fallen so deeply in love with him that he wouldn’t even have to ask. You’d give him anything he wanted, anything he needed at the drop of a hat – just a kiss to your lips and you’d seal his fate forever. House husband, the kids, the house, the stupid fucking wedding that he’d talked about for a few weeks before he left for Chicago last year...
You’d give it all to him.
Every. Single. Thing.
“I love you, Kim Mingyu.”
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 | 7:15 PM, SEOUL.
INCOMING CALL – Kim Mingyu.
You watch the phone ring from your couch. You’re still in your work clothes, your pantyhose torn at the knee from picking at it. Waiting for another call.
Hoping for another call.
It rings, and rings...
And it starts going to voicemail before you grab it and slide the toggle to answer it, pressing it to your ear. Your skin prickles as you hear the crunch of snow under his boots, and a sigh from his lips – likely paired with tears beginning to coat his lashes. Seungcheol is hollering in the background, singing something about a girl from Ipanema.
“Okay, I lied. This is the last call—”
“Mingyu, you have to stop doing this.” You blurt, and silence follows your sentence. You dare yourself to peek at the screen, but he hasn’t hung up. He clears his throat, and you hear him stop walking.
“What the hell? Baby?”
“Mingyu, stop calling this number.”
You feel your throat tight, burning as you hear him sigh painfully on the other end, and a soft thud follows. He’s likely on the floor, sitting on a curb in the middle of Chicago....at almost five in the morning.
“I love you, Y/N.”
“I know. I know you love me, Mingyu. That’s why you need to stop.” You feel a rush of hot tears spill down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away as you sniffle, “Because I can’t promise you that I don’t love you back, and then we’re fucked. We’re in a mess if I can’t tell you that I don’t love you.”
“That just means that you do love me.” He’s pouting, and Seungcheol has switched songs to I’m Your Baby Tonight by Whitney Houston. “You know we can be together. I’ll drop everything for you, right now. I need to be yours or I won’t understand the meaning of life.”
You snort, the amusement feeing cynical as you shake your head, “we can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I have pride.”
“Fuck your pride. Love me like I know you fucking do. I know you love me.” His voice grows soft despite the strong start, and you hear the ping of metal on metal. He’s probably leaning against a lamp post, “Love me, please.”
“Mingyu.” You groan, your voice thick as you sink into the cushions. He hums as you sigh, “I shouldn’t have answered. I gotta go, Mingyu. Get back to your hotel safe, okay?”
“Wait, wait. Don’t hang up, please. I miss your voice...so much.” He whines, before the sound of snow jostles around him, “What if I send you a ticket to Chicago right now? I’ll send you a ticket right now if you promise me you’ll come. Come see me. Love me.”
“Mingyu, why would I do that? I work...I have commitments. You’re just drunk.” You hate how close you are to caving, to calling in sick and using your PTO to go rescue him. A twenty-hour flight over a drunken confession of completely and utterly missing you that you’re sure he’ll regret.
“For closure, I guess. To prove you don’t love me. I’ll send you a ticket right now, and if you don’t love me...” Something akin to a sob rips through him, and you feel your lower lip tremble as the same burn settles in your chest, “if you don’t love me, don’t tell me. Just don’t get on the flight.”
“You’re wasting money, Mingyu.” The waver in your voice betrays you, and his response lets you know that he knows he’s got you. Hook, line...
“I was made to spend my money on you. My time. Give you all my love until I can’t anymore and when I can’t that’s when my time is up. But loving you...God, I'd never fucking die. I’ll love you in this lifetime, in the next one. I’ll love your lips and your face and your heart in every single time and space continuum, the Gods would be fucking sick of my ass yearning for you. That’s what this is. I’m yearning for you to love me from across the world while I’m drunk on a curb in Chicago and all the stars in the sky look like your eyes when you tell me you love me, too.”
Sinker.
“Good night, Mingyu.” You breathe out, and he hums again, his voice thick as he replies softly.
Carefully.
“Good night, Y/N. I love you...so much.”
He hangs up before you can, and you look at your phone with a weight in your stomach.
You stare at it for five minutes, your thumb hovering over the PLEDIS app your company had to put in paid time off or sick leave.
NEW! 2 Messages from: Kim Mingyu
[7:31 PM] [1 Attachment]
[7: 31 PM] check your email. come to me. please.
Your email pings as you press the photo. A screenshot – one first class ticket to Chicago through O’Hare, taking off at seven in the morning your time. A non-stop thirteen-hour flight, because you can’t stand waiting around an airport for a connection.
NEW! 1 Message from: Kim Mingyu
[7:32 PM] i love you.
You open the company app without a second thought.
MONDAY, DECEMBER 8 | 5:34 AM, CHICAGO.
Mingyu is nauseous as he paces back and forth in front of your gate, his hand nearly crushing the flowers he’s got gripped in his palm.
He’s still hungover as fuck, and he has absolutely no idea what came over him the night before – but he doesn’t care, either. If you got on that plane...you’ll be here.
Any minute now.
Seungcheol scolded him the entire ride to the airport. He went on and on about how he can’t do things like that when he’s drunk, that he can’t just drop over two grand to get you to Chicago because he misses you – when Seungcheol had done the same thing the year you and Mingyu met, but for Jeonghan.
Seungcheol argues he and Jeonghan have been in love longer than Mingyu has even known how to wipe his ass. Offensive, gross and not true...but slightly endearing as the older man flushes at the mention of his long-term boyfriend.
Mingyu’s collar is too tight as he nibbles on his lip, watching people start trickling out the gate. Families, a couple. Another couple, elderly and wobbly as they hold hands tightly and carry light backpacks – a young girl screaming from behind him and running up to them. He stops pacing, standing next to a man obviously waiting for someone – maybe a her. A girl, a woman.
He’s just as nervous as Mingyu is, holding flowers just like Mingyu. Lips bitten red, cheeks flushed...and Mingyu reminds himself to take a deep breath. He keeps looking over heads of people – more couples, more families...
You.
In a pink hoodie that belonged to him in college, with a black pair of his sweatpants tugged over your hips and almost too long. Wearing cable headphones, eyes swollen and sunglasses perched on your head. Your hands are stuffed in your pocket, and you’re chewing on your lip the way you always do when you’re nervous as you walk cautiously; your eyes slowly raking over everyone waiting before you drop them to the ground.
Mingyu feels glued to the goddamn floor, and the guy next to him nudges his arm.
“That’s your girl?” He utters, and you duck behind a couple, almost like you’re embarrassed. Like you’re not aware he’s there, and you don’t want to look like an idiot.
“Yeah,” he breathes out, “that’s my girl.”
The guy pats his arm, and Mingyu feels adrenaline start coursing through him like a wave swallowing him whole as your name leaves his mouth.
“Y/N!”
Your head darts up, eyes wide as you look all around. You spot him, covering your face immediately as your lip juts out in a pout and he bolts to you. He almost knocks you over as he wraps his arms around your waist, clutching the flowers to your back as he holds you close. Your hair smells like the same perfume that’s haunted him for the last year without you, and your tears are soaking through his shirt as he kisses the side of your face.
“You’re here. You’re here...a-and I love you. I love you so much.” He stutters between kisses, your fingers gripping his jacket tightly as you sob into his neck. “I love you, God. It’s so good to see you, baby.”
“Even when I broke up with you over something stupid?” You blurt, haphazardly wiping at your eyes as his hands come to hold your cheeks carefully. Your eyes are still as starry as ever, glossed over with tears as your fingers pull at his jacket, “I love you.”
He smiles softly, nodding, “I know, baby. I know you love me.”
He feels his eyes sting with tears, your face growing blurry as he pulls you into him. He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply as his arms practically crush you in his embrace. Your arms wrap around his waist, your fingernails dragging lightly up and down his back as your sobs subside slowly. He kisses the crown of your head, “you’re really here?”
“I’m really tired.” You whisper back, pulling your head back slightly to look up at him. His thumbs wipe the corners of your eyes gently, and you seemingly hesitate before glancing at his lips.
A kiss.
“Luckily for you...my hotel room has two beds.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sharing with Seungcheol.”
“He’s a fucking cheapskate if it’s not about Jeonghan,” Mingyu jests, making you roll your eyes before they not-so-subtly land on his lips again. He nuzzles his nose to yours, “you’re mine, right? This, you coming. That makes you mine, right?”
“Leave a message,” you shrug, before pressing your lips to his abruptly, your hands cupping his jaw carefully as you pull him to you. He kisses you back softly, pulling away after a few seconds as his hands hold your hips tightly. He smiles against your lips, giving you another chaste kiss before leaning near your ear and pitching his voice up.
“Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I missed—”
“Mingyu, I'll get right back on that damn plane.”
He laughs, grabbing your hand and pulling you flush to his hip as he shows you the flowers. Your eyes widen as you smile inwardly, holding them to your chest as you peer up at him through your lashes, “...thank you for leaving all those voicemails.”
“Thank you for listening to them. And picking up...and getting on that flight.”
“I love you, Mingyu.”
He can’t bite back his smile as his cheeks tinge pink, his skin hot as his fingers tighten around yours and you both step out into the cold Chicago air. He rocks on his heels for a moment, before spotting Seungcheol down the pick-up area. He leans down slightly, pressing a kiss to your temple before clearing his throat.
“Hey, it’s Y/N. Sorry I missed your call, leave a message and I’ll get right back to ya! Hehehe.”
You shove him away, beelining for Seungcheol as he snickers. The older man looks pleasantly surprised to see you, opening his arms to embrace you. You allow it, before he opens the passenger side door as Mingyu opens his mouth to argue.
You both stick your tongues out at him, turning your noses up at him as you climb into the passenger seat while Seungcheol takes your carryon.
“I told you she’d come.” Seungcheol scoffs, and Mingyu scrunches his nose, “no you didn’t, idiot.”
“Be nice, Kim Mingyu. We’re kicking him out of his room later, we need to be in his good graces.”
“No way you guys are just getting back together and already fucking.” Seungcheol gapes, and Mingyu feels his face grow even hotter as he just scrambles into the driver’s seat. Seungcheol scowls as he slips into the backseat, too tired to fight it. You reach your hand across the center console for Mingyu to hold as he peels out of the pick-up area, your lips pressing to his knuckles.
still so insane abt dante & vergil both giving nero things that hold a lot of importance to them.
i mean sure dante understood that he could entrust nero with the yamato & so he did & it was in part abt the power that sword holds but also it was the only vergil related thing he has left, the one thing that knows the touch of his brother better than dante himself & YET. he gives it to nero. almost as if choosing to not physically hold on to the grief & trauma that he already does mentally & emotionally.
likewise when vergil gives nero the book before following dante down into hell, giving away the only constant in his life (except yamato to an extent), the thing that mattered so much to him that it was the only other thing (except his nightmares) that he could summon as a human, is. just. ough. it is the only thing left of his childhood now that both his & dante's pendants are gone. & EVEN SO!!! he gives it to nero. as if he can entrust his fragile, human part to nero (& vergil knows he can, it is nero after all who carried v all the way to urizen). as if now he doesn't really need reminders that the human part of him exists. that it's within him.
something abt both these moments not only being the twins' way of showing acceptance & trust & the implication of a promise (the promise that its not goodbye forever). but also being a stepping stone in their process of healing......
There’s a guy on campus who girls go to for stress relief. Sleazy bastard, but he obviously knows what he’s doing. When everything becomes too stressful for you, you decide you wanna do the same. Just a one time thing. Meaningless sex.
You never banked on him getting attached to you.
wc: 7.6k
warnings: college au, physiotherapy student!jeonghan, medical student!reader, reader is an overthinker and tends to spiral, fuck boy!jeonghan, pussy drunk!jeonghan, smut, nsfw, multiple orgasms, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, semi (?) public sex, both of them are horny as fuck
masterlist
Some part of you wishes you had stayed illiterate all your life. It’s the same part that loathes the thought of early morning classes, endless labs, assignments and presentations. Clinic hours. Procedure logbooks. Fuck, it’s just neverending. At any given point in time, you have at least six different things going on, all of them top most priority. Which isn’t possible. The top most priority can only ever be one thing. That’s what the word ‘priority’ means. You can’t have six priorities, it isn’t possible-
“Do you have a copy of tomorrow’s case for discussion?” Jihyo sounds like she’s about ready to cry. Not surprising to you at all, because you’re the same right now. You blink at your laptop screen a few times, trying to get out of your own head. Long, rambling thoughts have always been your biggest vice. And you do it even more when you’re stressed.
You grab a sheet of paper on your bed next to you and lean over the side of it, meeting Jihyo halfway from her own bed.
“Thanks.” She mumbles, looking down at the sheet. She reads it over once, twice, then one more time, before her distraught eyes meet yours.
“What’s the diagnosis?”
You shrug.
Jihyo nearly wails, scratching at her head. “I can’t do this shit. God, I’m going to kill someone.”
You can’t even laugh. You’re too stuck on the presentation open on your own laptop, trying to make the font small enough to fit everything on it, but not so small that it can’t be seen. It’s proving to be way more difficult than you thought.
“Come on. We’re going to grab dinner.” She swings her legs over the bed, ignoring the many papers scattered around her as they wrinkle under the movement. You don’t even question it, clicking ‘Save’ on the presentation a comical number of times to make sure you won’t lose it, then following Jihyo’s footsteps.
It’s colder outside than you anticipated, but it still feels nice. The goosebumps on your skin wake you up a bit, which you desperately need after the fog you’ve been under for the last few hours. Realistically, you know that neither you nor Jihyo can afford to take time off. But enough is enough. You need a break, even if it means you will crash and burn tomorrow.
The campus dorms are separate from the actual university, located across the road from it and scattered over a large area. Every building is more wide than it is tall, only three stories but sprawling over a large area. Medicine, Dentistry, Nursing and Physiotherapy. The backbone of the future healthcare system. When you walk past the park, there’s a small bonfire going on, surrounded by many cheering students egging on three guys holding kegs.
Yup, backbone of the future healthcare system.
Right outside the gated walls of the dorms are many places to eat, catered especially for the thousands of students beside them. You and Jihyo are standing on the sidewalk, wondering what you are in the mood for eating, when a familiar face catches your eye.
“Can’t work either?” Mina smiles, giving you both hugs. Jihyo pouts and shakes her head.
“Do you know the diagnosis for tomorrow’s case?”
Their voices fade as they continue to talk, and you stare off into space. One half of your brain is wondering if you want pizza or something Chinese. The other part is contemplating cutting some info from your presentation so you can fit it on the slide. Someone nudges you, and when you blink back to the present, both Jihyo and Mina are looking at you.
“What’s up with you?” Mina asks.
“Nothing.” You reply almost automatically.
Jihyo huffs and rolls her eyes. “She’s been like this for days, just checking out.”
Mina frowns. “That’s not like you at all.”
“Sorry.” You sigh. “I’m just stressed.”
“You need to take more breaks.”
“Doesn’t help.” Jihyo has her arms crossed and she’s shaking her head. “She’s still thinking of work. I guarantee you she’s thinking about that presentation she has due tomorrow. Aren’t you?”
Caught red handed. You feel your face grow warm and you pout. “…… No.”
Jihyo snorts and Mina laughs a little. You sigh defeatedly.
“Can we just eat?”
The three of you end up at the first place you can see, a small diner where you order burgers, fries and milkshakes. Any food that’s greasy enough to take your mind off the mountains of stuff you have left unfinished. Mina watches you closely as you stare out the window.
“You need to relieve stress.” She says. You hum noncommittally.
“Thanks for the suggestion. I never would’ve known I had to do that.”
Jihyo snorts and elbows you. Mina doesn’t seem fazed.
“I have a solution, but I don’t think our goody little princess will take it.”
That gets your attention. You’ve always hated being perceived as that. Sure, you’re mostly a homebody. You don’t like attending parties too much unless you know a lot of people there, which is almost never. You like spending most of your time in front of a screen, and you’re not very athletic either. You haven’t had anything remotely romantic since university started, even though all your friends have indulged in hookups. And because of all this, since the start of university, you’ve been branded as the kind of risk averse girl who doesn’t really enjoy anything fun. You know it’s all in jest. Your friends love you very much. But it still irritates you.
“What is it?” You ask. You know she’s baiting you, but you want to know anyway.
“There’s this guy in DPT,” she begins, “Totally flaky. Kind of full of himself. But he’s amazing in bed.”
Jihyo’s already in a fit of giggles. She obviously knows who Mina is talking about. You frown.
“Okay. So?”
Mina leans forward, her elbows on the table. “He jokingly put an ad up on the university Facebook group a while ago. Offering….. services…… to any girl that’s interested. It got taken down almost immediately but apparently it actually became a thing, because I’ve heard a lot of girls say he’s always down to hook up as stress relief if you ask.”
By this point, your mouth has dropped open in shock and a small amount of disgust. Both Jihyo and Mina have stupid grins on their faces.
“So he’s a glorified prostitute.”
Mina gasps “He is not! He’s a good guy, actually. A little sleazy but, aren’t all college guys like that? Also, it’s not like he’s asking for payment.”
You gawk at her. “Oh my god, you too?”
She holds her hands up in defense. “Anatomy was really difficult last year, okay?”
You groan and lean down, forehead hitting the table with a dull thunk. Jihyo laughs.
“Thank you for the suggestion.” You give Mina a withering look. “But I’m fine.”
Mina shrugs. “I’m just saying, he's really good. And he’d probably blow your virgin mind.”
Your face flames. “I’m not a virgin.”
“Eight second sex doesn’t count.”
Jihyo is nearly doubled over, face red with laughter. You thank every god in the universe when your food finally arrives.
Mina is wrong, objectively. You aren’t a virgin. In fact, you had a boyfriend in high school. You took each other’s virginities. Of course he came in eight seconds, it was his first time. The fact that you never had sex again and he broke up with you a month afterwards didn’t change anything. You are not a virgin.
No one says anything to you after that day, but the thought annoyingly lingers. You cannot believe a guy would just do that. And even more shocking that girls would agree to hook up with someone who has a reputation like that. Another notion plagues you: how good is he in bed to even have all these girls keep coming to him?
Fuck. These are dangerous thoughts. Especially for someone like you, who can spiral in your mind so easily. And almost like sugar on top, with every passing day, work keeps ramping up. You retreat farther and farther in your mind, thoughts racing and contorting from one shape to another, taking up lives of their own, and before you know it, you’re wondering. What if you were to hook up with this guy too?
In every sense of the word, you are stressed. You don’t know what he does, but it clearly works. Maybe you can take just one night and instead of stuffing your face with greasy food as an outlet, you can have sex. It sounds like an intriguing option.
Maybe it will shut your friends up about you being a prude.
Tracking DPT people isn’t easy as someone in Medicine, and especially as someone in Medicine who doesn’t know more than four people and would rather set herself on fire than talk to new faces. Luckily, those four friends of yours are insanely well connected. There’s no way in hell you’re asking Mina. You won’t give her that satisfaction. So when you call Mingyu about what Mina told you, he has a name for you immediately.
“Yoon Jeonghan.” He says over the phone. Behind him, you can hear a lot of talking and laughing. He’s likely at a party. On a weekday. Figures. “Really cool guy. I’ll send you his number.”
“That would be great.” You reply.
“Y/N, are you sure about this?”
You immediately go rigid. “Why? Is he suspicious?”
There’s a small silence before Mingyu snorts. “You know what, this is good. You need this. Desperately.”
You don’t like his implication, so you just hang up. He sends you Jeonghan’s number mere minutes later, and you reply with a middle finger emoji. He only sends you kissy faces back.
Once you click on Jeonghan’s number and stare at the blank text box, you’re at a loss. What do you even say to him? How do these things go? You really don’t want to ask Mingyu again. He already thinks you’re a loser (affectionately).
You end up sending a small text introducing yourself and telling him which department you are from. He replies around ten minutes later.
[yoon jeonghan]: what can I do for you?
Now you’re at a true loss. What do you say? You type and erase, type and erase for many agonising minutes. Then, another text comes up.
[yoon jeonghan]: im in B wing. DPT. last door on the second floor.
You blink a few times, staring at his text. Fuck, he knows. You feel a little embarrassed, but you think this is more of a reflection of him than it is of you, so you just shut your phone and scramble to get dressed.
Half an hour later, you’re climbing the steps of an unfamiliar building across campus, feeling nervous and jumpy. Your eyes dart around your new surroundings rapidly, but no one is really wandering around. It’s a weekday, so there’s not much activity. The corridors are easy enough to navigate, and you find the room at the end of the hallway very quickly. You shake your hands out, breaths coming irregularly. This is so out of left field for you, and half your mind can’t even process that you would do something so impulsive. You’re not this person at all. But what can you say? Medical school hath changed you.
You knock on the door so quietly that you immediately wonder if you should knock again. He probably didn’t hear it. You’re just thinking of doing it again when the door swings open, catching you off guard. You freeze.
He’s tall, and kind of skinny looking in his oversized t-shirt. But he has this gorgeous, jet black hair that falls down the sides of his face in effortless waves. Hell, it looks even better than your hair freshly out of the salon. He has pretty, almond eyes, a thin nose bridge, and lips so plump that you immediately wonder what they would feel like.
Okay. You get the appeal now.
“You must be Y/N.”
Your head jerks with a nod. “Jeonghan?”
He smiles, and it nearly takes your breath away. God, he’s painfully attractive. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you want to turn around and book it immediately.
“In the flesh. Come in, sweetheart.”
You can feel the back of your neck burn hot at the petname. No one has ever called you that. You step in hesitantly, looking around. It’s a cubicle, with a single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Lucky him, he doesn’t have to share with a roommate. You don’t know anyone in the Medicine building who has a single room. Damn physiotherapy people and their many perks.
It’s surprisingly neat. There’s a gaming setup on the desk, a lot of wires, but they’re all stacked neatly. There’s a few books on the side tables and on the floor next to the desk. The bed is made. There’s some posters on the walls. The room has a lot of character. It catches you a little off guard. You don’t know what you were expecting. Maybe a shady dungeon with chains and a mattress as hard as stone.
Jeonghan watches you expectantly. You fidget.
“I- I heard… I mean, someone told me. About- about you.”
He hums, and you can see the amusement on his face, the corner of his lip ticked up just a little bit. You wish the ground could swallow you whole. He huffs out a laugh.
“Should’ve known you’d be shy. You couldn’t even say it over text.”
Your face burns more. You avoid his eyes. When he walks closer, your heart races. You nearly jump away in shock when he leans down, nosing at your hair, brushing over your neck.
“Should we loosen you up a bit?”
Your heart is beating so fast it makes you a little dizzy. He smells really good up close. Fragrant aftershave and something like pine. Your mouth drops open when his lips press to the skin below your ear.
“Yes?” He whispers.
“Yes.” You breathe.
Your consent is all he needs, large hands brushing over your hips before moving up to grip your sides. He presses more kisses over your neck, then up your jaw. Something twinges in your lower stomach, making your insides clench. Your heart is pounding so loud you are scared he will feel it through your rib cage. He keeps traveling up, until his lips brush the corner of your mouth. You turn your head with an instinct that surprises even you, and he hums in approval.
That first kiss makes your knees buckle. Luckily, his hands are giving you enough support to keep you from collapsing. It’s languid, like he’s taking his time with you, and yes, his lips are just as soft as you imagined. His nose nudges yours, making you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. You can’t help your moan, hands fisting his shirt. You can feel his smile on your lips.
When he pulls away, you have to blink furiously to compose yourself. He watches you closely, like he’s trying to figure you out. But you should be the one doing that, if your brain wasn’t completely scrambled right now. You need him to kiss you again, so you lean up on your tiptoes towards him. He chuckles.
The second kiss is even more charged, though you didn’t think that was possible. His tongue comes out to play this time, and you arch into him at the feeling. His hands have become more daring too, exploring your body. He squeezes your ass a little, digs into the plush of your hips. He fiddles with your shirt until he’s coaxing you to put your arms up, pulling it off you. You feel shy suddenly, but he doesn’t seem to notice, going back to kissing you, and his lips wipe away any hesitation that you might have.
He plays with the clasp of your bra a bit, running his fingers over the straps. It sends shivers up your spine. He finally undoes it and pulls it off. He disconnects your lips enough to look down at your chest, whistling low.
“Pretty.” He says. You flush hard, tugging at his own shirt.
When Jeonghan pulls it off, you’re a little surprised. He’s not nearly as skinny as he looks when he’s swimming in his loose clothes. He’s lean, nicely carved muscle, just enough meat on him to feel good when your hands begin exploring. He lets you, doesn’t even flinch when you run your fingers over his abs. Your eyes dart further down, and you can see his erection over his sweatpants. You bite your lip.
“How do you want me, pretty?” He asks, lips running lazily over your shoulder. You flush.
“I- I don’t know.”
He pulls away at that a little, looking at you curiously. “You have done this before, right?”
You scowl. “Of course I have!”
“Okay.” He placates you, hands running up and down your bare sides. “So how do you want it? I can eat you out. Or do you just wanna fuck?”
Well, shit. You didn’t expect him to say all that. You’re caught off guard by how vulgar his words are, by how hot he sounds talking like this. Like it’s nothing. Fuck, you’ve never been eaten out before. Are you even ready for something like that? But then again, from what you can see as you look nervously down at his bulge, he’s not exactly small. Mina was right. Eight second sex really doesn’t count. There’s no way you can take all of this.
Jeonghan laughs lightly as he follows your gaze before humming and nodding. He goes back to kissing your shoulder and neck.
“I’ve got you. Just relax.”
That’s exactly what you’re struggling to do, but you don’t tell him that. He walks you both backward until you’re pushing yourself up the mattress to the head of the bed, him on top of you. His fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans and panties before pulling both of them down in one go. You flush at the thought of being completely naked now, his eyes running over you. There’s a heat in them that you didn’t expect, but welcome it regardless. It really does look like he wants you. You don’t know how much of it is an act, or if he really thinks you’re worth looking at like this.
He kisses over your ankle before traveling up slowly, laying his lips on your skin every few beats until he reaches the apex of your thighs. This is entirely new territory for you. Even the thought of a guy down there is mortifying, so yes, maybe your friends aren’t too far off in their assumptions of you. It’s so hot in theory, but here, now, in practice, you’re so nervous it makes every muscle in your body stiffen. Maybe this it too-
You yelp when you feel it, his lips brushing over your slit. Jeonghan is taken aback, pulling away and blinking up at you from between your legs. It’s a strange sight, strange enough to knock you out of your thoughts. He breathes out a laugh.
“Either you’re very distracted, or you really haven’t done this before.”
You peer down at him, held up by your elbows so you can look properly. You hesitate before sighing.
“I haven’t.” You mumble, but you’re quick to clarify. “I didn’t lie. I’ve- I’ve had sex. But no one’s ever….. I’ve never had-”
“Well that’s a shame.” Jeonghan mumbles. He runs his hands over your inner thighs, slow strokes that loosen your muscles a little bit. He thumbs at your outer lips and you flush deeply, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.
“Anyone who got close enough to have sex with you but didn’t eat out your pretty pussy must’ve been a real asshole.”
He kisses your folds, sucking on them a little. Your mouth drops and your elbows give out, back hitting the mattress. God, this is way hotter than it needs to be. He’s probably just saying all this to make you relax a little and get it over with. You feel something hot, wet and alive run over your lips again before dipping inside, lazily licking over where you’re most sensitive. He tongues at your clit until you let out your first moan. His grip on your thighs, holding you open, tightens.
“That’s it.” He whispers. “Just relax.”
Never in a million years did you think head would feel this good, but Jeonghan shatters all your illusions. He’s so meticulous, discovering parts of you that you didn’t even know could feel good when stimulated. He has no shame about it either. He moans into you when you try to close your legs around his head, or when your fingers thread through his hair. His tongue dips inside you too, swirling, before pulling out and licking upward so he can suck on your clit some more. You get close to your high embarrassingly quickly, and you’re nearly crying when you warn him about it. He only keeps going, consistent in his pace, until you’re jerking and shuddering, cumming hard in his mouth. He doesn’t slow until you’re desperately pushing him away, overstimulated.
“Fuck.” His voice is raspy, ragged. His face is drenched. You can see, even through your teary vision, that his pupils are dilated. “That was so hot, the way you came on my tongue.”
You flush, not knowing what to say. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You jerk back when Jeonghan’s thumb runs over your abused clit. He smirks.
“You gotta do that again for me, pretty. I need to feel that again. On my fingers this time.”
He’s leaning over you before you can even process his words. He presses his forehead to yours, and you feel something prod at your entrance.
“Oh, fuck.” You arch when a solitary finger slips inside you. You’re definitely wet enough, between your orgasm and his spit, so there’s next to no resistance. Jeonghan watches you closely, too closely. You try to turn your head, feeling shy, and he only chuckles, curling his finger inside you. You shriek when something zips through your core.
“Found it.” He grins. It’s so sleazy but so hot. God, is this why your girls are lining up for him?
He sinks another finger inside you before curling it up to the same spot, and this time, you see stars. You writhe and tremble under him, feeling so full with just this. He fucks the soul out of you with his fingers, moving rapidly while his thumb rubs over your clit. The noises turn wetter, sloppier, and Jeonghan bites his bottom lip as he watches you fall apart under him.
Your second orgasm is quicker but even more intense, leaving you near speechless. You can’t even make a sound, mouth open in a silent cry as you feel blood rush roar in your ears. You seize and shudder so much it feels almost animalistic. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Jeonghan.” You weep, grabbing his wrist when it’s too much. Well, it was too much from the minute he put his mouth on you, but two orgasms in, you genuinely feel like you’re about to faint.
“My name sounds so sweet from your lips, pretty.” He says. He keeps calling you that, and it makes your heart race a little. You just turn your head to the side. You’re too bashful to even look at him. He lays a soft kiss on your cheek.
“You want more?”
The thought of more makes your heartbeat pick up again. You turn back to him a little, nose nudging against his. He knows he has your attention. He smirks.
“Come on, tell me. You want my cock?”
Your pussy clenches. You bite your lower lip. Jeonghan thumbs at it, releasing it from your teeth. You nod timidly. He chuckles again.
“Gotta do better than that, pretty. Ask for it like a good girl.”
The thought of saying it out loud lights your face on fire. Your hands fist the sheets, and you feel so nervous. Jeonghan watches you closely in that unnerving way of his. Then, he pushes down, and you feel his hard on press into your cunt, right between your spread legs. Your jaw goes slack.
He wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and filthy, all tongues and teeth, and he grinds slowly into you, over and over. He’s hard as a rock, throbbing even through the thin material of his pants. You clench pathetically around nothing. You can’t take it anymore.
“Want your cock.” You whine into his mouth. “Please fuck me.”
Jeonghan giggles, honest to god giggles, into the kiss. “So polite. How can I say no?”
When he finally shucks off his pants, your head spins a bit. He’s way bigger than your ex, longer, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know will feel so good when he slides into you. There’s a large, pulsing vein running up the underside that makes your mouth water a little bit. Never before have you felt the urge to suck a dick until now.
A lot of firsts happening today.
Jeonghan’s eyes are locked on yours as he pumps himself, long fingers wrapped gracefully around his shaft. You watch him with a look of fascination that amuses him, you can see it on his face. He dips his fingers inside you again and you jerk a little. When he pulls out, they’re wet and sticky. He runs them over his cock. You’re shell shocked at his brazen action, and he smirks. Is he just doing all this to see how far he can push you?
When he finally sinks into you, every single thought in your head goes blank. All that incessant thinking and worrying for so many months becomes muted until there’s nothing but static, and the beat of your own heart. You can’t process it, can barely breathe through it. He stretches you like he’s carving a path for himself, dragging over your walls. By the time he sinks all the way to the base, you feel like you can feel him in your throat.
“Holy shit.” He curses, and you see his face crumple in real time, the first sign of his composure breaking. You can’t even moan. You have no air in your lungs.
“You sure you’re not a virgin, pretty? So tight, squeezing the life out of me.” His voice cracks at the end, and he bites his bottom lip hard.
“Move.” You manage to gasp out, hips jerking. He chuckles.
“Hold on. I don’t wanna cum too quick.”
Now that gives you PTSD. Jeonghan takes a few deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. He toys with your clit, like he’s trying to get you to relax around him a bit. Finally, he pulls out and thrusts back in, hard. Any air you may have finally breathed, he knocks right back out.
He sets a fast pace from the start, thrusts hard and deep inside you. You barely have the chance to miss him before the head of is dick is pressing into your sweet spot again, stroking it with even more force than his fingers previously had. You feel so full, like you’re ready to explode just from the force of the pounding you’re taking. You claw at the sheets, and when that isn’t enough, you claw at his arms that frame both sides of your head. His eyes move between your face and your pussy, watching you swallow him greedily, over and over again.
“Jesus, where have you been hiding?” He chokes out. “Can’t believe I missed out on this cunt for so long.”
“God.” You whine, eyes teary. “Don’t stop.”
He shakes his head and grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. Not until I milk all that stress out of you.”
Frankly, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. You can barely string two words together except a mantra of Jeonghan’s name over and over. Your orgasm is no surprise, body locking and cumming hard around him, walls fluttering desperately as you cry and gasp through it. Jeonghan groans long and low, eyes squeezing shut before his thrusts turn sloppy. It takes a few more hard slams of his pelvis into yours before he’s pulling out and shooting ropes of his cum all over your stomach. He pumps himself through it, breathing hard, and you can see his shoulders shake, glistening with sweat.
What a sight.
The come down is dizzying. Jeonghan pulls his clothes on quickly before he grabs a towel and leaves the room, coming back with it wet enough for you to wipe yourself with it. You feel awkward as you dress yourself again. Jeonghan flops down on the bed with a tired sigh. You shift on your feet when you’re done.
“I’ll- I’ll go.”
A slow smile spreads on his face. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”
You shake your head and frown. “I’m not. I just don’t know what to say.”
He laughs, nodding. Just before you turn to leave, he gives you a wink.
“Text me any time.”
…………………………………….
Jeonghan’s stress relief programme works wonders for you.
You spend the next week practically buzzing. Your body is a little sore, not enough to actually notice, but enough to keep you alert. The night you come back from his room, you manage to crank out every assignment due in the week because you’re so desperate to not let your mind wander to what you just did. The next day, you get started on work from the coming week. Jihyo is so surprised when she asks you for help and you send her notes that are neat and well compiled.
“Are you taking something?” She narrows her eyes at you. “Ritalin?”
You roll your eyes. “Just say thank you.”
She grumbles out a ‘thanks’. You can’t tell her about Jeonghan. You just don’t have it in you to share that. Your night with him was beyond anything you had experienced before. You know it was casual. You’re sure you would never see him again. So you dont want to make it a big deal by talking about it.
Except, you run into him organically soon after this.
A week and a half later, on a Friday night, you are lounging in bed with a textbook. You’re almost caught up with work, enough that you can take a breather and do some light reading instead. Unfortunately, this gives Jihyo the perfect opportunity to drag you out of the room, claiming you have no excuse to stay home because you don’t have anything due. Dammit.
The party you end up at is outside the dorms at a house a few blocks away. You can’t tell who threw it, but there are a lot of Med and DPT people there. When you see Mingyu standing in the center of the room chugging a bottle, you roll your eyes.
“When does he even get time to study?” You mumble when Jihyo shoves a red cup in your hands. You sniff it and make a face. Disgusting.
“Dunno. But he manages just fine, so don’t worry about him. In fact, you need to shut your brain off for once.”
Before you can reply, she’s throwing her drink back and grabbing another, leading you farther into the room. Mingyu spots you two quickly, and it’s all chaos from there. He knows almost everyone, and he introduces you to people at lightning speed. You won’t remember any of them, but you just nod and smile along. When he reaches the couches in the living room, your heart skips.
“You know Jeonghan.” Mingyu grins, arm around your shoulder shaking you teasingly.
The man in question is sprawled over one corner of the long couch, and his eyes find yours almost immediately. He looks stunning even in the dim light. His hair is half up and half down, some of it falling over his eyes. He’s dressed in all black, and his leather jacket makes him look dangerously inviting. His eyes run over you in a way that makes you shiver. You should’ve worn something warmer. A crop top and skirt were not the way to go.
“What do you mean she knows him?” Jihyo frowns. You stiffen.
“He means I know of him. From what Mina told me.” You lie smoothly. Mingyu squeezes you a little in apology. Obviously he didn’t know you were keeping it a secret.
Jihyo really isn’t in the mood to slow down, because she throws back any alcohol she can get her hands on. This forces you to remain sober so you can take her back when the time is right. You’re so busy with her that you manage to steer clear of Jeonghan. The whole place is too loud, too overstimulating, that you have no time to think about him. Hours later, you’re tired and more than a little cranky when you finally manage to drag Jihyo out of the house. She’s stumbling a little, giggling at something completely normal that she finds exceedingly funny. You huff. How the hell are you going to do this?
“I have a car.” You hear a familiar voice. You don’t expect to see Jeonghan. You hadn’t seen him all night except at the very beginning, so you assumed he left, probably with someone else. But he’s here now, hands buried in the pockets of his dark jeans. You are half inclined to say no, but just the thought of taking Jihyo back like this is enough to make you cry, so you simply nod.
Jeonghan brings the car around and helps you put Jihyo in the backseat, where she promptly falls asleep. You sit in the front with him, and you feel awkward all over again.
“You didn’t text me, pretty.” He says. You forgot how the nickname makes your face flush.
“I didn’t think you were serious.” You mumble. Jeonghan looks confused.
“About what?”
You sigh, hesitating a little. “I’m not really….. a casual hookup person. So I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”
Jeonghan chuckles. “Damn, I’m getting broken up with.”
You try to shake your head but Jeonghan just brushes it off. He’s clearly joking. And it’s not like this means anything. So you don’t say anything more, hoping the uncomfortable air dissipates a bit. Thankfully, you aren’t far from the dorms at all. Jeonghan parks in front of Med and offers to help you take Jihyo up. You can’t say no even if you want to, since she’s fully dead weight now.
He’s great support in dragging her to the room. In fact, he does most of the heavy lifting, which you are grateful for. You dump Jihyo on her bed, pulling her shoes off and covering her with a blanket. She doesn’t as much as flinch. You straighten a little, sighing.
“Thank you.” You smile at him. He shrugs it off. You walk him to the door. When he puts his hand on the knob, he pauses.
“So, we’re really over?”
You blink, surprised. “We were never really a thing.”
“I know.” He hums, watching you with heated eyes. “But it was fun. Shame that it’s ending before it even properly began.”
You fidget a little, staring at your hands. Jeonghan steps closer, his fingers find your chin, tilting your head up.
“Can I get a goodnight kiss?”
You consider it a little before nodding. “Okay.”
One kiss won’t hurt. Except it’s not one kiss. Jeonghan deepens it the second your lips meet his. His hands run over your hips, over the sliver of skin between your skirt and your tiny top. You shiver, hands squeezing his biceps. His tongue slides into your mouth and you moan. The same heady feeling from that night comes back, the one that leaves you dumb and brainless with him. His tongue runs hungrily over yours. You clench around nothing.
“W-we should stop.” You manage to whimper into his mouth. He moans.
“Neither of us want that.”
He crowds you into the wall until you’re pressed between it and his chest. He kisses you harder, deeper, and you feel like you’re high on him, all consumed by him. He smells so fucking good it makes your head spin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair and you tug harshly, and he seems to like that, because he groans into your mouth.
“You had to wear the tiniest little skirt, didn’t you?” He bites your bottom lip. “Wanted to bend you over right in the middle of that house.”
“You-” Your breath stutters. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why?” Jeonghan pulls back enough to lick down your jaw and nibble at your neck. You arch into him. “Does it turn you on?”
You don’t want to tell him that yes, it does turn you on. The raw need he says he has for you is so foreign, but so welcome. Before you can say anything, Jeonghan pulls off your neck and sinks to his knees.
You gape at him, shocked. His hands are urgent, pushing your skirt up and hooking a hand under your knee so he can hook it over his shoulder.
“Jeonghan!” You hiss, but you can’t say a thing further. Your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth when he runs his tongue over your clothed core. He wastes no time in pulling your panties aside and tonguing right at your slit, finding your clit immediately to suck on it.
It’s so much all at once, an assault on the senses. You tremble, nearly losing your balance if it weren’t for Jeonghan’s hands holding you tight to him. He chases after you with his mouth when you try to jerk away. He laps at you like he’s starved for your taste. It feels so good that you can’t decide if you want to pull away (Jihyo is right there) or if him eating you out like this is a thrill you want to lean into. It feels so dirty, so all consuming. You buck into his mouth and his resulting moan is depraved. Your orgasm is fast approaching. You can’t stop it even if you try.
“Fuck, Jeong- Jeonghan-…. Hannie.”
You have to bite your hand to keep from crying out, your high tearing through you with the force of a car crash. You shake and shudder over him, his hands holding you up with a strength that surprises you. He doesn’t stop until you’re whining and pushing his head away, cleaning you up until you can feel his spit cooling on your skin.
He lets your leg down gently, soothing a hand over it and laying a kiss on your thigh before standing up. His hair is no longer tied up, messy around his head. He is soaked down his chin and to the column of his throat. Your cheeks flame, breaths still coming heavy. He lays a kiss on the heated skin.
“Thanks for the meal.”
You can’t even say anything before he’s kissing you one last time and quickly leaving. You blink harshly, wondering what the fuck just happened.
You find his hair tie on the floor the next morning.
………………………………..
You can’t stay away from Yoon Jeonghan. You tried once, and it ended with him on his knees in front of you, making you cum on his face. Since then, you’ve forgotten the amount of times he’s made you cum. On his tongue, on his fingers, and most gloriously, on his cock. He’s made you feel things you genuinely didn’t think were possible. He whispers into your ear such filthy words that you have a hard time even processing them. Says he’s ‘pussy drunk’. That he can’t live without his fill of you. So he finds you, once or twice a week, and he drags you back to his room because it guarantees privacy. Or he fucks you on your own bed when you know Jihyo is out for the night. Either way, he’s around you a lot more than you ever expected him to be.
Jeonghan is whip smart. You deduced that he was witty a long time ago, but he is a rare combination of book smart and street smart that you didn’t know even existed. You both have the same anatomy course, so you study together sometimes. Of course, he’s horny all throughout it, but if you make it interesting, he is more than willing to participate. His favourite is when you strip off one piece of clothing with every question he gets right. It always ends with sex, because everything with Jeonghan ends with sex, but it feels more charged like this, when he’s talking and laughing with you, that sweet little twinkle in his eyes that makes your heart race.
Jeonghan has an unhealthy obsession with fast food, which works out great for you since stress makes you crave greasy food too. You will often find yourselves in some fast food place outside campus, usually spicy fried chicken, late at night between studying and making assignments. He isn’t a big drinker, and neither are you, but you like sharing a beer with him sometimes. Jeonghan is just so comfortable in his own skin. He has no guilt or shame about anything he does, or any choice he has made. It contrasts with you, who always has ten different things playing in your head at one time, doubting, analysing, restructuring. He’s perceptive. He can tell when you’re about to spiral, letting out a disapproving little tut before tapping your forehead.
“Don’t fly away and leave me here alone.”
He says weird stuff like that.
It means nothing. It can’t. Jeonghan is notoriously a fuck boy. Everyone knows it. Hell, he advertised it in the university Facebook group once. What more is there to say? He likes sex, you like sex. You give it to each other. That’s it. Getting closer to him like this is the natural consequence of spending time together. There’s no deeper meaning here. But then you hear something, a floating rumor, and you almost can’t believe it.
“Didn’t know he was being picky.” Some girl who was having lunch on the same table as you said. You’re sure Mina told you her name when she introduced you guys, but you were, once again, lost deep in thought. You didn’t catch it. “He’s never rejected me before.”
Mina rolls her eyes. “He’s never rejected anyone before.”
“Miyoung says he hasn’t hooked up with any of her friends either. He’s been ignoring everyone’s calls or messages.”
You’re rock still as you stare at your plate. This can’t be true. You and Jeonghan are just…… messing around. Relieving stress. It’s not anything more. Before you can think, you’re pulling your phone out to text him.
[me]: where are you
The reply is instant.
[hannie]: dorm. u coming?
You reply with an affirmative, and half an hour later, you’re knocking on his door. He opens it with a lazy smile, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled. It seems he was still in bed. You’re mad at yourself that he looks even more attractive to you like this.
“Hi, pretty.” He hums, pulling you in and shutting the door, planting a kiss on your neck. He wraps his arms around you, hands already wandering under your shirt. You huff.
“I heard a rumor.”
“Hm?” He seems distracted, fingers dipping just a little in the waistband of your jeans. You plough forward.
“Some girls complaining that you have been dodging their calls.”
He snorts into your neck. His teeth dig teasingly into your skin. You push at his stomach a little, trying to put distance between you two.
“Jeonghan, are you only sleeping with me?”
He pulls off your neck briefly, but lays a kiss on your jaw instead. “Yeah.”
Now you really push him away. He takes the hint and detaches, but he looks confused.
“Why? Why aren’t you sleeping with other girls?”
His face twists into something more amused. “You know, it’s usually the other way around. Girls are mad when their boyfriends are sleeping with other girls.”
Your heart stutters at the statement. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
He pouts. “Hurtful. Are you sleeping with other guys?”
You balk at him. “No!”
“So you’re only sleeping with me, and I’m only sleeping with you.” He hums, looking thoughtful. He’s clearly being unserious. You don’t appreciate it. “Some people might say that we’re…… exclusive?”
“We’re not dating.” You say, dryly.
“We spend time together. We study together. We have sex. We talk to each other all the time either in person or over texts.” He’s listing things off on his fingers. You are growing more irritated with every point. He seems to notice, because he gives you one of those sweet smiles of his that make you melt. You try to hold strong.
“Okay, pretty. We’re not dating. But I would like to.” He grows more serious, stepping forward again to caress your sides.
“You like me?”
Jeonghan huffs, leaning forward so his forehead touches yours. “Darling, I’m obsessed with you.”
So many pet names. It’s always endless pet names with him. You love it. Your heart beats fast. You fiddle with his shirt.
“You really haven’t been with anyone since then?” You mumble.
Jeonghan’s lips brush on the corner of your mouth, an action laced with affection. “Only you. Can’t get enough of you. You drive me crazy.”
You giggle a bit. “Okay.”
“Hm?”
“Fine. I’ll date you.”
His smile is blinding. This time, his lips taste even sweeter against yours.
I Worked At Spirit Halloween And All I Got Was This Dumb Boyfriend — hjs
🎃 pairing: hong jisoo x f!reader
🎃 theme: humor, smut [18+ mdni], fluff
🎃 wc: 6.6k
🎃 warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), protected piv sex (wrap it before u tap it folks), wrist pinning, bit o size kink, aftercare (he’s a gentleman ofc), joshua is a massive dork, fluff ending
🎃 a/n: i had sooo much fun writing this one! shua is just a goofy weirdo (/pos) and i hope i encapsulated that well here :) ty @miniseokminnies for being my trusty beta reader as always
SYNOPSIS: Working at Spirit Halloween isn’t exactly your dream career. The customers are annoying, the pay is mediocre, and if you have to hear The Monster Mash one more time you might actually lose your marbles. At least you have the company of your cute, friendly coworker to help get you through your shifts – but you soon start to realize your feelings toward him might be something a little more complicated than just a silly work crush.
"There you are — can you go look in the back for me and see if we have any more Rumi wigs?"
Your coworker doesn't reply, his back turned as he continues to stock the shelves with black paper plates that say BOO! on them. You stare at the back of his head, wondering why he's ignoring you, when you spot that he has his AirPods in. You grab a pack of pumpkin-patterned napkins and chuck it at his head. He jumps as it whacks him with a light thunk. Joshua spins around, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights — when he sees it's just you, he relaxes.
"Oh, it's you," he sighs in relief as he takes the AirPods off and shoves them in his pocket, loose. "I thought I was gonna have to fight some kids again."
"'Fight some kids'?" you ask, raising your brow at him.
"Yesterday there were some teenagers having a full-on duel with the lightsabers in the accessories aisle," he explains, placing the remainder of the plate sets on the shelf. "I asked them to stop — nicely, mind you — but then they just started hitting me."
"And then you fought them?"
"Not physically, obviously. But I did yell at them and I told them their 'drip' was 'chopped, no cap'."
You burst out laughing.
"And what did they have to say to that?" you ask, grinning.
"They called me cringe and then left."
"Sounds about right," you nod. "Anyway, I need Rumi wigs, we ran out again. Can you grab some from the back?"
"I'll check, but I'm pretty sure we're sold out."
"Oh boy," you groan. "That'll go over well with the 400 girls who come in here every hour looking for K-Pop Demon Hunters stuff, I'm sure."
"Godspeed, soldier," he bids you with a salute. You smile; while you were glad to pick up the seasonal job to make some extra cash, working at Spirit Halloween is certainly not your dream career. The whiny children are annoying, their demanding parents are even worse, and everyone else who shops here is apparently hell-bent on making your life difficult by trashing the place every single day. But working with Joshua always makes the shift at least tolerable. He never fails to make you laugh — and you'd be lying if you said you didn't have at least a little bit of a work crush on him.
"You in tomorrow?" you ask as he grabs the supply cart to take back to storage.
"Yup. Picked up Soonyoung's shift so I'm working a double, because I hate myself apparently," he tells you lightheartedly.
"Oh nice," you reply casually, despite feeling excited at the prospect of seeing him all day. "I'm also working extra hours tomorrow."
"Well it's the last Saturday before Halloween, I'm sure it'll be a super chill and uneventful day of work," he remarks with heavy sarcasm.
"Oh, no doubt," you play along. "Suuuper chill and fun."
"See you tomorrow, then," he tells you with a wave as he makes his way to the back of the store. "Have a good night."
"You too!" you reply cheerfully. You don't realize you're staring at him walking away until he looks back over his shoulder. You quickly start shuffling things aimlessly on the shelf, pretending to be busy.
Maybe you have more than a little crush on Joshua Hong after all.
You're nearly falling asleep eating your sandwich when the door to the break room opens abruptly, slamming into the wall behind it. Startled, you lift your head up to see a frazzled Joshua entering the room.
"Are you okay?" you ask him, concerned.
"Do you think they'll fire me if I punch a customer in the face?" he wonders out loud as he marches to the fridge, grabbing his lunch and joining you at the circular table in the middle of the room.
"Yeah probably," you reply. He pulls a plastic container filled with colorful cereal out of his lunchbox, followed by a small glass bottle of milk and a spoon.
"Might be worth it at this point, honestly."
He notices you staring as he pours the milk into his bowl.
"What, a guy can't have cereal for lunch?"
"I mean, sure," you tell him, your mouth twitching into a smile as you try not to giggle. "I've just never seen somebody bring diy Lucky Charms into a workplace before."
"It's Cap'n Crunch, thank you very much," he replies, putting a large spoonful of it in his mouth.
"My mistake," you grin at him.
You sit there in silence for a minute as you both eat, the room quiet and still in a moment of peace from the hectic scene out in the store. The only sounds in the room are the fridge whirring and the chorus of Spooky Scary Skeletons playing over the tinny speaker system.
"I hate this fucking song," you grumble under your breath. Joshua laughs, the sound of his voice hearty and bright in your ears.
"You sure picked a great store to work at, then," he teases.
"I like Halloween!" you insist. "I'm just tired of hearing the same fuckass song over and over again."
"Fair enough," he smiles. "But only one more week of this shit and then we're free."
"Thank god," you sigh with relief, but your heart sinks a little at the realization that you won't be seeing Joshua anymore come November. You realize you don't even have any idea what he does outside of spooky season — you've never asked.
"So, what will you be up to after this horrible place closes for the year?" you ask casually.
"Looking for another job," he says rolling his eyes. "Hopefully not for long. You would think having a degree would make it easier to find employment but alas."
"What's your degree in?"
"Environmental engineering."
You freeze mid-bite of sandwich.
"You're an engineer?!"
"Allegedly." He waves his hand in the air dismissively.
"Joshua that's literally so cool," you tell him, looking at him with bewilderment. "What the hell is an environmental engineer doing working at Spirit Halloween?"
"Job market sucks shit."
"Tell me about it," you agree dully. "I've been trying to get a permanent position for ages but apparently that's impossible."
"What do you do?" He looks at you with genuine interest — his focus on you is nothing more than friendly, but it's still making you feel a bit giddy inside.
"Oh, I'm a set designer. I work freelance for different television production studios. Also a pretty bleak job market these days," you relate with a glum smile. His eyes widen with intrigue.
"Whoa, that's awesome! I had no idea," he responds enthusiastically. He chuckles, letting out a huff of air. "Look at us — two intelligent adults with interesting careers and yet here we are, selling shitty Halloween decorations to get by."
You blush a little. The attention he's paying you is unexpected, but you're not complaining. And you know he didn't mean it like that, but the way he referred to the two of you as "us" makes you want to skip down the sidewalk whilst singing.
"Living the dream," you reply with a smile. "It's nice to have somebody to commiserate with in this hellhole of a store."
"Me too," he says, the corners of his crinkling softly as he smiles back at you. The flush in your cheeks starts to grow warmer; you pack up your things in your lunchbox and quickly rise from your chair.
"Well, guess I'd better get back out there before I get yelled at," you say, excusing yourself.
"What are you doing after work?"
You pause, turning back around to look at Joshua.
"Like, today?"
"Yeah," he nods.
"Nothing, why?"
"Wanna grab a drink?"
"Oh!" you reply, your face lighting up. "Yeah, um, that sounds great actually," you smile at him. "Though I might need more than one drink by the end of this shift."
"Oh, definitely," he agrees. "Awesome, well, good luck out there."
"You too. Try not to punch anyone."
He grins at you. "No guarantees, but I'll try."
You exit the break room, in such a good mood now that your manager gives you a confused look as you pass by, unused to seeing you so chipper. She nearly is about to question you, but instead she shrugs and returns to her task.
"Excuse me," a voice from behind you calls. You turn to see a customer approaching.
"Hi! How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for the 12-foot tall skeleton, do you have any in stock?"
"We don't sell those, unfortunately — that's Home Depot," you inform them cheerfully. "But here, let me show you some of our skeleton animatronics…"
"Do you have any weird talents?"
"Hm?" you ask as you take a sip of your drink. "Like what?"
Joshua sits across from you at the small bar table for two, the neon signs in the window making him glow a bit in the dim lighting. You're only slightly tipsy at this point, but when you get drunk you get flirty — and Joshua looks good as hell right now. It's taking everything in you not to be full-out swooning at him right now.
"I don't know, anything. Like how some people can wiggle their ears, or juggle."
"Oh, hmm… I don't think so," you reply. "Well maybe — I can solve a Rubik's cube, does that count?"
"Yeah! Stuff like that."
"I can also cry on command."
"Oh! That seems useful," he remarks sincerely.
You nod. "I used it to get out of a speeding ticket once."
"I didn't realize I was in the presence of a criminal mastermind," he grins at you.
"Yeah, I'm actually robbing a bank next weekend," you tell him with a straight face. "Wanna join?"
"Absolutely," he nods, playing along.
"Excellent. Well, how about you? What are your weird talents?"
"Let's see," he thinks. "I can walk in a handstand, do the worm, play the harmonica, I know a few card tricks… Oh! And I can do this."
He clasps his hands, squeezing his palms together repeatedly to make a fart noise.
You stare at him, giving him a confused look.
"Um, I don't know if I'd call that a talent…"
"Sure it is," he says matter-of-factly, looking at you excitedly as he continues to make the sound with his hands.
"Okay, okay, you're very talented," you concede with a hesitant laugh, grabbing his hands and shoving them back down onto the table. "But maybe don't do that in public."
He gives you a cheeky grin. "What, am I embarrassing you?" he teases.
"Only a little," you tease back.
He gazes at you for a moment, eyes filled with adoration and lips curved into a soft smile. Your stomach does a backflip as it hits you: he's definitely into you.
"Another drink might help with that," he tells you. "If you'd like."
"I would like," you nod eagerly.
"Another Dirty Shirley?" he asks as he hops off the tall chair.
"Surprise me."
Joshua returns a few minutes later with two Long Island iced teas.
"Oh my god," you groan. With a laugh you bury your face in your hand. "Immediately regretting that decision."
"I can get you something else-"
"No, this is good. I just think you might be crazy."
Joshua gasps dramatically, pretending to clutch his non-existent pearls.
"Crazy?? What nonsense!" he says in a British accent, for some reason.
"What, no one's ever told you that?" you jest playfully.
"Never. This is the first I'm hearing of this."
Your head falls back as you let out a hearty laugh.
"Well, you're definitely crazy," you tell him as you pick up your drink. "But I like it."
He grabs his drink as well, clinking the glass against yours.
"Cheers, I'll drink to that."
It is a moonless night. The trees around you dance in the brisk October wind, the remainder of their leaves rustling about; it isn't a particularly heavy wind, but it is biting — without the warmth of the midday sun, it chills you to your bones. You cross your arms as you stroll down the sidewalk, side by side with Joshua. You assured him he didn't need to walk you home, but he insisted. What if I want to walk you home?, he proposed with a goofy grin, eyelids hanging slightly in his tipsy state. Okay then, you answered giddily. You weren't terribly drunk, but inebriated enough that you couldn't help being so overtly smitten with him.
You've mostly sobered up now, as has he — the frigid air sharpening your senses as clearer thoughts return to your head. As soon as he notices you bracing yourself against the wind, he starts taking off his jacket.
"Here."
"No, it's okay-" you try to tell him, but he's already slinging the thick denim over your shoulders. It's warm — protecting you from the wind, but also from Joshua's body heat. Your heart flutters at the idea of being cocooned in his essence.
"Better?" he asks.
"Much better," you respond as you wrap yourself snugly with the garment. "Thank you."
"Of course," he smiles at you.
You chat with Joshua for the final few minutes of your walk, talking about nothing in particular but anything that comes to mind. It's comfortable, easy — you wish the night didn't have to end.
"This is it," you announce as you reach your building. You stop outside the entrance, turning to face Joshua; you find him standing much closer to you than you expected.
"Thank you," you tell him as you shrug the jacket off and hand it back to him. "For the jacket and for walking me home."
"Anytime," he says warmly, putting his coat back on. "Thanks for coming out with me tonight, I had a great time."
"Me too," you beam at him.
"This might be a little forward, and you can say no, but…" Your gaze meets his, waiting with anticipation to hear the words fall from his lips. He brushes your cold cheek with his warm hand. "Can I kiss you?"
A huge grin washes over your face.
"Absolutely."
Your heart pounds as he gently takes your chin, tilting your face to greet his as he leans in. Your eyes drift closed as your lips collide with his — they're plush, soft; he savors the taste of you as he kisses you unhurriedly. He rests his hand on your arm, holding your bicep in his grasp as his mouth presses tenderly against yours. When your lips finally part, you open your eyes again; they meet his, finding softness in his dark irises as he gazes sweetly at you.
"Let me give you my phone number," he says to you.
"Oh yeah," you smile. You pull out your phone and swapping devices with him, adding yourself to his contacts as he does the same for you. He hands you your phone back and you tuck it into your pocket.
"See you again soon?" he asks.
You giggle. "I mean yeah, we do work together, after all."
"Outside of work, I mean," he smiles, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Definitely," you agree with a nod.
"Good."
He leans in and gives you a quick peck on your cheek.
"Goodnight," he tells you softly. He walks off with a few backwards steps, so he can look at you for just a bit longer.
You open the door to your building, a rush of warm air hitting your grateful freezing body. You give him a wave.
"Goodnight," you say back. He smiles at you, then disappears into the dark night.
You wake up slowly the next morning, laying in bed half asleep for a few minutes, until you suddenly recall the events of last night. You bolt upright and immediately reach for your phone, anxiously hoping you find a text from Joshua, to make sure it wasn't all a dream. Sure enough, at the top of your notifications: Joshua Hong, 1 Unread Message.
Joshua: good morning :)
You send him a message back right away.
you: hi! good morning!
The typing bubble pops up moments after you send the text — he replies right away.
Joshua: what are you up to today?
you: working, unfortunately 🙄 but at least i don't have to close tonight. hbu?
Joshua: visiting my parents today! i hope your shift doesn't suck too much 🥲
you: i'm sure it will haha. it's always much better when you're around.
Joshua: don't worry, i'll be there in SPIRIT 😏
you: bye 💀💀💀
Joshua: nooo don't go, i promise all of my jokes aren't that bad
Joshua: just most of them
you: you're a dork
Joshua: thank you
Joshua: i gotta head out now, but have a good day! tell everyone i don't miss them
you: lmaooo u got it 🫡 enjoy your day!
Joshua: oh and btw, just wanted to share one of my favorite songs. it reminds me of you :)
You click the Spotify link he sent. The app opens, playing a familiar tune.
"Sunday Morning rain is falling…"
You let the song play as you start to get ready for the day. Every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you notice the smile that seems to be permanently etched into your face today.
Finally, the day is here: Friday, October 31. You're so close to the end of this terrible no-good job — you just have to make it through your last shift.
Joshua is also scheduled to work — it's all hands on deck for the last-minute rush before trick-or-treat time. Unfortunately the chaos means you barely get to speak a word to him that isn't about candy buckets or Ghostface masks. You've been talking non-stop all week — you worked together a few times, but otherwise your schedules didn't really line up, so you haven't gotten to really hang out with him since the bar on Saturday. But you're determined to fix that as soon as possible.
You manage to catch him in the break room for approximately one minute. You were only running in to grab some ibuprofen from your bag, to remedy the headache you have due to working retail on a holiday. Joshua is on his lunch break, eating a bowl of oatmeal.
"What, no Cap'n Crunch today?" you tease as you breeze past him toward the staff lockers.
"It's too cold out for cold cereal," he tells you pragmatically.
"So you brought hot cereal."
"Exactly."
There is an additional employee lingering in the break room; you pretend to rummage through your bag, hoping they leave so you can actually talk to Joshua. By some miracle they make their exit right away — you seize the opportunity before someone else walks in.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Absolutely nothing," he says happily. "I've had enough of Halloween this year."
"Come over."
He looks up from his oatmeal, turning around to look at you.
"Really?" he asks eagerly.
"Yes, really. Come hang out at my place and we can celebrate this fucking holiday being over."
His eyes brighten, a grin spreading across his face. "Okay!" he responds enthusiastically. "That sounds great."
The door squeaks as it suddenly swings open. One of the managers walks in; you quickly put your bag away and head back into the store. You turn your head as you walk out the door. The manager's back is turned, so you mouth see you later to Joshua. He winks back at you, making your heart flutter. Immediately upon your return to the floor you are swamped with customers asking you stupid questions. Sighing to yourself, you plaster on a smile and answer in your best customer service voice.
The end of the shift simply can't come fast enough.
As soon as Spirit Halloween closes for the night and season, you book it the fuck out of there. You head home, flopping on the couch first thing, laying there silently in the dark for a good 30 minutes as you recover. Once you've recharged, you get up and start tidying up your place. It's not dirty by any means, but you want it to look extra nice. You shoot Joshua a text, telling him to come over whenever. He replies right away: be there at 8 :)
At 7:59pm, you hear a knock at your door. You flit over, looking through the peephole to make sure it's Joshua and not a serial killer — or worse, trick-or-treaters. You see Joshua, but he's dressed strangely. You open the door to see him standing there in a vampire cape — one of the cheap black and red ones you sold at the store. He smiles, revealing a pair of glow-in-the-dark fangs on his teeth.
"What on earth are you wearing??" you ask incredulously.
"What are you thalking about?" he asks, the plastic fangs causing him speak with a lisp. "This is jutht my outfith."
"Oh my god," you groan, rolling your eyes. You turn around and head back inside, but you don't hear him following you. You look back to see him still standing in the doorway.
"Are you gonna stand there all night?"
"I'm a fampire. You have tho invite me in."
You stare at him. "Joshua I am not doing that."
"Ith's the rules."
"Jesus fucking Christ," you laugh, but he sets down a slim brown paper bag he was apparently holding under his arm onto the floor. He then swoops the cape dramatically and runs off. You stand there, baffled. The door to the stairwell down the hallway opens with a creak, then shuts. You peek out into the hall, but Joshua is gone.
"What the fuck," you mutter to yourself. Assuming he's just pranking you, you wait for him to turn around and come right back, but he doesn't. Confused, you pick up the brown wine bag and bring it inside, setting it on the counter as you locate your phone and text Joshua.
you: ????
About a minute passes, no reply. You start to wonder if you just got stood up in the weirdest way possible when you hear a rap at the door again. You open it to see Joshua, again, this time dressed in a low-budget pirate costume — complete with hat, eyepatch, and scraggly fake beard.
"Arrr!" he shouts, waving a flimsy foam sword in your face. "I've come for yer booty!"
"Oh my GOD will you just get inside??" you beg, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him through the doorway before somebody sees him acting a fool.
"You're insane," you tell him as you shut your front door. He gives you a big shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself.
"I thought you said you liked that I was crazy?"
"I do, but you're clearly just trying to embarrass me on purpose," you reply, also grinning. He may be an idiot, but you can't actually be mad at him.
"It's because I like you," he says, following you into the kitchen. He backs you into the counter, spinning you around as he rests his palms on the granite surface. He towers over you as he leans in, the sudden closeness makes you flustered. He puckers his lips, going in to give you a kiss, but you stop him, grabbing the foam sword out of his hand and bopping him on the head with it.
"Hey!"
"You can kiss me, but for the love of god please get rid of the beard first."
"Okay, okay, fair enough," he concedes, tossing the pirate hat aside and pulling the eyepatch and beard off his face. You take the opportunity to reach for the brown bag, finding a bottle of red wine inside.
"Wow, this looks nice," you remark as you open a drawer, retrieving your bottle opener.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I asked the guy at the wine shop to give me the finest wine he had, as long as it was under $30."
You laugh, popping the cork out and pouring each of you a glass. "What, you mean working at Spirit didn't leave you rolling in cash?"
"Shockingly, no," he replies. You hand him a glass, raising yours to his with a clink as they touch.
"Well luckily for us I am able to afford Netflix, thanks to my friend forgetting to log out of her account on my tv and me using it secretly for free," you tell him. "Care for a scary movie?"
"Sounds perfect," he beams at you. You take his free hand and head into the living room together. He takes a seat on your couch, you joining him, squeezing in close right next to him; you lean your head against his shoulder as you turn on the tv and start scrolling through Netflix.
"Anything in particular you wanna watch?" you ask.
"Whatever you'd like," he answers. He rests his spare hand atop your thigh, rubbing you gently with his thumb. You're a little too distracted right now to think of a movie, so you click on the first one you see. It's one you've never heard of, but you're not terribly interested in actually watching a movie right now anyway — not when you have Joshua so very close to you.
You make it about four minutes into the movie when he takes your wine glass, setting both his and yours down on the coffee table. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you in close, leaning his face into yours so your noses touch.
"Now can I kiss you?" he asks softly. The way that he gazes at you tells you he is interested in doing much more than just kissing — but it's a great place to start.
"Please," you whisper back.
His lips press into yours, bringing you back to the sensation you've been dreaming about since you did it once a week ago. Your hand rests on his chest; you can feel his heartbeat thumping, its pace accelerating the longer he kisses you — and he doesn't have any plans to stop anytime soon. Your hands glide around to his back, clinging to him as you squeeze his torso. One of his hands strays, traversing slowly down your side — it rests on the side of your thigh for a few moments, caressing it through your leggings, the intimacy making your skin tingle under his touch. Suddenly he slips his arm underneath your legs, lifting them up and over his own, pulling you onto his lap. You toss your arms around his neck, putting yourself in a position to draw your body in even closer, pressing your chest into his. You feel his mouth twitch into a smile; he reaches for your breast, lightly resting his hand atop it.
"Is this okay?" he asks softly as he ceases kissing you momentarily. His eyes are locked onto yours, gazing at you longingly. You answer by grabbing his hand and squishing it into your boob. A grin spreads across his face — he kisses you again, squeezing your breast eagerly as his mouth grasps hungrily at your lips. Your core starts to ache, heating swelling between your legs at his touch; you press your thighs together in an attempt to quell the sensation — but with Joshua feeling you up relentlessly, it only makes it worse.
You subtly start to grind against his lap as you make out with him, heat rising in the air as your bodies intertwine. Eventually Joshua's lips relocate to your neck, kissing the tender skin delicately as he holds you tight in his arms. You let out a soft, involuntary gasp; it feels incredible — and you desperately want more.
"Joshua…" you plead. He plants a final kiss under your jaw, then raises his face to greet yours again. His expression is drunk with lust — and you can only imagine you look the same.
"Yes?" he asks, staring at you with anticipation.
"I want you."
His pupils dilate, eyes widening excitedly.
"I want you too," he whispers, cupping your cheek in his hand. You give him another kiss, then slide your legs off his lap, hopping to your feet as you take his hands in yours and pull at him excitedly. He rises; you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him into your bedroom. You fall onto your bed together, rolling around and kissing each other with aching desperation. He rolls on top of you, delightfully crushing you with his body weight as he peppers a series of smooches all over your face, making you giggle. Your thighs instinctively spread, allowing him to lay into you. You hum as he presses against your core, cunt pulsating at his touch; wrapping your arms around him you pull him in even closer, causing him to let out a low groan.
"You're so beautiful," he mutters, pressing more kisses into your cheek. You bask in the delicate attention he's giving you, soft touches causing sharp pangs of desire in your gut.
"Can I go down on you?" he quietly asks in your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
"Oh my god, please," you beg. He slips a large hand beneath your sweater, feeling the softness of your stomach, before pushing the garment up in request for its removal. You quickly pull it off and toss it aside, leaving you in your bra. Joshua plants a kiss between your breasts, then starts kissing his way down your body. You feel his fingers slip underneath your waistband, tugging down gently; you lift your hips, allowing him to remove your leggings. He slides them down to your ankles, pulling them off with a snap as the elastic slips over your feet. He drops them to the floor and hurriedly pulls your underwear off, yanking them with such vigor that they practically go flying across the room. He then grabs the underside of your thighs, folding you in half as he situates himself between your legs.
"Are you comfy?" he asks gently, sending a chill up your spine as he slowly drags one finger over your slit. You nod eagerly. "Good," he replies, smiling as he lowers his lips onto your clit, giving it the most gentle of kisses. He circles the tip of his tongue delicately around the excited bud a few times, making you hum with pleasure. It drifts down to your hole, finding slick wetness as he presses his tongue into your entrance. You gasp softly, your body reacting to the sensation; he pushes down on the backs of your thighs, holding you in place as he gets to work. His nose bumps into your clit as he works his tongue inside you, making you moan as he dives in. He drags his tongue lazily up and down your folds, tasting every last bit of you.
"God, your pussy is incredible," he groans into your cunt. Making his way back to your clit he suddenly latches on — crying out, you run your fingers through his hair, holding on as he starts to suck on it, the light and quick pulses of his mouth making your head spin. You look down to watch him, his face and nose glistening with your juices as he works at your clit.
"Want your fingers in me," you tell him breathily. He grins, continuing sucking as he glides his middle finger inside you, working it in and out of your hole. It feels incredible, but you instantly crave more.
"One more," you plead. He adds his index finger, stretching you as he flicks his tongue over your throbbing bud. You feel your body tense, breathing heavily as you feel your orgasm coming on.
"I'm really close," you tell him as your eyes begin to flicker back. "Don't stop."
And he doesn't. Sucking on you relentlessly as he fucks you with his fingers, the heat swelling in your core suddenly explodes. You cum, grinding your hips into his mouth as you tighten your grasp on his hair. Despite you practically shoving his face into your cunt, he keeps his pace; you ride the waves of your high, savoring every moment of it before you eventually start to come down. He slows, releasing his hold on your clit in favor of kissing it softly.
"That was fucking incredible," you mumble, winded. You let go of his hair, arms flopping to your sides as you relax into the mattress. He gives your cunt a final kiss before lifting himself up, crawling back on top of you. He's hard now — his erection glaringly obvious in his jeans. You reach for the bulge, kneading it gently in your hand, making him groan.
"Please fuck me," you beg immediately — no time to waste when you're both this horny. He smiles, eyelids heavy as he gazes hungrily at you.
"Say less," he replies. In a flash he stands up, retrieving a small shiny packet from his pocket.
"I see you came prepared," you giggle breathily, still recovering from your orgasm. Joshua smiles.
"I wasn't sure, but... I had a feeling."
He holds it with his teeth while he disrobes, his stiffened dick standing tall in the air as he shimmies out of his clothes. You grin, excitement tingling in your core at the sight of the thick and veiny cock — and the prospect of it being inside you. Ripping the packet open he quickly wraps the condom over his length, jerking himself a few times once it's in place. He crawls back on top of you, slipping his hand underneath your back, lifting you up so he can undo the clasp of your bra. You remove it, both of you now fully nude. He presses his body into yours, his heat radiating to your skin; his tip bumps against your entrance, making his cock twitch. He grabs ahold of it, guiding the head up and down over your pussy a few times.
"Ready?" he asks, his voice gravelly.
"Yeah," you exhale. The way you're laying there beneath him, legs spread and hips bucking softly in anticipation, staring up at him in desperation to be fucked — it is the hottest thing he's ever seen.
"Okay," he whispers. As his large hand wraps around his base he slowly pushes the head inside you; it slips readily into your hole, your walls wavering as he gradually fills you with his length, gripping around his cock so intensely it makes his head spin. With a gentle thrust his entire cock is now inside you, making you gasp.
"Fuck that's a lot of cock," you blurt out. He laughs, face turning pink in slight embarrassment.
"If it's too much I can-"
"Nonono," you cut him off, your hands clinging to his waist as you adjust to his size. "It's perfect."
He grins, the ego boost making his dick throb inside you. He slowly starts to pull his length back out, stopping just before his tip pops out of your entrance, then slowly pushes it all back in. You let out a moan as he reaches deep, stuffing you completely full with his thickness.
"Does that feel good?" he asks, just to be sure he's not overwhelming you — but judging by your soft eyes, furrowed brow, and slightly-parted lips, he's pretty sure he knows the answer.
"Yeah," you moan. He starts fucking you, falling into a steady, rhythmic pace — not taking his eyes off you as he watches you eagerly take his cock.
"Oh my god your pussy is amazing," he groans, increasing his pace. Your eyelids flutter back, whines escaping your lips as Joshua thrusts into you insatiably. He pushes your arms above your head, resting them on the pillow as he pins each of your wrists to the bed with a large, strong hand. You gaze up at him, pathetic and fucked-out, whimpering with each pounding stroke.
"Feels so fucking good, baby," he cries out with abandon, euphoria overtaking him as he reaches orgasm. "Ohhhhh fuck I'm cumming…"
He releases, moans flowing from his open mouth, eyes rolling back into his head as his cock pulsates against your throbbing walls. He cums hard, grunting and groaning as if it's the best orgasm he's ever hard — which quite frankly, it is.
"Oh my goddd," he moans as the tension in his body melts away, thrusts slowing as he gradually comes back to earth. He collapses onto you, releasing his grip on your wrists, his hands sliding up to intertwine his fingers with yours. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, his labored breaths hot on your skin as he recovers.
"That was incredible," he mutters, his low voice in your air giving you an enticing chill. He lifts his head up, gazing down at you lovingly. "You're incredible." Smiling shyly, you kiss him, locking your lips together as you breathe deeply. When your mouths part again, you see a big, goofy grin spread across his face — the same one you saw the night he first kissed you, except now even more enamored.
"What?" you giggle at him.
"Nothing," he replies. "You're just unbelievably beautiful."
"Don't tell me that, I'll fall in love with you," you tell him with a soft laugh. His eyes crinkle as he smiles.
"What if I want you to fall in love with me?"
"Well," you answer, gushing like an idiot. "Then I have good news for you."
His eyes light up. He plants a big kiss on your lips, gently pulling his cock out of you as he does so.
"Wait here," he tells you softly as he gets up. You shiver at the sudden lack of body heat, but he returns quickly with a towel, getting you cleaned up before tucking you under the covers. You grab his hand, tugging at him.
"Get in here."
He joins you under the blankets, wrapping you in his arms as he takes you in as his little spoon. He nestles his face next to yours as he snuggles into you.
"I thought Halloween was going to be ruined for me after this year," you tell him, wrapping your arms around his. "But maybe it's okay after all."
"Well, this is definitely the best Halloween I've ever had," he says contentedly as he kisses your cheek. "All thanks to my sexy pirate costume."
"Despite your stupid pirate costume," you correct. He lets out a laugh.
"What are you doing for Christmas?"
"Hm?" you respond, confused. "You're already thinking about Christmas?"
"I'm thinking about how I'd like to spend it with you."
"Oh," you say softly, smiling excitedly. "I'd like that."
"Me too," he replies. "Maybe if I get lucky you'll let me call you my girlfriend to get my parents off my ass about how single I've been."
"I mean, you can just call me your girlfriend in general."
"Oh! Even better," he responds with a grin, squeezing you in his arms. "I didn't want to move too fast or anything-"
"Eh, who cares," you interject. "I like you. Fuck it."
"You're right," he agrees. "Fuck it!"
"What'd'ya say we go finish that wine and pretend to watch the rest of that movie?" you propose.
"Oh yeah, the movie. What were we watching again?"
"No idea."
"Great," he chuckles. "Fine with me, I don't want to leave yet."
"Don't leave."
You turn around, rolling on top of a surprised-looking Joshua.
"Stay the night. Stay with me."
He beams at you. He didn't want to impose, but he was hoping and praying you would ask.
"I'd love to," he smiles. His soft eyes rest on yours; they are filled with fondness, adoration — much more than you would expect from someone you haven't known very long, but it just feels right. And that's something you very much look forward to getting used to.
prompt: "we sit next to each other every day, i lend you pencils, you share snacks with me, people are assuming we’re a couple, let’s go with that." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event
⤿ fluff, slight miscommunication, joshua is whipped, jeongcheol [if u squint!]. more content under the cut.
♡⸝⸝ prompt from anon!
It's not looking like a good start of the week for Seungcheol.
He had an insane bender the night before. He missed the morning bus to school and ended up walking the whole two-kilometer way. And now, the not-quite-a-couple duo who sat in front of him at class was back on their bullshit again.
With his fingers pressed to his temple, Seungcheol watches warily as the starry-eyed boy— Joshua, Seungcheol thinks his name is— places a canned coffee atop the edge of your desk. God, Seungcheol would kill for that right about now.
He's too far gone to make out anything the two of you are saying, but Seungcheol can fill in the blanks. It's probably something stupid, he thinks bitterly. Good morning, love. How was your weekend, love? I missed you, love.
Blegh.
There's only one thing he can think to do. Seungcheol whips out his phone and shoots out a quick slew of texts, trying to ignore the way that Joshua has begun to laugh a little too loud at something you just said.
Seungcheol
it's a monday and i'm hungover and the pretty boy in front of me keeps making heart eyes at his seatmate
he's laughing. i'm hungover to the heavens and he's laughing
god what have i done to deserve this
god when will it be my turn
Jeonghan
you think someone else is pretty? :(
Seungcheol
do NOT start with me rn
Seokmin doesn't think Joshua notices.
It's just like Joshua, really, to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to matters of the heart. And so Seokmin nods along, the perfect picture of indulgence, as you wheedle your way into Joshua's every day.
You don't even have to show up in the physical sense. Joshua fills in those gaps for you. I think they'll like this, Joshua (while holding a box of some obscure snack) tells Seokmin at the grocery store. They'll get a kick out of that, Joshua cackles as he snaps a photo of a silly eraser.
Seokmin knows he could, should probably ask his best friend what the hell is going on. The boy is in desperate need of a quick 'check-the-label' moment, honestly.
In the end, Seokmin decides: Not my circus, not my monkeys.
He figures the two of you will eventually hammer it out yourselves. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? The limbo of flirtation, confined in the four corners of a classroom. The happy crush that may or may not reciprocate.
As Joshua all but skips— honest-to-God skips!— to the Wednesday session of his class with you, Seokmin can't help the fond shake of his head at what Joshua has gotten himself into. Sharing snacks and stationery every M/W/F?
There are worse situationships to have, Seokmin concedes.
Professor Kang has been in the academe for nearly two decades.
He's watched relationships bloom, and last, and end. One or two students have even invited him to their weddings. There's no shortage of gossip in the faculty rooms; there's always a seating plan to orchestrate, a partnered project to use for a little drama.
He likes to think he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, and that's why he initially believed that you and Joshua... aren't really a thing.
Sure, the two of you bend your heads together a little too close when discussing something. He notices, too, the exchanges— both the transactional and spoken ones. But he's unconvinced, for the most part of the semester, that there's not really anything worth reading into.
That is, until, you don't show up to class one day. On a whim, Professor Kang asks Joshua about your absence, and the boy fumbles with his phone for a couple of minutes.
"Doctor's appointment," Joshua eventually divulges, though there's a slightly worried crease in his eyebrows that has Professor Kang thinking, huh.
That huh gives way to an ah when, at the next class, the two of you slot right back into place. Professor Kang catches bits and pieces of your conversation with Joshua; how he eagerly inquires about your Friday plans, how he listens intently to your little rants.
As the two of you walk out the classroom, your shoulders brush. It's slight enough that anybody not really looking would miss it, would dismiss it, but Professor Kang can only watch with amusement. Joshua apologizes for crowding you— only to take an infinitesimal step closer as the two of you leave the classroom.
By the time the two of you are out in the hall, your shoulders are almost touching again.
Ah, Professor Kang thinks. He swears he's seen it all in the past twenty years, but he's not immune to making mistakes.
it looks like your brother, joshua, is trying to set you up with his best friend: yoon jeonghan. (commissioned!!!)
ᯓ★ YOU KNOW I’M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU… DO YOU HAVE TO LET IT LINGER?
joshua isn’t subtle.
he thinks he is. thinks he’s sly when he leans against the kitchen counter like that, as if this is all casual, no ulterior motives, no grand plan.
his “hey, what are you doing later?” comes out just a little too rehearsed, like he’s been practicing it in the mirror.
“why?” you ask, pouring yourself a glass of water. the morning sun catches the rim, makes it sparkle like you’re in a toothpaste commercial. you take a slow sip just to make him wait for your answer.
“no reason,” he says, too fast. “well. jeonghan’s dropping by. we’re gonna play that new board game i told you about. you should join.”
you blink at him, resting your glass on the counter. “you invited jeonghan over without telling me?”
“‘cause you like him,” joshua says, with the smugness of someone who thinks they’ve just uncovered a great mystery. “he’s funny. good at games. you’ll get along.”
there’s a laugh bubbling in your chest that you have to swallow down. “hm,” you say instead, leaning on the counter across from him, mirroring his posture. “and this is totally not you trying to set me up with your best friend?”
he scoffs, looking anywhere but your face, like he’s afraid you might see right through him. “don’t be ridiculous.”
“right.” you nod slowly. “ridiculous.”
joshua shrugs, pretending to be absorbed in his phone. “so you’re in?”
“i guess,” you say, as if you weren’t already planning to see jeonghan tonight anyway. the corner of your mouth threatens to curl upward, but you hide it by sipping your water again.
later, when jeonghan shows up, the front door creaks open and he steps in with a smile meant just for you. warm hand on your shoulder, the tiniest squeeze, before he moves on to greet joshua.
as joshua rambles about the board game rules, jeonghan meets your gaze across the room. the smirk that tugs at his lips is for you alone.
you don’t have the heart to tell your brother he’s just a little late to the party.
--
joshua’s been at it all morning.
he’s pacing between the couch and the kitchen, dropping not-so-subtle hints about how “you should really help jeonghan with that thing later.” no context. no explanation. only that loaded sentence and a look that screams i’m doing you a favor.
every time he passes by, he glances at jeonghan as if they’re co-conspirators. in reality, joshua’s the only one convinced this is all his idea.
jeonghan plays along, because why not? it’s harmless. and it’s amusing to see how hard your brother is working for something that’s already long in motion. besides, it’s the perfect excuse to spend time with you.
when you finally wander into the living room, hair still a little mussed from sleep, hoodie sleeves covering half your hands, joshua perks up like a golden retriever who has heard a squirrel.
“perfect timing,” he says, a little too triumphant. “jeonghan needs your help with—” he falters, clearly realizing he has no idea what to insert there. “—uh, that thing.”
“right,” jeonghan says easily, “that thing.”
his gaze flickers to you, catching the sleepy curve of your smile as you settle into the seat beside him, close enough that your knee brushes the cushion near his thigh.
joshua hovers for a moment, shifting his weight like he’s waiting for something magical to happen, he then disappears into the kitchen, probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking genius.
jeonghan doesn’t waste the opportunity. his knee nudges yours—lightly enough to pass as accidental, but lingering long enough to send a quiet pulse of awareness up his leg. his hand drapes casually over the back of the couch, fingertips grazing your shoulder in a way that makes his pulse skip. he catches the brief glance you shoot him, the twitch of your lips, the silent acknowledgment that you know exactly what he’s doing.
jeonghan likes this game. the pretense.
the stolen inches of space. the warmth of your thigh against his. the way he can make you shiver from a single touch and still pretend it’s nothing.
he’s enamored—has been for a while—and there’s a thrill in knowing he can indulge in small, quiet touches right under your brother’s nose.
joshua calls something from the kitchen, breaking the moment. jeonghan answers without looking away from you, his voice perfectly even.
he’s not in a hurry to end this charade. not when he’s winning, and not when every round feels like this.
--
joshua picks the restaurant on purpose.
somewhere casual, good food, big enough that you can sit three to a table without feeling cramped. but not so big that he can’t watch the two of you from where he sits across. he thinks he’s subtle, blending into the background with his straw in hand, though the small, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips probably says otherwise.
he pokes at the ice in his drink, pretending to read the menu while you and jeonghan fall into your usual rhythm. banter that’s half-bickering, half-flirting, threaded with the kind of ease you can’t fake.
“you’re holding the menu upside down,” you point out.
“maybe i can read upside down,” jeonghan counters without missing a beat. “can you?”
“maybe i don’t need to,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow.
“sounds like someone doesn’t know how,” he teases, and you roll your eyes in a way that makes him cackle.
joshua hides a grin behind his straw.
to anyone else, it probably looks like harmless teasing. to him, it looks like progress. the way your eyes spark when jeonghan says something ridiculous, the way jeonghan’s smile softens when you push back. it’s exactly what he’s been hoping to see.
he waits until the food arrives before standing. “i’m gonna hit the restroom,” he says casually, and neither of you look up for more than a second. perfect.
he steps away from the table, weaving through other diners. instead of heading toward the bathrooms, he makes a detour toward the front windows. he pauses to check his phone, pretends to read a dessert menu, and linger near the display case. he takes his time.
this is part of the plan. give you two space. let the conversation breathe without him sitting there like a referee. let the little moments happen when no one else is watching.
because that’s the real reason behind all of this. the careful invitations, the little nudges, the conveniently timed errands. joshua likes seeing his two favorite people happy.
separately, sure, but especially together. you bring out a gentler side in jeonghan; jeonghan makes you laugh in a way few people can. and if it takes a little gentle orchestration to make sure you both realize that, well… joshua’s happy to keep playing the long game.
when he finally wanders back to the table, you’re leaning in, fingers brushing jeonghan’s as you slide him a dipping sauce. you’re laughing at something he’s just said, shoulders relaxed, faces a little too close.
“what’d i miss?” joshua asks, sliding back into his seat with an air of nonchalance.
“nothing important,” jeonghan says with a smile that’s far too knowing.
“just proving i’m better at reading menus,” you add.
joshua chuckles, picking up his fork. he takes a sip of water, still smiling to himself as the conversation between you two picks back up.
yeah, joshua thinks. sooo worth it.
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