pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader
summary: it’s not a surprise that jeonghan would like to receive on his 28th birthday. definitely not.
word count: 1060
content: sfw, non-idol au, established relationship, age gap, fluff, slight angst, misunderstanding, happy ending (lmk if i missed something)
warnings: none
a/n: happy birthday, jeonghannie❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹 (I really appreciate feedback hehe)
jeonghan knew that it would happen at some point. but right on his birthday, really?
he’s not the one who gets upset with aging, but having a young girlfriend like you are occasionally makes him think about some not really pleasant things.
yoon jeonghan isn’t that old, however, you still have a six years gap. you’re in your early twenties, people your age go to the parties, date people around their age, try to find themselves and many other things. and jeonghan, well, he turns 28 today, and lately he thinks about settling down like some of his friends. he wants it to be with you, but apparently that’s not what in your mind.
he feels like his heart is breaking into million tiny pieces when he sees you with another man. he’s young, tall and well-built. he smiles at you, tells you something that makes you laugh. jeonghan sits in a cafe, watching you from afar. suddenly, the coffee becomes bitter in his mouth, and he feels like he’s about to throw up.
it can’t be seriously happening, right? you would never cheat on him, you would never meet other men behind his back… or would you?
tomorrow, jeonghan decides, he will stay home all day, watching dramas and maybe even crying. initially he thought about going out with you, because jeonghan would never miss the chance to spend some time with you, but since he is obviously not in your priority list anymore, he’s going to have some time alone. he’s perfectly fine, really.
unless he’s not.
it’s 23:56 and in past three years that you two are dating you always made him a surprise. not this time, jeonghan thinks. he wants to be strong, he tells himself that he’s okay, that your happiness is more important to him, although he really regrets that he’s not the one who can make you truly happy. he’s not enough, he guesses. he’s not enough and he’s about to cry, because he is the main reason he lost you - the most precious girl in the whole world.
suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. jeonghan wipes couple of tears that have already left his eyes, and goes to the front door. to be honest, he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, but still he opens the door.
“happy birthday, baby!” you shout with a wide smile on your face. there’re balloons in your right hand and a big birthday bag in the left.
the next moment your smile fades and you look at your boyfriend, worried.
“hannie, what happened? why are you crying?” you let the bag fall to the ground with a loud noise, balloons fly to the ceiling as you come to hug him. “talk to me, please.”
“y-you are here,” he sobs.
“of course I’m here,” you whisper, “it’s my favorite person’s birthday.”
“am I really?” he asks, pulling away from you, to look you in the eyes.
you look at him with a confused face, but still answer “no one but you, hannie. I love you and you know that.”
you sound really sincere, jeonghan immediately regrets his attitude towards you. you came here with a surprise and he ruins everything. he couldn’t hate himself more that he does now.
“I’m sorry,” he looks away, feeling really awkward. “I just… I saw you today afternoon with… whoever he is and I thought that you probably don’t want me anymore…”
“hannie…”
“I didn’t want to jump in conclusions, but I… I guess I felt too self-conscious. I mean, you’re still so young and I’m thirty.”
“you’re only twenty-eight, baby…”
“already twenty-eight! everyone my age is settling down, you know…” he really tries not to lose his temper and you clearly see it.
“you want that too, right?” you ask him softly.
“yeah, I suppose…. but I can’t ask you about it, I don’t want you to regret anything, it’s too early, I want you to live for yourself and not to be bond with an old man,” he scoffs.
“first of all, you aren’t old and you know that,” you furrow your brows, “and secondly, why do you decide everything for me? me being younger doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”
“I didn’t mean it like that…” jeonghan sighs and sits down the coach. “I really want to be with you, I see the future in you, but…” he sighs again and adds in a barely audible whisper “I feel myself like a burden.”
the next moment he feels you near and then your gentle arms wrap around him. he thinks that he would die without you and your embrace. he feels like crying again, but he holds it back.
“don’t you dare to think and talk about yourself like that,” he hears the tears in your voice and he would sacrifice everything that he has if it stopped your tears. “I’m really sorry that I made you feel like this, I love you so much and I truly want to make you happy. if you think that it's time for you to settle down, then I'm okay with it. we can figure it out together.”
“you're right... and I love you too, sorry for making you cry,” jeonghan murmurs into your ear and hugs you tight. “seems like I ruined a birthday mood.”
“maybe,” you sob “but I’m happy that you told me how you feel, it’s important to talk about things like that. and that guy was my old acquaintance from college, I asked him to help me with choosing you a present.”
jeonghan groans “oh my, now I feel even worse.”
you just giggle at his words and stand up from the couch. you pick up a fallen bag and give it to jeonghan as you wipe your teary eyes.
“happy birthday, hannie,” you smile at him. with curiosity, he takes it from you and gasps as he sees what’s inside.
“a new lego set? are you insane? it’s too expensive, baby, you didn’t have to…”
“but I wanted to,” jeonghan immediately forgets about your present and lifts you up in his arms. he spins around the living room and it makes you giggle. “hannie, we’re going to fall if you don’t stop!”
“thank you so much,” he whispers right into your lips, “for everything.”
pairing: flower shop owner!seungcheol x reader
synopsis: When you were ten, Seungcheol taught you to blow dandelion seeds and make wishes. Years later, after moving away, you return to town and discover he's inherited his grandmother's flower shop. Inside an old drawer is a collection of childhood notes: "Things I wish for." Almost every one mentions you.
wc: 6.6k
genre: Fluff, Romance, Mild Angst, Slice of Life, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Flower Shop AU
warnings: Grief/Loss of a grandparent (past event), Emotional Discussions about Separation and Missed Opportunities, Nostalgia, References to Childhood Loneliness
a/n: this fic is a part of the First Bloom collab hosted by @svthub!
The strangest thing about coming home is discovering that the places you left behind never received the memo that you were gone.
You notice it almost immediately after stepping off the bus.
The old bakery on the corner still has the faded striped awning that seemed enormous when you were ten years old. The convenience store still has the crooked sign hanging above the entrance. Even the park across the road appears unchanged, the swings swaying gently in the afternoon breeze as if time itself had simply decided to settle down here and refuse to move forward.
Only you seem different. Only you seem out of place.
You stand beside your suitcase for a moment longer than necessary, staring down the familiar street while an uncomfortable ache settles somewhere beneath your ribs.
Three days ago, you had been packing up your apartment. Two days ago, you had been sorting through legal documents and answering sympathetic phone calls.
Now, after years of saying you'll visit eventually, after years of finding excuses and postponing plans and convincing yourself there would always be another opportunity, you're back in the town you spent most of your childhood trying to leave.
Not because you wanted to return. Because your grandmother died. The thought lands heavily, even now.
Your grip tightens around the suitcase handle. The funeral had been small. Simple.
Exactly what she would've wanted.
Most of the relatives had already left again, returning to their own lives, while you stayed behind to sort through paperwork and prepare the house for sale.
Just a few weeks, you told yourself. Long enough to finish everything properly. Long enough to say goodbye.
Then you'd leave again. The plan sounds reasonable in theory. In practice, every step through town feels like walking through memories.
The route to your grandmother's house passes the elementary school where you spent countless afternoons pretending to pay attention during class. The creek behind the football field still winds lazily through town, hidden beneath the same willow trees that once provided the backdrop for summer adventures so important they had felt life-changing at the time.
You know exactly where every turn leads. You hate how much of it you remember. The house itself sits exactly where it always has. The garden is slightly overgrown. The mailbox leans to one side. The front porch creaks beneath your weight.
Home.
Not home anymore. But close enough to hurt.
—
The first few days disappear beneath a mountain of responsibilities. Boxes. Documents. Phone calls. Dust-covered photo albums.
Closets packed with items your grandmother had somehow convinced herself she might need someday.
You spend hours sorting through decades of accumulated memories, discovering things you forgot existed and things you wish you could forget.
Old school reports. Birthday cards. Drawings. Photographs. Far too many photographs. By the fourth day, the house feels quieter than ever. The silence eventually becomes unbearable.
Which is how you find yourself wandering through town with no destination in mind, hands shoved into your jacket pockets while the late afternoon sun bathes everything in warm gold.
You tell yourself you're just getting fresh air. You tell yourself you aren't searching for anything. The lie lasts approximately fifteen minutes.
Because eventually you turn a corner. And stop.
The flower shop still stands exactly where it always did. For a second, you think you've imagined it.
The familiar brick storefront. The flower boxes beneath the windows. The painted sign hanging above the entrance.
Only one thing has changed.
The name.
Your chest tightens. Not because the shop exists. Because you know who owns it now. You learned it from one of the older ladies at the funeral.
"Oh, have you seen Seungcheol yet?"
As if that were the most natural question in the world. As if years hadn't passed. As if hearing his name didn't still do something strange to your heartbeat. You haven't seen him. Not yet.
You hadn't planned to.
But suddenly there he is. Standing inside the shop. Alive. Real. Older.
The breath catches somewhere in your throat. For a moment, all you can do is stare.
He's arranging flowers near the front counter, sleeves rolled to his forearms, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes as he focuses on adjusting a bouquet.
You knew he would have changed. Of course he would've changed.
The last time you saw him, he was fourteen years old and trying very hard not to cry while helping load boxes into a moving truck.
The man standing in front of you now is nothing like that boy. Except he is. The shape of his smile when he speaks to a customer. The way he absentmindedly scratches the back of his neck. The slight furrow between his brows when concentrating. Some things remain stubbornly familiar.
Then, as if sensing your stare, he looks up. And sees you.
The world doesn't stop. Nothing dramatic happens. Cars continue driving past. The shop door remains closed. The flowers continue existing. But something shifts.
You know it does because Seungcheol freezes. The bouquet slips slightly in his hands. For one stunned second, neither of you move.
Then his eyes widen. Your stomach drops. And suddenly you're ten years old again.
—
"You have to make a wish first."
"I already made one."
"That doesn't count."
"It does count."
"No, it doesn't."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
Ten-year-old Seungcheol had always been incredibly confident for someone who spent half his time making things up.
The two of you sat cross-legged in a field behind his grandmother's flower shop, surrounded by dandelions and sunlight.
He held one proudly between his fingers. You rolled your eyes.
"You literally just invented that rule."
"Every game has rules."
"This isn't a game."
"It is now."
You groaned dramatically. He ignored you.
"Close your eyes."
"No."
"Y/N."
"No."
"Trust me."
At ten years old, trusting Seungcheol was the easiest thing in the world. You closed your eyes.
"Now make a wish."
You sighed. Made one anyway.
"Done."
"Okay."
You opened your eyes just in time to watch him blow the dandelion apart. White seeds scattered into the wind.
"What'd you wish for?" you asked.
His expression became immediately suspicious.
"You can't tell people."
"You made that up too."
"Maybe."
"You definitely did."
"But what if it's true?"
You laughed. He grinned. The sunlight caught in his hair.
And somehow, without either of you realizing it, that afternoon became one of the memories that followed you everywhere.
—
The bell above the flower shop door rings softly when you finally step inside. The scent hits you immediately.
Fresh flowers. Soil. Greenery. Something sweet and familiar.
The same scent that used to cling to Seungcheol whenever he spent all day helping his grandmother. The same scent you haven't thought about in years.
He stands behind the counter now. Watching you. Still looking mildly shocked. You suspect you look exactly the same. For several awkward seconds, nobody says anything. Then—
"Hi."
Brilliant. Absolutely incredible. Years apart and that's the best you can manage. Seungcheol laughs. The sound eases something inside your chest instantly.
"Hi."
His voice is deeper than you remember. Everything about him feels older. Not unfamiliar. Just older.
"You came back."
The words aren't accusatory. If anything, they sound slightly disbelieving. You nod.
"Temporarily."
Something flickers across his face. Gone too quickly to identify.
"Right."
The conversation stumbles forward after that. Careful. Tentative. Questions about work. About family. About how long you've been back.
Neither of you mentions how strange this feels. Neither of you mentions how many years disappeared between one conversation and the next.
Eventually another customer enters. Then another. The moment passes. You tell yourself that's probably for the best. Still, when you finally leave, Seungcheol walks you to the door.
"If you're bored," he says casually, "you can stop by anytime."
You blink.
"What?"
"The shop."
He gestures vaguely around himself.
"I'm usually here."
The invitation sounds simple. Normal. Yet your heart reacts as if he's offered something much bigger. You smile before you can stop yourself.
"Maybe I will."
His smile mirrors yours.
"Good."
—
The following afternoon, you return. Then again two days later. Then once more. Not intentionally.
It just keeps happening.
Sometimes you help carry deliveries. Sometimes you organize shelves. Sometimes you sit near the counter pretending to read while Seungcheol works.
The ease returns surprisingly quickly. Not completely. There are still years between you. Still things unsaid. But the foundation remains.
As if friendship had simply been waiting patiently beneath the surface. One evening, after closing time, Seungcheol disappears upstairs to answer a phone call. You volunteer to finish organizing a neglected storage room.
The space is cramped. Dusty. Filled with forgotten boxes. You sneeze twice. Immediately regret your life choices.
And then you notice the drawer. Small. Wooden. Hidden behind a stack of old gardening catalogues.
Curiosity wins.
You pull it open. Inside are dozens of folded papers.
Hundreds, maybe.
All carefully preserved. You hesitate before reaching for the top one. The paper is yellowed with age.
The handwriting is instantly recognizable. Even after all these years.
Your breath catches.
Slowly, you unfold the note. Across the top of the page, written in uneven childhood handwriting, are four words.
Things I wish for.
And underneath:
For Grandma's roses to survive winter.
For my knee to stop hurting.
For Y/N to stop crying when they lose races because I don't like it.
At the bottom, squeezed into the corner:
I think wishes work better when you blow two dandelions instead of one.
– Seungcheol
You stare at the page. Then read it again. And again.
Somewhere upstairs, floorboards creak. The sound barely registers.
Because suddenly you're ten years old.
Standing in a field.
Holding a dandelion.
Listening to a boy make up rules about wishes.
And for the first time since returning home, you wonder whether maybe some memories never left at all.
—
The problem with nostalgia is that it never arrives alone.
It comes hand-in-hand with comparison, with grief, with all the quiet questions that only appear when you're staring at the person you used to know and trying to reconcile them with the person standing in front of you now.
By the end of the second week, you have become painfully aware of that fact. You have also become painfully aware of how often you find yourself at the flower shop. The first few visits had reasonable explanations.
You needed somewhere to walk. You needed a break from sorting through your grandmother's belongings. You needed a distraction.
The seventh visit is significantly harder to justify.
Especially when you're carrying two iced coffees and walking toward the shop before you've fully finished convincing yourself you're only dropping by for a few minutes.
The bell above the door rings. Seungcheol immediately looks up. The smile that appears on his face happens so naturally that neither of you seem to notice it.
You do. Unfortunately.
"You're late."
You stop.
"What?"
He gestures toward the wall clock.
"You usually get here fifteen minutes ago."
The realization settles over both of you simultaneously.
Because he's right. Because apparently you've established a routine. Because apparently Seungcheol has noticed.
Heat crawls up your neck.
"You timed me?"
"I didn't time you."
"You literally knew I was fifteen minutes late."
"I just noticed."
"That's timing me."
"It isn't."
"It absolutely is."
His laugh fills the shop. You hate how much you missed that sound.
—
The flower shop feels different now that you've spent enough time inside it to notice the details. The place still carries traces of his grandmother. The old cash register remains displayed on a shelf near the counter.
Framed photographs line one wall.
The ancient rocking chair in the corner somehow survived several decades despite looking permanently one bad day away from collapse.
But Seungcheol is everywhere too. The organization. The handwritten signs. The new displays. The garden outside. The entire place feels like a conversation between generations.
A continuation rather than a replacement.
His grandmother would've loved that. You think she already knew he would inherit the shop.
You glance up from the arrangement you're helping prepare.
"Daisies?"
"Dandelions."
He nods toward the window.
Outside, several bright yellow flowers have appeared amongst the carefully maintained garden beds.
You smile.
"They're kind of pretty."
"Exactly."
He sounds offended.
"Kind of?"
"Okay, they're pretty."
"There we go."
"You care way too much about dandelions."
"I inherited that."
His voice softens slightly.
"Grandma used to say they were the bravest flowers."
You pause.
"What does that mean?"
He carefully trims a stem.
"They grow everywhere."
A shrug.
"They survive getting stepped on."
Another cut.
"People call them weeds, but they keep blooming anyway."
You watch him for a moment. Sunlight filters through the front window. Dust drifts lazily through the air.
The shop smells faintly of lavender and soil. For a second, the years between childhood and now seem remarkably small.
"They sound stubborn."
Seungcheol grins.
"Exactly."
—
The first time someone mistakes you for his partner, you're unprepared. The culprit is an elderly customer named Mrs. Kim.
One moment she's purchasing carnations. The next she's looking between you and Seungcheol with obvious satisfaction.
"It's nice to finally meet them."
You blink.
"I'm sorry?"
Mrs. Kim waves dismissively.
"Don't worry."
Seungcheol visibly tenses. You immediately become suspicious.
"Don't worry about what?"
The woman pats your hand.
"Oh, honey, we've all heard about you."
Silence. Complete silence. You slowly turn toward Seungcheol. He refuses to make eye contact.
"Seungcheol."
"No."
"What does she mean?"
"No."
Mrs. Kim laughs. The traitor.
"You know, Y/N this and Y/N that and—"
"Mrs. Kim."
The warning in his voice only makes her smile widen. You stare. He stares determinedly at the floor.
A customer enters. The conversation mercifully dies.
Unfortunately your curiosity survives.
—
You corner him later.
"What exactly have people heard?"
"Nothing."
"That sounds suspicious."
"It isn't."
"Seungcheol."
He groans.
"You're impossible."
"You avoided the question."
"I mentioned you sometimes."
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes."
The response is entirely too fast. You narrow your eyes.
"How many times?"
His expression immediately suggests the answer is significantly higher than either of you would like.
—
That night, after returning home, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the drawer again. You know you probably shouldn't be reading the notes.
They're private. Personal. Hidden for a reason. And yet. The temptation wins.
Again.
The next paper is dated in messy twelve-year-old handwriting. You unfold it carefully.
Things I wish for:
To beat Jeonghan at soccer.
To grow taller.
For Y/N to stay here forever.
Don't tell them I wrote that.
You stare. Then reread the sentence. Then reread it again.
The words somehow feel heavier each time.
For Y/N to stay here forever.
Simple. Innocent. Childish. Yet something twists painfully inside your chest.
Because you didn't stay. Because neither of you had any control over that. Because twelve-year-old Seungcheol didn't know he was writing a wish that would never come true.
—
Middle school had been awkward. Not terrible. Not dramatic. Just awkward.
The age where suddenly everyone became aware that boys and girls existed. The age where friendships acquired strange new rules nobody explained properly.
You remember sitting beside Seungcheol during lunch one afternoon. He arrived carrying two juice boxes. Immediately handed you one.
Completely normal. Entirely routine. Unfortunately half your classmates witnessed the exchange. The teasing started instantly.
"Ooooh."
"Look."
"It's Y/N and Seungcheol."
You remember wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Seungcheol had looked equally horrified. The two of you spent the rest of lunch aggressively denying accusations nobody had technically made.
Neither of you acknowledged how red your faces became.
—
You wake the next morning determined not to think about old letters. The determination lasts approximately twenty minutes.
By lunch, you're back at the flower shop. By evening, you're helping prepare arrangements for a wedding. By closing time, you're laughing so hard you nearly drop an entire bucket of peonies.
The transition feels alarmingly natural. As if this version of life has been waiting patiently for your return. As if leaving had only been an interruption.
Not an ending.
The thought unsettles you.
—
The following week, the town begins treating your presence as permanent. The bakery owner asks whether you've found a job yet. The librarian asks if you're staying. Three separate neighbors mention available apartments.
You spend most conversations repeating the same answer.
"I'm only here temporarily."
Every single person responds the same way.
"We'll see."
The most irritating part is that nobody sounds uncertain.
Least of all Seungcheol.
—
One afternoon, while helping water plants behind the shop, you finally ask.
"Did everyone in this town secretly agree to annoy me?"
He laughs.
"Probably."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
You splash water toward him. He dodges. Barely.
"Traitor."
"I didn't do anything."
"You never tell them I'm leaving."
His expression changes slightly. The smile remains. Something else disappears.
"Oh."
Immediately, guilt settles in your stomach. You hadn't meant—
"I mean—"
"It's okay."
The words are gentle. Too gentle. The conversation moves on.
Yet the silence lingers.
—
That evening, while closing up, Seungcheol disappears upstairs to search for inventory records. The opportunity presents itself. You tell yourself you're only checking one note.
One. That's all.
The lie fools absolutely nobody. Especially not yourself. You return to the drawer. Select another folded paper. Open it carefully.
The handwriting is older this time.
Less childish. More controlled. The date makes your chest tighten.
The year you moved away.
Things I wish for:
To have my own flower shop someday.
For Grandma to stop working so hard.
For Y/N to smile like they did before they found out they're moving.
I hate this wish.
The words blur slightly. You blink. Look away. Look back.
The paper remains unchanged.
The same ink. The same handwriting. The same impossible honesty.
For a long moment, you simply sit there.
Remembering.
—
The moving truck had arrived too early. Or maybe it only felt that way.
You remember cardboard boxes. Your mother's stressed voice. Relatives carrying furniture.
Everything happening much too fast. You remember friends saying goodbye. Teachers promising you'd make new ones. Adults insisting change was exciting.
You remember hating every second of it.
Most of all, you remember Seungcheol. Standing beside the driveway. Hands shoved into his pockets. Trying very hard to act normal.
You'd both promised to stay in touch. You'd both promised nothing would change. At fourteen, promises like that feel unbreakable.
Reality is less cooperative. Calls become texts. Texts become occasional messages. Then birthdays. Then silence.
Not because either of you stopped caring.
Because life happened. Because growing up happened. Because distance is sometimes quieter than heartbreak.
—
A floorboard creaks overhead. You quickly fold the letter. Return it to the drawer. Close everything.
By the time Seungcheol returns, you're standing beside a shelf pretending to examine gardening supplies.
His eyes narrow immediately.
"You look suspicious."
"What?"
"You look guilty."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
You point at a random bag of fertilizer.
"Did you know this contains nitrogen?"
The silence that follows is devastating. Then Seungcheol starts laughing.
The kind of laugh that forces him to lean against a table for support. You hate him. Possibly. A little.
—
Later, after you've returned home, sleep proves impossible. Your mind keeps returning to the notes.
The wishes. The years. Everything that existed while you were gone.
Eventually curiosity wins one final time. Near midnight, you retrieve the drawer once more.
One last letter. Just one. You unfold it slowly.
The handwriting immediately looks different.
Shakier. Messier. Lonelier.
The date makes your stomach drop. A few months after you left. Nothing else is written on the page.
No numbered list. No jokes. No soccer. No flowers.
Just a single sentence.
Things I wish for:
Y/N comes back.
Just once. That's all. For a long moment, the room remains completely silent.
Outside, wind rattles softly against the windows. Inside, your chest feels painfully tight. You remember all the times you almost visited. All the summers you said maybe next year. All the holidays that slipped away. All the opportunities lost to convenience and distance and the assumption that there would always be more time.
The note trembles slightly in your hands.
And for the first time since returning home, you begin to understand that maybe you weren't the only person who spent years missing someone.
The realization follows you long after the lights go out. Long after the letter is folded away. Long after sleep finally arrives.
And somewhere across town, completely unaware of the storm currently unfolding inside your chest, Seungcheol closes his flower shop for the evening and locks the front door, still carrying pieces of a wish he made twelve years ago.
—
The worst part about reading the letters is that they make everything impossible to ignore. Not impossible in the dramatic sense. Not in the way movies portray it, where suddenly every interaction becomes charged with unbearable tension and every glance feels life-altering.
Instead, it becomes impossible to ignore the accumulation of small things. The details. The habits. The spaces someone occupies in your life without permission.
Before finding the drawer, spending every afternoon at the flower shop had felt natural.
After finding the drawer, you become painfully aware that Seungcheol automatically hands you a drink before grabbing one for himself.
That he remembers how you take your coffee. That he moves around the shop with the unconscious expectation that you'll be somewhere nearby. That every time the front door opens, his eyes immediately search for you before searching for the customer.
None of these things mean anything individually. Together, they begin to feel like something dangerous. Something you've spent years pretending not to recognize. Something that looks suspiciously like first love growing up and refusing to leave.
—
The flower festival arrives at exactly the wrong time. Or perhaps exactly the right time. You haven't decided which.
The annual event has existed for as long as you can remember, transforming the town into something bright and overwhelming for a weekend every spring. Streets fill with flower displays. Local businesses compete for awards. Families wander between stalls carrying bouquets and iced drinks.
As children, you and Seungcheol used to treat it like the most important event of the year. Now, as adults, it means two weeks of preparation and approximately zero free time. Not that you mind.
Being busy makes it easier not to think.
Unfortunately, Seungcheol keeps ruining that strategy by existing.
—
"You're staring."
You nearly drop the box you're carrying.
"What?"
He raises an eyebrow.
"You've been looking at me for ten seconds."
"I was not."
"You were."
"No."
"Y/N."
The use of your name should not feel that unfair. It does. Especially when accompanied by a smile. Especially when he knows exactly what he's doing. You point aggressively at the display you're assembling.
"I was looking at the flowers."
"Sure."
"Why would I stare at you?"
His grin widens. You immediately regret speaking. Across the room, an elderly volunteer watching preparations sighs dramatically.
"Please date already."
Both of you nearly choke.
—
The town has become unbearable. Not because the people are cruel. Quite the opposite. The people are far too invested.
Everyone appears convinced that you and Seungcheol are one conversation away from getting married. The florist across the street keeps offering relationship advice. Mrs. Kim has started winking whenever she enters the shop. Even children seem suspicious.
At one point, a ten-year-old asks if you're Seungcheol's spouse. You spend five full minutes recovering.
Seungcheol spends ten.
—
The problem is that every joke lands slightly closer to the truth than either of you are comfortable admitting.
Because somewhere between sorting flowers and revisiting childhood memories and reading letters you definitely should not be reading, something has changed.
Or maybe nothing changed. Maybe you've simply stopped running from it.
You don't know which possibility scares you more.
—
One evening, after the shop closes, rain begins unexpectedly. Heavy. Relentless.
The kind that turns roads silver beneath streetlights. You're trapped. Not that either of you seem particularly bothered.
Seungcheol locks the front door and flips the sign to CLOSED.
The two of you remain inside. Waiting. The shop feels different after hours. Quieter. More intimate.
The scent of flowers seems stronger somehow. The silence stretches comfortably between conversations. You sit together behind the counter drinking tea.
Outside, rain taps steadily against the glass. Inside, memories linger everywhere.
"You know," Seungcheol says eventually, "Grandma used to think you were going to marry me."
You nearly inhale your tea.
"What?"
His laughter echoes through the empty shop.
"I'm serious."
"Why would she think that?"
"You were ten."
"That's not an answer."
"You followed me around everywhere."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"You're making things up."
"I'm not."
"You are."
He shakes his head.
"She used to tell me all the time."
The smile softens.
"'That one loves you very much, Seungcheol.'"
Something catches unexpectedly in your chest. You look away.
The rain suddenly becomes fascinating.
—
Later that night, after returning home, you find yourself sitting on the floor beside the drawer again. You don't even pretend to resist anymore. The letters feel less like an invasion now.
More like a conversation delayed by years. The next note is dated two years after you left.
You unfold it carefully.
Things I wish for:
To stop thinking about Y/N.
Didn't work.
For several seconds, you simply stare. Then laugh. Actually laugh.
Because somehow, despite everything, fourteen-year-old Seungcheol and sixteen-year-old Seungcheol remain unmistakably the same person.
Hopeless. Earnest. Painfully honest. You continue reading.
The next note is eighteen.
Things I wish for:
To see Y/N again.
To stop comparing everyone else to Y/N.
Didn't work either.
The smile disappears. A strange ache replaces it. You know what he's implying.
You wish you didn't.
Because suddenly every year between then and now feels tangible.
Every missed opportunity. Every person he met. Every relationship that apparently failed to become something lasting.
The thought follows you into the final letter. Age twenty-one.
Things I wish for:
Y/N.
Just Y/N.
No explanation. No joke. No elaboration. Only your name.
The page trembles slightly in your hands.
—
The next morning, you arrive at the flower shop exhausted. Emotionally. Mentally. Possibly spiritually.
Seungcheol notices immediately.
"Rough night?"
You consider your options. Lie. Deflect. Change the subject.
Instead:
"Why didn't you throw them away?"
His hands stop moving. The flowers remain half-arranged between his fingers. For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then:
"The notes?"
You nod. The silence stretches. Long enough for your pulse to become annoying. Long enough for the question to feel dangerous. Finally, Seungcheol exhales softly.
"Because throwing them away felt like giving up."
The answer lands harder than expected. You stare. He continues looking at the flowers.
Neither of you moves. Neither of you looks away. The shop suddenly feels too quiet.
Too small. Too honest.
—
The conversation changes after that. Not dramatically. Not immediately. But something shifts.
A wall lowers. A distance disappears. You begin talking about things you've avoided for years.
University. Family. The struggles nobody posted online. The loneliness. The uncertainty. The versions of yourselves that existed while the other wasn't there to witness them.
For the first time, it feels like you're catching up properly. Not on events.
On each other.
—
The breakthrough arrives unexpectedly. Through gossip. Naturally. Because this town cannot help itself.
You're helping arrange flowers outside the festival pavilion when Mrs. Kim appears. You should have run. Instead, you smile politely. A mistake.
"Did you know," she begins immediately, "that Seungcheol never brought anyone serious home?"
Your heart stops.
"What?"
Mrs. Kim continues cheerfully.
"Such a waste."
You stare. The woman sighs dramatically.
"Everyone liked him."
The implications begin arriving one by one. Slowly. Terribly. You don't want to ask. You ask anyway.
"Why?"
Mrs. Kim blinks.
"Why what?"
"Why didn't he date anyone?"
The answer comes far too quickly.
"As if we don't all know."
Then she walks away. Leaving you alone with approximately twelve different emotional crises.
—
The festival opens the next day. Crowds flood the streets. Music drifts through the air. Children race between displays. Customers fill the shop. The entire town seems alive.
You should be enjoying it. Instead, you're distracted.
Because every time you look at Seungcheol, another letter appears in your memory.
Another wish. Another year. Another version of him quietly hoping for something he thought he would never get.
By evening, exhaustion settles over everyone. The crowds thin. Sunlight begins fading. And somehow you find yourselves alone behind the shop.
Again.
The garden glows gold beneath the setting sun. Dandelions sway gently amongst the flower beds.
The same flowers. The same stubborn flowers. Hope disguised as weeds.
Seungcheol sits beside you on a wooden bench. Close. Not touching. Close enough. For several minutes, neither of you speaks. The silence feels full. Waiting. Anticipating.
Like the final moments before a storm breaks. Then he says quietly:
"I was happy you came back."
Your breath catches. The confession isn't romantic. Not technically. But it feels significant anyway. You glance toward him. His gaze remains fixed on the garden.
A nervous habit you've started recognizing.
"I was happy too."
The words come easily. Truth always does. He smiles. Small. Soft. Real.
And suddenly you're struck by a realization so obvious it almost feels ridiculous. Every important moment in your life somehow leads back to him. Every memory. Every wish. Every version of home.
The thought settles heavily between your ribs. Not uncomfortable. Just undeniable. The sun sinks lower. The dandelions sway.
And for the first time, you begin wondering whether the final letter in the drawer isn't actually the end of the story.
Maybe it's only the beginning. Because tomorrow is the final day of the flower festival. Tomorrow you'll finish sorting the last boxes from your grandmother's house. Tomorrow you'll have to decide whether you're leaving again.
And somewhere deep down, beneath years of distance and excuses and carefully maintained walls, a small stubborn hope begins to bloom.
Much like a dandelion. Refusing to die. Refusing to be ignored. Refusing, despite everything, to stop growing.
—
The last day of the flower festival arrives far too quickly. You know this because you spend most of the morning trying not to think about it. Unfortunately, thinking about something and trying not to think about something are often the exact same activity.
By noon, you're painfully aware that this is your final week in town. By three o'clock, you've mentally packed your suitcase twice. By five, you've considered extending your stay. By six, you've considered cancelling your return entirely. None of these thoughts help.
Especially because every possible future seems to revolve around the same person. Across the square, Seungcheol is helping a little girl choose flowers for her mother. You watch him crouch down so they're eye level. Watch him listen seriously to her explanation. Watch him help arrange a tiny bouquet.
The girl leaves looking delighted. Seungcheol looks equally pleased. The sight hurts. Not because it's sad. Because it feels familiar.
Because it feels like home.
Because somewhere along the way, without realizing it, you've started measuring places by whether or not he exists in them.
And that seems like a dangerous way to live.
—
The festival winds down slowly. Stalls begin packing away displays. Families drift home. The streets gradually quiet.
For the first time all weekend, the town feels peaceful. You spend most of the evening helping return decorations to storage.
Boxes. Signs. Flower stands. The work is repetitive enough to keep your hands busy. Not your thoughts.
Those remain frustratingly active. By the time darkness settles over town, only a handful of people remain.
The cleanup continues. The shop stays open late. And eventually you find yourself alone.
Again. In the storage room. Again. Standing in front of the drawer. Again.
At this point, you suspect fate has completely given up pretending to be subtle.
—
The final note is hidden beneath all the others. Tucked carefully at the very bottom. Almost as if someone wanted it protected. Your pulse quickens immediately. Because unlike the others, this paper looks newer.
Not recent. Just newer. Adult handwriting. Adult paper. Adult ink.
Slowly, you unfold it. And the world narrows.
Things I wish for:
I don't think this one belongs to a dandelion anymore.
I think some wishes are supposed to be said.
I love Y/N.
I've loved them since we were kids making rules about wishes in the park.
And if they come back someday, maybe I'll finally tell them.
– Seungcheol
For a long moment, nothing happens. You simply stare. Reading the words once. Twice. Again. As if repetition might somehow make them less overwhelming.
It doesn't.
The confession sits plainly on the page. No jokes. No hiding. No pretending. Just the truth. The same truth that has apparently existed for years. The same truth you've spent the entire month slowly uncovering one letter at a time.
Outside the storage room, a floorboard creaks.
You look up.
Your heart immediately attempts escape.
Because Seungcheol is standing in the doorway. And judging by his expression, he knows exactly what you're holding.
—
"Oh."
Brilliant. An excellent response. Truly.
Years of emotional buildup and the first thing either of you manages is:
"Oh."
Seungcheol closes his eyes. Briefly. The expression on his face suggests he is considering several possible methods of spontaneous death.
"You found that one."
You hold up the paper.
"A little late to ask me not to read it."
His groan echoes off the walls. You almost laugh. Almost.
If your heart wasn't currently beating hard enough to qualify as a medical emergency. The silence stretches. Neither of you seem sure how to continue.
Finally:
"You were never supposed to find that."
Your eyebrows rise.
"There are literally eight hundred letters in that drawer."
"There are not eight hundred."
"There are enough."
The corner of his mouth twitches. Then disappears. The seriousness returns. And suddenly the air changes. The humor fades. The truth remains.
"You meant it?"
The question comes out quieter than intended. Seungcheol looks at the floor. Then the shelves. Then literally anywhere except you.
Eventually, he exhales.
"Yeah."
Just one word. Simple. Certain. Enough.
Your chest tightens painfully. Because there is no hesitation. No uncertainty. No attempt to take it back. Just honesty.
The kind that takes years to build. The kind that only appears when someone is finally tired of hiding.
"Since we were kids?"
A small laugh escapes him.
"Unfortunately."
The response is so Seungcheol that tears immediately threaten.
"You make it sound tragic."
"It was."
Now he smiles. Softly.
"I liked you for fifteen years."
Your laugh comes out suspiciously emotional.
"I was very committed."
The tears win. Just slightly. Enough for your vision to blur. Enough for Seungcheol's expression to immediately change. Concern replacing nervousness.
"Hey."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'm having a normal reaction."
"This doesn't seem normal."
"It absolutely isn't."
And somehow that breaks the tension. Both of you laugh. Both of you look slightly overwhelmed. Both of you look suspiciously close to crying.
When the laughter fades, the truth remains. Patient. Waiting. You stare down at the letter again.
At your name. At years of wishes. At every version of him that existed before this moment.
Ten years old. Twelve. Fourteen. Twenty-one. Twenty-six. Every single one hoping for the same thing. Every single one writing your name.
The realization settles heavily inside your chest. Not because it's surprising.
Because it isn't. Not anymore.
Somewhere between the first letter and the last, you've already known.
You simply weren't ready to admit it.
"Do you know something funny?"
Seungcheol looks confused.
"A dangerous start."
You ignore him.
"I used to wish for you too."
The words leave before you can stop them. His expression freezes. Completely.
"What?"
You laugh softly. Because honestly, the universe has a terrible sense of humor.
"Every birthday."
You look down at the letter.
"Every shooting star."
A smile. Small. Embarrassed.
"Every dandelion."
Silence. Absolute silence.
"Seriously?"
You nod. His eyes widen.
"You never told me."
"You never told me."
"That's because I was terrified."
"So was I."
The answer arrives instantly. Truth again. Always truth.
—
The confession isn't dramatic. There are no grand speeches. No perfectly rehearsed declarations. No movie-worthy dialogue.
Instead, there is honesty. Messy honesty. The kind built from years of friendship.
Years of absence. Years of missing someone without fully understanding the shape of that feeling.
You talk. Really talk. For the first time. About moving away. About losing touch. About all the almost-visits.
The unanswered messages. The missed opportunities. The people you both tried and failed to become. And somehow, through all of it, the conversation keeps returning to the same conclusion.
You found your way back. Not immediately. Not perfectly. But eventually. You came back. And he waited. Not intentionally. Not actively. Just quietly.
Like someone protecting a wish.
—
The flower shop closes early the following evening. Not because business is slow. Because Seungcheol insists on taking you somewhere.
You recognize the destination immediately. The field.
The one behind the shop. The one from childhood. The one where everything started.
The walk there feels strangely familiar. As if no time has passed. As if every version of yourselves still exists somewhere among the grass.
The field is smaller than you remember. Most places are. The dandelions aren't.
They remain everywhere.
Bright. Stubborn. Impossible to ignore.
Exactly like him.
—
"Do you remember the rules?" Seungcheol asks. You laugh.
"The rules changed every week."
"They were very sophisticated."
"They were completely made up."
"They were based on science."
"They absolutely were not."
His offended expression is immediate. You grin. Some things never change.
Thank God.
—
Eventually the conversation fades. The evening settles around you. Warm. Peaceful. Comfortable.
Seungcheol picks a dandelion.
Then another. Holding one out. You accept it automatically.
Like muscle memory. Like childhood. Like home.
The white seeds tremble gently in the breeze. For a moment, neither of you speaks.
"What are you wishing for?"
The question is familiar. The same question from years ago. The same field. The same flowers. The same boy.
Only now he's a man looking at you like you're the answer to something. You stare at the dandelion. Then at him. Then smile.
"Nothing."
His eyebrows lift.
"Nothing?"
You shake your head.
"No."
The answer feels surprisingly easy. Certain. Complete.
For the first time in a very long time, there is nothing left to ask for.
No missing piece. No distance. No unanswered question. No wish waiting to be granted.
Just this. Just him. Just the future.
Whatever shape it takes. And somehow, that's enough.
More than enough.
Seungcheol smiles. Slowly. Softly. The kind of smile that belongs entirely to you.
Then together, sitting side by side in a field full of dandelions, you blow the seeds into the evening air.
Thousands of tiny white fragments drift upward.
Carried by the wind. Carried toward whatever comes next. Not because you need wishes anymore.
But because some traditions deserve to survive. Some things deserve to bloom again.
And some first loves, despite distance and time and every reason they should have faded, are stubborn enough to wait.
Like dandelions. Like hope.
Like Choi Seungcheol.
Like you.
The seeds disappear into the sunset. This time, neither of you watches them go.
Because for the first time, you're both looking in the same direction.
Synopsis: When you complain to Jeonghan that love is dead, he shows you that you're absolutely wrong. You just needed to look in front of you.
Requested: a Jeonghan x reader comfort soft smut fic 🥺 Reader is insecure and feels unlovable, but Jeonghan confesses to her. sort of friends to lovers
Warnings: mdni, 18+, bff! Jeonghan, fools in love, friends-to-lovers, soft smut, oral (f. rec), tried to do some rom-com feels, Jeonghan is your knight in shiny armor, praise, pussy drunk! Jeonghan, love confessions!, college au
WC: 2.7K +
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
The phone rings twice before it gets picked up. You can hear a little rustling on the other end as you lie on your side, and something small swirls in your lower stomach as you gaze at your dorm room wall with a small pout.
“Angel,” Jeonghan’s voice filters low in your ear, and your eyes close as you curl into yourself a little more. “Where you at?”
Jeonghan had been one of your closest friends for years now, and when you’d had a day like yours, you couldn’t help but gravitate to him.
“In bed,” you mumbled, and your sock-covered foot poked the wall absentmindedly as more words rushed out before you could stop them. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” The confession drops something cold down your spine at the same time your cheeks flush, and your back straightens as you squeak in surprise that you really said that out loud. “I mean- I just, how was your day?”
You’re such a fucking loser you can’t help but roll your eyes, even as Jeonghan’s voice hums in your ear a little closer. You don’t know where he’s at; you probably should have checked his location before calling because he could be doing something important, but clearly your brain wasn’t thinking any of this through.
“Mine’s better now that you’ve called.” There is some rustling and footsteps before you hear a door close, and you can only imagine Jeonghan is now in his room. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, and your eyes flicker to the Polaroids of you and your friends you have hung up on your wall.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you huff, attempting to avoid the subject, and Jeonghan hums again, calling you out on your bullshit.
“Yeah, and the sky is orange.” You’d like to be a smart-ass and point out that that could be an actual possibility, but you don’t want to roll over to check and see if the sun is setting. Instead, you choose to whine in annoyance.
“Jeonghan.” You grumble and can hear him stifle a laugh as he says your name with a fondness that makes you remember why you called in the first place. Your smile dims, and your heart twists a little as you close your eyes. And like before, the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Am I unlovable?”
The silence that rings between you two makes you regret saying anything to your friend until you hear his desk chair creak like he sat up too fast. “What?”
You feel your ears burn, and you’re so glad Jeonghan isn’t here in person to see you say this, but it’s been rolling in your mind so long you need to let it all out. “Why does no one like me?” You ask and roll your eyes when Jeonghan speaks up.
“Well, I like you.” He’s basically contractually obligated to say that; he’s your friend, and you roll your eyes again even if his words warm you up inside.
“No, I mean-“ you groan from your lack of words and flip onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a furrowed brow and a heavy pout on your lips. “Like, I know the dating scene right now is disgusting. No one actually wants to date. Everyone wants to just hook up and hide from genuine feelings, but what happened to love? Am I ugly? I know my personality is great, but what happened to love!” Once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop, so you ramble on without a single thought. “What happened to men standing outside the girl’s window with a boombox above their head? Confessing their love to one another. What happened to serenading a girl by lip syncing to a song across the bleachers in front of the football game!”
Okay, maybe you’ve been watching too many romantic movies lately, but that’s beside the point.
Your knees pull up, and your feet slide up your bed as you sigh. Your heart beats, and your eyes blink back the blurriness slowly blocking your vision. The loneliness washes over you bitterly, leaving you cold, and your voice softens into a whisper as you come full circle.
“Why doesn’t anyone want me?”
There’s a brief moment of silence that makes you almost check your phone to see if Jeonghan is still there before he speaks up through the receiver. “I’m coming over.” He says it so simply that you’re sitting up and shaking your head as if you could actually see you.
“No, don’t-“ you don’t need some pity hug, but Jeonghan cuts you off before you can continue.
“I’m coming over.”
Jeonghan lives about twenty minutes away from your dorm, but he gets there in ten minutes, surprising you. You hadn’t bothered to change from your pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirt, figuring you could convince Jeonghan everything was okay and he could go home, but all your thoughts get thrown out the window the moment you answer your door.
Jeonghan stands there, out of breath like he ran the whole way here, with a clump of leaves mixed with flowers in his hand. He’s got the roots and dirt dangling at the end, and you’re too stunned to speak because even though his hair seems a mess and his cheeks are a little flushed, he’s still handsome as ever.
“Hannie-“ you don’t know if you should laugh or cry as he makes a noise, shoving the clump of flowers in your direction.
“I love you.” He says, and his eyes anchor onto yours as your mouth drops open in shock. “I don’t own a boombox, and I’m not doing some flash mob unless you really want one, but I love you. Not just as friends, or something else. I love you.” He straightens up as he continues to speak, taking a step closer to you, and his body warms up yours as you are forced to look up at him in awe. “I loved you since the moment I met you, and I believe I will even after this. But you needed to know, and I wasn’t going to say it over the phone. I love you, and I want you.”
“What?” Your voice sounded muffled, like it was underwater, as you blinked up at your friend. You didn’t know what to say; too many thoughts were running through your mind, and you gasped as Jeonghan grabbed your waist, pulling you against him.
“I’m in love with you.”
Your eyes searched his for a moment, and your eyebrows furrowed more as you placed a hand on his chest. “Hannie, this isn’t funny.” You started, and Jeonghan quickly shook his head.
“I’m not playing with you-“
“Then why-“ the clump of flowers you’re convinced Jeonghan pulled from the campus lawn on his run here gets tossed over his shoulder just as he shuts the door behind him. His arm is still wrapped around your back, keeping you to him, and you’re very aware of how low his hand rests on the curve of your lower back.
“I was waiting for you to catch up. You want to date someone? Date me. You want someone to love you? I’m right here, Angel; you can do no better. I love you.”
His words wash over you a minute after he says them, and like the stupid rom-com films you watched on days you needed a pick-me-up, your world stills. Your eyes search for the smirk he usually displays when he’s playing around, but you are only met with dark brown eyes that simmer with earnestness.
He means it. He actually means it.
The same moment your world stills, it also fast-forwards so quickly, you aren’t entirely sure who moves first. Him or you? You may never know because one moment you’re giving a quick inhale, and the next your lips are crashing into his.
You feel Jeonghan wrap his arms around you, pulling you close while your hands twist into his hair to deepen the kiss. Both of you moan in unison, your feet stumbling backwards as your mind reels with all the new information you have gathered. A trail of clothes being taken off leads you to your bed, and your gasps and moans are met with low groans from Jeonghan, who can’t keep his hands off you.
You’d be lying if you said you never thought about this moment exactly. You’d been friends with Jeonghan for years, but you never really thought it’d be anything more than that. He was funny, charming, and smart. He was your person, the one person who had always been there, and it made you feel silly to not have noticed it before. Or maybe you just didn’t think he would feel the same, but now that the line has been crossed, there is no turning back now.
“I love you.” Your words come out as a gasp when Jeonghan pushes you back onto the bed, not wasting a second to crawl on top of you. You meet his eyes with your heart racing, and it skips a beat when he flashes you a grin as he ducks his head down to nudge your nose gently with his own, giving you a sweet kiss.
“Are you going to make me do a flash mob?”
Your laughter bubbles from your lips loudly when you process what he says, and your body immediately relaxes as your hand smacks his shoulder with a scoff. “Oh, shut up.” You laughed, and Jeonghan smirked, kissing your cheeks and lips before trailing his kisses down your throat.
“I’m just saying, I can talk to Hoshi if you need some grand gesture. He can come up with some choreo, I’m sure, and I’ll happily claim my love for you to a crowd of strangers if you need it.” He hums, amused, and his lithe fingers push your t-shirt higher. He’s pleased to find out you’re not wearing a bra, and your stomach flexes as your breasts get exposed to his hungry gaze.
“I’d rather you do something else right now,” you mumbled, and your cheeks flushed as Hannie gave you a hooded look. He’s down to just his boxers, his clothes littered throughout your dorm, and your legs squeeze his waist as he settles himself right between your soft thighs. From this position, you can feel his hard cock press against your panty-covered pussy, and your eyelashes flutter from how warm and thick he feels against you.
“Yeah?” His breath fans over one of your breasts, reeling you back from your own thoughts, and Jeonghan makes sure you’re looking at him when his warm tongue laps over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth.
Fuck.
Your back arches, and your legs fall open more as he sucks on your nipple, flicking his tongue with a hum as a new wave of arousal soaks your panties. You feel his fingers hook into the thin material, his tongue licking a path to your other breast as he tugs your panties down your legs, and then all you’re left in is your oversized t-shirt that is pushed just under your chin.
“Gorgeous,” Jeonghan murmurs and his warm hands push your knees up, exposing you intimately as he kneels back onto his knees before you. “So pretty for me.” he sucks in a dreamy sigh, like this is something he’s thought about constantly. His gaze burns down your body slowly, making the room rise in temperature, and when his eyes land on your drooling cunt, you almost have the urge to hide from his hungry stare.
“Jeonghan, please.” You don’t get the chance to move an inch before his palms are sliding down the back of your knees and over your inner thighs. His fingers part your puffy folds as another wave of your slick pools because of him, making your pretty pussy glisten as you watch his tongue roll over his lips in need.
“And you thought you were unlovable?” He scoffs, and your cheeks darken as he shakes his head at you. “Guess I’ll just have to show you otherwise.”
You watch with bated breath as he leans down, his lips curving up into a smirk as he keeps your knees up. The first kiss he places is on your inner thigh, his nose brushing along your sensitive skin as he gives your other thigh the same kiss right after. And then he flattens his tongue, licking his way up your thigh, and to your pretty cunt, groaning as your sweet slick coats his taste buds for the first time.
He swirls his tongue over your puffy clit, taking the nub between his lips, and your eyes roll back when he sucks lewdly, making your pussy weep in pleasure.
You had always known he had a silver tongue, but when he laps at your pretty pussy messily, you’re at a loss for words. Your fingers thread into his hair, bringing him closer, and his arms keep you from closing your legs, forcing you to take everything he gives as he becomes more pussydrunk by the second. “Knew you’d taste sweet, Angel.” He murmurs, and his thumbs spread your slick folds apart to give his tongue more room to explore.
He swirls his wet muscle around your entrance, teasing your gummy walls, and making you whine as his nose rubs against your clit with each obscene lick he gives. You can feel the warmth pooling in your stomach, and every noise you make only has Jeonghan slurping louder, filling the room with the noises of your moans and his tongue stuffing your cunt deliciously over and over again.
His mouth feels too good, he feels too good, and your tongue feels glued to the roof of your mouth, rendering you speechless. He reduces you into a puddle of noises that whimper from the back of your throat as your heels dig into his back, and Jeonghan moves when you do.
He follows every roll of your hips, keeping his mouth latched onto your addictive cunt as his hands reach up to cup your breasts, rubbing up your body, and keeping your legs over his shoulders while he brings your orgasm closer to the edge.
“H-Hannie!” Your gasps are increasing, and one of his hands grabs yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he messily shakes his head between your soft thighs, lapping at your cunt hungrily. “Oh! M’gonna cum! M’gonna cum, Hannie!”
Jeonghan groans, and with one hand holding yours, his other hand pushes your knee open wider. He holds you in place, flicking his tongue over your clit faster, and forces your orgasm to crash over you not even seconds later.
You squeal his name, your hips bucking upwards along his face as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. Your orgasm washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling, and Jeonghan moaning with you. He fucks you through it, lapping and slurping your slick like a man starved, prolonging your high with just his tongue before you’re pulling on his hair to get him to back off.
And when he does, his face from the nose down is covered in your arousal, and his smirk is smug as you try to catch your breath.
You watch with heavy eyes as he licks his lips triumphantly, and it’s then that you notice his thumb rubbing comforting half-circles on your inner ankle as your eyes blink up at him. “You get it now, Angel?” He hums, and you shiver as he trails his hand up your leg, gathering the wetness of your orgasm and spreading it over your puffy folds with a gleam in his eyes. “Or do you need me to keep showing you?”
Your heart flutters and your thighs twitch as he rubs sloppy hearts into your clit, slowly building you back up with each swirl of his fingertips.
Your eyes flicker from his forearms flexing between your sticky thighs and down to the prominent bulge in his boxers. He’s still hard, and there is a noticeable wet patch blooming that makes your mouth water. Your lips curve up in a teasing grin, and you tilt your hips up, enticing Jeonghan as you murmur, “I think I need more convincing - can you show me more?”
대박 - you made it to the end!
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𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who wakes up early just to make breakfast for you, even when you tell him you can do it yourself. He just shakes his head softly, hair messy, voice still sleepy as he says, “Just sit down. I’ve got it.”
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who talks to your unborn baby through your stomach, resting his hand gently against it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Daddy loves you a lot, my baby,” he murmurs, smiling when he feels even the smallest movement like a response.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who has become more protective—almost instinctively so. Whenever you talk to another guy, his gaze changes without him even realizing it. Not rude, not loud… just quiet, burning jealousy he tries to hide behind a calm expression. And yet, the moment you look back at him, he’s already walking closer—hand finding yours like it belongs there.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who doesn’t like it when you make your midnight cravings yourself instead of waking him up. He insists that you wake him every single time, no matter how late it is, so he can cook for you while you rest comfortably in bed. Even half asleep, he’s already in the kitchen making whatever you want without a single complaint.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who becomes extra protective as your appointment dates get closer. His hand never leaves yours in public anymore, eyes constantly checking if you’re tired, cold, uncomfortable—anything. He tries to stay calm, but everyone can tell how nervous he really is.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who falls asleep while holding your stomach, softly whispering little things to the baby like, “Mine,” with the sleepiest smile on his face.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who immediately stops playing games on his PC the moment you get whiny about him not spending enough time with you. Even though he’s literally in the same room, he still shuts everything down without hesitation and pulls you into his lap with a quiet, “I’m here now.”
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who sings softly for you whenever you wake up from a nightmare late at night. His fingers run gently through your hair as he hums sleepy songs against your forehead until you slowly fall asleep again in his arms.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who gets jealous over the smallest thing—like you cuddling a teddy bear because it’s “softer” than him. He immediately pulls you against his chest with the most offended expression ever, mumbling about how unfair it is that a stuffed bear is stealing his place.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who worships you with so much love and affection that you slowly forget every insecurity clouding your mind. Not through big words, but through the way he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had.
𐙚 Husband!Heeseung who instantly pulls you onto his lap the moment he sees you crying because of your insecurities. His thumb gently wipes your tears away while he holds your face carefully, whispering, “Darling, look at me… you’re carrying our whole world right now. There’s nothing in you that isn’t beautiful to me.”
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
✷ lee heeseung's been too busy preparing for his comeback to notice how neglected you feel, so with jungwon’s help, you decide to make your boyfriend just a little jealous to remind him what he’s been missing !
🗯️ 内容 explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ established relationship, angst with happy ending, jealousy trope, emotional neglect, possessive behavior, heavy emotional reconciliation, comfort after conflict, petnames, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, protected p in v, multiple orgasms !
⟶ featuring ⋮ jungwon (enhypen)
EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : YO THIS IS ACTUALLY SOOOOO SO ASS I'M SORRY i've actually had this rotting in my google docs for a few days & i was hesitant on uploading because i wanted to fix it (spoiler alert: i couldn't and so i didn't) but here we are . . . requested, thank you so muchi! (anon if you're reading this i swear when my requests open back come back asap i'll make a better fic) ╯︿╰ mweheheh lovelots guys
The plan wasn't even yours, technically. It was Jungwon's.
"You're telling me he hasn't called you in five days?" Jungwon had said over the phone, his voice laced with the kind of righteous indignation only a best friend could muster. "Not even a goodnight text?"
"He's been busy with preparations," you'd said, and you hated how small your voice sounded. How practiced the excuse was. "The comeback is kind of—"
"Man, I love Heeseung-hyung, I do, but he's been 'busy' for three weeks straight."
A pause.
Then, carefully: "What if we give him a little push?"
You should've said no. You should've been the bigger person, waited it out, trusted that Heeseung would come back to you the way he always did, apologetic and warm and yours.
But three weeks of falling asleep to a cold, empty side of the bed will make anyone a little petty.
So here you are.
It started with a text. Simple, casual, deliberately breezy.
You: babyy i’m going shopping with wonnie today ☺️ i need new clothes for the season
You watched the typing bubble appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then—
Heeseung: ok have fun
Two words. No question about where. No ask to join. No I miss you, can I come?
You almost caved right there.
Almost called him and said please, just come with us, I just want to see you. But Jungwon's voice echoed in your head — he needs to realize what he's taking for granted — and you locked your phone and went to meet your best friend.
Jungwon was already waiting outside the department store, hands shoved in the pockets of his oversized jacket, that easy cat-like smile spreading across his face when he saw you. He pulled you into a hug immediately, warm, familiar, the kind of hug best friends share without thinking.
"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go?" he murmured against your hair.
"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go," you confirmed, and he laughed, pulling back to ruffle your hair.
"Let's make him suffer."
The shopping was genuine. You did need new clothes, and Jungwon had impeccable taste, steering you toward things you'd never pick yourself — soft knits in cream and slate, a slip dress in deep burgundy that made him whistle low under his breath.
"That one. Heeseung will lose his mind."
"That's the point."
What made it work was that Jungwon was naturally clingy. He linked arms with you while walking between stores. He rested his chin on your shoulder while you examined price tags. He tugged at the hem of your shirt when he wanted your attention, your name slipping out softly before he caught himself, and you'd laugh and swat at him and he'd grin, unrepentant.
None of it was new. None of it was unusual.
But none of it had ever been done in front of Heeseung before.
Because Heeseung was there.
You'd given him permission, of course. When he'd texted back that one-word reply, you'd pushed: you can come watch if you want thoo baby, see that wonnie and i are just friends.
He'd said fine, and you'd sent him the address, and now—
Now you could feel him. Not see him, not yet, but feel him. That particular prickle at the back of your neck, that subtle shift in the air that meant Lee Heeseung had entered your orbit.
You didn't turn around. Neither did Jungwon. But his hand found the small of your back, guiding you toward the café down the street, and you let him.
The café was warm and golden, exposed brick, mismatched furniture, fresh pastries. There was a sofa section near the window, roomy, cushioned, space for three.
You looked at it. Then looked at the small two-seater table near the corner.
"The table," you said.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "There's literally a sofa right there."
"More room for bags." You were already walking toward it.
He stared at you for a long beat. Then something knowing flickered in his eyes, and he followed without another word.
The table was small. Intimate. Your knees bumped under it, and when the waitress came, Jungwon leaned in close to look at the menu, his shoulder pressing warm against yours.
From outside, through the café's wide front window, you could see him.
Heeseung. Sitting on a bench across the street, a cup of convenience store ramen balanced on his knee, chopsticks moving mechanically from cup to mouth. His jacket was too thin for the weather. His hair was messy, like he'd rushed out without fixing it. He was staring at the café, at you, at the way Jungwon was leaning into your space, talking close, smiling that soft smile he reserved for people he actually liked.
And Heeseung's jaw was so tight you could see the muscle jumping even from here.
You looked away. Took a sip of your iced tea. Let Jungwon steal a bite of your cake and pretend-scold him for it, swatting his hand away with a laugh that was only half-performative.
This was the thing about Jungwon, he made it easy. Easy to laugh, easy to lean into his touches, easy to forget that the whole point of this afternoon was the man across the street eating ramen and watching his girlfriend smile at someone else.
But you didn't forget. You couldn't. Not when you could feel Heeseung's gaze like a physical thing, heavy, hot, and increasingly frayed at the edges.
A week earlier, the apartment was dark when you had gotten home. Not unusual lately. Heeseung's shoes were by the door, his practice bag dumped haphazardly on the floor, a half-empty water bottle on the counter. Signs of life, but barely.
You found him in the bedroom, sprawled face-down on the bed, still in his practice clothes. His breathing was slow and even, not quite asleep, but close. The kind of exhaustion that settled into the bones.
You sat on the edge of the bed and ran your fingers through his hair. He stirred, just barely.
"Hey. When did you get home?"
"Mm. An hour ago." His voice was muffled by the pillow. "Sorry. Meant to wait up."
"It's okay. How was practice?"
"Long." He turned his head just enough to look at you, one dark eye blinking up blearily. "I keep messing up the bridge section. Made me run it like thirty times."
"You'll get it. You always do."
He hummed, eyes already fluttering shut. His hand found yours blindly, squeezed once, then went slack.
You sat there holding the hand of a man who was too tired to hold you back.
That was the thing. It wasn't that Heeseung didn't love you. You knew he did, knew it in the way he reached for you in his sleep, in the way his eyes found you across any room like you were the only fixed point in a spinning world.
But knowing didn't make the quiet hurt less. Didn't make three weeks of being second priority feel like anything other than what it was.
You pulled the blanket over him and went to sleep on the couch.
Three days later, you called him during his lunch break, something you never did. He didn't pick up. Called again an hour later. Voicemail.
By the time he finally called back, nearly midnight, you were already in bed, already hollowed out.
"Hey, sorry, my phone was on silent—"
"It's fine. Go to sleep, Heeseung. You sound tired."
A pause. "…Are you mad?"
"No. I'm just tired too." You swallowed. "I haven't seen you in two weeks. I haven't talked to you in longer. And I know you're busy, I know, but—"
"I know," he said, voice thick with something like guilt. "Just—one more week, okay? The showcase is Saturday and then I'll have time. I promise."
One more week. You'd heard that promise before a dozen times.
"One more week," you repeated.
"One more week," he confirmed.
You hung up and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.
It was the next morning that you called Jungwon.
By the time you and Jungwon left the café, the sun was already low, painting the street in shades of amber and rose. Jungwon carried most of your bags, gentleman that he was, and walked close enough that your shoulders brushed with every step.
Heeseung was no longer on the bench.
You felt a sharp pang of — something. Disappointment? Relief? The game had gone on long enough, and some part of you had been waiting for him to snap, to cross the street, to walk in and say mine the way he used to in the early days when jealousy was still something he wore openly.
But he'd just sat there. Eating his ramen. Watching. Silent.
Jungwon must've sensed the shift in your mood, because he glanced down at you and said, gently, "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah," you said. "Just—"
A hand closed around your wrist.
Not rough. Not aggressive. But firm. Unmistakable. The kind of grip that left no room for argument, no space for questioning who this hand belonged to, because your body recognized it before your mind did, recognized the long fingers, the familiar press of a silver ring, the warmth that was entirely, unmistakably Heeseung.
"We're leaving," he said. His voice was low. Controlled. The kind of quiet that was louder than shouting.
Jungwon stopped. Looked at Heeseung. Then at you. Then back at Heeseung, and something passed between the two men, some wordless exchange you couldn't quite parse, before Jungwon's mouth curved in a barely-there smile.
"I'll drop the bags at your place later, Y/N," he said. And then, softer, just for Heeseung: "Take care of her, hyung."
Heeseung didn't respond.
His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, and he steered you, walked you, fast and silent and unrelenting, down the street, around the corner, into the parking garage where his car was waiting.
The drive home was silent.
He didn't turn on the radio. Didn't look at you. His hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, knuckles pale, jaw set so hard it looked painful. The only sound was the engine and the quiet, measured rhythm of his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, like he was counting each exhale to keep himself steady.
You watched his profile in the dashboard light. The sharp line of his nose. The tension in his brow. The way his throat moved when he swallowed, like he was physically holding words behind his teeth.
You should've apologized. Should've explained. Should've told him it was a setup, a scheme, a stupid, desperate attempt to make him see you again.
Instead, you said nothing.
Because some part of you, the part that had spent three weeks being ignored, wanted him to break first. Wanted him to be the one to reach. Wanted to know, with absolute certainty, that he still wanted to.
The apartment door barely closed behind you before Heeseung turned around.
He looked wrecked.
Not angry, though there was anger there, banked low and smoldering behind his dark eyes, but wrecked. Like something had been pulled taut inside him for hours and was finally, finally about to snap.
"Three weeks," he said. His voice was quiet. Almost steady. "Three weeks I barely looked at you. Three weeks of—of running on no sleep and barely eating and missing you so much it felt like my chest was caving in, and you—"
He stopped. Pressed his lips together. Looked at the ceiling.
"You sat at a table for two," he said. "You let him touch you. You laughed for him. And I was sitting across the street eating some cheap ass cup ramen, watching my girlfriend act like I didn't exist, and I couldn't—I couldn't even—like—"
His voice cracked. Just barely. Just enough.
"Baby," you whispered.
"Don't." He pointed at you, finger trembling. "Don't call me baby right now, I'm so—I'm so fucking—"
He stopped again. Exhaled hard. His hand dropped to his side.
"You were punishing me," he said. It wasn't a question.
You held his gaze. "Of course I was."
A sharp breath. "Because I was busy."
"Because you made me feel like I didn't matter, silly."
Silence.
Heavy, thick, and suffocating, and for one terrible second you thought he was going to walk away—thought you'd pushed too far, played the game too hard, broken something that couldn't be glued back together.
Then Heeseung moved.
He closed the distance between you in two strides, hands finding your face, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours, hungry and desperate and aching, the kiss of a man who had been starving for months and was finally, finally allowed to eat.
"You matter," he said against your lips. "You matter, you matter, you matter so much—"
His hands were everywhere. Sliding from your face to your neck, your shoulders, down your arms, pulling you against him like he was trying to press you into his skin.
You could feel his heartbeat, fast, erratic, and racing, or maybe that was yours, you couldn't tell anymore, couldn't tell where you ended and he began, not when he was kissing you like this, not when he was constantly whispering I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry between breaths like a prayer.
"Bedroom," you managed.
"Bedroom," he agreed.
He laid you down like you were something precious. Which was almost funny, given the way he'd looked at you in the café, like he wanted to take you apart piece by piece, but here, now, in the dim light of your shared bedroom, his hands were gentle as they slipped off your clothes. Layer by layer, careful and unhurried, like he was unwrapping something he'd been afraid he'd lost.
His fingertips dragged down your sides, slow and reverent, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He paused at your hip, pressed his thumb into the soft skin there like he was checking if you were real, if you were solid, if you'd dissolve under his hands the way he probably feared you would.
"I forgot," he murmured, pressing his lips to your collarbone. The word vibrated against your skin, low and rough. "I forgot what you felt like."
"You see me every day," you breathed.
"Seeing isn't touching." His mouth moved lower, dragging hot and slow down the center of your chest, tongue dipping into the hollow of your sternum. "Seeing isn't this, you know."
His hands gripped your thighs, firm, possessive, spreading them open, and he settled between them like he belonged there. Like it was the only place he'd ever belonged. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, then a third higher up, and each one sent a bolt of anticipation straight to your core.
Then his mouth—
God, his mouth.
He ate you out like a man making up for lost time. No teasing, no tentative buildup, just the flat of his tongue pressing hot and wet against you, dragging up in one long, devastating stroke that made your spine arch clean off the mattress.
A broken sound tore from your throat, half gasp, half moan, and he groaned against you in response, the vibration shooting through your core like electricity, pooling hot and liquid at the base of your spine.
"Mmm, you taste so good," he muttered, half to himself, and then he was everywhere, tongue circling your clit with a precision that made your thighs shake, lips dragging slick and obscene against your most sensitive skin, jaw working with a determination that made your head spin. He was devouring you. Taking you apart with his mouth the way he didn't have the words to do with his voice.
"Heeseung—"
"Fuck, say my name again with that pretty mouth of yours, baby." The command was muffled against you, rough and desperate.
His tongue found your clit and circled it, slow, deliberate, maddening, and you fisted the sheets with both hands because there was nothing else to hold onto, nothing else to ground you, not when he was licking into you like this, not when he was making those sounds between your thighs. Low. Hungry. Almost wrecked, like he was the one being undone.
He slid two fingers inside you, slow at first, just to the first knuckle, letting you feel the stretch, then deeper, curling them upward until he found that spot, and your vision went white at the edges.
"Heeseung, baby—"
"Again." He curled his fingers again, pressing, and his tongue flicked harder against your clit. "Say it again."
"Heeseung, please—"
"Please what exactly? What are you talking about?" He pulled back just far enough to look at you, to see your flushed cheeks and parted lips and the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath, and his eyes were so dark, so blown with want, that the sight of him alone almost pushed you over the edge. "Use your words and your wish is my command."
"I'm gonna—please, I'm gonna come—"
"Mmh, that’s it—come for me, baby," he said, and his mouth was back on you before you could process the words, fingers and tongue working in tandem now, relentless and precise, and the coil in your stomach wound so tight you thought you might shatter—
You did.
The orgasm hit you like a wave breaking, sudden and all-consuming, and you heard yourself moan his name, heard it crack and fracture in the quiet room, felt your walls clench around his fingers and your thighs tremble on either side of his head.
He worked you through it, mouth softening just slightly, fingers gentling but not stopping, not stopping, and the pleasure crested and crested again and didn't recede, just shifted into something sharper, brighter, and way too much.
"Heeseung—wait, I just—ah—I can't, it's too—"
"You can." He looked up at you then, lips swollen and glistening, and his eyes, blown-wide, fierce with something raw and unguarded, made your breath catch. "You can take it. You let him touch you all afternoon. You can take this."
The words landed somewhere between accusation and plea, and they sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core despite, or maybe because of, the guilt that flickered through you.
He didn't give you time to respond. His mouth was back on you before you could draw breath, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. He licked into you with long, broad strokes, his fingers curling and uncurling inside you, and the overstimulation built like a second tide coming in, fast and inexorable and impossible to fight.
Your hands flew to his hair. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer. Your body didn't know either, bucking into his mouth one second and squirming away the next, every nerve ending firing at once until the pleasure and the ache blurred into one overwhelming, consuming sensation.
"Mine," he whispered against your oversensitive skin, and the word vibrated through you like a second pulse. "You're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours—Heeseung, I'm—oh my god—fuck—"
The second orgasm ripped through you harder than the first.
Your back bowed off the mattress, your thighs clamped around his head, and you might've screamed, couldn't tell, couldn't hear anything over the rushing in your ears and the devastating, unrelenting pressure of his mouth still on you, still working, still taking, even as you shook and whimpered and felt tears leak from the corners of your eyes because it was too much, it was too much, and he wasn't stopping—
"Heeseung—please, I can't—please—"
He pulled off with a wet sound that should've been obscene but just made you ache for him. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, whimpered again when he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your hip, each one impossibly gentle after what his mouth had just done.
He rose above you, and you caught a glimpse of his face, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, eyes wild, and then he was stripping off his shirt, reaching for the nightstand drawer with hands that shook just slightly, and the sight of his bare skin, lean and toned and so familiar, made something in your chest crack wide open.
He rolled the condom on with practiced efficiency, and then he was between your legs again, and the head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you both stilled.
"Look at me," he said.
You opened eyes you didn't remember closing. He was right there, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to see the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, close enough to see the way his jaw was clenched so tight it trembled.
"I'm sorry," he said.
And then he pushed inside.
The stretch was perfect and overwhelming and exactly what you needed. He filled you slowly, inches that felt like miles, until he bottomed out and his forehead dropped to rest against yours and you could feel him shaking, actually shaking, with the effort of holding still.
"Don't move," he breathed. "Just—give me a second."
"You're the one who said look at you," you whispered back, and he let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost, and rolled his hips, and the shift pressed him impossibly deeper and dragged a moan from both of you at the same time.
Then he started to move.
He was slow at first. Deep, measured thrusts that dragged against every nerve ending you had, his hands braced on either side of your head, his breath warm and unsteady against your lips.
Every stroke was deliberate, pulling almost all the way out, then sinking back in so slowly you could feel every inch, every ridge, every place where your bodies met and held and refused to let go. A claim. An apology. A promise all tangled together into something that made your chest ache worse than the three weeks of silence ever had.
"You feel so good," he said against the corner of your mouth. "Forgot how good you feel. Fuck."
"Then don't forget again," you managed, and his hips stuttered, just once, before he found his rhythm again.
But the slow didn't last.
Couldn't, maybe, not with the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
His pace quickened, thrusts growing harder, deeper, more urgent. The sound of skin against skin filled the room alongside your shared, ragged breathing, and the headboard started knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that you'd be embarrassed about later but couldn't bring yourself to care about now.
"Say you're mine," he panted, hips snapping forward.
"I'm yours—"
"Say it again." Harder now. Deeper. His hands found yours and pinned them above your head, fingers lacing through yours, holding you in place.
"I'm yours, Heeseung, I'm—oh—"
He hit a spot that made you see stars, and he did it again, and again, adjusting the angle until every thrust ground against that spot and you were sobbing his name, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, deeper, more.
The pressure was building again, a third time, impossibly, and you were so oversensitive from before that every stroke was a razor's edge between pleasure and pain, and you didn't know which one you wanted more.
"Nobody else," he said, and his voice was wrecked, ragged and low and breaking at the seams. "Nobody else gets to touch you like this. Not Jungwon. Not anyone. Just me. Say it."
"Just you—only you—Heeseung—"
"That's right." He drove into you harder, faster, and you could feel him losing the last threads of his control, could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered, in the way his hands tightened around yours, in the way his breathing fractured into something desperate and uneven. "Only me. Fuck—only me—"
Your third orgasm crested without warning.
No slow build this time, just a sudden, blinding rush of sensation that crashed over you and pulled you under, and you clenched around him so hard he groaned, long and guttural, and his hips jerked forward erratically, chasing his own release.
"That's it," he said, voice cracking. "That's it, baby, one more—you feel so good, you're so good, mine—"
He followed you over the edge a moment later, burying himself deep and going rigid above you, a broken sound escaping his throat, half-moan, half-sob, and his whole body shuddered as he came, fingers squeezing yours so tightly it almost hurt, and he collapsed onto you with the full, unguarded weight of his body.
For a long time, neither of you moved.
His breathing was ragged against your neck. Your fingers traced absent patterns on his back, sweaty, trembling, still hovering in that hazy space between too much and just right.
Finally, he lifted his head. Looked at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression open in a way it rarely was, stripped of every defense, every careful wall he kept between himself and the world.
"Three weeks was too long," he said quietly. "I'm not doing that again."
"Okay."
"I mean it. I don't care how busy it gets. I'm coming home to you. Every night. Even if it's just to fall asleep on the couch. Even if it's just for ten minutes."
"I'll hold you to that," you said.
He kissed you. Soft this time. Slow. The kind of kiss that wasn't trying to prove anything, the kind that just was.
Then he pulled back just far enough to look at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"You planned that. With Jungwon."
You bit your lip. "…Maybe."
He stared at you. Then he dropped his head back onto your chest and laughed—a real laugh, exasperated and disbelieving and warm.
"I'm going to kill him," he mumbled against your skin.
"You'll thank him," you corrected, running your fingers through his hair. "He's the reason you're here right now."
A pause. Then, grudgingly: "I'll thank him later. Right now I'm still mad."
"Right now you're naked in my bed," you pointed out.
"Right now I'm grudgingly naked in your bed," he clarified, and you laughed, and felt him smile against your skin.
Three weeks was way too damn long.
But this, him, here, present, was worth every petty scheme.
Even the table for two.
⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
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💿 ࿐ . . no. 1 party anthem by artic monkeys
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
desc: you and jeonghan had decided to spend the last twenty-four hours before your wedding day apart, however everything gets too much...
wc: 1.8k
note: this is a six-year-old draft that i just finished (aaaa), heavily inspired by the voulez-vous scene in mamma mia, enjoy!
In true wedding tradition, Jeonghan and his hoard of groomsmen were banished to the bars and clubs on the beach whilst you and the girls partied at the hotel. It had been a day of running around — last-minute adjustments, make-up practices and flower bouquet arrangement changes.
And, without Jeonghan by your side to contribute his minimal yet valuable opinion, it felt ten times more stressful than it did before. Initially, the whole ‘last 24 hours apart’ seemed like a good idea. Excitement all pent up, ready for the big day. However, as the last 24 hours began to creep up, you only seemed to dread it even more.
The anxiety of the day, combined with the pressure of the wedding, made you regret agreeing not to see Jeonghan. To be honest, you yearned to see your fiancée, who could soothe your worries with a few words.
Absolutely shattered, you dragged a small summer dress over your frame and made your way to the hotel bar with your bridal party. The hotel was exotic, with vast luxurious terraces that sported coloured lanterns shining primary colours onto makeshift mosaic-style dance floors, dark wood tables and chairs had been cleared to the side of what would’ve been the main patio. Dark bushes climbed along the walls, yet the view out to the ocean was not obstructed, the water just a few minutes away.
However, no matter how pretty or enjoyable the surroundings were, you couldn’t seem to budge the feeling of longing.
‘Let’s get a drink down you,’ one of your friends suggested, snapping you out of the trance with the dying sunset and grabbing onto your arm lightly, a cheeky smile on her face.
After two cocktails, both horrendously strong, you sighed, sitting down, watching as your friends all danced around.
They were radiant, excitement and alcohol pumping through them. Swaying and sipping as they screamed along to a pop song that the dj queued up.
‘You miss him, don’t you?’ Only one voice could’ve said that, your mom, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.
‘Could you tell?’ You let out a small laugh, holding onto her arms as they engulfed you, tears threatening to break the horizon and slide down your face.
‘Want to know something funny?’ she questioned, placing her thin wine glass on the table and sitting tightly next to you, a squeeze of your thigh offering temporary grounding.
‘Hm?’ You looked up at her, still toying with the hem of your dress, meeting her soft and familiar eyes, almost a replica of yours.
‘I was exactly like this when I married your father,’ she giggled, a girly one that reminded you that she had been in your shoes all those years ago.
Tracing the outline of the palm trees that swayed lightly in the wind, you smiled, silently beckoning for her to continue.
‘I couldn’t cope without him,’ she said, ‘I was convinced I had to call it off.’
You shot her a confused look, eyes widened and jaw slack.
‘Let me finish, darling,’ she continued, ‘so as soon as my bridal party went to sleep,’ her head turned to your drunken group of friends, all of them shimmying almost aggressively at each other, ‘I slipped out and spent the night before in your dad’s arms.’
Both of your faces mirrored each other, tender smiles borderline beaming as she held your hand.
‘I’ve never seen someone make you glow as Jeonghan does, honey,’ she rubbed her thumb comfortingly along your hand, ‘If you need to see him, go find him.’
Before you could muster a reply, a rather drunk friend of yours came grooving over, grabbing your arm.
‘Come and dance!’ she shouted over the music, and you laughed, getting up. Letting out a large sigh, you wave to your mom, who nods knowingly, and you join them.
The music pumped through your body, the floor below you vibrating with the bass. At some point, a drink was shoved in your hand and then a shot, and then another drink — Your friends quickly became a blur of faces and bodies as sweat slicked down the back of your dress. Someone had put a makeshift veil on your head, which seemed to be pressing too tightly into your pressure points. The lights were distant and couldn’t quite illuminate the people around you like they wanted to.
It was creeping up your throat, clawing and thrashing like a storm. The anxiety, the longing, making their vicious reappearance as you struggled to recognise anyone around you.
Tears. Tears were first. From being overwhelmed, from missing your fiancée, from the heat and the crowd. Then your hands were shaking, your breathing becoming choppy, panic beginning to surge through you as you pushed your way out of the crowd.
Your breath was running away from you; it was practically sprinting, doing absolute laps around you. Get out of there was all your head was saying, your ears ringing in a high pitch as you escaped the colourful lights and followed along a blurry path — your tears compromising your vision as you dipped into a small garden, still rife with panic.
This was a panic attack. A very bad one, the symptoms worsening by the second. It had been months since you’d wobbled your way through one of these, and every time, since the day you met Jeonghan, he’d been by your side to coax you through it.
All you needed was Jeonghan; his soft touch on your shoulder would ground you. You know exactly what he’d say to you right now — ‘What’s gotten you all twisted, angel?’
Desperately, you tried to imagine him in front of you, his beechwood scent, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you physically could.
‘_____? Are you okay?’ A soft-faced Joshua appeared in the hedge arch you'd previously entered through. Immediately darting to you and crouching in front of you. Through your dreary state, you had failed to hear him approach, but he was alarmed, his features etched with worry.
Panic continued to possess you, even with the familiar face within your vicinity, your heart couldn’t stop speeding.
‘The girls said you disappeared.’ Concern bled through his look, the alcohol pumping through him rendering him useless to the panic attack dominating you. ‘Everyone is looking for you.’
‘Han-‘ You manage to spit out, ‘Get Hannie.’
Joshua sprang into action, like your panic-stricken command had pulled all the booze out of his system. Almost sprinting out of the garden, his shoes tapped loudly against the paving as you looked up towards the night sky, trying to count the stars you could see.
To no avail, your breathing was making you nauseous, your head beginning to bang from the dehydration.
‘Baby?’ His voice echoed from afar, and it made you feel as if his hands were ghosting down your body. ‘Angel!’
Before you could even look up, Jeonghan’s arm was around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest exactly how he had done many times before.
The scent, it was so him. So your fiancée, soon-to-be husband. So the man whom you will give everything for.
‘Oh baby,’ he said softly, scanning your shaky frame and stroking your hair lightly. ‘Breathing with me sweetheart, just how we’ve done it before.’
After many, many minutes of him breathing with you, his fingers wiping your tears without hesitation, you began to calm down, the headache a steady booming in your head.
‘I’m here angel,’ he continued, holding you closely to him.
Finally, your glassy eyes met those warm, chocolatey brown ones you adored so much; his dark hair was half pulled back into a ponytail, his fringe tickling his eyebrows.
Your breath evening out forced the shaking to subside under his soft yet solid grip.
‘You look so beautiful,’ he said, a sincere and loving smile on his face as he traced your jaw with his thumb. This stifled a small laugh out of you; his statement was nothing but a nicety. ‘There’s my girl.’
‘I’m sorry to pull you away.’ You hiccup finally, your voice hoarse and spent, but Jeonghan just shook his head.
‘You over everyone, every day in every life.’ He said, his romance wooing you after so many years. ‘Do you want to cancel tomorrow?’
This question tugged tightly on both of your heartstrings, and you could’ve collapsed on the spot if it wasn’t for his sturdy arms.
‘Never, ever.’ You replied, nestling into his warm chest, slightly bare from the undone shirt he was wearing. He let out an audible sigh of relief and pulled you impossibly tighter to him. ‘Today just got a bit much.’
‘Angel,’ he pouted sadly.
‘I know that we agreed not to see each other before,’ you started, ‘but, I think I needed you here today, they were asking me questions about flowers and food and-‘
‘I should’ve been there,’ a slight scowl played on his lips, why didn’t they ask him?
‘And I just missed you.’
Jeonghan’s big eyes looked at you with such tenderness that you felt you could dissolve into him. ‘I missed you more than I can even say.’
A light silence settles between you as you both look up at the night sky, the distant sound of birds whistling floating through the air. Jeonghan couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, he wouldn’t, afraid you’d start to shake again.
‘I can’t wait for you to be Mrs Yoon tomorrow.’ He said with a wide smile on his face.
‘Mr and Mrs Yoon.’ You replied, lacing your hands together.
‘Shall we go to bed?’ He asked, looking down at your now calm state, his gaze classifying you as glass in this fragile mess. You nod smally, fuck the traditions, all that matters is him and you. ‘In my bed. Both of us.’ He clarified.
‘I thought you’d never ask, Mr Yoon.’ You manage to joke, allowing him to steady your legs as you stand.
‘Well, soon to be Mrs Yoon, how does sharing a bed with me for the rest of our lives sound?’ He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, bathing in your scent.
‘Gosh,’ You exhale, ‘Might have to think about that one.’
Both of you chuckle, his arm securely around you as he guides you back to the buzzing hotel, avoiding the crowds and nodding at Joshua as you weave through the terrace.
‘You know, my mum and dad stayed together the night before their wedding.’
Pairing: Non-Idol Jeonghan x F. Reader
WC: 14.5+K
Rating: E 18+ MDNI
Genre: Non-Idol AU, Childhood friends to Lovers, smut, fluff
Summary: Growing up, you and Jeonghan were inseparable, best friends, partners in crime, each other’s rocks when needed. It was always you and him against the world. Then you grew up. You moved away for college while he stayed behind. Lives took you in different directions, further away from your hometown, from the world you knew, from Jeonghan. But you both made a promise, the year you turned 31, you two would meet again no matter where life took you. To reconnect, to catch up, to remember your friendship. It was meant to be a rebirth of your friendship, but really it was the beginning of something more. And remind you that he's home
Tags: Non-Idol AU, Childhood friends to Lovers, Reuniting, mentions of teenage rebellion (smoking, drinking, other things teens shouldn’t be doing), rough housing, mention of family loss, yearning, Jeonghan is down bad, Member Appearances, drinking, smoking (weed and cigarettes), tension, flirting, angst, fluff, smut; Nickname: bug (hers)
Smut tags: Unprotected sex (no don’t do this), oral (m. receiving)
A/N: Here is my second submission for the wonderful The Reef In Bloom collab by @dorereef. Thank you again to @mylovesstuffs (for letting me use your name in this too!) and @nothoughtsjustfic for hosting this collab. This was alot of fun to write and be part of. I once more am happy to be part of it.
A/N2: Thank you for @gam3bo17 and @aeristudios for helping me out with this fic, and thank you Aeris for beta reading. You are the best! <3
I hope you all enjoy! My Jihoon submission will be later this week.
Seventeen Masterlist
*Twenty-four years ago*
“Yoon Jeonghan!” His mother’s voice boomed through the small home, your full name quickly following, but it was fruitless. The two of you were already running out the door, giggling, both of you with handfuls of the cookies that his mother had spent hours making.
“This way,” you tell him, and the seven-year-old boy nodded, following you without any further questions. Just like you did him.
Pushing aside a broken board in a fence, you and him slipped through into an abandoned looking backyard. On the other end of the yard, there was an old wooden shed and exactly where you were leading him. The once fresh and crisp wood now weathered from age and the elements; the door barely held onto its hinges, and a window that had several cracks in it.
Your hidden oasis. Yours and Jeonghan's little hide out.
Inside the old building, cobwebs covered corners of the walls. There was an old lawnmower that was rusted and abandoned to time and a built-in table to one side that was already filled with other snacks and drinks you both swiped from each other’s home. There were also two small sleeping bags laid out to be able to sit on the ground without getting your bottoms dirty.
“I can’t believe she fell for that,” Jeonghan giggled, setting his share of the cookies onto a broken plastic plate, one your grandmother threw away and you dug out of the trash to use in your ‘hide out’.
“I told you, she would. She’s like my grandma when she is baking.” You tell him with ease. Your seven-year-old confidence was admirable, your share joining his on the plate, except for one that you were going to eat. Taking a bite of the soft warm cookie, you continued to talk with your mouth full, “It was all a matter of striking at the right moment. You know this, Hanni.”
“She is going to be so mad at me when I get home,” He chuckled, his own mouth now full of cookies. You roll your eyes, reaching up from your place on the ground to grab two juice boxes, because you knew Jeonghan’s mom wasn’t going to be that mad. Not like your grandma would be at least. “She will be!”
“She never stays mad at you,” You quipped, dropping your cookie to cross your arms, a pout already forming. “You hardly ever get in trouble.”
“That’s not true!” Jeonghan shot back, copying you exactly, but stuck his tongue out in the process. “You don’t know how often I get in trouble. Especially because of you!”
“I don’t tell you to join in! I suggest!” You could feel your body growing hot with annoyance, dropping your arms with your fists now clenched. “You are the one who gets me in trouble all the time!”
“Yes, you do! You pulled my hair the last time I didn’t go with one of your plans!” Jeonghan snapped, and you gasped like he had just insulted your entire doll collection. Then you hit his arm, and his face darkened. “See! You hit me if I don’t agree with you!”
“You pushed me in the mud the last time I disagreed with you!” You countered, your young voices rising as you both did, getting into each other’s faces. “And I was grounded for a week after that too! I couldn’t watch TV because of you!”
Somehow this turned into a little squabble, where you and Jeonghan grabbed each other. Your hand was in his short dark hair, while he was trying to swat you off, crying out to let him go. In the middle of it, one of your feet kicked the plate that held your stolen cookies, breaking the plastic further and the baked treats were now being trampled by your feet.
“Look what you did!” Jeonghan yelled, pointing to the cookies when he finally was able to get your hand out of his hair while you stood there. Your face contorted into anger, and more offense that he would blame you when he was being the mean one.
“I didn’t just do that! You did too!” You retorted, and the young boy rolled his eyes. “Our cookies are ruined! And so is our little spot! You need to clean that up!”
“No, you!”
“You!”
In the end, the two of you ended up sitting on opposite ends of the sleeping bags. Arms crossed, backs facing each other, while the broken cookies and plate rested between you both. The silence was loud as you both refused to be the one to speak first, both of you too stubborn to break first.
In the end it was Jeonghan who broke the silence, standing to grab another juice box for you both and a packet of candies that you liked from the table. A peace offering in a way. You shot him a look, your eyes dropping to the candies and juice box before up to his face. His gaze was softer, with an apologetic expression on his face.
“Sorry,” He mumbled, and you tried to keep up being mad, but the way his bottom lip jutted out as he apologized made it hard. Instead, you reached out and took the offerings, and he sat down next to you.
“Sorry too...” You mumbled, sharing the candies with him before cleaning up the broken plate and ruined cookies.
*Thirteen years ago*
“Oh my god, Jeonghan, stop hogging the joint!” You whined, reaching for the rolled up paper that had your weed in it, but Jeonghan seemed to be trying to smoke it all to himself.
“Give me. Remember its puff puff give. I only did one puff.” He retorted, holding the joint just out of your reach so you were practically falling into the eighteen-year-old boy.
“Bullshit! That was more than one; hell it was more than two! It was like three!” You argued back, your arm still outstretched to grab the joint from him, “Yoon Jeonghan, if you don’t give me that joint now, I am beating your bitch ass up.”
“Please like you can take me,” Jeonghan laughed, attempting to put the burning joint back to his lips, his other arm trying to push you back while you fought to grab it from him.
You both were back at the shed again, the same old structure still holding out even after all these years, but things were different. The old lawnmower was now gone and sitting next to the it, collecting more rust and cobwebs in its new home, the webs in the corners no longer there, and the sleeping bags had changed to an old loveseat that one of your friends found. The juice boxes and snacks that were once on the table were replaced with a pizza box, a half empty bottle of Jeonghan’s dad stolen whiskey, a baggy of cheap weed, and some rolling papers.
And the two seven-year-olds who would hide away in it with stolen snacks, or other things to entertain were now eighteen. Freshly graduated from high school, stuck in that limbo stage where you both weren’t quite adults but not quite children anymore, and preparing for the next steps in your life. You were going off to a school abroad while Jeonghan was staying back in your hometown, choosing to go to a local college first.
“God, you’re so annoying,” You pouted, practically pushing him back and sitting on his stomach to grab the joint, but laughter was filtering out of you before you could stop it. Bringing laughter from the pinned man below you, a lazy smirk played over his lips like he was meant to win this no matter what. “Jeonghan, you’re going to smoke it all!”
“Then I will buy you more!” He argued, and you slapped his chest. Grabbing your wrist before you could hit him again, Jeonghan’s grip held you there as he lifted the joint to your lips. Like instinct, you took a deep inhale, letting the harsh herb fill your lungs and altering your non-sober state more. You try to free yourself from him, so you can smoke it how you wanted, but he wouldn’t let you.
Pulling back finally, you blew the smoke from your lungs into the air, and it was then that Jeonghan let you go, only to be smacked in the chest once more before you slipped off him and back to your seat next to him. Your leg tucked under you, your bare skin pressing into the old wood by your weight, but you ignored any possible splinters that may come from it.
“You suck, you know that?” You tell him, and this earned another chuckle from him.
“And you blow. We’re both whores here.” Jeonghan teased, placing the joint between his lips to rest his arms behind his head. Each breath inhaled the smoke from nearly finished joint into his lungs. His long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, but there were several strands that fell loose around his face.
His old Sublime shirt torn in a different place and showed off his stomach from the way he was laying, skinny jeans, and a gold chain with angel wings that was once yours laying against his throat. Skin glowing from the setting sun and the lantern behind you both, making him look ethereal.
You envied how beautiful your best friend was.
“Give me that,” You quipped, taking the chance to swipe the joint from him. A triumphant smile was playing over your lips before you realized that it was nearly gone. “You asshole, you smoked most of this.”
“And you drank most of my whiskey. Call us even.” He answered dismissively, closing his eyes briefly.
“Whatever,” you told him, taking whatever hit you can of the joint before putting it out, smashing it hard against the wood. Silence followed, the two of you sitting at the doorway of the shed, your eyes scanning the overgrown yard and the half burnt down house just feet from you.
It’d been like that for years, with no one coming to do anything about the destroyed home or the property it stood on, making it a haven for you and Jeonghan growing up, and a place of many things. Your first kiss with a boy that smelled like he used a whole can of body spray to cover that he hadn’t bathed, Jeonghan’s first kiss with a girl who tried to fight you over him.
You spent nights in the shed to avoid your grandparents and their old fashion but offensive words, many with Jeonghan right next to you. Refusing to leave you while you refused to crash at his place, because you knew his mom would call your grandparents. You got high and drunk for the first time with him next to you, and blasted music through a shitty speaker that neither of you could explain the origin of.
Hell, you two used it as a place to hide once when you had the cops called on you for stealing. You don’t think either of you had ever been so scared thinking you were caught, but it didn’t stop you because the thrill left you both laughing until your stomach hurts.
You laughed, cried, and felt every emotion you could think of in this shed, with Jeonghan beside you. In a week's time, you will be on a plane to a new country with a family friend willing to house you during your studies, and away from your home. Away from your life, away from the little shed. Away from the comforting blanket of your hometown.
Away from Jeonghan.
“You’re thinking too loud again,” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, turning your gaze toward your best friend. He was still laying back; arms folded behind his head as a pillow and prop, with his eyes on you. A small sad smile played on his lips, because he knew what you were thinking about too. “Talk to me, bug.”
"You're a bug. I should squish you," You answer back, matching his smile as you watched him let our a breathy laugh.
“I would like to see you try. You couldn’t even get the joint from me.” He then lifts his leg to nudge you with his knee. “Now, talk to me.”
“It’s stupid.”
“I mean, yeah your face is, but it’s at least pretty while being it.” He offered and you slapped his knee. He then sat up, giving you the famous lazy Jeonghan smirk you grew up seeing, but you could tell it was only a front.
“Just… growing up.” You told him, gesturing between the two of you, “We’re no longer kids anymore…”
“Debatable.” He murmured while you spoke.
“…we graduated high school and are preparing to be thrusted into the real world. We’re having to finally grow up and face life. I’m…” The words failed you then, and in its place was a soft choking sound. A sob that wanted to burst through, but you managed to swallow it back while blinking the sudden tears that wanted to fall. Jeonghan could see it all as he nodded. “I’m leaving… leaving everything I know…” This time your voice cracked, “Leaving you.”
“Please, the moment you agreed to marry me on the playground at five you were stuck with me.” Jeonghan answered, doing what he did best, trying to make light of something instead of showing what he’s really feeling. And you hated that it would work more times than it didn’t. “Just… there is going to be some distance between us. It’s not like I’m not a phone call or message away, and we’ll see each other again. This isn’t a final thing.”
“It feels like it is.” This comment made him tsk at you.
“It doesn’t to me.” He shook his head, watching through broken windows as a car passed by. The driver wouldn’t even know you were sharing one of the last times together before life took hold of you. One of the last times you would be free like this, this age, in the moment, and with the only person, besides your grandparents, who stuck by your side.
Someone you grew up with, someone you got into trouble with, someone who never was fake with you. Someone you saw every day and spent most of it with. Your best friend.
“It doesn’t?”
“Of course not. How could it be when we are still so young?” He asked simply and you could only listen to him, “It’s also not like you are leaving for good. Your grandparents are still here; your friends are here… I am here.”
“But what if our lives don’t allow room for each other anymore?” This earned another tsk, as well as an offending sounding laugh. Hurt flashed across his eyes before he looked away, like it was preposterous to even say something like that.
“I don’t know about you, but I’ll always have room for you in my life.” He said curtly, and you dropped your shoulders while making an over exasperated sigh. That wasn’t what you meant.
“Ugh, Hanni, I don’t mean it like that.” He turns his attention back to you, before flashing it toward the whiskey bottle. “I mean... what if even when I come home… we don’t have time for each other? We don’t get to see each other. You’re going to be working, going to school, and eventually you’re going to fall in love and have a partner. Same for me too.”
“I’m not sure how that sounds any different than your previous statement,” Jeonghan mumbled this, pushing his lip out in a pout. Reaching out, he caught a tear falling with his thumb, only to yank his hand away and shake it like he touched lava. This did what he wanted it to, which was to laugh.
“Hanni…”
“It’s okay. I forgive you for hurting my feelings. This is a hard time for us both,” There was so much honesty to his words, it was also written all over his face. He was trying to not think about the inevitable, which was you were leaving. Not the forever he had declared, but it was still hard. “It’s not just you losing something, I’m losing my best friend. My partner in crime. Who am I going to get into mischief with? Joshua?”
“I mean… at least he’ll keep you from getting arrested.”
“If he’s not too busy fucking anything that will let him.” Jeonghan rolled his eyes, “But I’m serious. You’re not the only one who loses something in this. Except I’m not accepting that this is it, because it’s not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do, I’m Yoon fucking Jeonghan. I can bend the will of others with a flick of my wrist, and this will bend to my will.” You still don’t look convinced, and he clicks his tongue before speaking again, “How about this? If life takes us on different paths that separate us further, then the year we turn thirty-one, we meet again. You and me… and any husbands, wives, fiancés, life partners or children we may have. Somewhere nice, somewhere where our busy lives can’t touch us. Where we can catch up, and remember that it’s always been us, and it will always be us.”
“Really?”
“Yes, now ask me what will happen if life doesn’t do that.” He smirks, and you giggle.
“What will happen if life doesn’t?”
“Then we do it still!” He announced throwing his arms up, before one found its way over your shoulder. “No matter what, no matter where life takes us, we meet the year we turn thirty-one.”
“Why thirty-one though?”
“Because it’s too cliché to meet when we turn thirty. Goodness, this isn’t one of those romance movies you make me watch.” He gave you a brief squeeze before getting up to grab the whiskey bottle. “So, what you say?”
“I can easily argue that the last three romances we watched was because of you, not me.” Jeonghan sat back down next to you, the bottle in his hand, but it remained unopen. His attention was on you, his eyes watching you as you try to find the words. Every part of him told you that he was serious about this, and it helped ease an ache that was building in you. “And let’s do it.”
“Perfect. Now let’s drink to the future.”
A week later, you were clinging to him at the airport as your grandfather got your luggage together. This time tears weren’t holding back, Jeonghan wasn’t able to say anything to help because he was busy fighting his own. Instead, he just held you as you gripped at the offensive SpongeBob shirt he was wearing, soaking it with not just your tears, but the mascara and eyeliner you had thickly drawn on. Only to have it cried away telling your best friend goodbye for now.
“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice was soft when he pulled back, making you look at him. His eyes were shining, and red. Evidence that he’d been crying, though you knew he’d insist he’s actually high, and it nearly broke you. “Remember what I said. The year we turn thirty-one.”
You nodded, and he gives you a soft smile.
“I’ll send you the details, so make sure you have the entire year free.” He teased and you let out a soft laugh before jumping from him, pinching you. You break away from his grasp to hit his shoulder. This earned a soft laugh from you, your eyes dropping to the angel wing necklace that still rested around his neck.
“I’ll be sure to have all my information changed by then.” You laughed, and he pinched your side again. Your name then came from behind you both, your grandparents calling to you. It was time to go. Looking back at Jeonghan, you gave him a watery smile, “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too,” This was the first time his voice finally cracked, and a tear started to fall. It was real. It was happening.
“I’ll text you when I land.”
“You better.” He teased. “I will see you again.”
“See you again.”
**A year ago**
Your phone chimed right as you were cooking dinner, cutting off the music playing briefly, but you weren’t able to stop what you were doing to look. Too focused on making sure that you didn’t burn anything, but the couple that was in the kitchen with you noticed.
“Need me to check that?” You heard Celeste ask, and you looked over your shoulder, to her and Soonyoung grabbing the plates and cutlery for the table.
“No, it’s okay. I can check it later,” You waved her off, “Dinners ready, and we have a proposal to go over.”
“I thought there was no work talk at dinner?” Soonyoung teased, making you shoot your friend and co-owner a look, only to earn a playful wink back. He then turned to his fiancé with a smile, “If we’re working while we eat, you might as well open two bottles. One for us and one just for her.”
“Watch it Kwon, or I’ll run this company with Celeste instead” You warned him, grateful that Celeste was already stepping in to grab his collar to drag him out of the kitchen with everything to arrange at the table.
Twenty minutes later, the three of you were sitting around the table, two wine bottles open with one in front of you and one between the couple. You all were talking animatedly about the proposal that you and Soonyoung were putting together, hoping that the potential investor takes on your ideas and help launch your small business globally. Soonyoung had been right to have your own bottle open; it helped ease the tension that was building in your shoulders over all this, and there were more laughs than not.
“I think we should add some tiger imagery to the presentation; you think we can do that?” Soonyoung suggested a wine glass coming up to his lips, only for it to be stopped by his fiancé. He looks at her with confusion as she only shook her head. Celeste supported his love for tigers, but even she knew when to draw the line.
“I should hire you as our creative director,” You joked, tipping your own wine glass in her direction. “You can save me from a lot of tiger themed merchandise and advertising.”
“I love you, but if I took that, I probably would be canceling the wedding instead of planning a honeymoon,” Celeste laughed, and Soonyoung looked offended. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know how you are when you’re working. We met at work, remember?”
“Of course, I do. I barely was able to focus at meetings because all I wanted to do was look at you,” You actively rolled your eyes as the couple stared at each other like they hung the sun and the moon for each other, and it reminded you just how single you have been for the last few years. Happily single, but not when you were around these two being so sickeningly in love.
“Gag me.” You muttered making the two look at you. Celeste playfully stuck her tongue at you, and Soonyoung pretended to growl. That was when you knew that you had lost them both to being lovey toward each other. You took this chance to check your phone, remembering it had gone off while you were cooking.
It was a message. From Jeonghan.
Your eyes widened as your fingers tightened around the stem of your glass, or you were going to drop it onto the table and spill wine all over the place. Casting your eyes up, you were relieved to see your two friends were still too busy staring at each other to notice your reaction.
You and him hadn’t really spoken in nearly six years, not since you came home for your grandfather’s funeral. Of course, you would wish each other a happy birthday, send the occasional meme, or a quick hello, but other than that, you barely spoke. You didn’t want to admit that it was hard for you to respond because it made you want to go back to being that eighteen-year-old again.
But you knew what this was about. You had turned thirty recently, and his thirtieth was a few months away, which meant that the promise the two of you had made at eighteen, smoking and drinking in that abandoned shed, was also coming due. And he was reaching out to solidify the plans.
You should’ve waited to read and respond after your friends left, when you had time to yourself, but you didn’t. Clicking the notification, you unlocked the phone to read the message. Only to find it was confirmation for your plane tickets, and a set of dates. The first week of April next year, and for a week.
Back home. Where you hadn’t stepped foot in nearly six years.
A few more messages had followed.
Jeonghan: Told you to keep your schedule open.
Jeonghan: See you in April, bug.
**two days before**
You might’ve been overthinking it. No, you were overthinking this as you stared at an empty suitcase, piles of clothes folded around it on your bed, bags of new clothes at the foot of the bed, and your toiletries all laid out on your bathroom counter. All waiting to be packed.
None of your clothes had felt right, the makeup you chose to bring felt too plain, and your nerves were starting to suffocate you. A part of you felt like you shouldn’t feel this nervous, because it was just Jeonghan, but another part felt you were justified because it was Jeonghan. You hadn’t seen him in person since your grandfather’s funeral, only ever seeing his life through photos that he posted online.
Picture of him traveling with Joshua, and with your other friends, and relationships that never seemed to last a few months before the person disappeared from his photos. You watched his success in becoming a pharmacist like he had always wanted and was making a life for himself. He owned his own home, and he appeared happy with his life.
You had done the same, but away from him. You made a life where you now were, and selfishly barely looked back; especially after your grandfather had passed. You made friends where you were, had relationships, started a business with Soonyoung, and you made a life for yourself. You had become a different person, like he had.
This fact wasn’t the only thing that had your nerves starting to settle uneasy in your gut. You were both different, and what if that difference was so great that neither of you could enjoy your time together again. Uncomfortable strangers the entire week instead of old friends looking to reconnect.Not only that, but what if also being back home made it worse? That being there was more painful than it should be, and it made you resent your oldest friend for bringing you back?
Then your phone chimed, with a message coming through.
Jeonghan: See you when you land.
Jeonghan: And stop overthinking things. I can hear your thoughts all the way over here. Haha.
That made you burst out in a laugh, because of course this silly line he used to say to you growing up would help loosen some tightness in you. It didn’t settle your nerves though, it only unraveled them, so they weren’t making you want to throw up and cry at the same time.
You responded.
You: Too late, so deal with it.
His response was instantaneous.
Jeonghan: Gladly.
**April**
You swore this entire journey had been one big April Fool’s joke with the way everything had gone wrong. You managed to finally pack everything, though you still weren’t happy with your choices you couldn’t just go naked, but you overslept the morning of your flight. The ride you had ordered was canceled at the last minute, making you late to the airport and nearly missed boarding.
Checking in had been a nightmare, and then there was a delay taking off.
When the plane did finally set off, you thought you would be in the clear for now. It would be smooth flying after this, and the bad luck got itself out of the way now than following you the entire trip. You hoped that the long flight will go well and give you a chance to rest, or Jeonghan was going to see you have an absolute crash out over it all.
You managed to get enough sleep, so you weren’t as cranky when you landed, but it left you feeling stiff. You even tried to stretch some before unboarding, but it and the awkward shuffling didn’t help. Gripping at your carryon, your focus was to get your suitcase and out of the airport. There’s a bed somewhere calling to you, and you were ready to meet the call.
With your suitcase now secured, you checked your phone to see if Jeonghan was there yet after insisting on picking you up instead of ordering a ride. Except when you looked around the semi-crowded airport, you didn’t see him anywhere. There was no sight of the famous Jeonghan smirk, no sign being dramatically held up with your name, or anything like that.
Your phone started to ring in your hands.
“Where are you?” You answered, pressing the device to your ear and skipping any and all pleasantries. This earned a chuckle on the other side, and your eyes immediately narrowed. Even with the time apart, you knew never to trust that chuckle.
“About that…” He started slowly, showing you were right not to trust it. There was no way he was going to try and fuck with you, but you should’ve known better, “I am running late, car troubles, won’t be there for a few hours. You’re going to have to wait until I get there.”
“Yoon Jeonghan…” You took in a slow breath, trying to fight the annoyance that was bubbling under the surface. No, he wasn’t going to do this to you after the trip you’ve just had, “You better not be fucking with me right now.”
“I wish, I could say I was,” There was a sigh to his voice, but before you could let him have it, he continued, “I am very sorry, bug. I wish I was there to see you right now. With your hair an absolute mess, your sweater falling off you, and the way you are pouting right now. It’s so cute.”
“Huh?” You blinked, looking down at your body. Your sweater had fallen from your shoulders and was resting right at your elbows while strands of your hair escaped the loose ponytail you had put up. How the hell did he know if he wasn’t there? Before you could question it, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Twisting around, Jeonghan was standing there.
The phone still pressed to his ear, eyes shining with excitement and mischief, and that smirk that you once knew oh so well. His hair was shorter than the last time you seen him with it back to his natural dark brown. He was in a simple black t-shirt with a matching jacket and a pair of white pants, and you couldn’t stop the way your heart skipped at the sight of him.
“April Fool’s. Forgive me?” He teased, barely able to hang up the call before you were throwing your arms around his neck for a hug. The force of you jumping into him made Jeonghan stumble back slightly, but once he was able to catch his footing, his arms wrapped around your waist.
He pulled you so close your body was pressed against his like he had been desperate for this moment, but you were no better. Nuzzling your nose into his shirt, taking in the scent of his perfume and the way he held you tight. His own nose pressed to your hair, breathing in the faint smell of your perfume and shampoo, fingers flexing and squeezing gently at your sides.
Both of you forgot that you were still in the middle of the airport.
“You asshole!” You finally bursted out when the two of you parted, slapping his arm while he laughed at you attempting to scold him. He saw the smile forming over your lips, making the smirk he was wearing turn into a genuine smile. One that nearly stole the very breath from you, “That wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny.” He still hadn’t let go of you, his hands resting on your hips like they always belonged there, his gaze drinking you in. Then he stepped back, withdrawing his hold on you to reach for your suitcase handle, “Now, let’s get out of here before you shove me into the cargo hold of one of these planes.”
“You would deserve it,” You retorted earning an eye roll from him. One hand placed firmly against the small of your back, and the other pulling your suitcase behind you. With cool precision, Jeonghan directed you out of the airport while chatting with you about his day and asking you about your flight.
Like it was all part of a daily conversation you would always have, and there was no time between your last full conversation that wasn’t in text.
“After you,” Jeonghan announced, making sure to open the passenger door for you while providing an overexaggerated bow that made you playfully swat his shoulder. A giggle escaped you as you got into the car, while he finished putting your suitcase in the back. Settling into the driver’s seat, he flashed you a lazy smile and you missed the way his hand twitched slightly to reach for yours. Instead he put the car into drive. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You know, you never told me where I was staying.” You told him, your eyes watching the way the town looked now. Businesses that were once there on the main street gone, replaced with franchise stores and popular food spots. Places that you once occupied with your friends or grandparents gone, showing that the town was growing and changing like you had.
It didn’t feel like your old home, but there was still something about it that told you it was. Just with a different look.
“Easy. With me.” He said with no hesitation, making you look at him. He had a pair of black sunglasses on, leaning back against the driver’s seat with one hand on the wheel while the other rested on his lap. Looking relaxed as he drove through the familiar streets. Stopping at a light, he cast a glance your way and you weren’t sure, but you thought that his relaxed smile faltered slightly. “Rather get a room? The old motel is still open, but you might have to cuddle with some roaches and a few rats.”
“I think I am good on that,” You don’t hide your look of disgust, and this made Jeonghan start laughing as the light turned. “I would like the bed I sleep on be free of other occupants.”
“Is that so?” He muttered, his focus on the road letting silence fall over you. The radio was playing quietly, and you started to notice the familiar names of the streets.
They were the same names you would see every day growing up, the same streets you used to run around growing up. You chance a glance toward Jeonghan, only to find his focus on the road but the look on his face told you that he was waiting for your reaction.
Especially once he turned on the familiar street that the two of you grew up on.
“I knew you moved close to family, but I didn’t know you…” The words stopped in your throat when you pulled up to a beautiful home. It looked newer compared to the others on the street. White with grey trimming and a neatly cut yard with a stone pathway that lead right up to a small porch with a planter next to the door.
It was beautiful and unfamiliar, but you knew this property. It didn’t matter how long it had been since you came back; you knew exactly where you were.
“Come on, bug. Let’s get inside.” Jeonghan didn’t give you a chance to process your thoughts before he was shutting off the engine and unbuckle both of your belts. He was out of the car, leaving you there staring at the empty seat that he had once occupied.
It was the sound of the trunk closing that you were able to kick start back up and rushed to get out the car to follow him up the small pathway to the front door. Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes wide staring at the home and Jeonghan’s back.
Once inside, you didn’t stop to look around the home, instead your feet took you from the front door, through the open living room to a set of glass doors. If Jeonghan had said something to you, you didn’t hear it because your focus was getting to the backyard. You barely looked around the yard itself, just that it was well taken care of.
No, your focus was on the shed that was in the same familiar place. You could feel tears starting to burn your eyes, memories flooding back to you, your eyes flicking over to the fence that once had a broken board. It was fixed with forsythias and azaleas flourishing in front of it, but you could still see a young Jeonghan popping through it while you waited for him at the shed.
“It’s not the same one.” Jeonghan said softly behind you, but you didn’t look back, not wanting him to see a few tears fall. “The old owners finally sold the property four years ago to a realtor company. They rebuilt the house and tore down it before putting the place back on the market.”
“And you bought it.” You responded, finally looking at him. He had his hands in his pants pockets, balancing on the balls on his feet, while his eyes were on you, catching more tears starting to fall.
“Yeah, well, with the help from my parents. With conditions obviously,” Jeonghan continued, keeping his attention on you, “Moment I moved in, I had the shed put back in. It’s used to actually store shit, not a hang out like we used to have it, but just something didn’t feel right without it there.”
“What was the conditions?” You asked in a small voice, trying to wipe away the wetness from your face, when Jeonghan caught your elbow. Pulling you into a hug, he let out a soft tsk.
“Let’s not worry about that right now.” It was a clear deflection, but he wouldn’t let you wiggle away from him to call him out. Then his hands found its way to your sides and started to tickle you.
“Jeonghan!” You let out a small squeal, giggling while trying to get away from him. His own laughter mixed through yours in a sweet melody, helping you forget your tears.
“Come on, let me show you to your room.” His arm thrown lazily over your shoulder, directing you back toward the house. “And no roaches or rats to cuddle with.”
Jeonghan gave you a brief tour of his home, a kitchen and living room open floor style. Three bedrooms, the larger one with an ensuite on one side, while the two smaller ones with a Jack n Jill style on the other. Your room faced the yard, giving you perfect view of the shed, while Jeonghan had the larger room.
He left you to unpack and get cleaned up from your travels. The shower felt good, hot water helping you loosen the still sore muscles from your long flight and fight off the fatigue that you didn’t know was creeping up on you. By the time you had gotten out, your skin felt flushed from the heat with your hands and feet slightly wrinkled. The towel Jeonghan had left out was dark grey, soft and fluffy and felt like heaven against your skin.
It felt good to be out of your airport clothes and in a soft pair of leggings and oversized t-shirt. Your hair was still slightly damp, so you left it loose around your bare face Now that you were back around Jeonghan, the nerves you were feeling all but melted away and didn’t feel like you needed to look all done up just to lounge around the house.
“Hope you’re hungry.” He announced proudly when you finally emerged, setting two beer bottles on the table with a spread of take out. He wasn’t looking your way. “You took so long I managed to make us a feast.”
“Make us a feast huh?” You laughed, crossing your arms as you take in the sight before you. “Wanted to make sure it was authentically homemade by including the plastic containers?”
“I mean, only the best for…” His words died on his tongue as he went to look at you, his hand slowly dropping to his side. There was a flicker of awe and desire that went across his face before he shook his head, and it was replaced with a smirk. “…you...”
“I feel so honored,” You went to pull out of the chairs to sit, but Jeonghan had beat you to it by pulling it out for you instead, before taking a seat next to you, focusing on the containers. Grabbing both beers, you popped them open with ease and set them down in front of you both.
Dinner consisted of the two of you stuffing your faces, battling over the last pieces of meat, which he won by cheating at rock, paper, scissors. You drank several beers between you each while talking about work, friends, family, and life. You told him about meeting Celeste in college then later Soonyoung through her, the jewelry business that you and him thought up after too many bottles of wine, how it actually was doing well, and the couple’s upcoming wedding.
While Jeonghan told you about college, the trouble him and their friends got into, updated you on his parents and sister, and about the pharmacy he works at with Joshua. You laughed over stories, and it felt like no time had passed between you.
“What about relationships?” Jeonghan asked, leaning back in his chair with a beer close to his lips, watching the way you swirled your beer around in the bottle. “Anyone special?”
“Just a vibrator named Owini with two I’s.” This made Jeonghan raise a brow as he took a sip. “O.W.I.N.I. Orgasm when I need it.”
“Clever.” He coughed out after nearly choking on his beer, laughing at the name.
“What about you? Anyone in your life?” It was your turn to watch him, trying to gauge his reaction. Jeonghan was leaning back against the chair, looking forward with a half-smile playing over his lips.
“No one special. At least not for a long time.” He answered finally, finishing his beer with a smack to his lips. Licking them, he sat the beer down onto the table before standing and stretched. He ignores the confused expression on your face with his sudden movements, “Let’s get this all cleaned up bug and have a few more beers. Maybe watch a movie or something.”
You nod your head slowly, following suit to help throw away the empty containers and put away anything that you two didn’t finish. When you were done, Jeonghan grabbed a few more beers from the fridge and met you at the sofa to find something to watch. Picking some random movie that you couldn’t remember the name, both of you talked and laughed until all the beers were empty and Jeonghan was half asleep on the sofa.
**Day 2**
“Oh, it is so good to see you sweetie!” Jeonghan’s mother wouldn’t let go of you, hugging you tightly as if you were going to disappear on her if she did. The next day the two of you had gone to his parents’ for lunch on his mother’s insistence, “I missed you, my dear.”
“I missed you too,” You answered, giving Jeonghan a ‘save me’ look when she didn’t let go, only for him he didn’t come to save you, instead just watched with mild amusement from his place against the kitchen counter. Releasing you from the hug, she grasped your shoulders to look at you, making you turn your gaze back to her.
“You should not stay away so long,” She scolded, leaning forward like she was revealing a secret, “Our Hanni has not been the same since the last time you left.”
“Oh…” You let out a nervous laugh, looking back toward Jeonghan with a questioning gaze, but he was no longer looking at you. Instead, he was staring warning daggers into his mother’s back. It reminded you how he wouldn’t look at you the previous night either, but before you could say anything further, you were being lead to a table full of food.
“Sit, sit. I hope you are hungry, I made all of your favorites.” You were then gently pushed into a seat, with Jeonghan following and took a seat next to you, “Oh goodness, I forgot drinks. Let me grab those.”
“I told her not to do all this, but she insisted,” Jeonghan had muttered so only you could hear.
“I believe it,” You responded back, leaning toward him with a raised brow, “What did she mean by you haven’t been the same?”
“Nothing, just missed my best friend is all,” He answered simply. For a brief moment you thought his gaze dropped to your lips before he looked away to speak with his mother. Changing the subject all together as well.
The rest of the visit had consisted of more catching up, with Jeonghan’s father and sister coming by to join in, but you were barely able to pay attention. You couldn’t stop looking over toward Jeonghan, feeling that there was something more than ‘he just missed his best friend’. Like true Jeonghan fashion, he didn’t give anything away.
There was a possibility that you might be looking too much into it, reminding yourself that before you left for college, the two of you were with each other every day, and were inseparable. Hell, every time you came home, you and Jeonghan would always be together. Then after your grandfather passed away, you just… stopped coming back.
It wasn’t that you had wanted to stay away, it just was harder to come back now that both your grandparents were gone. It was hard to come back when you no longer would walk into the home you grew up to them, and life just kept getting into the way. Work ended up taking precedence since you and Soonyoung were focused on your jewelry company, finding the time off had grew harder, or whatever excuse you gave to make yourself feel better for not coming back.
You had known that it had affected Jeonghan, going from having his best friend every day to a few times a year to sparse messages and social media posts, but you didn’t think that meant ‘he hasn’t been the same’.
After leaving the Yoons’, you went with him to run a few errands that he’d needed to run, and the entire time you still had his mother’s words playing in your head. Which he noticed, but like him, you wouldn’t give anything away, giving the excuse you were just in a food coma.
“I don’t believe you, just so you know.” He told you, pushing up his sunglasses with one finger while his other hand rested on the steering wheel. Casting a glance toward you, he noticed that you were looking out the passenger window. “You can keep your secrets for now, but I will get them out of you. I always do.”
“I can say the same for you.” You chirped back, your eyes on the different buildings passing by, taking in the different buildings. Some familiar, some different. You could hear him let out a breathy laugh. “You have your secrets, and I have mine. If I have to spill so will you.”
“Touche, bug.”
Once back to Jeonghan’s, you disappeared into your room to answer some emails and make a few calls for work. You may have been on a trip, but that didn’t mean that you were truly on vacation, and the workload never ends. Soonyoung was a great business partner and assured you that he had it all handled so you can enjoy your time away (since you would be doing the same when he and Celeste went on their honeymoon), but you needed a bit of a distraction.
“You hungry?” Jeonghan had asked at one point, knocking at your door as he opened it. A smile playing over his lips seeing you sitting cross legged on your bed, laptop open in front of you. You had changed into a pair of comfortable shorts and a baggy sweater, your hair pulled back out of your face (save for a strand that wouldn’t stay) and look of concentration on your face.
You didn’t hear the hitch in his breath when you looked up at him, that look of concentration melt away to a small smile as you shook your head.
“I’m still full from that feast your mom made us,” You answered with a laugh, looking back to the laptop and to the email you had been working on. “I’m almost done here, just need to send off a few more emails, and then call Soonyoung regarding a large order of smokey quartz for our Smokey collection. I shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“You do know the whole point of this trip was to also not worry about work?” Jeonghan teased, making his way to the bed and flopped down onto the empty space next to you. Rolling onto his side, he looked up at you with his dark round eyes, shining with mischief with his hand inching toward the laptop to shut. Which you reached out and took with yours, holding it as you placed it back onto the bed. Making him pout.
“I am almost done, I promise.” You told him, not expecting the sudden urge to lean forward to kiss the pout he was sporting, nor the way you were still holding his hand. Or that he had adjusted the hold so that your fingers were laced together.
“Well, when you’re done, I’ll be right here.” He responded, finally letting go of your hand to roll onto his back, pulling his phone out to scroll. You raised your brow at him, he didn’t even look your way when he added, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m lonely out there and you’re in here working.”
“Price to pay on owning your own business.”
Though you did manage to get some work done, you couldn’t really concentrate with Jeonghan lying next to you, now fast asleep with his phone resting face down on his chest. The soft clicking of your fingers against the keys had lulled him into a sleep and you found yourself watching him several times. Taking in the way he still looked like the boy you had grown up with, only older. Thick lashes kissing his skin, skin still smooth but with the hints of age coming through. The lips that were pouting at you earlier, soft and plush looking, partially open with a soft snore leaving him. He looked peaceful, he looked breathtaking, he looked like he was where he was meant to be. Next to you. Your Jeonghan.
Your heart fluttered at this notion, the words your Jeonghan felt different even in your head. Or was it always this way and you just ignored it since he was your best friend.
When you finished your emails and came time to call Soonyoung, you chose to take it outside to not disturb the sleeping man next to you. You also wanted to enjoy the evening weather, finding yourself sitting on the step of the shed to take your call and maybe clear your head some.
The shed wasn’t the same, but the memories were still there when you sat down on the newer wood. The years you and Jeonghan spent in the old rickety building that once stood there, doing things that looking back neither of you had any business doing as teenagers. Drinking, smoking, and everything else that came with being rebellious teens and too much freedom to do it all.
It shaped who you both were as adults, and still a part of who you were. Even if you tried to run away.
“There you are.” Jeonghan’s tired voice had pulled you from your thoughts and tore your gaze from a patch in the grass to him. His face slightly puffy from sleep, and a yawn escaping him as he made his way to you before flashing you a lazy half grin. “Was wondering where you went.”
“I had to call Soonyoung and you were snoring. I didn’t want to wake you or have him questioning if I was next to a walrus.” You teased, unable to stop the corners up your lips to twitch up, earning a chuckle from the slender man.
“So, kind of you.” He muttered reaching you, leaning against the wall of the shed. The sun had already dropped past the horizon, but there was still a glow to the yard, emphasizing the shadows and adding a hauntingly beautiful look to the spring evening. “Clocked out now?”
“I’m always clocked in.” This made him chuckle, before slipping into his pocket to pull out a lighter and a joint. With the rolled herb between his lips, he lit it with the lighter. Taking a deep inhale, you watched him blow the smoke out. Looking your way, he offered it.
“You still smoke?” He asked, and you looked at the joint then back to his face. A brow raised, “Vernon managed to find some for me. I haven’t smoked since the last time you were here…”
“I actually quit myself,” You told him reaching out to take the burning herb and took a hit of it. The paper was damp from his lips, and the smoke felt harsher than it had in the past, making you cough out the cloud of smoke instead of inhaling it. You managed to take another pull from it, filling your lung with the herbal smoke. Allowing the head change take effect.
A silence followed, just the two of you passing the joint between you. Leaning back, your eyes went up toward the sky to take in the darkening sky as the stars start to appear. While Jeonghan just watched you.
“What did you mom mean?” You asked softly, after a few minutes of feeling his gaze and the joint passing between you. Looking down at the nearly finished joint, now a roach at this point, flicking some ash handing off it. “How weren’t you the same?”
“Were you?” He returned your question with one of his own, reaching for what was left of the joint. You let out a scoff.
“Of course I wasn’t. I lost both my grandparents within a year of each other, had to watch my uncle stick that stupid for sale sign in the ground before the dirt settle so he could pay his debts…” You waved your hand in the air at nothing, before dropping it into your lap. Pushing your tongue into your cheek, you continued. “I was hurting, I was angry at my uncle, I felt like I had nothing here that was mine anymore, and I just wanted to run away.” You took a breath, closing your eyes to hold back the angry tears that were prickling behind them. Remembering that feeling ruined your high. “I left already not the same, but how were you?”
Jeonghan didn’t respond for a moment, the flick of the lighter making you look toward him to find that a second joint appeared and was lighting it. He took a quick inhale of the sweet herb, before handing it to you.
“You need this more than I do,” He muttered as you took it, making you tempted to throw it at him and tell him to go fuck himself, but you stopped yourself. He looked up toward the sky, crossing his arms and you took in how he looked. His baggy jeans, and a shirt that had enough room for the both of you, hair sticking up from sleeping in your bed, and a pair of wired glasses. Ones he had to of thrown on after waking up.
You were slow to take a hit of the herb, watching him carefully.
“You had me.” He finally said, not answering your question. It should’ve infuriated you and call him out if you didn’t look so confused. Licking his lips, he looked at you before repeating himself. “You had me here still. I thought I was home for you too.”
Maybe he was answering after all, in his own cryptic way.
“You were… you are…” You told him, before sighing, “I don’t regret how long I’ve been gone, but I do regret not keeping in touch better with you. I should’ve tried better for that.”
“Maybe, but you’re here now.” Jeonghan leaned forward and took the joint from you. “I plan to make sure you remember that you’re home with me.”
You watched as the joint pressed between his lips, the way his eyes closed slightly as he took a hit, unable to tear your gaze away. Slowly his eyes opened and you could see there was a sign of mischief there. Hiding away the vulnerableness that he’d been displaying. You watch the way his own gaze dropped to your lips then back to your eyes, blowing the smoke gently from the side of his mouth.
“Why do I feel like you are trying to make me fall in love with you?” You asked, meaning for it to be a tease but it came out breathier then you meant. Part of you thinking he might kiss you, but instead he let out a laugh, leaning back against the shed wall. Like nothing happened.
“Who knows, maybe I am.”
**Day 3**
To say you didn’t really do anything was a bit of an understatement. There has been no plans for the day, aside from the plans to meet friends later, so you just laid around. Collecting your energy for a night out drinking and spending time with old friends. Well, at this point they felt more like Jeonghan’s friends rather than your own, but he had insisted that wasn’t the case. That everyone missed you and were excited to see you again.
Jeonghan also continued on the day like the previous night didn’t happen, as if he didn’t look at you like he wanted to kiss you, or ‘joke’ about you falling in love with him. He just laid around with you, bugging you at random times about how bored he was, but wouldn’t get up to do anything. He would whine about how warm you were, but he seemed to scoot closer instead of away.
He would random poke you if you weren’t paying attention to him, complain about anything you turned on, but refused to choose anything. And the entire time used his pouty voice if you snapped at him.
“That’s it!” You growled out, grabbing the hand that attempted to pull a strand of hair falling into your face, distracting you so his other hand could tickle at your side. With his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your tank that had ridden up, making you jolt and grab that hand as well. Wrestling to get him to stop.
You’d forgotten that Jeonghan was a lot stronger than he looked, and could easily break your hold, but instead he was letting you think you were overpowering him. Filling the room with laugher, and in your wrestle, you found yourself straddling him.
Then you both froze, realizing how close you were. The tips of your noses brushing, both breathing heavy from the exertion, eyes locked with a new emotion coursing through you. Deeper than desire. Your hold then loosened on his wrists.
Now this wasn’t the first time you had ended up like this, you had many times in the past wrestling with each other. You’d done it since you were kids, with it always ending with you both laughing and unable to keep annoying the other.
This time…this time it was all different.
Your name fell from his lips before you were kissing him, which Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to return. His hands dropped down to your waist, pulling you closer until your chest was flushed against each other. A whimper left you at the desperation that flooded him, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, wanting more—which you willing gave him.
His lips felt like heaven against yours, and the way his tongue teased yours it left you needing more of him. More and more. Your fingers pushing through his soft strands, while his dug into your hips to pulling them down to grind on him. Feeling him already hardening underneath the soft grey fabric of his sweats, making you grow hot with need and dampen your underwear.
Then you broke from the kiss, staring at your best friend in shock while he stared at you with desperate need in his heavy lidded eyes. His bottom lip swollen from your kiss, hands still holding onto your hips like a vice, and his arousal pressing against you. With your own body ablaze with the same need right down to your core.
“I…” You scrambled off him to stand, “I… we shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry… I… I need to get ready for tonight.”
Before Jeonghan could answer or stop you, you were already rushing to your room. Slamming the door behind you as you went, leaving him to stare at the space where you had been standing. Licking his lips, he slammed his fist onto the sofa cushion in frustration but stopped the frustrated groan that wanted to escape. Standing, he took off toward his room.
The ordered ride to the bar was an awkward one, with neither of you would speak or look at each other. You on one side of the backseat, playing with the pockets of your cargo pants before readjusting your tank and cardigan, the fabric not feeling like they fit right. While Jeonghan sat on the other side, looking out the window while his own hands were balled into fists on his lap.
The kiss hung between you, leaving you unsure how to approach it while Jeonghan was just unreadable. There’d been moments you thought he was angry with you, others he seemed frustrated, and then finally he appeared…sad. It ate at you, making it even harder to find the words.
The sound that erupted from the group when you entered the bar was almost deafening, and making others look your way. You were then showered with hugs, first by the girls and followed by Seungcheol, Vernon, and Joshua. Jeonghan had disappeared to the bar, leaving you to greet everyone.
“It’s been way to long,” Eunji couldn’t stop saying, hugging you for what felt like the nth time, “I thought you weren’t ever coming back.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just… needed to be away.” You answered, when she finally let go of you for good, but that was because her fiancé, Vernon, had pulled her back to his side.
“No need to explain to us. We understand.” It was Vernon who spoke up, a finger wrapped through a hoop of Eunji’s pants, keeping her in place. “What matters is that you’re back.”
“And me missing you all matters too, ya know?” You pointed out with a teasing smile, when a cold glass of beer was pushed into your hands, making you look up to see Jeonghan had rejoined the group. He didn’t look at you, instead moving to Seungcheol and Joshua, leaving the others to surround you. Looking down at the beer, you hoped that your friends didn’t pick up the tension between you. Which by the silence and looks everyone was giving each other, you knew better.
You could see the way Eunji was about to open her mouth, only for her fiancé’s hand conveniently found its place over it. Minnie, who had been waiting for her moment to give you a proper hug, gave you a questioning gaze, while Seungcheol, Joshua, and Joshua’s wife looked at Jeonghan.
“I see one thing hasn’t changed,” Minnie had murmured into your ear, taking the beer so she could get an actual hug from you, “We are going to be talking about this.”
As the night went on, the tension between you and Jeonghan had loosened with him eventually finding his way back to your side. Arm thrown over your shoulder, like he hadn’t been giving you the cold shoulder since running from him and the kiss you shared, as he talked and laughed with everyone. Poking, teasing, and smiling at you like you hadn’t just rejected him in one of the worst ways possible.
It had helped you relax outwardly, joining in with the talking, teasing, even leaning into him and his touch. It was easy to do, even with the tension burning between you, it was easy to lean into his warmth like he would you. Except inwardly, you had a war raging on. One that involved the very man you were leaning into.
“I’m going for a cigarette.” Minnie announced, lifting Seungcheol’s hand off her knee to stand, grabbing her designer bag in the process, “Who’s coming with me?”
“I will,” Eunji practically jumped out of her seat, looking around the table for anyone else, both of them stopping briefly on you and Lily, Joshua’s wife. Subtly hinting that you were to join them.
“I have to pass. I been trying to quit, and don’t want to be tempted, sorry.” Lily answered, sipping at the bright blue cocktail she had ordered.
“Never apologize for that. You got more will power than I do,” Minnie waved her hand, her eyes going back to you, “Anyone else?”
“I’ll go,” You announce, standing with Jeonghan’s arm falling from your shoulder as you did. Making him look at you with a confused expression, “Just need a bit of fresh air. I’ll be back.”
You barely make it out of the bar before you were being cornered by the two women.
“Okay, spill.” Eunji demanded as Minnie pulled out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing two and a lighter from the box. One for each woman.
“What are you talking about?” You attempted to feign ignorance, but it was clear the two didn’t buy it. The three of you were very close growing up, they witnessed how you and Jeonghan were, and still knew you better than you realized.
“Either one of three things is going on here. You two either have nothing to talk about, and it’s awkward as shit…” Minnie responded, placing the cigarette to her lips and lit it.
“Which is impossible with you two,” Eunji chimed in, taking the lighter from Minnie to light her own. “No matter how many years have passed.”
“You got into a stupid fight over something like the color of his socks, or…” Minnie walked closer, holding the cigarette out enough so the smoke wasn’t hitting your face, taking in how you crossed your arms and looked away. Leaning in, it felt like the last one was more of a secret, “Something happened between the two of you…”
“And you were the one to freak out.” Eunji finished for her, “And now it’s awkward.”
“Why would it be me?”
“Because it’s always you.” Vernon’s voice popped up behind you, causing the three of you to jump. He casually walks past you to Eunji, taking his cigarette in the process to take a drag, “I had a feeling they were doing that weird best friend gang up thing.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You answer, feeling your cheeks starting to burn.
“They kissed,” Vernon took another long drag of the nicotine stick, causing your jaw to drop opened, “Jeonghan told us in there.”
“Of course he did,” You muttered, watching the way Eunji and Minnie were ready to start jumping for joy.
“Finally?!” Eunji asked with excitement, but from the look on Vernon’s face, as well as yours, that Jeonghan didn’t stop there. Flicking the ash off the cigarette, the younger man took one more drag before handing it back to his fiancé.
“And that you freaked out and ran.”
“I didn’t run, I didn’t even leave the house.” You tried to defend yourself while your two friends excitement started to deflate.
“No, but you locked yourself in your room.” It was times like this that Vernon made you wonder how easy it was to get away with murder. Eunji will be able to find love again, she can move on, and you could disappear. Change your name, live in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere.
“Ugh,” Eunji let out a groan, dropping her head back and shoulders down in frustration. While Minnie could only stare at you, gaze unreadable as she pressed her cigarette to her lips, with one arm crossed her midsection.
“What?” You asked, your own frustration started to bubble over as it slowly started to occur to you that your friends knew something that you didn’t know. Something that Jeonghan clearly was aware of, but not you. Something about you and him. “I kissed him, yes. We were wrestling and it just happened, but it shouldn’t have. It just made things awkward and could just ruin our friendship.” You didn’t mention how much you wanted to do it again but couldn’t risk losing him for good. “What is with this ‘finally’ shit, anyways? Like shouldn’t you guys be worried that this could ruin our already fragile friendship.”
There was a silence as the three looked at each other. Like it dawned on them that you really didn’t know.
“You really don’t know?” It was Minnie who asked, taking another long drag as she moved her gaze to you again, followed by the couple behind her.
“Know what Min?” You sighed, dropping your arms to your sides, but there was something deep in you that told you that you already knew. Something that was sitting inside you for years, and you refused to acknowledge it, because it was easier than to face it.
There was a beat of silence between the four of them, with Eunji focused on her cigarette, Minnie watching you with an almost pitied look, and Vernon pushing his tongue into his cheek. Each of them waiting for the other to either come out with it, or for it to finally dawn on you. For you to finally see it.
“That he’s in love with you…” It was Vernon who said it, since neither of the girls spoke up, then his attention went to Minnie, “You think I can get my own smoke?”
You stood there in absolute silence while a pack of cigarettes exchanged hands, staring at your friends. It wasn’t that you had needed to process this, it wasn’t that at all. Instead, the words reached into your chest, into your heart and pulled out something you already known. Something he was trying to tell you, that he’s been trying to tell you.
“You guys are insane,” You finally spoke, looking away from them, pulling your cardigan around you when a cool breeze hit. “Jeonghan loves me, but he’s not in love with me.”
“Are you saying that to convince us, or convince yourself?” Minnie then asked, taking the pack back, her voice soft and understanding. You didn’t answer, still not looking at her, Vernon or Eunji, not trusting yourself to. “Did Jeonghan tell you what his parents condition was when they helped him buy that house?”
“No…” You had asked Jeonghan at least twice what this condition was, but he wouldn’t answer and would change the subject. Instead of pushing though, you just let him change it, so you didn’t have to actually hear it.
“The condition was that he settle downs like the rest of us,” She continued, and you could feel your mouth go dry, make your stomach churn uncomfortably. Unsure if it was from the alcohol, hearing all this, or both, “Or he would have to pay them back every penny.”
This made you look up to see her smiling at you, with it being as soft as her voice. Minnie flicked the ash off the near finished cigarette, your friends letting you take in what you were being told.
“What does that have to do with me, though?” You asked, feeling like you already knew the answer without it having to be said.
“Because.” Dropping the cigarette onto the ground, the taller woman hooked your arm with hers to walk back to the bar. Leaving Vernon and Eunji to finish their own smokes, “For him, the condition wasn’t just anyone, because to him, it only would be you.”
You’d barely made it back into the bar before Jeonghan had let out an overexaggerated yawn as he announced that he was going to order a ride home. This earned a chorus of groans from everyone, except for you. Your brain was already a buzz from the conversations outside, with the only thing you could do was stare at him. The bill of his hat pulled low, with it and his hair falling over his eyes. There was a deep frown playing over his lips, and body language reading that he no longer wanted to be there.
“You staying?” He asked you, making you blink out of your thoughts, already having his phone out to get a ride ordered. Several pairs of eyes turn to you, waiting for your response. Minnie had found her place back next to Seungcheol, leaning into her boyfriend, watching you with a knowing gaze.
Telling you to go with him.
“Nah, I’m getting tired myself.” You answered, letting out a chuckle, “I honestly am surprised I managed as long as I have. I’ve traded a night out at the bar with a bottle of wine at home, and most times in bed.”
Jeonghan nodded, already having the ride ordered, and the group advanced on you. Hugging you tightly, telling you to keep in touch, and to visit more often. With Minnie hugging you a little longer than everyone.
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” She whispered in your ear, “If you don’t plan to return his feelings, then let him down gently.”
Neither of you said anything on the ride back to Jeonghan’s, but this time the silence felt different. It wasn’t tense like it was on the way to the bar, it had shifted after being out for a few hours to something that you had a hard time describing. His tired silence, leaning back in the seat with his eyes out the window, watching everything pass by. One hand resting against his head while the other rested between you both.
Beckoning you to take it.
Except you didn’t, with your own gaze looking out the car window as well. Vernon and Minnie’s words heavy in your head.
“He’s in love with you.”
“…because to him, it only would be you.”
“If you don’t plan to return his feelings, then let him down gently.”
They left you with one of two choices by doing this. Finally face what was always between you and talk to Jeonghan, or you run away again. Get the earliest flight you can and leave before Jeonghan could wake up. Continue to run away. Destroy a lifelong friendship, one that you were meant to reconnect during your stay, because you were the coward.
You needed to make a choice. You needed to make one then.
“I’m going to head to bed, I am pretty tired,” Jeonghan announced once back, making sure the door was locked behind you before flicking his gaze to you. Taking you in, while he forced a smile to his lips and another beat of silence followed.
He was waiting for you to say something, anything. It was your chance, you either faced it or you ran away, but words failed you. They failed you in a way that never happened before with him, and it scared you.
“Goodnight, bug.” He whispered finally turning toward his room, nodding his head like he received his answer again. An answer to a question or a confession that he never said out loud.
It suddenly infuriated you.
“Are you in love with me?” You blurted out, causing Jeonghan to stop only a few steps away, watching the way his back straightened at the question. The accusation.
“Yes, I am.” He answered without hesitation, turning to look at you. That forced smile turning into a sardonic smirk when your eyes widened at how easy it was for him to say it, “I am in love with you.”
“For how long?”
“Does it matter?” The question as simple.
“Yes…no…just tell me.” You let out a frustrated sigh, shoulders dropping as you do.
“I’ve loved you since we were children, even when you would pull my hair,” He let out a chuckle, crossing his arms, “But realized I was in love with you when I had to watch you board that plane for school.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was easier to watch you go not knowing than if you did.” Jeonghan’s voice was low, the words stripping everything away that he hid behind, letting you see the raw side of him. And he still held eye contact with you.
“And the condition with your parents…”
“I had no intention fulfilling it if it wasn’t going to be you.” You noticed that he had started to close the distance that as originally there, pulling off his cap in the process so you could see his face better. Looking at you in a way he never had before, or that you noticed.
“Why?”
“Because no matter how I pictured my future, when it came to who I would spend my life with…” Jeonghan was now in front of you, close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. His hand ghosting over your cheek. You couldn’t move, you didn’t want to move, you were scared to move, “It’s always you. It’s always been you.”
“Jeonghan…” His name came out in a whisper, tears starting to fall down your cheek and that was when you felt the coolness of his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb wiping away a few away. “You’re an asshole.”
A soft laugh left him, dropping his hand and taking a step back. Taking your comment as a rejection, but it wasn’t. It was far from it. You finally found a name to what that missing piece was when it came to Jeonghan. Your best friend, the boy who would be waiting for you in that run down shed every day, the teen who would get in trouble with you, the young man who let you go even though there was an ache in both your chests, and the man standing before you.
All these versions of him were one thing to you. Your Jeonghan.
“You’re an asshole for not telling me sooner…” You pouted, grabbing the sleeves of his shirt to stop him, refusing to look away from him. His stupid, assholish, beautiful face.
“Yeah?” Jeonghan countered back, inching closer to you, his eyes flicking to your mouth.
“Yeah.”
He then kissed you, heated and hungry, like something inside him snapped; unable to hold back any longer. He had a taste of you earlier, and now that he had you again, he couldn’t keep pretending. You returned the kiss with a fever, gripping at the sleeves of his shirt because if you didn’t, he’d disappear.
His hand finding their place at your hips, squeezing them when you deepened the kiss, greedy to taste him again like you had earlier. This time with the notes of beer still lingering, but you were sure you were just the same. Releasing the sleeves of his shirt, you traced them over your shoulders and up his neck, earning a low groan from him when you gripped at the soft strands of his hair.
Hearing this sound sent a wave of heat down your belly, right to your core, your thighs squeezing slightly and enough for Jeonghan to notice. Making him pull away from your lips, reluctantly since he attempted to dive back in to reclaim them, only to stop himself.
“You’ll need to stop me now, because I have no intentions on it.” He said softly, willing to step away if you didn’t want to. You laugh pushing him toward his bedroom, tripping over each other and pulling off clothes in the process. With your bra and top gone before you made it through his bedroom door.
His shirt following quickly after, giving way to a lean frame with smooth undefined muscles, but you could feel them under your touch. Your cargos off next, leaving you in a pair of grey lace underwear, and Jeonghan had twisted you so the he was the one guiding you to his bed. His mouth claiming yours right as you felt his bed hit the back of your knees, making you drop down onto it.
Looking up to see Jeonghan standing before you, his eyes roaming from your own down your body before returning to them. His expression one of disbelief, like he couldn’t believe you were on his bed, half naked. And just for him.
“Hanni…” Anything you had to say was stopped by his kiss, more heated than any of the others you had shared.
Your hands and mouths touching and kissing anywhere and everywhere you could. His mouth teasing your breasts, sucking at the hardened peaks, while your hands ran over his body. Feeling his hardened cock over his pants before they too were gone. Followed by his boxers, and then your underwear.
“Fuck…your mouth is heaven,” He moaned out when you took his cock into your mouth, swallowing him down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him. With a few expert movements, Jeonghan had to pull back to stop from cumming down your throat and ending it all too soon. “We are going to have to revisit this later.”
“But…” Your words were swallowed up by his kiss, tongue claiming yours, pushing your back against the bed, his hips pushing your legs apart. Moaning at the feeling of his saliva slicked cock pressing against your own soaked cunt, rolling your hips up against his. Needing more of him.
When you felt two fingers tweak at one of your nipples, you roll him onto his back, straddling him. Grinding down onto him while one of your hands slip between you to grip his cock. With a gentle squeeze, Jeonghan broke from the kiss to drop his head back with a groan, moving both hands to your hips. The head of his cock catching at your entrance, making you both gasp.
Then you sank down onto him, a silent cry leaving you while Jeonghan’s eyes rolled at the way he stretched your gripping walls, until you were completely onto him. Only you didn’t stay there long, not giving either of you the chance to adjust before you were moving. Planting your hands onto the bed, you lift your hips off him, leaving only the head of his cock in you before dropping down.
Jeonghan’s hands gripped onto your hips, his eyes glazed over from arousal and the sight of you. Seeing parts of you that he only imagined, your bare breasts bouncing with each movement of your hips, your mouth falling open in pleasure, right down to where your two were now connected. The feeling of your walls squeezing and gripping at him was better than any late night thoughts could compare.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long, but he also didn’t want this to ever end. There was no way he could ever go back after this, he wouldn’t be able to go back to anything with you that didn’t involve this. Didn’t involve you being his.
“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, grinding down onto him to get more friction, feeling yourself winding tighter. The knot deep in your core threatening to snap. Then one of his hands slide from your hip to between your legs, pushing his finger up to tease your clit. “I’m close…”
“Do it, baby. Don’t hold back.” He tried to play it cool with a smirk, but he was just as much of a whimpering mess like you are. Looking up at you like you were the only thing that ever mattered. You were the only thing that ever mattered to him.
“Shit, Shit…” You chanted, every muscle tightening as you came, “I love you, I love you.”
Then you were on your back, Jeonghan rolling you over without pulling out, taking over for you. Fucking into you with a vigor you never experienced from him.
“I love you…” He whispered into your mouth, cupping your face, his own release following quickly after. Neither of you moved, staying connected as you came down from your highs, with him now pulling back to look at you. Your well kissed lips, your hair a mess from running your fingers through it, and your still glazed over eyes. A scene that made him fall even more in love. “Please don’t leave… stay… I can’t let you go again.”
“Jeonghan…” You sigh, closing your eyes as you attempted to slip off him. Oversensitivity starting to take over, but he kept you there on top of him. “I have to though…” That was when you felt his hands loosen on your hips, and the look on his face nearly broke you, but still a small smile graced your lips, “I mean… If I plan to move back, I got to get everything in order…”
“No you don’t,” He pouted, and you leaned forward to kiss him. Soft, promising. “You can just start back over here… I am not letting you go.”
“Then I guess we need to buy you a plane ticket then.” You tease, brushing a strand of hair from his face. His stupid, assholish, beautiful face that you’ve loved for years. “Cause I do have to go back.”
“We’ll see about that,” He smirked, making you laugh. “I love you. Always you.”
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Synopsis: He was dared to make her fall. she didn’t even look his way. he still tried. then he fell first—and harder than anyone expected.
WC: 3.4k OR 3,498 words
The entire university knew three things about .
First—he was rich.
Second—he was gorgeous.
And third—he never stayed with the same girl for longer than two weeks.
People called him charming. Dangerous. Addictive.
Professors called him “wasted potential.”
His parents called him “difficult.”
His friends?
They called him entertainment.
Because whenever Heeseung walked into a room, something always happened.
───
Friday night.
Music exploded through the walls of the largest fraternity house near campus. Colored lights flashed across drunk students dancing like tomorrow didn’t exist.
Heeseung sat lazily on the kitchen counter with a red cup in one hand, expensive rings shining beneath the neon lights. His dark hair fell perfectly over his forehead despite the chaos around him.
Girls surrounded him.
One touching his arm.
Another laughing too hard at his jokes.
Another asking if he was coming to her apartment after the party.
Heeseung smiled at all of them without really seeing any of them.
Across the room, his best friend Jay snorted.
“You’re actually insane.”
“What did I do now?” Heeseung asked.
“You made that girl cry.”
“I literally told her not to catch feelings.”
Jake laughed from the couch. “That somehow makes it worse.”
Heeseung only shrugged.
Relationships bored him.
People bored him.
Everyone wanted something from him—money, attention, popularity, validation.
Nothing ever felt real.
Then Sunghoon walked into the kitchen with a grin.
“Ohhh,” he said dramatically. “There she is.”
The boys turned toward the front door.
And for the first time that night—
Heeseung looked interested.
A girl walked inside wearing loose black jeans, headphones around her neck, and an oversized gray hoodie like she accidentally wandered into the wrong building.
“Not mean,” another student interrupted. “She’s only rude if you’re annoying.”
“Which means all of you.”
Everyone laughed.
Heeseung watched her from across the room.
She sat beside another girl on the couch, calmly sipping soda while chaos happened around her.
Completely unaffected.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then Jay made the mistake.
“Bet you can’t pull her.”
Silence.
Heeseung slowly looked at him.
Jay grinned wider. “One month. Make her fall for you.”
Jake immediately groaned. “Bro—”
“What?” Jay laughed. “Heeseung gets every girl. Let’s see if the king survives rejection.”
Heeseung leaned back against the counter.
“What do I get?”
Sunghoon smirked. “Your ego survives.”
“And if I win?”
Jay sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll do your statistics project.”
Heeseung’s eyes slid back toward Y/N.
She was laughing softly at something her friend said.
Real laughter.
Not fake party laughter.
Not flirting.
Just… genuine.
Something in his chest pulled strangely.
Still, he smiled lazily.
“Easy.”
───
Monday morning.
Economics lecture hall.
Professor Kang droned on while half the students fought sleep.
Y/N sat near the window with earbuds hidden beneath her hair, sketching tiny doodles in the corner of her notebook.
Then someone slid into the seat beside her.
The entire row looked shocked.
Heeseung.
Of course.
He smelled expensive. Clean cologne and arrogance.
“You’re in my seat,” Y/N said without looking up.
“I don’t think your name is on it.”
“It is spiritually.”
A few students nearby snorted.
Heeseung grinned.
“You always this friendly?”
“You always this jobless?”
That actually caught him off guard.
Most girls giggled around him.
Most tried too hard.
But her voice held genuine annoyance.
Like he was simply inconveniencing her.
Professor Kang looked up. “Mr. Lee. Nice of you to attend for once.”
The class laughed.
Heeseung smiled shamelessly. “I’m trying to become a better student.”
Y/N muttered, “Tragic.”
He heard it.
And for some reason—
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
───
Over the next two weeks, he kept showing up.
Library.
Cafeteria.
Hallways.
Campus café.
At first Y/N assumed it was coincidence.
Then she realized:
No.
He was absolutely following her.
“You’re weird,” she told him one afternoon.
Heeseung walked beside her casually. “You noticed me?”
“I noticed a mosquito too. Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Ouch.”
But he kept smiling.
Because every conversation with her felt alive.
She didn’t worship him.
Didn’t care about his car.
Didn’t care that girls constantly stared at him.
Once, he picked her up after class in his black luxury car.
Students immediately began whispering.
Y/N climbed in, looked around once, then deadpanned—
“Cool. It drives just like a normal car.”
Heeseung stared at her.
Then burst out laughing.
“Do you enjoy ruining my ego?”
“Yes.”
───
She learned things about him slowly.
That he skipped class constantly.
That he partied almost every night.
That he got into fights when drunk.
That professors expected him to fail despite how intelligent he actually was.
And Heeseung learned things too.
That Y/N worked part-time at a bookstore.
That she sent money home to her mother sometimes.
That she hated fake people more than anything.
That she secretly adored old music and rainy weather.
That she always pretended not to care even when she cared deeply.
One evening, he found her sitting alone outside campus while rain poured around them.
“You’ll get sick,” he said.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
He stood there awkwardly before sitting beside her under the tiny bus stop roof.
“You don’t talk much at parties,” he noticed.
“I don’t like loud people.”
“You’re talking to one.”
“You’re tolerable sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Don’t get excited.”
He smiled quietly.
Then he noticed her staring at the rain.
Peaceful.
Beautiful.
Not in the glamorous way girls at his parties looked.
Something softer.
Something dangerous.
Because for the first time in years—
Heeseung wanted to stay.
Not chase.
Not win.
Just stay.
───
“Bro, you’re down BAD.”
Jay nearly dropped his fork in the cafeteria.
Heeseung glared. “Shut up.”
“You skipped a party last night.”
Jake looked horrified. “HE skipped a PARTY?”
Sunghoon gasped dramatically. “Call the police.”
“I had class.”
“You’ve never cared before.”
Heeseung ignored them.
But they weren’t wrong.
Things were changing.
He started attending lectures.
Stopped flirting with random girls.
Even his professors noticed.
Professor Kang adjusted his glasses one afternoon.
“Mr. Lee… your assignment was actually excellent.”
The class looked stunned.
Heeseung blinked. “Uh. Thanks?”
Y/N smirked beside him.
“Good job, rich boy.”
“Was that praise?”
“Don’t push it.”
───
Rumors spread fast around campus.
“Heeseung only hangs out with Y/N now.”
“He rejected Mina at the party.”
“He left early last weekend.”
“Did he seriously stop drinking?”
“Apparently Y/N hates smokers too.”
“No way she changed HIM.”
But she did.
Without trying.
Without demanding anything.
He just… wanted to become someone better around her.
Someone real.
───
Then came the problem.
The bet.
At first it had been meaningless.
Funny.
Stupid.
But now every time Heeseung looked at her—
Guilt twisted inside him.
Especially because Y/N trusted him now.
One night, she fell asleep in his apartment while studying.
Curled up on his couch in one of his hoodies.
Heeseung sat nearby staring at her quietly.
His chest hurt.
Because he loved her.
Actually loved her.
And he had built everything on a lie.
───
“You need to tell her,” Jake said seriously.
Heeseung rubbed his face. “I know.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“Probably.”
“Thanks.”
Jay sighed. “Look, man… if she hears it from someone else, it’ll be worse.”
Heeseung knew that too.
And fate apparently hated him because the truth came out the very next day.
───
Y/N walked through campus holding iced coffee when she heard laughter near the basketball court.
“…bro really changed because of a BET—”
She froze.
Her stomach dropped.
Then another voice.
“Heeseung fell first honestly.”
“Still insane he approached her for a dare.”
Everything inside her went cold.
She slowly turned.
The boys noticed her too late.
Silence crashed down.
Jay cursed under his breath.
Y/N’s face became expressionless.
Dangerously expressionless.
Then she walked away.
Fast.
───
Heeseung found her near the music building that evening.
“Y/N—”
“Don’t.”
Her voice was quiet.
That hurt worse than yelling.
He stepped closer carefully. “Please let me explain.”
“You made me a joke?”
“No.”
“A game?”
“It started like that but—”
She laughed once.
A broken laugh.
“Wow.”
His chest tightened painfully.
“Y/N, I swear to you, I love you.”
“You should’ve told me earlier.”
“I was scared.”
“And now I look stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“But you are.”
That hit hard because she was right.
Tears filled her eyes despite how hard she fought them.
“I trusted you.”
Heeseung looked shattered.
“I know.”
“You know what the funny part is?” she whispered. “I actually believed you were different.”
He reached for her hand instinctively.
She stepped back immediately.
“No.”
The look on her face nearly destroyed him.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
“I don’t care that you’re rich,” she said shakily. “I don’t care about your parties or your stupid reputation. I cared about YOU.”
“I care about you too.”
“Then why humiliate me?”
He had no answer.
Because there wasn’t one good enough.
So she left.
And for the first time in his life—
Heeseung felt truly alone.
───
The next weeks were miserable.
He stopped partying completely.
Ignored calls.
Skipped gatherings.
Even his parents noticed.
His mother looked stunned during dinner.
“You’re home.”
His father glanced up from his phone. “And sober.”
Heeseung only muttered, “Can we not?”
For once, there was no arrogance in him.
Just exhaustion.
At university he still saw Y/N sometimes.
But she avoided him completely.
And honestly?
He deserved it.
───
One afternoon Professor Kang stopped Heeseung after class.
“You know,” the older man said calmly, “people can tell when someone changes for real.”
Heeseung looked tired. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does if you continue changing after losing the person.”
That stayed with him.
Because maybe becoming better shouldn’t depend on whether she forgave him.
Maybe she deserved proof.
Real proof.
Not words.
───
Months passed.
And slowly everyone noticed something shocking:
Heeseung Lee had changed.
Actually changed.
He attended classes consistently.
Helped classmates.
Stopped leading girls on.
Even started volunteering at campus events.
Students whispered constantly.
“What happened to him?”
“Y/N happened.”
───
Winter arrived quietly.
Y/N was leaving the library one evening when she found Heeseung sitting on the stairs outside.
Snow dusted his dark coat.
He stood immediately when he saw her.
“I’ll leave if you want.”
She crossed her arms silently.
He looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
“I just… needed to say this once.”
She didn’t stop him.
So he continued.
“You were right about me.”
His voice was rough.
“I was selfish. Immature. I treated people like games because I never cared enough to stay.” He swallowed hard. “But you made me want to become someone worth staying for.”
“The way I waited for your texts. The way I started hating parties because they weren’t fun without you. The way I memorized your coffee order. The way I—”
His voice cracked slightly.
“—the way I loved you.”
Silence.
Then Y/N finally spoke.
“You hurt me a lot.”
Tears filled his eyes instantly.
“I know.”
“And I still don’t fully trust you.”
“That’s okay.”
“But…”
Hope flickered weakly across his face.
She sighed softly.
“I can see you changed.”
Heeseung stared at her like he couldn’t breathe.
“And honestly?” she admitted quietly. “That makes this harder.”
A tiny smile appeared on his face for the first time in months.
“You still care?”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughed weakly through tears.
And for the first time—
Y/N smiled back.
Small.
Shy.
Real.
Maybe not a perfect ending.
Not yet.
But definitely the beginning of something honest.
The strange thing about forgiveness was that it never happened all at once.
It happened slowly.
In stolen conversations after class.
In quiet walks back to the dorms.
In accidental smiles.
In Heeseung waiting outside her lectures just to carry her bag even though she complained the entire time.
“I can carry it myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you holding it?”
“Because I like feeling useful.”
“You’re annoying.”
“But you’re smiling.”
Y/N immediately wiped the smile off her face.
Heeseung grinned proudly anyway.
───
Everyone at university was still trying to process the fact that THE had become—
pathetic.
Pathetic for one girl.
Jay almost cried laughing one afternoon when he walked into the student café.
Heeseung was sitting beside Y/N with his chin resting on her shoulder while she studied.
Literally clinging to her.
“Bro,” Jay said in horror. “You used to break hearts.”
“I’m retired.”
Y/N didn’t even look up from her notes. “Unfortunately.”
Heeseung gasped softly. “Baby, that’s mean.”
Jay froze.
Jake froze.
Even Sunghoon nearly choked on his drink.
“BABY?” Jake repeated.
Y/N finally looked up slowly. “Don’t make it weird.”
“You made HIM soft,” Sunghoon accused.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Meanwhile Heeseung looked completely unashamed.
Actually worse—
he looked happy.
Disgustingly happy.
───
He flirted constantly now.
Absolutely constantly.
And unlike before, it wasn’t smooth anymore.
It was clingy.
Whiny.
Cute.
“You look pretty today.”
“I look the same.”
“Still pretty.”
“You need glasses.”
“I need your attention.”
“You’re embarrassing.”
“But you like me.”
Silence.
Then Y/N muttered quietly—
“Maybe a little.”
Heeseung almost fell out of his chair.
───
He became ridiculously affectionate too.
Always touching her somehow.
Holding her sleeve.
Resting his head on her shoulder.
Playing with her fingers during lectures.
Following her around campus like an oversized lost puppy.
One day she finally stopped walking and turned toward him flatly.
when you first agreed to start trying for a family, both of you decided to not think about it too much.
even when your family teased you both during gatherings, or wriggling eyebrows from your friends.
“when the time comes, it’ll happen.”
he reassures you. every single time.
the both of you are back on track after your wedding and honeymoon. taking breaks, savoring the joy of being newlyweds.
you both never verbally say it, but it was apparent on how he stopped using protection during your intimate nights and how you never seemed to mind it.
but even after your first marriage anniversary, no news of a little one yet.
everytime you feel a little off, you became nervous and take a test everytime.
it all comes back negative.
heeseung never left your side. he notices all the nights you were slightly more quiet, the times you stopped paying attention during movie nights and stare blankly.
but he never forces you to voice it out.
always waiting for you to reach him.
and always giving hints that when you’re ready to talk? he’s right there. with you.
but these days…you feel it.
in the sudden exhaustion, tenderness.
the strange sensitivity to everything: fabrics against skin, footsteps on the floor, the squeak of sneakers in a hallway suddenly sharp enough to make you wince.
food you love suddenly smell unbearable, your period being late.. what if?
you wasted no time and immediately get your hands on the pregnancy test in the bathroom.
“it’s okay if it’s not. it’s alright. if it happens, it’ll happen.” you keep repeating to yourself.
and when a few minutes has passed and you see the undeniable two lines? the world stopped.
you felt tears building up, but you need to hold back.
how do you tell heeseung this?
right, you have a date night tonight! after he’s donw with work.
gotcha.
you took your time getting ready, that pregnancy glow already affecting your features despite the early stage.
your mind wanders to how he would react. will he cry? or will he be loud?
but one thing you will admit? he’s gonna be the happiest man in the world.
a few hours later, the date night starts as heeseung takes you out to a fancy restaurant.
he tilts his head in confusion when you refused champagne, it was your favourite.
you brust it off with a small remark, something about wanna tone it down for a while.
heeseung didn’t question you.
while he payed, you went to his side whispering: “can we stop by a photobooth before going home?”
he looks at you suspiciously, but agreed nonetheless. “you and your cute trends.” he smiles,
you both got inside the photobooth, you sat on his lap.
4 frames. alright, you can do this.
you clutched on the positive pregnancy test inside the sleeve of your sweater while the both of you posed for the first one.
“normal first!” you say, slightly nervous.
he nods, tucking his chin on your shoulder as the both of you grin at the camera.
the second one, he leans in for a kiss.
snap!
in the third frame, you take the test out making it visible for the both of you.
heeseung freezes while the camera takes a snap.
“baby,” he says,
you look into his eyes, already blurry with tears.
“we’re having a baby.” you grin.
he immediately wrap his arms around you in a secured embrace.
snap!
printing in process: please wait.
but heeseung didn’t budge. face tucked in the crook of your neck as you feel his shoulders shake.
“hee?”
“oh my god, baby,” he sniffles, “is that why you refused champagne?”
your smile widen even more and nodded.
he hugs you tighter, whispering small gratifying words in your ear.
“i’m gonna be better. a better husband. a better papa.” he says, making you laugh.
“you’re already perfect.”
he shakes his head, “no, you’re perfect. my perfect sweet wife. the mother of my child.”
his hand carress your stomach softly, as his gaze follows.
“gonna make you both the happiest in the world, starting tomorrow’s clinic checkup.”
you took the printed photo strips, smiling as you see the snapped reaction of your husband.
“knew it you’d cry.” you booped his nose, as he scrunched it and takes one strip.
“gonna make copies of this and put it in our car, my office desk, my wallet, my everything.”
summary → mingyu is a single father who runs a small flower shop you visit every week to pick up arrangements for the nursing home you work at. it starts as routine.. familiar greetings, the exchange of flowers, a child who quietly grows used to your presence in the background. but somewhere between saturday mornings and shared conversations that linger a little longer than they should, something begins to shift.
word count - 7.6k
[light angst with heavy fluff / hurt-comfort slow burn]
warnings! → single parent au, child character (minsoo-8yrs), minsoo calls reader ‘mimi’, emotional healing, slow developing romance, loss of spouse mentioned, grief themes, slice of life, flower shop setting, nursing home setting, found families dynamic, no explicit content, kinda mingyu centered but still has reader pov, *additional parts will probably be written
The morning air was still cool when you started your walk, the kind of quiet Saturday that felt like it belonged to everyone else waking up slower than you.
Your tote bag was already half empty, ready to be filled again. The flower shop was always your first stop. It wasn’t even a decision anymore, it had become a solid routine for you.
The bell above the door chimed softly when you stepped in.
Warm air wrapped around you immediately. Humid from buckets of fresh water and newly trimmed stems. Damp soil lingered beneath the sweeter scents. Roses, eucalyptus,and lilies just beginning to bloom somewhere deeper in the shop.
The coolers hummed quietly along the back wall. Morning sunlight spilled through the front windows in long golden strips, catching on glass vases and droplets of water still clinging to leaves. Somewhere near the counter, an old radio played low enough to blend into the atmosphere instead of interrupting it.
The shop always looked halfway between organized and beautifully chaotic.
Bundles of flowers sat waiting to be wrapped in brown paper. Loose petals and cut stems covered the floor near the trimming station. Gardening gloves rested abandoned beside open gardening shears, and handwritten order slips were clipped sporadically around the register in a system only Mingyu seemed to fully understand.
The entire place smelled alive, not artificial or a hint of perfumed fragrance, but freshly cut flowers. Like spring itself settled into the four walls of the building.
“Mimi!”
Minsoo’s voice cut through the calm like it belonged there more than anything else. She was already up from her little chair near the counter, a coloring book half forgotten, and her small legs swinging as she turned toward you with immediate recognition.
Your smile blossomed without thinking.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you said softly. “You’ve been busy this morning.”
“I made a lot today,” she declared seriously, as if it were an official report. Pointing at the pages scattered across the table.
“Can I see?” You crouched down beside her without hesitation, and her face lit up in excitement.
She tugged the coloring book toward you like it was treasure, flipping page after page with intense focus. Uneven sunflowers, cats that she claimed were dancing, and bright scribbles of color carefully contained inside her world of lines.
“This one is my favorite,” Minsoo said, tapping a page with exaggerated pride.
“It’s really good! You picked the perfect colors.”
“That’s because I’m good at art.” She beamed, giggling at herself.
You laughed softly, letting her continue explaining each page like she was presenting an art gallery.
She had called you Mimi since the first time she met you, a mispronunciation of jangmi (rose in korean) after you first bought a few dozen roses, and it had stuck without either of you correcting it. At this point, it didn’t feel like a nickname, it was simply who you were to her.
Behind you, the shop shifted with quiet movement and rustling sounds from the backroom.
“You’re early today.” Mingyu’s voice came from the back, low and familiar. You straightened slightly, still crouched beside Minsoo.
“I always am on Saturdays,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “Morning rounds.”
He appeared a moment later, sleeves slightly rolled, hair still soft with sleep in a way he hadn’t fully shaken off yet. He looked tired, not dramatically, just in the way a father would.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m good, you?” you replied.
“Same. Mostly.”
You tilted your head slightly. “What do you have for me today?”
He exhaled lightly, already moving toward the cooler that he always prepared flowers for you each Saturday morning.
“Daisies came in fresh this morning, and..” he hesitated, glancing at a small bucket near the side. “These tulips are almost at the end of their peak, but they’ve still got a few good days left. I can give them to you.”
“They’ll love those,” you said. “Especially Ms.Han. She likes simple things.”
That made him smile faintly as he pulled the bundles out, and took them to the counter. Mingyu started wrapping them carefully, pulling out the paper bags designed for easy carrying, just something meant for walking a few blocks without trouble.
You turned back to Minsoo, still crouched. She was now watching you instead of her coloring book.
“Your pictures are really pretty,” you told her again, after looking them over for a second time.
“I know,” she said matter of factly, and that made you let out a cackle.
“Very confident.”
“I learned from my dad,” she said.
“Hey!” Mingyu called from behind the counter, not even looking up.
Minsoo ignored him completely, tugging gently at the hem of your dress instead.
“Mimi,” she said, softer now. You leaned closer immediately, giving her your undivided attention.
“Hmm?”
She motioned for you to bend down further. When you did, she carefully slid something behind your ear. A small daisy. You blinked, surprised, as she flashed her cheeky grin.
“It matches your dress,” she said proudly.
You straightened slowly, fingers instinctively brushing the flower.
“Oh, does it?”
She nodded seriously. You smiled, softer this time.
“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever met.” And without thinking, you gently pinched her cheek.
Minsoo giggled, unbothered and delighted.
Mingyu looked over just in time, a quiet grin forming at the corner of his mouth as he tied off the last of the flowers.
For a moment, the shop felt like something more than a shop. Just life, happening neatly in small pieces.
Then his phone rang. The ringer cut through the warmth of the shop instantly. He froze for half a second before answering.
“Yeah?”
You didn’t hear the full conversation at first. Just the change in his voice, how it turned less soft. Whatever he heard made his expression tighten, his shoulders tensing from the conversation.
“What?”
He went quiet for a moment as he listened.
“..Okay.”
Another pause.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He ended the call and exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair. His jaw was tightening as he processed the conversation.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently.
He hesitated, like he was already trying to rearrange the situation in his head before saying it out loud.
“My delivery driver, Chan, said the van tire blew out. And the spare’s apparently unusable.”
You frowned slightly.
“Oh no!”
“He’s delivering a wedding order,” he continued. “A big one, planned to arrive at noon. I need to fix it or it won’t make it on time.”
Silence settled for a second. Then he added, quieter as he registered his situation.
“And I don’t have anyone to watch Minsoo.”
Minsoo looked up at the mention of her name, sensing nothing but tension she didn’t fully understand. Mingyu looked between you and her, eyebrows scrunching in thought.
You didn’t even hesitate to offer help.
“I can take her with me for a few hours.”
His eyes snapped to you immediately.
“No, I- it’s fine, I’ll figure something out. I don’t want to trouble you.”
You shook your head lightly.
“You’re not troubling me at all, Mingyu.”
His expression stayed composed, but something quieter moved through it. Guilt, maybe. The kind that came from spending years trying to be everything himself and suddenly having someone offer to lighten the weight.
“I mean it,” you added. “You’ve been basically supplying half the nursing home’s flower budget for years because you refuse to let me pay properly.” A faint exhale left him, almost a laugh but not quite.
“It’s not the same.”
“It is the same,” you said simply. “And the residents will love her. She’ll probably make their entire week.”
Minsoo perked up at that.
“I will?”
You looked down at her.
“Absolutely.”
That was all it took, she smiled like it was already decided. Mingyu looked at her, then back at you. You could see it in him, not mistrust. Something quieter, like there was a threshold he didn’t cross often.
“I’ll come by as soon as I’m done to pick her up,” he said finally.
You nodded. “You don’t need to rush. Just do what you need to do.”
He still looked uncertain, but he nodded once.
“Okay.”
You turned toward Minsoo.
“Hey, girlie,” you said, Minsoo looked up instantly. “Are you ready to hang out with me and some Halmoni’s today while your dad takes care of something important?”
“I want to,” she said quickly. “I want to go.”
You smiled at her enthusiasm and glanced back at Mingyu.
“She’ll have a blast,” you said quietly.
He exhaled, then gave a small nod, the kind that meant he had accepted something before fully feeling ready for it.
“Okay,” he said again. “Thank you.”
He handed you the wrapped flower bags carefully. You adjusted them in your hands, and then took a glance down at the little girl.
“Do you want to bring your coloring book?”
Minsoo shook her head immediately.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m going to make the Halmoni’s tell me stories all day.”
A short laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Mingyu chuckled too, shaking his head slightly.
“That sounds about right,” he muttered.
You stood, adjusting the bag straps in your hands. The three of you moved toward the door almost naturally now. Like this had already happened before, like it would happen again.
Mingyu followed, locking the front door behind the three of you. Outside, the morning had shifted slightly, a little brighter and a little louder.
“Thank you again,” he said.
You nodded once.
“No problem.”
Minsoo waved as if she was leaving for something much more important than a morning errand. And just like that, the routine broke open into something else entirely.
The garden path leading up to the nursing home was always quieter than it should’ve been.
Even on Saturdays, even when the sun was already warm enough to promise heat later, there was a softness to the walk, stone tiles slightly uneven with age, flower beds carefully maintained but never overly perfect.
Minsoo walked ahead of you like she already belonged there.
“Those are hydrangeas,” she said suddenly, pointing with certainty.
You glanced over. “That’s right.”
“And those are.. um..” She squinted at the next bed. “Pansies?”
“Good job,” you said, smiling. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”
At that, she straightened a little taller, as if she’d just received an official award. She skipped once, then twice, staying close enough to you that her hand almost brushed yours but never quite needed to hold on.
The front entrance came into view,wide glass doors, reception desk just inside, the soft hum of controlled quiet. You stepped in first and felt the air change immediately. Cooler, and faintly floral from yesterday’s arrangements still lingering in corners after being discarded.
A staff member looked up from the desk and smiled politely. “Good morning y/n! You got new deliveries?”
“Yes,” you said, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder. “Mini arrangements for the common rooms and individual rooms.”
Her eyes flicked past you. “And who’s this little friend?”
You glanced down at Minsoo. “This is Miss Minsoo.”
Minsoo waved immediately, bright and unbothered.
“Hello!”
The staff member laughed softly. “Hi, Minsoo.”
Minsoo tilted her head, suddenly very serious. “Where are the halmonis?”
The woman blinked once, then smiled wider, clearly caught off guard.
“The residents?”
Minsoo nodded quickly. “Yes. We brought flowers.”
That earned a quiet giggle from both you and the morning receptionist.
“They’re in the social hall,” she said, pointing down the corridor. “That way.”
Minsoo didn’t wait another second. “Can I have one?” she asked you immediately, pointing at the flower bags. You didn’t hesitate, pulling out one of the smaller bouquets and placing it carefully in her hands.
“Just one,” you said. “Be gentle.”
“I will,” she promised, already turning on her heel. And then she ran, not far, just fast enough to feel like excitement rather than chaos.
The social hall opened up into soft light and scattered voices. A group of elderly women were already seated near the windows, hands folded, mid conversation when Minsoo appeared in their line of sight like she had always been part of the room.
“Hello!” she announced proudly.
Heads turned, and then, soft laughter, cooing sounds, the kind of warmth that filled spaces before words even mattered.
“Oh my goodness…”
“Who is this little peach?”
Minsoo didn’t slow down. She walked right up to the first woman and carefully handed her a flower from the bouquet.
“For you,” she said.
“Oh thank you, sweetheart,” the woman said, already smiling like her entire morning had shifted.
Across the room, you started setting down your bags at the table where staff had placed empty vases that were ready for you like always. Hands moving automatically to unwrap, trim, fill, and arrange. But your attention kept drifting back to Minsoo who was already moving to the next person.
Another flower. Another smile. Another laugh.
“Are you visiting today?” one of the women asked her.
“I am!” Minsoo said proudly. “My dad owns a flower shop. I came with Mimi.”
At that, a few heads turned in your direction. A quiet understanding that Mimi was their y/n. You smiled politely from across the room, shaking your head lightly as you kept arranging stems.
A kitchen staff member walking past you murmured, “She’s adorable.”
“She is,” you agreed softly.
Minsoo, meanwhile, was fully in her element. The older women were eating it up, leaning forward, asking her questions, letting her chatter fill the space between them.
“Do you go to school?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like flowers?”
“Yes. But I like stories more.”
That got many laughs.
Ms.Han, who you recognized immediately, leaned back in her chair, watching her closely.
“And who is Mimi to you?” she asked gently.
Minsoo didn’t even hesitate.
“She’s my dad’s friend,” she said, like it was obvious. “She always comes to get flowers for you all.”
Ms.Lee, seated beside her, smiled warmly. “That’s very kind of her.”
Minsoo leaned in suddenly, like she had something very important to share.
“I have a secret.”
The room quieted slightly in playful anticipation. You didn’t look over but you listened more closely without meaning to.
Ms. Lee leaned down slightly. “A secret?”
Minsoo nodded. Then, very loudly, not whispering at all she confessed.
“I always wondered what it would be like if Mimi lived with me and my dad.”
Your hands paused mid arrangement. Just for a second, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for you to digest the words. Across the room, Ms. Lee’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh… is that so?”
Minsoo nodded again, completely sincere.
Ms.Lee gently patted her head. “Mimi is a very kind person.” Minsoo smiled like that was confirmation of something she already believed.
“Yeah,” she said quietly now. “She takes care of people here. So I think she would be good at home too.”
You looked down at the vase in your hands, carefully placing stems into water you suddenly didn’t need to think about. Ms. Lee glanced up toward you, and mouthed, She’s lovely.
You gave a small, grateful smile back.
On the far side of the room, Ms. Han caught your eye and winked once, slow and deliberate. You exhaled a quiet laugh through your nose, shaking your head as you went back to arranging flowers. Soon, more residents began noticing the small burst of energy in the room.
“Who is that little one?”
“Come here, sweetheart!”
Minsoo didn’t hesitate. She moved from table to table like she had a schedule only she knew, handing out flowers, accepting compliments, laughing like she’d always been part of their mornings.
One of the older men even leaned over and slipped her a wrapped sweet, and she accepted it like a collector receiving treasure.
You made a mental note, we are absolutely doing a pat down before leaving.
Time blurred after that. The flower arrangements were finished one room at a time while Minsoo rotated between games, stories, snacks, and attention like she was keeping the entire building entertained on instinct alone.
Eventually, the noise softened after a handful of hours. When you finally looked up properly, you spotted her curled into Ms. Han’s side on a loveseat near the corner of the social hall. Minsoo was asleep, one arm still loosely holding onto a folded napkin like she hadn’t fully decided to let go of the world yet. Ms.Han looked down at her with a fond expression, and then over to you.
“She’s a lively one,” she murmured.
You smiled as you walked over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind Minsoo’s ear.
“She is,” you agreed softly. You then made your way back toward the front desk, checklist in hand, filling in final notes. The afternoon receptionist, Hana, glanced up at your presence.
“She’s quite the kid.”
“She is,” you agreed. “Her father raised a very special young lady.”
The moment stretched quietly around you until the front entrance opened again. And somehow, the room felt different before you even turned around. Something warm and familiar, causing you to know who it was before you looked.
Mingyu stepped inside, white undershirt instead of his button up from this morning, the bottom just above the hem slightly wrinkled, jeans unchanged, boots still dusted faintly from earlier. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d run his hand through it too many times in heat and stress. He looked like someone who had been holding the entire day together by force.
The receptionist made a quiet sound beside you. “..Damn.”
You shot her a look and Hana cleared her throat quickly. “Oh! is that..?”
You nodded once to her before she could finish.
Mingyu lifted a hand in greeting as he continued walking in, eyes immediately finding you.
“Hey,” he said, voice tired but steady.
You smiled. “Hey.”
Behind you, Hana leaned in slightly before excusing herself entirely too quickly, whispering as she passed, “Get him, girl.” You rolled your eyes so hard it almost became a full circle. By the time you turned back, Mingyu was standing in front of you.
“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he said immediately. “Everything that could go wrong today, did.”
“It’s okay,” you said gently. “Minsoo had the best time. The residents are going to be talking about her for weeks.”
He let out a small laugh, tension loosening just slightly in his shoulders. “That sounds like her.” Then his expression shifted, searching for her.
“Where is she?”
You tilted your head toward the social hall.
“In the corner.”
He followed your gaze, and softened instantly. There she was, curled in Ms.Han’s lap, completely asleep, small and peaceful in a way that made the entire room look quieter just by existing in it.
Mingyu exhaled. “She looks so peaceful.”
“She does,” you agreed.
He nodded once, like he was already preparing to go over.
“I’ll wake her and-”
“Let her sleep a little longer,” you said. The words made Mingyu pause for a second, not because he minded. If anything, the opposite. He’d just spent so many years being the only one thinking ahead for Minsoo that hearing someone else do it so naturally caught somewhere deep in his chest.
You glanced toward the sleeping girl again, “She’s had a big day. She’s only been out for like twenty minutes. And she ran around a lot today.”
He looked at you for a moment, visibly caught off guard by the gentle certainty in your voice. Then his attention shifted back to Minsoo. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from running around all afternoon, one hand tucked beneath her face while Ms.Han carefully held her steady beside her as she read from her book.
Mingyu stood there silently for a second. Taking in the fact that she was cared for here, the fact that someone else had noticed she was overtired before he had to say it out loud himself. Something softened behind his expression, as if a weight was lifted off him.
“Okay,” he murmured finally. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the room like he suddenly didn’t know where to put himself. Then, awkwardly, “do you.. want to show me around while she sleeps?”
A small smile formed on your face. “Yeah,” you said. “Okay.”
And just like that, the day kept going. The nursing home was quieter once you stepped away from the social hall. Not silent, never silent with these residents, but softened. The distant sound of a television somewhere down the corridor, the squeak of cart wheels against polished floors, and someone laughing two rooms over.
Mingyu followed beside you at an easy pace, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his jeans now that the stress of the morning had finally eased off his shoulders.
You pointed down one hallway, “this wing is mostly independent residents,” you explained. “Most of them can still get around fine on their own, they just like having community around.”
Mingyu nodded quietly, taking everything in carefully. You showed him the small library tucked near the corner first, then the recreation room lined with puzzles, shelves of board games, and old records stacked neatly beside a vintage player someone’s family had donated years ago.
“We do movie nights too,” you added. “And karaoke, which sounds cute until Mr.Park starts singing trot music at full volume.”
That earned a laugh out of him. “I feel like Minsoo would love that.”
“She absolutely would.”
He smiled at that as you both continued down the hall.
“There’s art therapy twice a week,” you said, gesturing toward another room filled with watercolor paintings and clay pieces left drying on shelves. “And gardening when the weather’s nice.”
“They stay really active here.”
“We try,” you replied softly. “A lot of people think nursing homes are where life stops. But honestly..” You shrugged lightly. “Most of them still just want to laugh and gossip and complain about bad food like everyone else.”
That made him grin again. You noticed it more now, the way his face softened when he smiled fully. Less guarded, making him look younger and not so much a single dad bearing all the weight.
Eventually, the two of you stepped through the back doors leading into the center garden. Warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the stone paths. The courtyard sat enclosed in the middle of the building, surrounded by flower beds, trimmed hedges, and climbing ivy that curled around white trellises. A fountain bubbled quietly nearby, Mingyu let out a small breath as he looked around.
“This is beautiful.”
You smiled faintly, sitting down on one of the benches beneath the shade.
“The gardeners here are amazing,” you said. “The residents enjoy it when they can get their hands in the soil. Though I think they get more of a kick out of supervising and criticizing.”
He laughed under his breath as he sat beside you.
“I can believe that.”
Neither of you said anything for a while. The fountain bubbled quietly nearby while birds chirped overhead. Then you glanced toward him. “So how did you end up owning a flower shop?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard. You saw it immediately, the pause. Mingyu didn’t look uncomfortable, just as if he went far away somewhere for a moment. His eyes drifted toward the flower beds ahead before he answered quietly.
“It was my late wife’s.”
Your expression softened immediately. “Oh.” You glanced down briefly. “I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head once. “It’s okay.”
His voice gentled after a second. “It’s been five years.” A faint exhale left him as he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “I think it’s supposed to get easier to talk about the longer time passes.”
You sat with his words for a second, because you knew what he was trying to say.
“Five years isn’t that long.” His eyes shifted toward you as you continued carefully. “And grief doesn’t really get easier.” Your fingers folded together loosely in your lap. “You just.. learn how to coexist with it better.”
Silence settled between you again, but not heavy silence. The kind where words actually landed. Mingyu stared at you for a moment longer than necessary, like he was turning your words over carefully in his head, really listening. Then he looked back out at the garden.
“She worked really hard for that shop,” he admitted quietly. “Before Minsoo was born, before-” he swallowed lightly. “Everything.” His hands rubbed together once absentmindedly. “After she passed, I didn’t know what else to do. Keeping it open just felt right. Like maybe, if I kept it going, part of her stayed alive too.”
Your chest tightened softly at that. “That’s lovely,” you said honestly, as he glanced at you again. “You’re doing something special,” you added.
The look he gave you afterward lingered. His expression softened in a way that felt almost unguarded for the first time since you’d met him. Like your words had touched something tender he usually kept tucked away behind smiles and routines and responsibility.
For a moment, he just looked at you, and something quiet passed between the two of you in the garden silence. Neither of you looked away.
Then, almost like he caught himself there too long, he cleared his throat lightly and shifted the attention back toward you.
“What about you?” You blinked once. “Why a nursing home?”
The smile that spread across your face caught him off guard completely. It wasn’t small or restrained, it reached your eyes immediately, warming your whole expression until you looked lighter somehow. And for a second, Mingyu couldn’t do anything except look at you.
Because he realized then how rarely he’d seen someone speak about their life with that kind of genuine love. Something in his chest tightened unexpectedly as he watched you.
“My halmoni,” you said simply. He stayed quiet immediately, giving you space without interrupting. You looked out toward the fountain as you spoke. “I wasn’t much older than Minsoo when my mom passed away.”
Mingyu’s expression softened.
“It was just me and her before she got sick,” you continued. “My dad was never really in the picture.” A small laugh escaped you then, light and unashamed. “Honestly, my mom didn’t even know who he was.” You smiled faintly to yourself. “She had a very adventurous youth.”
That earned a quiet chuckle from him, not because it was funny exactly, but because of how gently you carried the memory.
“My halmoni raised me after that,” you said. “And then I lost her too when I was nineteen.”
Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just listened, really listened.
“I didn’t know anything about adulthood, I didn’t know how bills worked. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I definitely didn’t have money for school.” You leaned back slightly against the bench. “So I worked retail. Waitressed. Sometimes both at the same time.”
He frowned faintly and you noticed.
“I was okay,” you assured him gently. “Tired, but okay.” Then your smile softened again. “I kept the house though. My halmoni’s house.”
Mingyu watched you carefully as you spoke, completely absorbed now.
“One day after work I was walking around because I didn’t want to go home yet.” You pointed vaguely toward the building behind you. “And I ended up on this street. I saw this place and I don’t even know why, but I walked inside.” His eyes stayed fixed on you. “The first thing I saw was a group of older ladies arguing over cards,” you said, grinning now. “Like seriously arguing.”
That made him laugh softly.
“And they reminded me so much of my halmoni. So I asked if they were hiring.” You shrugged lightly. “And I’ve been here ever since.”
“How long?”
“Almost eight years now.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“I worked my way up,” you continued. “Part-time manager now. The pay’s good enough that I’m comfortable.” Then your voice softened. “But honestly, the residents are what make me feel rich.”
Mingyu felt his breath catch slightly at that. You didn’t even realize the effect your words had on him.
“They fill a space in my heart they probably don’t even realize exists,” you admitted quietly. “Taking care of them kind of helped heal me too.”
He stared at you in complete awe. Because until today, you’d just been..y/n, mimi, the woman who came in for flowers every Saturday. The familiar smile across the counter. The soft dresses and gentle hands arranging bouquets.
He had never realized how much strength lived inside you. How much softness had survived despite everything.
“You’re really strong,” he said quietly, your eyes met him again. “And brave.”
You smiled faintly, reaching over without thinking to pat his hand gently where it rested on the bench between you.
“Life isn’t fair to most people,” you said softly. The warmth of your hand lingered even after you pulled away. “But I think people become strong in different ways because of what they survive.”
Your eyes drifted back toward the building. “You raised a wonderful little girl, and one day she’s going to become an amazing young woman.”
That made him grin immediately.
“Hopefully one that stops stealing flowers from my inventory.”
You laughed. “She gets that from you.”
“Absolutely not.”
The two of you laughed together softly beneath the shade of the garden trees, the heaviness of the earlier conversation settling into something gentler now.
Eventually, Mingyu glanced toward the doors.
“I should probably wake her up,” he said reluctantly. “Otherwise she won’t sleep tonight.”
You nodded as you both stood.
When you walked back inside, the social hall had grown quieter again. Ms.Han was still sitting in the loveseat, one hand holding a book while Minsoo slept tucked against her side. You paused near the front desk to finish checking a few forms while Mingyu approached carefully.
Ms.Han looked up first. “Well,” she whispered dramatically, “are you the father of this delightful little girl?”
Mingyu grinned immediately.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ms Han smiled knowingly before gently tapping Minsoo’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart.”
Minsoo stirred slowly, blinking awake before immediately spotting her father.
“Daddy!”
She slid down off the loveseat and wrapped herself around him instantly. Mingyu caught her easily, kissing the top of her head.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yes.”
“That much?”
“Yes!”
He laughed quietly before setting her down.
“Why don’t you go thank Mimi for watching you today?”
“Okay!”
And just like that, she darted off again. Mingyu chuckled softly under his breath.
Ms.Han watched him carefully for a moment before leaning slightly closer. “You know who else is delightful?”
Mingyu glanced over instinctively.
“Who?”
Ms.Han pointed subtly toward you across the room. You were crouched slightly to Minsoo’s level, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear while she animatedly explained something with her hands.
Ms.Han smiled knowingly. “That girl has a kind soul,” she said quietly. “And she clearly adores that little peach.”
Mingyu’s gaze lingered on you, longer than he realized.
“If you don’t scoop her up,” Ms.Han continued, “someone else eventually will.”
Something unfamiliar fluttered through his chest as he watched you. Warm enough to loosen something tight inside him, uneven enough to make him aware of every beat of his own heart. And strangely youthful in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. It caught him off guard realizing how long it had been since he’d felt something this simple. This nervous. This quietly exciting. The thought almost made him laugh at himself, but the smile that spread across his face came anyway.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ms.Han patted his arm like she already knew everything. He waved goodbye to her before walking over toward you and Minsoo.
“Ready to go?” he asked gently.
Minsoo nodded quickly. You stood back up slowly to look at Mingyu
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Really.”
“You’re welcome. Anytime,” you replied warmly.
His smile softened at that. Then he took Minsoo’s hand and started toward the exit. They’d only gotten a few steps away before you suddenly called out:
“Oh, and Mingyu?” He turned. “Make sure you do a pat down later. She collected a concerning amount of candy today.”
His eyebrows lifted and then Mingyu burst out laughing immediately. Before Minsoo could escape, he scooped her up into his arms.
“What are you hiding in your pockets?” he asked, shaking her lightly.
Minsoo squealed in betrayal.
“Nothing!”
“You’re suspiciously defensive.”
You laughed softly from the doorway, watching the two of them disappear down the hall together.
The apartment was quiet by the time Mingyu finally got Minsoo home.
Not late enough for exhaustion to fully settle in, but enough that the day had begun catching up to both of them.
Minsoo had fallen asleep in the truck halfway home, one hand still shoved suspiciously into the pocket of her little cardigan despite the amount of candy he’d already confiscated. He carried her upstairs carefully. She stirred slightly against his shoulder when he pushed open the apartment door, mumbling something incoherent before immediately settling again.
Mingyu smiled faintly to himself. “Long day, huh?”
No response.
He tucked her into bed after changing her into pajamas she barely woke up for, smoothing her hair back from her forehead once she finally settled properly beneath the blankets.
For a second, he just stood there. Watching her breathe, watching how peaceful she looked after spending the entire day laughing.
“Can I go with Mimi again sometime?” Minsoo asked half asleep.
Mingyu blinked. Minsoo’s eyes were still closed, barely conscious, but the question still landed square in his chest.
“You like her that much?” he asked quietly. Minsoo nodded against the pillow.
“She feels nice.”
And that, for some reason, was the thing that unraveled him. Not because it was dramatic. Not because it meant too much too soon, but because he understood exactly what she meant.
You did feel nice.
Warm, safe, easy to be around in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until today.
“We can ask her later.”
He looked down at his daughter for another long second before quietly turning off the lamp and stepping out of her room. The apartment suddenly felt too still afterward.
He washed dishes he didn’t need to wash, reorganized receipts already organized, trimmed stems in the kitchen sink from flowers he’d brought home earlier. Anything to keep his hands busy. But every thought circled back to you.
The way you crouched to Minsoo’s level every time she spoke. The way you listened when people talked. The way you spoke about grief like it was something to carry instead of conquer.
And worse, the way sitting beside you in that garden had felt natural. That terrified him more than he wanted to admit. Because five years was enough time for routines to harden, enough time to become someone who survived instead of someone who hoped.
And yet tonight, for the first time in years, he caught himself imagining what it would feel like to see someone more often. To want someone there and the guilt hit almost immediately after.
His late wife’s laugh still lived in parts of the apartment. In Minsoo’s face and in the shop. Some days he still reached for memories before reality caught up. So why did it feel like his chest tightened now over another woman smiling at him in a garden?
He leaned both hands against the kitchen counter and exhaled slowly.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. But even then, he couldn’t make himself regret the feeling entirely.
By Wednesday afternoon, he still hadn’t stopped thinking about you. Which was exactly how he found himself standing in the shop carefully wrapping flowers that were very obviously not for the nursing home.
Minsoo leaned over the counter dramatically. “Those are prettier than the old lady flowers.”
Mingyu snorted softly.
“Don’t call them old lady flowers.”
“But they are.”
“They’re arrangement flowers.”
“They’re old lady flowers.”
He sighed in defeat. Minsoo peered at the bouquet again, soft pink peonies, cream ranunculus and tiny white filler blossoms tucked carefully between them.
“Do you like her, Dad?” Minsoo asked innocently.
Mingyu nearly dropped the ribbon.
“Minsoo..”
“You made the fancy wrapping.”
“..Go put your shoes on.”
Minsoo gasped loudly.
“You do.”
“Minsoo.”
She ran away laughing before he could say anything else.
When the front desk called your name later that afternoon, you looked up from paperwork with mild confusion.
“I have visitors?” you repeated.
Hana grinned knowingly. “You’ll wanna see this.”
You frowned slightly as you walked toward the front entrance, and then immediately slowed.
Mingyu stood near the doorway holding flowers. Real flowers, wrapped neatly in pale paper. Minsoo stood beside him, swinging a pastry box proudly in both hands. The sight caught you off guard enough that you actually stopped walking for a second.
Minsoo spotted you first.
“Mimi!”
Your face softened immediately.
“Well hi,” you laughed quietly. “What are you two doing here?”
“We came to say thank you properly,” Mingyu said.
There was something slightly awkward about the way he stood there now. Less composed than usual. Almost nervous, and somehow that made your chest warm unexpectedly.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly.
“I know.”
He held the bouquet out toward you.
“These are for you.”
You blinked. For a second, you genuinely didn’t move. Your eyes dropped to the flowers slowly like you were trying to process the fact they were actually yours.
Not delivering flowers. Not nursing home flowers.Not flowers you were carrying for someone else.
Yours.
Mingyu noticed your hesitation almost immediately, and his stomach dropped a little.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”
“No,” you interrupted just as fast. Your eyes snapped back up to his. “You didn’t.”
His expression softened slightly, though uncertainty still lingered. You looked back down at the bouquet again, almost shy now.
“It’s just.. no one’s ever given me flowers before.”” A small laugh escaped you.
That visibly stunned him.
“What?”
You smiled awkwardly.
“I know, it sounds kind of sad when you say it out loud.”
“It’s not sad,” he said immediately.
And somehow he sounded almost offended on your behalf. You laughed softly at that.
“It’s really sweet,” you reassured him gently. “Thank you.” Your fingers brushed carefully over one of the peonies. “They’re beautiful.” Then you looked back up at him with genuine curiosity.
“How did you know I liked peonies?”
Before Mingyu could answer, Minsoo blurted out the answer. “Ms. Han!”
You burst into laughter instantly. Mingyu laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Traitor,” he muttered toward his daughter.
“She told me your favorite flowers when I asked what hers and everyone else's were.”
Your expression softened impossibly at that, and for a second, Mingyu forgot entirely what guilt felt like. Because the look on your face.. warm, touched, genuinely happy, felt worth every confusing feeling sitting in his chest.
The weeks after Minsoo’s first visit to the nursing home settled into something none of you had exactly planned for. And yet somehow, it became routine faster than expected.
By the second Saturday, the residents were already asking where she was before you’d even made it through the front doors. By the third, staff had started setting aside snacks specifically for her. And by the fourth, Minsoo practically acted like she paid rent there.
“You’re late,” Ms. Han scolded dramatically one Saturday morning when Minsoo burst into the social hall ten minutes behind schedule.
Minsoo gasped. “I had to finish homework!”
The entire room laughed.
At this point, she had become the nursing home’s unofficial grandchild. Everyone watched after her. The nurses kept juice boxes behind the desk for her. Residents saved crossword puzzles for her to “help” with. The activities coordinator started pulling an extra chair into art classes before Minsoo even arrived. And Minsoo loved every second of it.
She played cards with the older residents like she’d known them her entire life. Painted messy watercolor flowers during activity hour. Collected stories from anyone willing to tell them. Sometimes you’d catch her curled up beside someone on a couch listening so intently it made your chest ache.
And somewhere along the way, the nursing home became another home for her too. Which, unexpectedly, changed things for Mingyu as well.
At first, he’d been hesitant to leave her there regularly. You saw it in the way he lingered during drop offs. The way he double checked his phone. The way he apologized constantly for “imposing.”
But slowly, little by little, he relaxed. He learned what it felt like to let other people help. To trust that Minsoo was safe even when he wasn’t the one directly watching her. And because of that, his world slowly expanded too.
The shop ran easier on weekends now. Orders got done faster. He didn’t have to split himself between parenting and work every second of the day. So in return, he started showing up at the nursing home more often too.
At first it was small things, fresh flowers for the front desk, potted herbs for the garden beds. Advice for the groundskeepers after noticing diseased leaves on one of the climbing roses. Then eventually, one evening after closing the shop early, he stayed to help the gardeners replant sections of the courtyard.
And after that? It just continued.
The residents adored him almost immediately, mostly because he listened to them. Even when Ms.Lee insisted the roses outside her unit needed “more emotional support.”
“She means fertilizer,” you translated once.
“I know what she means, I just think she’s very intense about these roses,” Mingyu whispered back. Ms.Lee heard him anyway.
“I heard that!”
Meanwhile, something quieter had started happening inside you too.
You noticed it in strange moments. Like when Minsoo grabbed your hand automatically crossing the parking lot. Or when she fell asleep against your shoulder during movie afternoons. Or when Mingyu showed up after work carrying dirt smudged gardening gloves and smiled at you first before anyone else.
Sometimes, briefly, you caught yourself imagining things you immediately tried to push away.
What dinner at their apartment might look like. What it would feel like hearing Minsoo running through a home every day instead of just weekends. What it might be like standing beside Mingyu in ordinary moments that had nothing to do with flowers or nursing homes.
The thoughts always startled you afterward, not because they were unwelcome, but because they felt dangerous. Too close to wanting something, and wanting things had never exactly guaranteed keeping them. So you tucked those thoughts away carefully every time they surfaced.
Until one Saturday evening, the sun was beginning to lower by the time your shift ended, the nursing home settling into its softer nighttime rhythm.
You stepped outside along the garden path, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder, then stopped. Mingyu was beside his truck near the curb, loading gardening tools into the bed. Your face brightened immediately.
“I didn’t know you came by today.”
He glanced up at the sound of your voice, a smile growing. The sight still did something strange to your chest every single time.
“Ms.Lee cornered me,” he explained, shutting the tailgate lightly. “Apparently the roses outside her window weren’t sufficient.”
You laughed instantly.
“She’s very passionate about her flowers.”
“She told me they looked emotionally neglected.”
“That sounds exactly like her.”
Mingyu shook his head with a quiet grin. You glanced around instinctively looking for your number one helper.
“Where’s Minsoo?” That earned a snort from him.
“She begged my friend Wonwoo to let her stay over this weekend.”
You smiled. “A sleepover?”
“She’s only interested because he told her earlier this week over a facetime call he bought the new Nintendo Switch.”
Your eyebrows lifted immediately. “Oh, so she’s a businesswoman. Strictly transactional”
“Exactly.”
You both laughed softly together, and then the conversation faded. Not awkward silence, just the simple quietness you both had begun to stand in together at times.
Evening air drifted between you, and for the first time in a while, there was no Minsoo filling the space between your conversations. No residents, no errands, and no flower deliveries. Just you and him standing beneath the fading light.
Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck once, then again. You noticed immediately he suddenly looked nervous.
“Are you..” He cleared his throat. “Are you doing anything tonight?”
Your eyes flicked toward him fully now. He stumbled forward before you could even answer.
“I mean, if you’re free.” Another awkward breath. “You absolutely don’t have to if you’re tired or busy or just don’t want to, I just thought maybe..”
A realization settled over you slowly. Oh. He was asking you out. And somehow, seeing someone as naturally confident as Mingyu visibly panic made warmth bloom instantly in your chest. You smiled softly before he could spiral any further.
“I’m free.” He stopped talking immediately. “And dinner sounds nice.”
For a second, he just stared at you. Then relief spread across his face so openly it almost made you laugh.
“Okay,” he said quickly. “Okay. Good.”
His smile widened after. Real, bright and boyish in a way you hadn’t seen before. He moved before he could overthink it, opening the passenger door of his truck for you.
You climbed in, still smiling to yourself as he shut the door carefully behind you.
Then he walked around the back of the truck toward the driver’s side. Halfway there, hidden briefly from your view, he let out a relieved exhale and grinned helplessly to himself before climbing into the driver's seat.
🌧 Movie night postponed because husband duties came first ♡
The apartment smelled like ramen broth and fresh laundry by the time you got back.
Rainwater dripped from the ends of your hoodie onto the wooden floor in tiny puddles, grocery bag hanging weakly from your wrist as you nudged the front door shut with your foot.
“Baby?”
The living room lights were dim—only the yellow lamp near the couch left on—and the soft sound of a drama rerun played from the TV. For a second, everything felt warm and perfect.
Then Lee Heeseung looked up from the couch.
And froze.
“…Why are you soaked?”
You blinked at him innocently. “It was barely raining when I left.”
He stared at you in disbelief while you stood there dripping onto the floor holding chips and microwave popcorn like a guilty raccoon.
“Barely raining?” he repeated slowly. “You look like you swam home.”
You snorted, toeing your shoes off. “Okay, dramatic.”
“Come here.”
There was no room to argue with the tone he used—soft, tired, husband-coded in the most unfair way possible.
Heeseung had only gotten back from tour two days ago. Two months overseas, endless flights, interviews, concerts, rehearsals. You’d missed him so badly it physically hurt sometimes. So tonight was supposed to be simple: movies, snacks, cuddling until one of you passed out.
Instead, you’d nearly caught hypothermia over gummy bears.
“You didn’t have to go out,” he mumbled while taking the grocery bag from your hands. “I would’ve ordered something.”
“But movie snacks are important.”
“You’re important.”
Your chest did that stupid fluttering thing it always did around him.
He sighed once he noticed you shivering. “Go shower before you get sick.”
“You coming with me?”
That finally made him smile.
“Obviously.”
—
The bathroom mirror fogged up almost immediately.
The shower was warm enough to melt the chill from your skin, and Heeseung kept laughing quietly every time you complained about how cold your hands were against his waist.
“You’re like a little ice cube.”
“You married me.”
“Worst financial decision of my life.”
You gasped dramatically while he grinned into your wet hair, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before rinsing shampoo from your hair carefully like he had all the time in the world.
Domesticity looked unfairly good on him.
Not idol Heeseung.
Not performer Heeseung.
Just your husband in gray sweatpants, damp hair falling into sleepy eyes while helping you wash conditioner out because “you’ll miss spots if you’re half asleep.”
And honestly?
Maybe you were.
—
By the time you finished showering, the rain outside had softened into a quiet drizzle against the windows.
“Sit.”
You obeyed immediately, settling onto the floor between his knees while he sat on the couch behind you with a towel draped over your head.
The TV menu glowed untouched.
Movie still unselected.
“Honestly,” he started, rubbing your hair gently with the towel, “what if you got sick?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You literally came home looking frozen.”
“It was romantic.”
“It was irresponsible.”
You twisted around to defend yourself, only for him to lightly tap your forehead with two fingers.
“Stay still.”
You laughed quietly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t start.”
His hands were warm as he continued drying your hair, fingers occasionally combing through damp strands to untangle them. The entire apartment felt soft around the edges—lamp light, rain sounds, the familiar scent of his body wash lingering in the air.
You melted further back against him.
Missed this.
Missed him.
Tour seasons were always hard. Video calls weren’t enough. Neither were texts or blurry airport selfies at 3 a.m. Nothing compared to this—to sitting between his knees while he fussed over you like you were something precious.
“You got quiet,” he murmured.
“Mhm.”
Another gentle pass of the towel.
“You tired?”
You hummed again, eyes growing heavier by the second.
Heeseung smiled to himself when your head tipped backward against his thigh.
“Movie didn’t even start yet,” he whispered.
No response.
He paused.
Looked down.
Your breathing had evened out completely, lips slightly parted as sleep finally claimed you right there on the living room floor.
For a second, he just stared.
Then his expression softened into something unbearably fond.
“Aigoo,” he murmured quietly.
He brushed damp hair away from your face carefully, thumb tracing lightly over your temple.
All that effort for movie snacks.
And now you were asleep before opening them.
He laughed under his breath, reaching for the blanket draped over the couch and wrapping it around your shoulders before leaning down to press the softest kiss against your forehead.
“Next time,” he whispered, eyes lingering on your sleeping face, “we’re ordering delivery.”
seungcheol's hand curls around your own as he tugs it over to him with no resistance, leaving you to try and type one-handed at your laptop for the moment. you don't ask questions (seungcheol has always been the kind to surprise you with little things like this), but you do look over to see that he's sporting his own matching ring to the one he's sliding onto one of your fingers. he looks up at you, hair hanging in his eyes, and grins before pressing his lips against the ring.
"it reminded me of you, so i got it." he lets go of your hand, and you hold it up to survey the ring. the pattern does seem like something you'd like, and this is far from the first pair of rings the two of you have bought for one another, so it's a perfect fit. "do you like it?"
"it's pretty," you hum, and your hand cups his jaw. "not as pretty as you, but pretty."
he just scrunches his nose in response, smiling as best as he can when you squish his face a little bit more. seungcheol frees himself easily enough, leaning over just to press a lingering kiss against the side of your face before he gets back up to go put away the rest of his little shopping haul. he'll tell you about the time he spent with friends once you're done with your work.
but you wait until he gets a few steps away to call out, "you don't love me enough to kiss me right?"
all it takes is the sound of his thundering steps for you to know you've got him, hook, line, and sinker. he leans over your chair to kiss you properly, and you feel the way he smiles against your lips before pulling away again with that damn twinkle in his eyes. "hi," he says softly. "i love you."
he's too easy sometimes to tease. you just smile, blowing him a kiss as he walks away. "love you, too, silly."
Drunk!Reader with Heeseung please please please I'm begging on my knees please please please please the jay and sunghoon ver were soooooo good I need a heeseung ver please I'm begging pleaseeeeeee
oh to come home drunk to hee </3
warnings: mentions of alcohol, established relationship, use of petnames, kissing, reader tries to escalate but— keyword: tries
heeseung hears the soft click of the door and immediately sits up on the couch, phone abandoned on the coffee table. it’s a little past 2 a.m. and he’s been waiting, half-worried, half-amused because he knew tonight was going to end exactly like this.
you stumble in, cheeks flushed pink, eyes glassy and sparkling under the hallway light. your heels are dangling from one hand, hair a cute mess, and the moment you spot him your whole face lights up like he hung the moon.
“hee!!” you squeal, voice too loud for the quiet dorm. you drop your shoes with a clatter and make a beeline for him, swaying adorably. “missed you so so much, baby.”
he stands up just in time to catch you as you crash into his chest. his arms wrap around you instantly, steady and warm, one hand rubbing your back while the other cradles the back of your head.
“hi, princess,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “having fun without me?”
you nod against his shirt, giggling into the fabric. “so much fun… but it’s better with you. everything’s better with you.” you tilt your head up, eyes wide and hazy, lips puckered. “kiss?”
heeseung smiles, soft and fond, and gives you a gentle peck. you chase his mouth for more, but he pulls back just enough, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“let’s get you some water first, yeah? come on, sweetheart.”
you whine dramatically but let him guide you to the kitchen, arms wrapped around his waist like a koala. every few steps you nuzzle into his side and mumble how warm he is, how nice he smells, how you love his shoulders.
heeseung keeps one arm securely around you while he fills a glass with cold water. he makes you drink it slowly, holding the glass to your lips, the other hand stroking your hair.
“good girl,” he praises softly when you finish half of it. you beam at the words, cheeks flushing darker.
“your good girl?” you ask, voice syrupy and sweet.
“always mine,” he answers without hesitation, kissing your forehead. “even when you’re drunk and wobbly.”
you giggle again, the sound bright and bubbly. suddenly your hands are roaming — sliding under his shirt, tracing his stomach, then up to his chest. “you’re so pretty, heeseung. like… unfairly pretty. it’s rude.”
he catches your wandering hands gently, bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “and you’re very drunk, baby. let’s get you changed and into bed.”
you pout but don’t fight him as he walks you to the bedroom. he helps you out of your tight dress, replacing it with one of his big soft t-shirts. his hands are careful the whole time — respectful, loving, only touching to take care of you. when you sway again he steadies you by the waist, murmuring, “easy, princess. i’ve got you.”
once you’re in his shirt you feel bold. you push him lightly until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sits down. then you climb straight into his lap, straddling him, arms looped around his neck.
“i want kisses,” you demand, but it comes out more like a needy mumble. “real ones. the spinning-head kind.”
heeseung laughs under his breath, the sound low and warm. his hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking gentle circles.
“if your head spins more you’re going to regret this tomorrow when you’re hungover and embarrassed.”
“won’t,” you insist, leaning in until your noses touch. “love you too much to be embarrassed.”
his eyes soften impossibly. he cups your face with both hands and finally gives you what you want — slow, deep kisses that taste like the strawberry soju still on your tongue. you sigh happily into his mouth, melting against him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.
every time you pull back to breathe you giggle, forehead resting against his. heeseung keeps kissing you anyway — little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your chin. loud kisses that make you laugh even harder.
“my silly drunk girl,” he whispers between kisses, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “so cute when you’re like this.”
you bury your face in his neck, pressing lazy open-mouthed kisses there. “love you, hee. like… a lot. more than the stars. more than my favorite snacks.”
“i love you more,” he answers easily, rubbing your back in slow soothing strokes. “even when you wake up tomorrow and complain that the room is spinning and your head hurts. i’ll still love you when i bring you soup and painkillers and cuddle you all day.”
you hum happily, nuzzling closer. the neediness is slowly fading into sleepy affection. your hips shift in his lap once, more out of restlessness than anything, but heeseung just holds you tighter, grounding you.
“no more moving, baby. time to sleep.”
“but i like sitting here,” you mumble, already half gone, voice muffled against his skin. “you’re warm… and safe… and mine.”
heeseung’s heart does something stupid in his chest. he lies back slowly, keeping you on top of him, one hand cradling your head against his shoulder while the other continues rubbing your back.
“yeah, baby. i’m yours.” he presses one last kiss to your temple. “always.”
you fall asleep like that — sprawled on his chest, breathing soft and even, his t-shirt riding up your thighs. heeseung stays awake a little longer, just watching you, fingers tracing lazy hearts on your back.
“sleep well, my love,” he whispers into the dark. “i’ll be right here when you wake up.”
synopsis: in which your new roommate is stupidly hot, fucks a different girl almost every other night, and the walls between your rooms are painfully thin. now you’re stuck listening to heeseung ruin someone else while slowly losing your mind… and your sanity.
genre/cw: roommate au, fuckboy!heeseung, heavy sexual tension, slow burn, smut, angst, mutual masturbation, voyeurism (accidental), dirty talk, possessiveness, jealousy, multiple smut scenes, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, marking, slight corruption kink, heeseung is a massive tease, reader is sexually frustrated, strong language, minors dni.
a/n: hii loves <3 this fic took over my brain in the best way possible. the tension was too good to keep it short so here we are. thank you for waiting and i really hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡
Now playing -
♪ One Of The Girls — The Weeknd, Jennie, Lily-Rose Depp
♪ Heaven — Julia Michaels
♪ Slow Down — Chase Atlantic
The apartment smelled like stale beer, cheap cologne, and regret.
It clung to the walls.
To the couch.
To the cracked kitchen counter littered with empty cans and takeout boxes that had been sitting there long enough to become part of the furniture.
You stood in the doorway of your bedroom with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, fingers digging into your sleeves while your roommate stumbled through the apartment like a ghost haunting his own bad decisions.
“Fuck,” Minho muttered, kicking an empty soju bottle across the floor.
It slammed against the wall with a sharp clatter that made you flinch. “Where’s my phone…”
It was 2:47 a.m.
Again.
He laughed at absolutely nothing, swaying slightly as he checked under couch cushions and inside cabinets as if his phone had magically teleported into the kitchen sink.
You closed your eyes for a second.
Four nights in a row.
Four nights of drunken strangers crowding the living room.
Four nights of loud music vibrating through the walls.
Four nights of Minho getting too close when he talked to you, his breath heavy with alcohol while he leaned against your bedroom doorframe saying things that made your stomach twist.
You’d started locking your door every night.
Started sleeping with headphones in.
Started memorizing the quickest route from your room to the apartment exit just in case. And maybe that sounded dramatic, but fear had a way of making everything feel sharp around the edges.
You couldn’t do this anymore.
The next morning, you called Jake while speed-walking to work, coffee sloshing dangerously in your cup.
“Dude,” you said before he could even say hello, “I need a new place. Like immediately.”
Jake snorted. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious. My roommate is a drunk disaster and I genuinely think I’m one bad night away from becoming a true crime documentary.”
That got his attention.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem. I keep waiting for something to happen.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then-
“Actually…” Jake dragged the word out thoughtfully. “I think I know someone.” You nearly cried from relief right there on the sidewalk.
“My friend Heeseung’s roommate moved out recently. Moved in with his girlfriend or something. He’s looking for someone to take the spare room.”
“Is it affordable?”
“Shockingly.”
“Is it clean?”
“Very.”
“Does he murder people?”
Jake laughed. “Not that I know of.”
“Perfect. Send me the address.”
“Wait,” Jake said quickly, “there’s something you should probably know first—”
“Jake, I love you,” you interrupted. “You’re a lifesaver.” And then you hung up before he could finish.
The apartment building was only twelve minutes away from your office.
Twelve.
You almost wanted to kiss the sidewalk.
The building itself was modern and quiet-looking, all clean windows and soft lighting in the lobby. The kind of place where people probably recycled properly and didn’t blast EDM at three in the morning.
Already an upgrade.
You stood outside apartment 407, suddenly aware of your heartbeat.
Then you rang the bell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. And your brain stopped functioning entirely.
Oh.
Oh no.
Jake had failed to mention that his friend looked like that. Tall enough that you had to tilt your head slightly upward. Broad shoulders filling out a black t-shirt that looked soft enough to ruin lives. Dark hair falling messily over his forehead like he’d pushed his fingers through it one too many times.
Sharp eyes.
Really sharp eyes. The kind that lingered.
“You’re Jake’s friend?”
His voice was low and rough around the edges, like he’d just woken up.
You swallowed.
“Y-yeah.”
Smooth. Very smooth.
“I’m here about the room.”
For a second, he simply looked at you. Not in a rude way.
Just… quietly observant. Then he stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The apartment was nicer than you expected.
Warm lighting.
Clean counters.
A gray couch facing a large TV.
Plants near the windows that somehow looked alive, which meant someone here was capable of responsibility. Probably not you.
“Kitchen’s yours whenever,” Heeseung said as you walked further inside. “Bathroom cabinet’s split down the middle. And the room’s this way.”
You followed him down the hallway, hyperaware of how close he was.
The room itself wasn’t huge, but it was perfect, Enough space for your bed and desk.
A decent closet. Big window. Natural light.
Heeseung leaned against the doorframe while you looked around.
“It’s not anything fancy,” he said. “But it’s decent.”
You turned toward him immediately. “I’ll take it.”
One eyebrow lifted slightly. “You don’t want to think about it first?”
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
“Alright then.”
You signed the papers that same evening.
Heeseung explained the basics while you filled things out at the kitchen counter.
Rent due at the beginning of the month.
No smoking inside.
Take your shoes off near the entrance because apparently the downstairs neighbor complained about footsteps once and never emotionally recovered from it.
Simple. Easy. Normal.
Before you left, Heeseung glanced at his phone and sighed quietly.
“I won’t be home tomorrow,” he said. “Work thing. So you can move in without me getting in the way.”
“That’s actually perfect.” He nodded once. Then his gaze flicked toward you again briefly, unreadable.
“See you tomorrow.”
—
Moving day felt like breathing properly for the first time in months. You unpacked everything slowly, taking your time decorating your room exactly how you wanted. String lights. Soft blankets. Your favorite books stacked neatly beside the bed.
By evening, your room finally looked like yours.
After a long shower, you changed into oversized sleep clothes and nearly melted into relief when you crawled into bed.
No yelling. No music. No drunk strangers.
You were halfway to your bedroom door after grabbing water from the kitchen when the front door suddenly opened.
You froze.
Heeseung walked inside.
But he wasn’t alone.
A girl was wrapped around him before the door had even fully shut, kissing him like she’d been starving for it. Her hands tangled in his hair while his gripped her waist hard enough to pull a gasp from her mouth.
“Oh my god,” she breathed against his lips. Heeseung laughed softly — low and dangerous.
Your face immediately burned. You should leave.
Instead, your feet stayed rooted to the floor for two horrifying seconds while Heeseung backed her against the wall and kissed her again, slower this time.
His hand disappeared under her shirt. She made a sound that went straight through you.
Then his eyes lifted.
And met yours.
Everything stopped.
For half a second, neither of you moved.
The girl was still clinging to him, too distracted to notice. You felt heat crawl violently up your neck.
“Sorry,” you blurted out.
You practically fled down the hallway and locked yourself in your bedroom like your life depended on it.
What the actual fuck. What the fuck was that?
Maybe he didn’t even see you properly. Maybe—
A muffled moan echoed through the wall. Your eyes widened. Oh, you had to be kidding.
You threw yourself into bed and pulled a pillow over your head.
It did absolutely nothing. Every sound slipped through them effortlessly. The couch creaking rhythmically. Soft gasps. His voice — lower now, rough enough that it curled strangely in your stomach.
“Yeah?” you heard faintly. “That feel good?” You nearly died on the spot.
You shoved your earbuds in so aggressively one almost fell out.
You tried to sleep.
You really did.
But the walls were thin.
Extremely thin that You could hear everything. Her breathy moans.
His deep, husky groans.
The wet sounds.
This could not be your life.
And yet somehow, despite your embarrassment and horror and genuine desire to evaporate into dust—Your heart wouldn’t calm down.
—
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the kitchen while you stood half-awake beside the coffee machine. You were still mentally recovering from the previous night when the hallway door opened.
A gorgeous girl walked out.
Behind her came Heeseung.
Shirtless.
Fresh from the shower.
Your brain short-circuited for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Water still clung to his skin. His dark hair was damp, pushed loosely away from his forehead, and gray sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips.
You stared at your coffee like it had personally betrayed you.
“Text me later,” the girl said with a grin. Heeseung leaned down and kissed her lazily.
“Drive safe.” Then the door shut behind her.
Silence settled.
And slowly—Heeseung turned toward you.
There it was again. That stupidly attractive half-smile.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” you squeaked..
He walked toward the fridge completely unbothered by the fact that he looked like a problem specifically designed to ruin your peace.
“How was moving in yesterday?” he asked casually while grabbing a water bottle. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“It’s okay. I managed.”
“Good.” He twisted the bottle cap open, taking a long drink before glancing at you again.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you last night.”
You nearly inhaled your own tongue.
“I didn’t hear anything.” A pause. Then one corner of his mouth lifted slowly.
Like he knew you were lying.
“Right.” Heat flooded your face instantly.
Heeseung leaned against the counter across from you, arms crossing over his chest. “We should probably set some roommate rules.”
You nodded quickly.
He started listing them casually.
Laundry schedule. Cleaning rotation. No surprise guests for longer than a week.
Then you cleared your throat awkwardly.
“I’d also appreciate,” you said carefully, “if there weren’t drunk people screaming in the apartment at three a.m.”
His expression softened slightly.
“Fair enough.” You relaxed a little.
Then he added casually: “I do bring girls over pretty often, though.” Your spoon stopped moving.
“The walls are thin,” he continued, voice smooth. “So you might wanna invest in better headphones.”
The way he said it felt intentional.
Teasing.
Dangerously close to flirting.
You looked up despite yourself.
Big mistake.
Heeseung was already watching you.
Completely focused. Like he was waiting to see how you’d react.
“I’ll survive,” you said.
His smile deepened slowly.
“We’ll see.” The words followed you like a promise.
—
The apartment was quiet for most of the evening since you returned from work. You tried not to think about him while unpacking the last few boxes scattered around your room. Tried not to think about the way his wet hair had curled slightly at the ends this morning. It irritated you. Mostly because your body seemed determined to betray you every single time he walked into a room.
By midnight, you were buried under your blankets scrolling mindlessly through your phone, half-asleep already.
Then you heard the front door open.
Your stomach dropped instantly.
A girl laughed softly from the hallway. Heeseung said something too low for you to hear, followed by another laugh — quieter this time, more breathless.
Then came the sound of kissing. Your thumb froze against your screen. It was impossible not to hear.
The kind of kissing that sounded like they’d barely made it through the front door before losing patience completely. You squeezed your eyes shut. Ignore it.....Just ignore it.
A soft thud hit the wall outside your room, followed by a muffled gasp. “Fuck,” the girl whispered breathlessly.
Your heartbeat stumbled. You could practically picture it without meaning to — Heeseung pressing her against the hallway wall, one large hand on her waist while she tangled herself around him. His head tilted down. His mouth moving slow and filthy against hers.
“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he murmured. His voice traveled through the thin walls far too clearly. Heat pooled embarrassingly low in your stomach.
You threw your blanket over your head like that would somehow help.
It didn’t.
Their footsteps moved toward the living room. Then the couch creaked loudly. You stared at the ceiling in horror.
No way.
Not again.
A breathy moan slipped through the wall. Another...
Then his voice again, softer now — the kind of tone that made your skin prickle. Your entire body went rigid.
You should put your headphones in.
You should turn on music.
You should literally do anything except lie there listening.
Instead, you stayed perfectly still beneath your blankets, pulse racing harder with every sound that drifted down the hallway. The couch shifted rhythmically. The girl let out another broken moan. Every noise felt vivid enough to crawl beneath your skin.
And the worst part? Your body reacted before your brain could stop it. Heat spread slowly between your thighs. You pressed them together immediately, horrified.
No....
You were not getting turned on by your roommate having sex ten feet away from you.
Another sharp gasp echoed through the wall.
God.
The walls really were thin.
You buried your face into your pillow with a frustrated groan, trying desperately not to imagine his hands, his mouth, the way he probably looked hovering over someone with that same dark stare he always gave you. The sounds only continued..
By the time the apartment finally fell silent, your heart was still pounding hard enough to keep you awake for another hour.
—
The second night was somehow worse. Maybe because now you knew exactly what to expect. Or maybe because Heeseung seemed completely aware of the effect he had on people.
Including you.
Which was deeply unfortunate.
You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard the apartment door unlock around midnight. Steam still clung to your skin as you rubbed your towel through your damp hair. You wore nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties, too tired to bother finding actual sleep shorts yet.
Then laughter drifted into the apartment.
Female.
Oh my god...Again?
You took exactly one step toward your bedroom before the front door swung fully open.
And there he was.
Heeseung walked inside with a girl wrapped around him like she physically couldn’t stand being more than two inches away from him. Long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Sharp eyeliner. Tiny black dress hugging every curve of her body.
Wait - isn't that minjeong?
Heeseung barely managed to kick the door shut before kissing her. The girl gasped softly as he backed her against the wall, one hand gripping her waist while the other slid down her thigh.
“Missed you,” she whispered against his mouth.
Heeseung laughed quietly. “Yeah?” Then he lifted her leg around his hip effortlessly.
You nearly stopped breathing.
You should leave.
Instead, you stared. Mesmerized in the worst possible way. Heeseung’s head dipped toward her neck slowly, lips brushing her skin while she tilted her head back with a soft moan. Then he guided her toward his bedroom, fingers hooked around her thigh possessively as they disappeared behind the door.
Silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then—“Oh my god—” And then the real torture began.
Minjeong was loud. Shamelessly loud. The headboard hit the shared wall with a loud bang. Your eyes widened. You had to be cursed.
“Heeseung—”The moan echoed shamelessly through the apartment. You grabbed your pillow aggressively and screamed into it. It did nothing. Nothing could save you from this. The wet slap of skin. His low groans breaking occasionally into quiet curses that made your stomach tighten embarrassingly hard.
And his voice—God, his voice.
You physically felt your thighs press together. Your body betrayed you instantly. Heat spread lower and lower until your entire face burned with humiliation.
You hated this. Hated how easy it was to picture him. The broad shoulders. The messy black hair falling into his eyes. The silver necklace resting against tan skin while he hovered over someone else. Your breathing turned uneven. You shifted beneath your blankets restlessly, squeezing your eyes shut.
Ignore it.
Ignore it.
Ignore—A loud moan cut through the wall.
Without fully meaning to, your hand slipped slowly beneath the blanket. Just for relief. Just enough to stop feeling so painfully aware of your own body. Your fingers brushed between your thighs and you nearly choked. You were soaked.
Heat flooded your face instantly. “Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself.
You imagined those hands touching you instead. Imagined his voice in your ear instead of through the wall. Your fingers moved carefully at first, hesitant and embarrassed, but the sounds coming from his room made it impossible to think properly. The pace of the bed grew faster. Minjeong’s moans turned louder, more broken. Your body followed helplessly. Every sound pushed you closer to the edge.
You bit down hard on your lip to stay quiet, trembling beneath your blankets while pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach. Your orgasm hit hard enough to make your thighs shake. You buried your face into the pillow immediately to muffle the sound that escaped you, chest heaving while frustration and humiliation crashed together inside your ribs.
Because this was insane.
Actually insane.
You had known this man for less than a week. And somehow he was already ruining you without even touching you...
—
The next morning, you woke up determined to avoid him. Which should have been easy. Except fate clearly hated you. You shuffled into the kitchen quietly, hoping to grab coffee before escaping to work unnoticed. Instead, you nearly walked directly into Heeseung.
Your brain stopped functioning instantly. He stood near the stove shirtless, flipping toast lazily in a pair of gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips.
The silver Chrome Hearts necklace resting against his chest caught the morning light every time he moved. Your eyes lingered for one fatal second too long. Because his chest was unfair. Broad shoulders. Defined stomach. Tan skin scattered with faint red scratches that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Evidence of last night. Your face immediately heated.
“Morning,” he said casually. Like he hadn’t completely destroyed your sanity through a shared wall six hours ago.
“Morning,” you croaked. He glanced over his shoulder at you while reaching for a mug. And then—His eyes narrowed slightly. A slow smirk appeared.
Oh no.
“You look tired.” You nearly dropped your phone.
“I’m not.”
“Hm.” He sounded unconvinced. Very unconvinced. You moved quickly toward the coffee machine before he could say anything else. Unfortunately, Heeseung seemed to enjoy your suffering. A lot.
“Sleep okay?” he asked lightly.
“Yes.” Lie.
A soft laugh left him. You refused to turn around. The smell of toast drifted through the kitchen while silence stretched between you awkwardly.
Then Heeseung spoke again..
“By the way… you froze last night when I came in with Minjeong. Looked like you saw a ghost.” Your heart skipped.
You hesitated, then muttered, “I… used to know her. We made out once. A few years ago.”
Heeseung choked on his coffee. He set the mug down, staring at you with wide eyes. “You what?”
Your face burned instantly.
“It was years ago,” you muttered quickly. “At a party.” Heeseung was staring at you differently.
Not badly.
Worse. Interested. Something unreadable flickered behind his dark eyes as he set his mug down carefully.
“Wow,” he said softly. Heat crept slowly up your neck.
“You say that like it’s shocking.”
“I mean…” His mouth curved slightly. “Didn’t expect it.” You rolled your eyes immediately.
“What does that even mean?” His eyebrows lifted slowly.
“Wait… so you’re into girls?” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant even though your face was burning.
“Let's say I’m bisexual. It was three years ago. Not that deep.”
For a moment, Heeseung just looked at you, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. Then his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
“Woah… that’s hot. I didn’t know you were like that.” He stepped closer, voice dropping.
“Tell me… what did you two do?” he asked casually.
Your eyes widened.
“Oh my god.”
“What?” he said innocently.
“You’re such a pervert.” He laughed quietly. Deep.
“But now I’m curious.”
“You do realize that’s weird, right?”
“Probably.” He stepped even closer. Close enough that you could smell his body wash again — clean and expensive underneath the faint trace of last night lingering on his skin. The necklace resting against his chest shifted slightly when he leaned against the counter beside you.
“But you look so straight the way you were staring at my abs earlier,” he murmured, thumb brushing your hip.
“Or was that my imagination?” Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. For a second, neither of you moved. Then you pulled away abruptly.
“I was not.”
“I could never be attracted to someone who changes girls every night,” you mumbled, grabbing your toast and heading for the door.
“You were.” His voice dropped lower.
“Pretty sure your eyes were glued right here.” He tapped lightly just below his ribs.
“That’s literally not true.”
“Hm.” His fingers brushed suddenly against your waist. Barely there. But enough to make your breath catch. The touch felt deliberate. Testing. Your stomach tightened violently. Heeseung noticed immediately. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Interesting.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“This.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Flirting.” His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You think I’m flirting with you?” The question made your chest tighten unexpectedly. Because suddenly you weren’t sure. You opened your mouth. Closed it again. And Heeseung smiled like he’d won something.
“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said softly. Your brain short-circuited. You stepped back so quickly you almost bumped into the counter.
“I could never like someone who changes girls every night,” you blurted out. The words hung awkwardly in the air. For a second, Heeseung just looked at you. Then he laughed. Low and amused. Not offended in the slightest.
“Cute,” he repeated. Your face burned hotter. You grabbed your toast aggressively before escaping the kitchen as fast as your dignity would allow.
The days blurred into a dangerous routine. You threw yourself into work at the advertising agency, designing campaigns late into the evening just to avoid being home when Heeseung returned. But no matter how late you stayed, you always came back to the same apartment. And almost every other night, he brought someone home. a new girl — different hair, different voice, same desperate moans that pierced straight through the thin walls. You started keeping earphones on your nightstand like a weapon, but more often than not, you found yourself abandoning them. Because the ache had become unbearable.
One particularly bad Friday night, after listening to Heeseung fuck a girl so thoroughly that she screamed his name loud enough to wake the neighbors, you couldn’t take it anymore.
You opened a new tab on your phone with trembling fingers and searched for “quiet vibrator.” Thirty minutes later, you were standing outside a 24-hour convenience store near the station, buying the discreet pink bullet vibrator with flushed cheeks and a racing heart.
When you got home, the apartment was finally quiet. Heeseung’s door was closed. You slipped into your room, locked the door, and pulled the small toy out of the packaging.
You felt ridiculous. Pathetic, even. But the frustration had been building for weeks.
You lay back on your bed, pulled your shorts down, and turned the vibrator on the lowest setting. The soft buzz filled the room. The moment it touched your clit, your back arched off the mattress.
“Fuck…” you whispered. You closed your eyes and let the fantasies take over. It was Heeseung’s hands instead of silicone. His long fingers. That necklace dangling above you as he hovered over your body. His low, raspy voice whispering filthy....You turned the speed higher. Your hips rolled against the toy, chasing the pleasure as you remembered every moan you’d heard through the wall — the way he groaned when he was close. Your free hand gripped the sheets as the pressure built fast and overwhelming. When you came, it hit you like a wave — thighs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, back bowing off the bed.
For a few blissful seconds, the frustration finally eased. But the relief never lasted long.
The next morning, you woke up late.You rushed into the kitchen, still half-asleep, hoping to grab something quick and leave.
Heeseung was already there, as usual.
Shirtless. His hair was damp, and there were fresh scratch marks on his shoulder.
“Morning,” he said casually, pouring himself coffee. His eyes flicked over you slowly. “You look… flushed. Rough night?”
Your heart skipped. “I’m fine.”
He stepped closer, setting his mug down. The scent of his body wash wrapped around you. He reached past you to grab a banana from the counter, deliberately brushing his bare arm against yours.
“You sure?” His voice dropped. “Because I could’ve sworn I heard something interesting last night.”
Your stomach dropped. Heeseung smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. He didn’t push further, but the knowing look in his eyes stayed with you all day.
From that night on, something shifted. Heeseung started getting louder. Deliberately louder.
One night, you heard him tell the girl he brought home, “Don’t hold back, baby. Let the whole apartment hear how good I’m fucking you.” The headboard slammed harder.
Heeseung’s groans were deeper, rougher, like he wanted you to hear every single sound. You hated how much it affected you. You used the vibrator almost every night now. Each time, the fantasies grew more vivid.
One evening, you came home exhausted from a long day at the agency. Heeseung wasn’t there yet. You took a long shower, then decided to relieve some stress before he came back with another girl. You were lying on your bed, completely naked, legs spread, vibrator pressed firmly against your clit on the highest setting. Your hips bucked desperately as you chased release.
“Heeseung…” you whimpered quietly, lost in the fantasy. “Fuck— please…” The pleasure built fast and intense. Your free hand pinched your nipple, back arching as the vibrator buzzed relentlessly against your clit. You were so close — right on the edge —The front door opened.
You froze for a moment. But it was too late to stop. Your orgasm crashed over you hard, a broken moan escaping despite your best efforts. You bit your pillow, body shaking violently as waves of pleasure rolled through you.
You didn’t hear Heeseung’s footsteps pause in the hallway. Or the way he stood there for a long moment, listening.
One morning you were searching for the vibrator that you lost because you were so comfortable playing with it in the couch last night since you were alone and when you heard the door open you fled to your room forgetting it. So you walked into the kitchen praying he’d already left.
No such luck. Heeseung was leaning against the counter as usual.
He was holding your pink vibrator. Twirling it between his long fingers with a dark, amused smirk.
Your soul left your body. when did he get that?
“Looking for this?” he asked casually, voice low and teasing. He held it up, eyes locked on yours. “Found it on the couch while I was looking for my charger. Interesting choice, princess.”
You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Heeseung stepped closer, backing you against the kitchen counter. The necklace swayed between you as he leaned in, breath warm against your ear.
“Been using this while listening to me fuck other girls?” His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Moaning my name like that last night… you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be, are you?” Your face burned with humiliation and arousal. You couldn’t speak. Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with something dangerous and hungry. The vibrator still dangled from his fingers like a taunt.
“So…” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“How long are we going to keep pretending?”
You stepped away from him and took the item from his hand and walked away without answering his questions. You can hear his chuckle behind you. You were so embarrassed.
The next few days passed in a haze of unbearable tension. Until one Thursday evening, everything changed. You came home from work earlier than usual, exhausted from a long client meeting. The moment you stepped inside, you froze. Heeseung was already home. He was sprawled on the couch in black sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, his necklace visible against his collarbones. His hair was messy, cheeks slightly flushed, and he looked… unwell.
“You’re home early,” you said, surprised. Heeseung glanced at you, voice raspy. “Caught a cold. Boss sent me home.” He coughed lightly, looking miserable but still unfairly attractive. You didn’t say anything. You simply went to the kitchen, rolled up your sleeves, and started cooking. Thirty minutes later, you placed a steaming bowl of warm chicken soup in front of him. Heeseung stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at you with genuine surprise.
“You made this… for me?” You shrugged, suddenly shy. “You look like shit. Eat.” He smiled — soft, almost boyish — and ate slowly while you sat across from him. For the first time, you two had a real conversation. He told you about his work at the studio, how stressful deadlines were. You told him about your annoying clients at the agency. The atmosphere felt strangely… domestic.
When he finished, he leaned back and murmured, “Thank you. That was really good.” You nodded, about to stand up when his next words stopped you cold.
“So…” Heeseung smirked, eyes darkening. “Why did you need a vibrator?” Your face exploded with heat.
“I— I don’t use it. It was just… there.” Heeseung laughed, low and amused. He stood up slowly and walked around the table until he was right in front of you.
“If you’re that horny or stressed,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “you can use me instead.”
The air thickened instantly. Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Heeseung…”
“Trust me,” he murmured, stepping closer until your back hit the counter. “I’m very good at relieving stress.”
Before you could respond, his hands were on you. One slid around your waist, gripping firmly. The other dipped into the waistband of your low-rise pants, long fingers slipping beneath your panties. You gasped as he found you already wet.
“Fuck… so soaked already,” he breathed against your ear, the Chrome Hearts necklace brushing your chest. “All this time listening to me… and you never said anything?” Two fingers circled your clit slowly, teasingly, before sliding down to your entrance. He pushed one finger inside you, then another, curling them perfectly against that spot that made your knees weak. You moaned softly, gripping his shoulders. Heeseung worked his fingers expertly — slow and deep at first, then faster, thumb pressing against your clit with every thrust. His mouth hovered near your neck, breath hot as he whispered filthy praises.
“You’re so tight around my fingers, princess.” Your hips rocked against his hand desperately. The pleasure built fast and overwhelming. When you finally came, clenching hard around his fingers, Heeseung watched your face the entire time, eyes dark with lust. He pulled his hand out slowly, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth and licking them clean.
“Goodnight,” he whispered with a smirk, then turned and walked into his room, leaving you trembling and empty against the counter.
You couldn’t sleep. An hour later, frustration and need burned through your body.You pulled out the vibrator again. You lay on your back, legs spread, and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you pressed it hard against your swollen clit. Your hips bucked immediately.
“Ah— fuck…” You started slow as usual, then faster, moaning freely as pleasure coursed through you. You were so lost in it that you didn’t hear the door open.
Heeseung stood in the doorway, eyes pitch black with hunger. “Don’t stop,” he said hoarsely. “Please… keep going. I just want to watch.”
You froze. He walked closer, watching every movement.
“Or…” he murmured, climbing onto the bed, “should I help you?” He took the vibrator from your hand, locked eyes with you, and pressed it back against your core. He turned it on high. The sudden intensity made you cry out. Heeseung leaned down and kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans while working the toy against you with perfect pressure. His tongue explored your mouth as he whispered between kisses:“I couldn’t sleep because of the sounds you were making… I was so fucking curious.” You were shaking, so close again.
“I’m— I’m close—” Right as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled the vibrator away.
You glared at him, frustrated and desperate. “Heeseung—”
He smirked, pushing his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free — thick, hard, and leaking at the tip.
“Not yet, princess.”
He teased your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit, coating himself in your wetness. You were practically begging. “Please…”
Heeseung finally pushed in. The stretch was intense. He sank into you slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, groaning deeply as your walls clenched around him.
“Fuck… so tight,” he hissed. Then he started moving. He fucked you hard and deep, hips snapping against yours with rhythm. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Heeseung’s necklace swung above you with every thrust as he gripped your thighs, spreading you wider.
“Look at me,” he growled, pounding into you relentlessly. You moaned his name like a prayer, nails digging into his back. Heeseung kissed you messily, biting your lip as he drove deeper, hitting that perfect spot over and over. When you finally came around him, clenching hard, Heeseung followed right after with a broken groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you.
The next morning felt like a slap to the face. Heeseung acted like nothing had happened. He moved around the kitchen with the same effortless confidence as always — When you walked in, he glanced at you with a casual smile, like he hadn’t spent the previous night buried deep inside you.
“Morning,” he said lightly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Want some?” You stood there frozen, heart squeezing painfully. What did you expect? He was a fuckboy. This was what fuckboys did. They fucked you senseless, made you feel wanted for a few hours, then acted like it was just another Tuesday. The realization hurt more than you wanted to admit.
You forced a small nod. “Yeah… thanks.” Heeseung handed you the mug without another word. No teasing. No lingering touches. No acknowledgment of the way you’d moaned his name just hours ago. You drank your coffee in silence, feeling cheap and stupid. Of course he doesn’t care. You’re just another girl who lives next door. The thought stung.
To your shock that evening, Heeseung brought another girl home. You heard the front door open, followed by giggles and sloppy kissing.
This time, it wasn’t just arousal you felt — it was pure anger. Jealousy burned hot in your chest as you lay in bed listening to him fuck her. Every moan, every creak of the bed, every “Fuck, Heeseung, you’re so good” felt like a personal insult. You hated how much it affected you. You hated yourself for caring.
So the next night, you decided you were done being pathetic. You went clubbing. You didn’t drink much — just two cocktails to take the edge off. You danced, flirted, and eventually left with a guy named Jihoon. He was tall, charming enough, and seemed genuinely interested.
You brought him back to the apartment.
When you walked through the door, Heeseung was already there, sitting on the couch in the dark, scrolling through his phone. His eyes snapped up when he saw you with another man. Shock, then something darker, flashed across his face.
You didn’t care.
You pulled Jihoon straight into your room and closed the door with a loud click. You made sure to be loud. You moaned exaggeratedly as Jihoon touched you, even though his hands were clumsy and he finished embarrassingly fast.
He didn’t make you cum. Not even close.
But you kept moaning anyway — loud, breathy, dramatic — making sure every single sound traveled through the thin walls.
Heeseung lost it.
A few minutes after Jihoon collapsed beside you, loud knocking echoed through your door. You quickly threw on a robe and opened it. Heeseung stood there, jaw clenched, eyes burning with barely contained fury.
“What the fuck are you trying to do?” he hissed, voice low.
You lifted your chin defiantly. “I’m just having a good time. Is that a problem?”
His eyes darkened. “You’re being too fucking noisy. And we both know that guy isn’t making you moan like that.”
You laughed bitterly. “How would you know?”
Heeseung stepped forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out into the hallway. He shut your door behind you, trapping you against the wall.
“Did he make you cum?” he asked, voice deadly quiet, eyes locked on yours.
You stayed silent.
He smirked, dangerous and knowing. “Exactly. See? I can make you cum with just my fingers.” Before you could respond, he kissed you — hard, possessive. His hands gripped your waist as he whispered against your lips, “Let that idiot sleep. Come enjoy yourself with me.”
He dragged you into his room. And started undressing...
Heeseung pushed his pants down, revealing his hard, throbbing cock, then lay back on the bed.
“Come here, princess. Ride me.”
You wanted to say no but you couldn't resist so you straddled him, grinding your soaked pussy along his length. The raw, hot contact made both of you hiss. Heeseung’s head fell back, eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck… don’t tease me like that,” he groaned.
You sank down slowly. He was so thick it burned in the best way. The moment you took all of him, you clenched hard around his cock. Heeseung whimpered — a broken, beautiful sound — his hands gripping your waist tightly. You started riding him desperately, tits bouncing with every movement. Heeseung stared like he was hypnotized, one hand holding your waist while the other squeezed your breast, thumb brushing your nipple. When your pace faltered from exhaustion, he thrust up hard, fucking you deep while you were pressed chest to chest.
“You kept moaning so loud because you wanted me to hear it, right?” he growled, hips snapping up relentlessly. “You wanted me to know how badly you needed my cock.”
You came hard around him, as pleasure ripped through you. Heeseung didn’t stop. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulled your ass up, and slammed back into you from behind.
His stamina was insane.
He fucked you like he was punishing you — deep, powerful thrusts that made your eyes roll back. You came again, burying your face in the pillow to muffle your screams as he gripped your ass and pounded into you. Only then did he finally let go, burying himself to the hilt as he came with a deep groan.
After you both caught your breath, Heeseung pulled you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.
“I hope we didn’t disturb your guest,” he said, smirking. You let out a tired laugh despite yourself.
Then his voice turned serious.
“I was waiting for you,” he admitted quietly. “I wanted to apologize for acting like nothing happened after we… you know. But when I saw you come home with that guy… I lost it.” He brushed your hair back, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“I don’t want anyone else hearing you moan.”
You looked up at him, heart racing, unsure what this meant for the two of you. But for tonight, you let yourself stay in his arms.
｡･ω･｡♡｡･ω･｡
The morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains. You woke up tangled in Heeseung’s sheets, his arm slung over your waist and his necklace cool against your bare back. He was still asleep, breathing steady, looking far too peaceful for someone who had ruined you multiple times last night.
A loud knock on the front door made you jolt.
Then another. Then a very confused voice:
“...Hello? Is anyone there?”
Your stomach dropped.
Jihoon.
The guy you had completely forgotten about in your room.
Heeseung stirred beside you, cracking one eye open. A lazy, mischievous smirk spread across his face the second he registered what was happening.
“Oh no,” he whispered, voice raspy with sleep and amusement. “You left your little toy in the other room.”
“Shut up,” you hissed, face burning as you scrambled for clothes. You threw on one of Heeseung’s shirts and rushed out, trying to fix your messy hair on the way.
When you opened the door to your bedroom, Jihoon was standing there awkwardly, fully dressed, looking equal parts confused and concerned.
“Hey… um,” he scratched the back of his neck.
“I woke up and you were gone. I thought maybe you got kidnapped or something.”
Behind you, Heeseung appeared in the hallway. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking entirely too satisfied.
Jihoon’s eyes flicked between you two. The pieces clicked slowly in his head.
“Oh,” he said, voice flat. “...Okay.”
You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
“I’m really sorry,” you said quickly. “Last night was… a lot. I didn’t mean to ditch you like that.”
Jihoon let out a weak laugh, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, no worries. I, uh… heard a lot. Through the wall but I thought it was just in my head. Turns out you guys are… very enthusiastic.”
Heeseung coughed to hide a laugh.
Jihoon gave you one last awkward nod. “I’ll just… see myself out. Nice meeting you. Both of you, I guess.”
The second the front door closed behind him, Heeseung burst out laughing, pulling you back against his chest.
“Poor guy,” he chuckled. “He came here thinking he was getting laid and ended up listening to me fuck his date all night.”
You groaned, hiding your face in his neck. “I’m never bringing anyone home again.”
“Good,” Heeseung murmured, voice dropping as his hands slid under your shirt. “Because the only person moaning in this apartment from now on is you. And I want to hear every single sound.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.
!? . . ★ 𝓣he 𝓕irst 𝓚ick — when the baby first moves inside the womb, turning an ordinary quiet moment into soft shock and the realization that they’re finally there
➹ enhypen hyungline x fem!reader ✦ cw: word count is 2k+ for everything i forgot the actual lol, just fluff ! lmk if i missed anything. not proofread, thank u for being patient ! pls reblog if u enjoyed 🫶
➹ SERIES MASTERLIST | Previous | Next
LEE HEESEUNG
Entering your second trimester with Heeseung as your husband wasn’t hard. Despite his busy schedule, you hardly ever really felt his absence. Even when he wasn’t physically there, he made sure he still was — FaceTime calls running in the background while you went about your day, his voice filling the quiet gaps between everything.
But when he could be with you?
He never left your side.
One of those days were today.
It was a random Tuesday. A lazy day for the both of you. Heeseung had taken a day off just because he didn't want to leave the bed — and now here you both were, watching Toy Story (as per his desperate request) for the nth time.
You had your head on his shoulder while one of his arms was around you, the other resting gently on your bump.
That was when you felt it. An unfamiliar feeling from underneath your skin. Ticklish.
"Sweetheart, stop it," you laughed lightly, tapping the hand resting on your stomach.
Heeseung looked at you strangely. "I didn't do anything."
Then it happened again.
This time it was stronger. Your stomach gave the faintest twitch beneath his palm and that strange fluttering feeling returned, making you inhale sharply.
"Wait," he murmured, immediately sitting up.
His full attention was on your bump now as he carefully flattened his hand against your growing stomach.
A second passed.
Then another tiny thump pressed against his palm. His eyes widened instantly.
"Was that-?"
You looked at him with the same disbelief, your hand quickly covering his. Before either of you could say anything else, another tiny kick landed against his hand.
Heeseung let out a startled laugh, somewhere between shocked and emotional. "Oh my God."
The movie kept playing forgotten in the background while he stared at your stomach like he'd just witnessed something impossible.
And maybe, to him, he had. Because just now, his son had made his presence known — physically.
The gentle swell of your stomach had already been proof that he was there, growing day by day, but this felt different. The tiny kick against his palm was the first real greeting from him. Like he was finally reaching back, reminding the both of you that he was real, alive, and getting closer to meeting you every single day.
Heeseung laughed again, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple before pulling you closer as carefully and tightly as he could, his body trembling slightly with excitement.
"I can't wait to meet him, baby," he whispered, unable to stop smiling. "You have no idea."
PARK JONGSEONG
Now that you were in your second trimester, Jay had become even more protective. There was always a hand on you — on your forearm, your waist, or your lower back — always steadying, always supporting. Even when you were only shifting positions on the couch, he’d come rushing out from wherever he is the moment he heard movement, worried you might be uncomfortable.
Just like now.
Jay was in the kitchen cooking sipo egg just because you had casually mentioned craving it earlier. Quail eggs, shrimp, mixed vegetables, and diced ham simmering in creamy white sauce filled the house with warmth. The only sounds were the occasional clatter of utensils from the kitchen and the random tiktok audios playing from your phone.
You had only meant to adjust your position slightly, one hand instinctively supporting the weight of your stomach so you wouldn’t disturb your husband while he cooked.
Then a strange fluttering sensation brushed against the inside of your stomach, followed by a gentle little tap beneath your skin.
You froze instantly.
Your hand moved to your bump on instinct, eyes lowering in confusion as you tried to process the unfamiliar, ticklish feeling.
"Darling?" the sound of cooking from the kitchen stopped instantly the second he heard you call him.
A few hurried footsteps later and he was already beside you on the couch, brows furrowed with concern as his eyes quickly scanned you over.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I think,” you whispered, still staring down at your stomach. “She just kicked.”
His expression shifted instantly.
“What?”
You slowly took his wrist and placed his hand over the spot where you had felt it, your own heartbeat suddenly speeding up from anticipation alone.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Jay stayed perfectly still beside you, his palm warm against your bump while he watched your face carefully. Then..
Thump.
A tiny little kick pressed against his hand.
Jay visibly froze, his eyes widened so much it almost made you laugh. He looked like a cat, like he always did.
“Baby,” he breathed out softly with a laugh.
Another flutter followed, gentler this time, but enough to make his lips part in complete disbelief. The tension in his shoulders melted almost instantly, replaced by something impossibly soft.
"Seoa.." he whispered, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the spot your baby girl just kicked onto.
Your husband looked at you with wide eyes and a smile that barely held itself together, his happiness spilling over in a way that felt almost contagious. You couldn’t help but laugh softly too, still a little stunned by what had just happened.
“Just a few more months, baby,” he whispered, leaning in to press a quick, gentle kiss to your lips. His hand stayed carefully on your bump like he didn’t want to miss a second of it. “Just a few more months, then she’ll be in our arms.”
SIM JAEYUN
Considering that you both still weren’t married, even though you were now pregnant with his child, Jake already acted like a husband — and you weren’t complaining. You knew it was the bare minimum, really. From the moment you saw the word pregnant on that test months ago on your bathroom sink, staring at it crying while life quietly shifted into something more serious, he had never once stepped back.
Jake came from a well-off family, but he insisted on making his own money. Still, both of you had accepted help from your families with gratitude when things got overwhelming. And slowly, he grew into it all — more grounded, more steady.
His PlayStation that used to be constantly on now collected dust in your shared bedroom, untouched for days at a time.
But there were still moments when your Jake came back.
Your Jakey.
The jolly, playful boyfriend who teased you too much, laughed too loudly, and made even ordinary days feel lighter. It didn’t happen as often anymore, but when it did, you were always reminded of why you fell in love with him in the first place.
And on days like this, you were grateful that version of him never really disappeared — just grew quieter, waiting for the right moments to come back.
One of those moments was today, apparently. Jake had his head resting comfortably on your lap, one arm draped lazily across your thighs as he scrolled through his phone. Every now and then, he’d tilt the screen up to show you a funny reel he stumbled across, waiting for your reaction before letting out a quiet laugh when you finally did.
“Ha.. so funny,” he said with a silent giggle, nudging your knee lightly.
“You laugh at everything,” you replied, smiling as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. It's gotten longer, you notice.
“Not true,” he argued, then immediately laughed again at another video.
The room was calm in that easy, familiar way — soft sunlight spilling through the curtains, the low hum of the day outside, and Jake’s presence grounding everything without him even trying.
You shifted slightly on the couch, adjusting your position to get more comfortable.
Then you felt a small flutter. You paused, hand instinctively moving to your stomach.
Jake noticed instantly, turning his phone off.
“What is it?” he asked, voice softer now.
You blinked, a little breath caught in your throat. “I think she just moved.”
That was all it took.
Jake was sitting up in an instant, phone forgotten as he carefully moved closer. “Wait, right now?”
You nodded, still focused on the strange, unfamiliar and new sensation.
“Can I?” he asked quietly, already placing his hand near your bump but waiting for your signal.
When you nodded again, he gently pressed his palm against your stomach. For a few seconds, nothing. Jake held his breath without realizing it.
Then.. another thump.
A small, definite kick. His entire face changed at once.
“No way,” he whispered, breaking into a grin that looked almost disbelieving. “That was her.”
Another soft movement followed, lighter this time, but enough to make him laugh under his breath in pure amazement.
He leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against your growing stomach, his voice dropping into something soft and almost awed.
“Hi,” he murmured. His breath tickling your stomach. “It’s me. Your cool dad. Your future favorite person. Me.”
You snorted quietly, brushing his hair back as he stayed there, completely still for a moment like he was trying to memorize everything about it. His smile was so wide you could almost feel it against your skin.
And just like that, the playful Jake from earlier was gone — replaced by someone quieter, softer, and completely in love with the life growing between you both.
PARK SUNGHOON
As you were having twins, it was already obvious your bump would be bigger than usual. Which meant everything came in pairs, and I'm not talking about just the babies.
The weight? Double. The discomfort? Double. And God, the back pain, it honestly felt like it had taken over your entire life some days.
So you weren’t surprised when Sunghoon doubled his efforts too.
Every morning, he would always wake up before you, quietly moving around the kitchen like it was second nature now. Breakfast in bed became a routine without fail — carefully prepared, carefully plated, carefully placed in front of you with a precision that felt almost overly serious for someone who used to skip meals himself.
He’d fluff the pillows behind your back first, adjusting them until you were sitting at just the right angle. Then he’d bring in a small foldable table, setting it up like it was the most important task of the day before placing your food down gently.
No eggs, of course. He remembered. You couldn’t even stand the smell anymore.
“Too close?” he’d always ask, even after adjusting everything five times already.
“It’s perfect,” you’d answer every time.
And still, he’d double-check.
There was something almost soft about how Sunghoon did it all — quiet, careful, intentional. Like if he paid enough attention to every small detail, he could take even a fraction of the discomfort away from you.
After setting everything up, he’d sit at the edge of the bed for a moment, just watching you eat, hand resting lightly on your leg like he needed to stay connected somehow.
And even then, his eyes would drift down to your stomach more often than not — like he was silently checking in with the two little lives growing inside you, making sure they were okay too.
Today was an exception. You had woken up earlier than usual, the house still wrapped in that early morning quiet. From the bedroom, you could already hear Sunghoon moving around in the kitchen — soft footsteps, the faint clink of utensils, the steady rhythm of someone who had already started his day for you.
With a small grunt, you sat up slowly, one hand instinctively supporting your lower back before you carefully swung your legs over the side of the bed. Every movement felt a little heavier now, a little more deliberate.
And just as you expected, Sunghoon was in the kitchen, focused as always. He didn’t notice you at first.
“Should I add a bit more..” he muttered to himself, before pausing mid-sentence.
Then he turned.
And immediately straightened.
“You’re up early,” he said, voice soft but already laced with concern. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I just woke up,” you replied, leaning lightly against the doorway.
That was all it took for him to abandon whatever he was doing.
Sunghoon walked over without hesitation, one hand instinctively going to your waist while the other guided you gently toward a chair. It wasn’t rushed — just careful, practiced.
He stayed behind you, both hands carefully slipping under your bump before lifting it just enough to ease the weight off your lower back. The relief made you exhale instantly, shoulders dropping as you leaned back into his chest.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Much better,” you answered softly, letting your head rest against him.
Sunghoon kept his hold steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world now — supporting you while you both talked casually about the morning. He asked how you slept, you asked what he was cooking, and for a moment it almost felt like any other quiet day.
Then it happened. A small thump.
You paused mid-sentence.
Sunghoon did too.
Another one followed, slightly stronger this time — distinct enough that there was no mistaking it. The air shifted immediately as the both of you froze.
His hands tightened ever so slightly under your bump, not out of fear, but out of sudden awareness — like he didn’t want to miss a single thing.
“Did you feel that?” you whispered, putting your own hands on top of his.
Sunghoon didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stayed perfectly still for a second longer, eyes lowered to your stomach as if waiting for confirmation. Then another thump, much stronger than before.
You let out a laugh immediately, the sensation catching you off guard again, ticklish and strange in a way that made your shoulders shake slightly.
Sunghoon finally exhaled, almost like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
“Yeah,” he said softly, a smile on his face.
But his gaze didn’t leave your stomach. His hands stayed right where they were under yours, steadying you, holding you up like it mattered more than anything else in that moment.
And then, quieter.
“My baby carrying my babies,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “What a life.”
You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back into him.
Sunghoon smiled against your skin, still holding you carefully, like he’d gotten used to supporting both you and them at the same time. More protective now, yes — but still him.
Still your quiet, teasing, slightly goofy husband who showed love in the most natural ways.
