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surprise?
pairing : boyfriend! yeosang x fem! reader
synopsis : You hear the surprise before you see it—his too-loud “whispers” giving everything away. But when you finally understand what he was trying to do, you realize it was never about getting it right.
genre : slice of life, romance, fluff, domestic au, comedy, wholesome, comfort, idiots in love
warnings : none
author’s note : i realised yunho’s bday is tmr and i have a fic for him so i shdnt have posted the angst fic… oh well ig yall can enjoy alot of yunhos 🤭💕
word count : 1.8k
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He’s bad at whispering.
Not in the endearing, barely-too-loud kind of way. Not the kind where someone leans in close and you feel their breath ghosting your ear, voice soft enough to miss if you aren’t paying attention.
No, Kang Yeosang is bad at whispering in a way that makes you question whether he skipped that entire developmental milestone as a child.
Right now, for example—
You’re sitting on the couch, curled up under a blanket, your phone dimmed low in your hands as the TV plays something you’re not really watching.
The apartment is quiet in that comfortable, late-evening way. The kind of quiet that settles into your bones after a long day, soft and forgiving.
For a moment, everything feels still.
But then—
“Okay, okay—be quiet—be quiet—”
You freeze. Your thumb hovers mid-scroll.
That’s Yeosang.
And he is not being quiet.
Not even a little.
The sound is coming from the kitchen, and you can practically picture him: brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressed together like he’s trying very hard to be serious—while failing spectacularly.
There’s a clatter. Something metallic hitting the floor.
You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Shh!” he hisses.
Loudly.
“So loud,” another voice whispers back—actual whisper this time, low and controlled.
You can’t quite make out who it is, but you can hear Yeosang’s response.
“I am whispering!”
You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing.
He is not whispering.
He is stage-whispering. Dramatically. Like he’s in a school play where subtlety doesn’t exist and everyone in the back row needs to hear him.
Another noise—this time something that sounds suspiciously like a cupboard door slamming shut.
“Ow—!”
“Be careful—!”
“I said be quiet!”
“You’re the one yelling!”
You bury your face into the blanket, shoulders starting to shake.
You shouldn’t laugh. You really shouldn’t.
Because he’s trying.
He’s clearly trying to do something.
And if you laugh now, you’ll ruin it.
So instead, you do what any reasonable person would do in this situation—
You pretend you hear nothing.
You shift slightly on the couch, angling your body just enough so it looks like you’re fully absorbed in your phone.
Your expression goes neutral, carefully uninterested, like you haven’t just heard your boyfriend loudly argue with someone about whispering.
Because if Yeosang is going through all this effort…
You’ll let him have it.
Even if he’s completely sabotaging himself.
There’s a pause in the kitchen.
A long one.
The kind that feels like the calm before something inevitably goes wrong.
“Is she still in the living room?”
You almost choke.
That was somehow louder than before.
A hushed reply follows, rushed and urgent.
“Yes—she’s literally right there—”
“Okay, okay—good.”
You can hear the deep inhale he takes.
The kind someone takes when they’re about to do something important.
Your heart does something small and unexpected in your chest.
Because suddenly, the clattering and whisper-fighting feels… softer.
Warmer. Like there’s intention behind it.
Like he’s nervous.
For you.
Footsteps follow.
Careful ones.
Each step is exaggerated, like he’s placing his feet down with the precision of someone trying not to set off a trap.
You can practically hear the way he’s concentrating, the way his entire body is probably tense with the effort of being “sneaky.”
It’s not working. At all.
You keep your gaze fixed on your phone.
One step. Another.
A pause.
You can feel him behind you now. Close enough that the air shifts, like his presence alone changes the space around you.
There’s a beat.
Silence.
“Surpri—”
It cuts off abruptly.
By a very undignified thud. A stumble.
You lose it.
Laughter spills out of you before you can stop it, bright and uncontrollable as you turn just in time to see him sprawled halfway between the kitchen and the couch, one hand braced against the floor, the other clutching something behind his back like he’s still trying to salvage whatever plan he had.
His hair is a mess.
His cheeks are flushed.
And his expression—
Somewhere between horror and disbelief.
For a moment, he just stares at you.
Then, slowly, he exhales.
“You heard everything, didn’t you.”
You grin, unable to help yourself. “Everything.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, groaning as he drops his forehead forward like the weight of his embarrassment is too much to carry.
“I was trying to be quiet,” he mutters.
“You were not,” you shoot back immediately. “You were narrating your every move.”
“I was whispering loudly.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is if you’re committed enough.”
You laugh again, softer this time, and something in his expression shifts.
The embarrassment lingers, but it’s gentler now—tempered by the way you’re looking at him, by the way you’re not teasing him too hard.
By the way you’re still here.
Still smiling.
He pushes himself up slowly, brushing his hands off on his pants like that’ll somehow erase the evidence of his very dramatic fall.
“Wait—don’t look—”
Too late.
You lean slightly, peeking past him into the kitchen.
And there it is.
A small cake sits on the counter.
It’s not perfect.
The frosting is uneven, slightly lopsided on one side. The writing is a little shaky, letters pressed too hard in some places and too light in others.
Your name is written across the top in careful, slightly messy icing.
Something in your chest tightens.
You look back at him, softer now. “You made that?”
He hesitates.
Then he scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away.
“I had help.”
From the kitchen, the same voice from earlier pipes up, “A lot of help.”
You glance over to see a familiar figure leaning against the counter—Wooyoung—arms crossed, clearly amused.
But Yeosang steps slightly to the side, blocking your view like he’s trying to keep the focus on this moment.
On you.
“I just thought…” He trails off, shoulders lifting in a small, almost shy shrug. “You’ve been stressed. And you said you missed home. So I—”
He gestures vaguely toward the cake.
“I wanted to do something.”
The words are simple.
But they land heavier than they should.
Because it’s not just the cake.
It’s the fact that he noticed.
That he remembered. That he tried.
Even if he’s terrible at whispering.
Even if he tripped over nothing and ruined the “surprise.”
Even if everything about it was messy and imperfect.
It’s him.
You stand slowly, crossing the small distance between you.
He tenses a little as you approach, like he’s bracing himself for teasing—for you to laugh again, to point out everything that went wrong.
Instead, you reach out and cup his face gently, your thumb brushing over the warmth of his cheek.
He blinks at you.
Caught off guard.
“Best surprise ever,” you murmur.
His lips part slightly. “Even though I ruined it?”
“You didn’t ruin it,” you say softly. “You just… gave me a preview.”
A quiet huff of laughter escapes him.
Then, after a beat, his shoulders relax.
“Next time,” he says, like he’s making a promise to himself more than to you, “I’ll be quieter.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Sure you will.”
He opens his mouth to argue—
Then pauses.
“…Okay, maybe not.”
You laugh, the sound lighter now, and take his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen.
He follows easily, fingers warm around yours, still talking—still a little too loud for the late hour, still completely incapable of being subtle.
And as you step into the kitchen, you realize something quietly, undeniably true.
You don’t want him to change.
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The cake is worse up close.
Not in a bad way—just in a way that makes it painfully obvious it wasn’t made by someone who does this often.
The frosting is uneven, thicker on one side, thinner on the other. The edges are a little messy, like someone tried to smooth them out and then gave up halfway through.
And the writing—
You lean in, squinting slightly.
“Is that supposed to be my name?”
Yeosang groans behind you. “Don’t look at it too closely.”
“It looks like you fought the icing bag and lost.”
“I did fight it,” he protests. “Do you know how hard that is? It kept… doing things.”
“Doing things,” you repeat.
“Yes. Unpredictable things.”
From the side, Wooyoung snorts.
“You mean you squeezed too hard and it exploded.”
Yeosang turns, offended. “I was under pressure!”
“You were decorating a cake, not defusing a bomb.”
“It felt like defusing a bomb!”
You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for a knife.
“It’s perfect,” you say anyway.
He watches you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out if you mean it.
You do.
Because perfection was never the point.
You cut a slice, the knife dragging slightly through the thick frosting before sinking into the soft cake beneath. It’s not the cleanest cut, but it holds together well enough.
You grab a fork, take a bite—
And pause.
Yeosang stiffens immediately. “What? Is it bad?”
You chew slowly. Considering.
“It’s…” You swallow. “…actually really good.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
From the side, Wooyoung mutters, “I told you the recipe would work.”
“I followed the recipe!” Yeosang insists.
“You skipped a step.”
“I improvised.”
“You forgot the step.”
“I adapted.”
You laugh again, taking another bite.
It’s sweet. A little too sweet, maybe—but warm, soft, and undeniably comforting.
Just like him.
You glance at him over your shoulder.
He’s watching you like your reaction matters more than anything else in the world.
Like this—this small, messy, imperfect moment—is everything.
Your chest tightens again.
“Hey,” you say softly.
He hums, stepping a little closer.
“Thank you.”
Something in his expression softens immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He smiles.
And it’s not the bright, teasing smile he usually gives you. Not the one that’s easy and playful and a little mischievous.
It’s quieter. Warmer.
The kind that feels like it belongs just to you.
“You’re welcome.”
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Later, when the kitchen is a mess of used bowls and smeared frosting, when the cake is half-eaten and the night has settled into something softer, calmer, you find him again.
He’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, his expression relaxed in a way that tells you he’s no longer thinking about the surprise he “ruined.”
You walk up to him quietly.
Carefully.
Trying, for once, to be the sneaky one.
You lean in close, lips near his ear.
And you whisper—
“Sangie.”
He jumps. Actually jumps.
His entire body jerks slightly, eyes widening as he turns to look at you.
“What—when did you—how did you—”
You grin.
“See? That’s how you whisper.”
He narrows his eyes at you.
“That was cheating.”
“It was skill.”
“It was unfair.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he says, then pauses. “…Okay, maybe a little.”
You laugh, and he watches you for a moment before shaking his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Next time,” he says, “I’ll get it right.”
You tilt your head.
“Next time, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you again.”
He huffs.
Then reaches out, pulling you gently closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels easy—natural—like it’s always been this way.
“You better,” he murmurs.
And even though it’s still not a whisper, it’s softer than before.
And it’s close enough.
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© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble
cuteeeeee asf
a safe space
pairing : boyfriend! yunho x fem! reader
synopsis : After a nightmare leaves you shaken, your boyfriend gently wakes you and holds you close, comforting you with soft words and warmth until you feel safe enough to fall asleep again.
genre : slice of life, romance, fluff, angst if you squint, comfort
warnings : none
author’s note : ik yall are waiting for part 2 of ‘who we were’ but im procrastinating 🙏here’s a short fluffy yuyu oneshot since and i quote ‘a girl needs her happy ending’ 🤓
word count : 0.9k
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The first thing Yunho notices is the way your breathing changes.
It’s not loud—just uneven, shaky, like your body forgot how to do it properly. He stirs beside you, still half-asleep, eyes barely open as he shifts under the blankets.
At first, he thinks you’re just moving in your sleep.
Then he hears it.
A small, broken whimper.
His eyes snap open.
“Hey… hey,” he murmurs immediately, pushing himself up on one elbow. His voice is soft, warm with sleep but laced with concern. “Baby?”
You don’t respond.
Your brows are furrowed, lips trembling slightly, hands clenched tight in the sheets like you’re holding onto something that isn’t there.
Another soft sound leaves you—this time closer to a sob.
Yunho’s heart drops.
“Hey, no, no…” he whispers, moving closer instantly. One hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You’re okay… you’re okay.”
You’re not waking up.
Your breathing gets worse, chest rising too fast, like you’re running from something even in your sleep.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He leans closer, voice a little firmer now—but still gentle, still so careful with you.
“Hey, it’s me. Wake up, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
His hand slides to your shoulder, giving you the softest shake.
“Come on, baby… wake up for me.”
Your eyes finally flutter open.
Disoriented. Wide. Scared.
For a second, you don’t recognize anything—not the room, not the bed, not even him.
You flinch, your breathing comes out sharp, like you’ve been pulled out of deep water.
“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” Yunho says immediately, sitting up fully now. He pulls you up with him without thinking, one arm wrapping securely around your shoulders, the other still cupping your face. “You’re okay. You’re here. You’re with me.”
You blink at him, still dazed.
“Yunho…?” your voice comes out small, shaky.
“Yeah,” he breathes, relief flooding his face instantly. “Yeah, I’m here.”
The moment it clicks, you recognize him. Your expression crumples.
You grab onto him like you’re afraid he might disappear.
And he lets you. No hesitation.
He pulls you into his chest fully, arms wrapping tight around you, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against your hair. “You’re okay. It was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream.”
Your breathing is still uneven, your fingers gripping onto his shirt, bunching the fabric like it’s the only thing grounding you.
“It felt so real…” you whisper, voice breaking.
“I know,” he says softly, rocking you gently without even realizing it. “I know it did.”
He doesn’t rush you.
Doesn’t tell you to calm down. Doesn’t brush it off.
He just holds you.
Steady. Warm. Safe.
His hand moves slowly up and down your back in soft, soothing strokes, the rhythm grounding, constant.
“You’re here,” he repeats quietly. “You’re in bed. With me. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
You press your face into his chest, listening to his heartbeat—slow, steady, real.
It helps. Even if it’s just a little.
“I was scared…” you admit.
“I know, baby,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You don’t have to be anymore.”
You stay like that for a while. Curled into him. Letting your breathing slowly match his. Every inhale steadier than the last.
After a bit, he shifts slightly, just enough to look at you.
His hand comes back to your face, brushing your hair away gently.
“Do you wanna tell me about it?” he asks softly.
You hesitate. Then shake your head.
He nods immediately.
“Okay. That’s okay.”
No pressure. No pushing.
Just understanding.
“Can I stay like this?” you mumble, still holding onto him.
He almost smiles—soft, fond, a little sleepy.
“You don’t even have to ask,” he murmurs.
He adjusts the blankets around both of you, pulling them up carefully so you’re warm, tucked in, secure.
Then he shifts so you’re more comfortable—your head resting against his chest, his arm wrapped snugly around you, holding you close.
One of his hands finds yours under the blanket, fingers lacing together.
He gives your hand a small squeeze.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly.
You hum softly, eyes already starting to feel heavy again.
“But what if it comes back…” you whisper.
His thumb brushes over your knuckles.
“Then I’ll wake you up again,” he says. “Every time.”
That does something to your chest.
You relax a little more into him.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He presses another kiss to your forehead.
Then another.
Soft. Gentle. Lingering.
“You’re safe with me,” he whispers.
And this time, when you close your eyes, there’s no fear.
Just warmth. Just him.
Just the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, grounding you back into reality.
Back into something soft.
Something real. Something safe.
And Yunho stays awake a little longer.
Just to make sure. Just to feel your breathing even out completely.
Just to keep holding you like letting go was never an option in the first place.
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© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist [open!]: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎ @fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble @hope122598 @maidenless-soul @leewayout
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❪🐈⬛❫ㅤ𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘ㅤ／ㅤ𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘰𝘯 .ᐟ
❝𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘❞ㅤ✷ㅤ𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖽.
𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 (bf!jungwon x fem!reader) 𝟷𝟼𝟽𝟽 ── 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 . 𝖺𝗎 . 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑 . 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖺𝗅 . 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗀𝖾 (𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 – 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍) . 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 . 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 + 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 . 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾/𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌!𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 . 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂-𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝖾𝗑 (𝗃𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗍 /𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽) . 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 . 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾 . 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 . 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌
JUNGWON WAS THE sweetest guy you’d ever met in your life.
Everything about him just proved it — those dimples that bordered on holy, the feline yet soft eyes that wrapped around you before his strong arms even got the chance, the cute little pout he used like a dirty trick to make you give him exactly what he wanted… Yang Jungwon is cute. A fact.
So cute that, on that damn Thursday in September, all it took was one stupid rumor for this to happen.
A sweet, needy whimper slipped from your puffy lips. You stood on your tiptoes, toes white from the strain of holding yourself steady, ass arched back, pretty face smashed and twisted in bliss against the cold wall.
Both palms ached, nails digging into them like it was worth the pain. Your cheeks were flushed, sweaty, breaths coming in shaky pants while you failed to keep up with the delicious rhythm of his slender fingers, his palm smacking wetly against your swollen little clit with every thrust.
Your hot, dripping pussy welcomed him greedily, sucking his fingers deeper, drooling all over them with your slick.You gasped in surprise when his hot breath hit the sensitive skin of your neck — enough to make your eyes flutter shut, your cunt throbbing and weeping even more for him. You weren’t sure if it was this dark little cubicle smelling of dust and cheap disinfectant, but you felt suffocated. Not in a bad way, of course… more like completely fucking helpless.
You’d leave him all scratched up and red like a helpless kitten if your hands were free, if it weren’t for that damn belt keeping you pinned and unable to even adjust properly against the wall.
Your wrists were bound above your head — it was agonizing. The second you opened your mouth to let out anything other than the wet, filthy sounds of your pussy, he ripped your panties to the side in one swift tug. He grabbed your jaw, forced your lips apart, and shoved the ruined fabric inside.
It was already soaked, and got even wetter when your muffled moans drenched it with drool.
Jungwon curled his two fingers before adding a third. You almost screamed.
ㅤ“Shh”, he murmured. “Just a second, kitty”
He slowed his fingers, almost stopping, leaving you aching and desperate until you heard footsteps nearby. They passed right by. Your heart would’ve jumped out of your chest if it weren’t for the panties gagging you.
Yang waited only a heartbeat — long enough for the old man to climb the big staircase not far from the janitor’s closet to the second floor — then slammed his fingers back inside you in one brutal thrust.
You let out a loud, muffled cry at the same time you arched your needy little ass back toward him and spread your thighs wider.
ㅤ“Baby, fuck… I’m so pissed”, he growled right against your ear, making your skin prickle.
His fingers hooked inside your cunt, hitting that perfect spot that ripped a tiny scream from you and made your legs buckle instantly.
ㅤ“Pissed enough to make those assholes in the chem lab hear us”, he finished, and fuck… how could your nipples not harden at that?
He pulled the drool-soaked panties from your mouth, licked a stray tear off your cheek before you even noticed it had fallen. Won sped up his fingers right then, shaking your slick inside you, making it drip down the insides of your thighs while you clawed at the leather belt.
You coughed once you could breathe properly, sucking in air in one desperate gulp, letting it all out in one whiny, teary moan.
Fuck… it was starting. The pit of your stomach burned, tightening with that overwhelming feeling that forced you even higher onto your tiptoes — if that was even possible. Every muscle in your body tensed; Jungwon groaned low in your ear and your mind turned into a useless mess of disconnected thoughts as your eyes rolled back.
Your boyfriend wasn’t much better. He was rock-hard, his cock suffocating even though it wasn’t trapped in his boxers anymore — just desperate to be buried in its favorite place. Wonnie moaned so prettily with every wet plap plap of your pussy, completely lost, drunk on the feeling.
You were so close, his free hand gripping your waist kept you pinned while you started writhing and whimpering. Right when you were about to tip over the edge…
He pulled his fingers out.
ㅤ“Jungwon, you son of a bitch…”
He swallowed your words by slamming his cock inside you in one rough thrust.
A high-pitched yelp burst from your lips, uncontrollable, mixing with Won’s long, dragged-out groan. He got even harder, flashing that infuriatingly hot little smile when he realized those jerks in the chem lab had probably heard you crystal clear — just like he wanted.
You were desperate, his dick didn’t care if you were ready or not — he started moving almost immediately, thrusting deep into your soaked little cunt.
You moaned for him in the sweetest, messiest way, body limp from the denied orgasm yet still pushing your lace-covered tits against the wall while arching your needy ass back toward him. His hips slapped against it, thrusts deep and filthy, gradually speeding up. Jungwon panted low between your cries, temple sweaty and hot just like both your bodies.
The sliver of light sneaking under the door was irrelevant now; the clothes you’d torn off earlier scattered on the floor, even more so.
ㅤ“W-Wonnie…”, you whimpered. God, you wanted to claw at him right then.
ㅤ“Shh, baby. Stop being so dramatic”, he rasped right in your ear as his hand — still slick with your arousal — flew to your ass, landing a perfect, stinging slap that tore a scandalous little yelp from you.
You whined and moaned like the needy little slut you were, grinding back lightly against his thrusts. His other hand left your waist and tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to arch you as far as possible while he pounded even deeper.
Your pussy pulsed in the most addictive, filthy way, driving him wild, making him groan all rough and wrecked.
Your whole body was tingling now. Burning, feverish, sweating like crazy — and his wasn’t any different. The earlier denial only made everything sharper, breaths heavier, more ragged. His cock was merciless — slamming that sweet spot with every fast, cruel thrust, blurring your vision and turning your legs to jelly.
Won moved his hand from your hair down to your throat, fingers wrapping around with just the right pressure — enough to keep you conscious and oh-so-satisfied. Your eyes rolled back.
ㅤ“Mmm…”, he hummed. “You’re close, aren’t you, kitty? Gonna choke my cock with that greedy little pussy like this.”
He laughed softly at his own words and slid his other hand from your waist down to your swollen clit. He rubbed with the kind of pressure that made you arch even harder.
ㅤ“Beg for it. Or better yet, plead for what you want right now”, he murmured, nibbling your earlobe. “Now.”
ㅤ“Wonnie… p-please… let me… fuck”, you sobbed, his grip on your throat making it hard to speak. “Please let me come…”
He growled a soft good girl followed by a burning slap to your ass before speeding up just a fraction more.
ㅤ“Come, but don’t hold back the scream, okay?”
You obeyed instantly.
One more brutal thrust and you shattered around his cock with a high, broken cry of his name.
You squeezed your eyes shut, clenched so tight around him, felt your warm release gush down your thighs right along with his — he snarled low and filled you up completely. The cum that didn’t fit in your stuffed little pussy dripped onto the floor, your mind slowly clearing again.
You were wrecked, ruined. His hand on your throat squeezed just a tiny bit more, making your pretty cunt flutter one last time around him before he let go, stroking your red, stinging ass while still buried inside.
ㅤ“Let’s see those assholes spread rumors that I don’t fuck you right ever again”
ㅤ
2026 © koineour ‹ all rights reserved ── not copy/translate/plagiarize my workㅤ★ㅤ this story was written with the help of a translator. My apologies for any errors.
ㅤ
Hello Chae, I’m here to report for the night festival 🫡 This is what I came up with but feel free to edit it however you like. It’s also okay if you’re not comfortable with this request. I thought I’d just pop by since you’re having an event 😛 Thank you for all the joy and comfort you’ve brought me, and I wish your night festival a huge success 🫶🏻
I would like the first mate to accompany me in a game of balloon darts where the winner (first mate) treats the loser to a fluffy cotton candy. We would then perform magic tricks where I’d transform into an injured nine-tailed fox that he picked up on his way back to the bouncy castle he built. He’d make treats appear out of thin air to get me to warm up to him, and my initial guardedness towards him slowly dissipated. However, one day, he was ambushed by the surrounding villagers for housing a monster and was badly injured. I revealed my true form in front of everyone to protect him and managed to scare off the bullies. A wizard appeared and I traded one of my tails to save the life of my first mate, and I went into hiding because I’m now afraid of him being afraid of me. But my first mate was persistent and eventually managed to guide me back to the bouncy castle, and we lived happily ever after.
until i found you
pairing : amateur wizard! seonghwa x nine-tailed fox! fem! reader
synopsis : A wounded fox shifter is saved by a kind stranger but runs away after revealing her true form to save him. He finds her again and proves he was never afraid, bringing her back home.
genre : slice of life, romance, slow-burn, fluff, fantasy au, drama, supernatural, angst, comfort
warnings : none
author’s note : thank yew for requesting! this is such a cute trope i absolutely love it 😻 i hope you enjoy 🤍
word count : 1.7k
The first time he finds you, you are bleeding into the earth.
Your side torn open, fur matted with dark, drying red beneath the illusion of human skin you can barely maintain. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven bursts, and every instinct in your body screams the same thing:
Run.
But you can’t.
Your nine tails flicker weakly behind you—half-visible, half-forgotten magic struggling to stay hidden—and when his footsteps crunch against fallen leaves, you brace yourself for the end.
A hunter, you think.
Instead, it’s a boy.
No—a man, but only barely. Soft around the edges in a way that makes him seem… harmless.
His robes are unevenly stitched, the hems slightly burnt like he’s had accidents with spells. There’s a satchel slung over his shoulder, herbs spilling out messily.
He stops when he sees you.
And you prepare for fear. For disgust.
For the way humans always look at you when they know.
But he doesn’t recoil. He kneels down towards you.
“Oh—oh no,” he murmurs, voice warm and panicked all at once. “You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, silent. Waiting.
“…Can I help you?” he asks gently, like you’re something fragile instead of something dangerous.
You almost laugh.
“Don’t…” Your voice is hoarse, unfamiliar in its human form. “Don’t come closer.”
He pauses. And then—he does something unexpected.
He listens.
He sits back on his heels, keeping distance, hands raised slightly like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Okay. I won’t. But… you’re going to die if I leave you here.”
Good, you think.
Better that than—
“I have a cottage nearby,” he continues softly. “It’s small, but it’s safe. I can treat your wounds. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Promises are meaningless.
You’ve learned that over centuries.
Still… your vision is blurring. Your strength is fading.
And something about him—something painfully, inexplicably gentle—makes your instincts hesitate.
“…If you try anything,” you whisper, your voice threading with something ancient, something dangerous, “I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
He swallows. Nods.
“That’s fair.”
His name is Seonghwa.
You learn that slowly, between drifting in and out of consciousness as he carries you—carries you, like you weigh nothing at all—back to his cottage.
It’s small, just like he said.
Tucked deep in the woods, crooked chimney, herbs hanging from every possible surface. It smells like earth and smoke and something faintly sweet.
Safe. You hate that it feels that way.
He lays you down carefully, like you might shatter, and immediately gets to work.
His magic is… clumsy. Uneven.
You can feel it—raw, unpolished threads of power fumbling through spells that should be precise.
He’s not a great wizard. Not even close.
But he’s trying. And somehow… that matters.
“Hold still,” he murmurs, pressing a cloth to your wound. His hands are warm. Too warm. “This might sting.”
It does.
But you don’t flinch. You’ve felt worse.
Days pass. Maybe weeks.
You don’t keep track.
At first, you barely speak. You watch him instead—every movement, every flicker of his hands, every muttered incantation under his breath. You memorize the way he fails and tries again. The way his nose scrunches when a spell doesn’t work.
You wait for the moment he realizes what you are. It never comes.
Or maybe… it does. And he just doesn’t care.
“Here,” he says one afternoon, appearing beside you with a small, awkward flourish of his hand. A plate blinks into existence—slightly crooked, slightly transparent at the edges.
On it: pastries.
Misshapen. A little burnt. But warm.
You stare at them.
“…What is this?”
His smile is sheepish. “I’m still working on my conjuring spells.”
“That’s obvious.”
He laughs.
And something in your chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with your injury.
“They’re edible,” he insists. “I think.”
You eye the pastry suspiciously.
“…You eat it first.”
He does. Without hesitation.
It’s probably the moment everything begins to change.
You don’t notice when your guard starts to lower.
It happens quietly. In the way you stop flinching when he moves too fast.
In the way you start accepting the strange little treats he makes—sometimes sweet, sometimes oddly salty, sometimes completely inedible.
In the way you begin to speak without thinking.
“You’re terrible at magic,” you tell him one evening.
He grins. “I know.”
“Why even try?”
His answer is simple.
“Because I like it.”
You don’t understand that at first. Doing something just because you like it.
No survival. No purpose.
Just… joy. It’s foreign.
But you find yourself watching him more closely after that.
And maybe—just maybe—you start to understand.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The night everything breaks, it’s raining.
You feel it before it happens.
A shift in the air. A tension that prickles against your skin, ancient instincts screaming danger.
“Seonghwa,” you say sharply.
He looks up from his cluttered table. “Hm?”
But it’s too late.
The door slams open. They come in with fire.
Torches. Weapons. Faces twisted with fear and hatred.
Villagers.
“There he is!” someone shouts. “The wizard!”
“And the monster!”
Your blood runs cold.
They know. They know.
Seonghwa steps in front of you without hesitation.
“Wait—please,” he says, hands raised. “You don’t understand—”
“We understand enough,” a man spits. “You’ve been hiding it here. Feeding it. Protecting it.”
“It’s not—she’s not—”
Monster.
The word hangs heavy in the air. You’ve heard it your whole life.
It shouldn’t hurt anymore.
And yet—
“Get away from her,” Seonghwa snaps suddenly, voice sharper than you’ve ever heard it.
They don’t listen. Of course they don’t.
The first blow lands hard.
He doesn’t even have time to cast a spell.
You watch as he’s struck down—again, and again, and again—his body crumpling under the weight of fear-driven violence.
Something inside you snaps.
You don’t think. You don’t hesitate.
You let go.
Magic explodes outward, wild and ancient, tearing through the fragile illusion of humanity you’ve worn for so long.
Your true form rises from the wreckage—
Nine tails unfurling like fire. Red eyes glowing, inhuman, furious.
The ground trembles beneath you.
And for the first time…
They see you.
Not as a girl. But as what you truly are.
A gumiho. A legend. A nightmare.
You don’t attack. You don’t need to.
Your presence alone is enough.
They scatter like frightened animals, screams echoing into the night as they flee from something they cannot understand.
Something they were never meant to face.
Silence falls. Heavy.
Broken only by the sound of rain.
And his breathing. Weak. Fading.
You turn back to him—and for the first time in centuries, fear grips your heart.
Not for yourself. For him.
“Seonghwa—”
His eyes flutter open.
And he sees you. All of you.
Your true form. Your tails. Your nature.
And for a single, terrifying moment…
You think you see fear.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Someone arrives at dawn.
You feel him before you see him.
Different from the villagers.
Stronger. Colder.
“You’re powerful,” he says, stepping into the clearing, gaze fixed on you. “Nine tails… that’s rare.”
You bare your teeth.
“I’m not here for you,” he continues calmly. “Not today.”
Your gaze flicks to Seonghwa.
Still unconscious. Still dying.
“…What do you want?”
“A trade.”
Your stomach drops.
“No.”
He smiles slightly. “You don’t even know what I’m asking for.”
“I don’t care.”
His eyes gleam.
“One tail,” he says. “For his life.”
Silence.
Your tails sway behind you, alive with power, with history—with everything you are.
Each one is a piece of your soul.
Your strength. Your immortality.
“…You’ll save him?” your voice is quiet.
“I will.”
You look at Seonghwa.
At the boy who never looked at you like you were a monster. At the boy who made terrible pastries just to make you smile.
At the boy who stepped in front of you without hesitation.
Your mate.
The realization settles deep, undeniable, ancient.
Of course. Of course it’s him.
“…Take it,” you say.
The pain is unbearable.
White-hot. Soul-deep.
When it’s over, you collapse beside him, weaker—smaller—than you’ve ever felt.
Eight tails now. Eight lives. Eight pieces of yourself left.
The stranger keeps his word.
Seonghwa breathes easier.
His wounds begin to close.
And you…
You don’t stay to see him wake up. You can’t.
Because you saw it.
That flicker in his eyes. That moment of fear.
And you can’t bear the thought of it becoming permanent.
So you disappear.
Back into the forest. Back into the shadows.
Where monsters belong.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Days pass.
Then weeks.
You tell yourself it’s better this way.
Safer.
For him. For you.
But then—
“Hey!”
The voice echoes through the trees.
Familiar. Persistent.
“…I know you’re here!”
Your heart stutters. You don’t move.
“I’m not leaving!” Seonghwa shouts. “Not until I find you!”
Idiot.
Stubborn, reckless idiot.
You watch from the shadows as he stumbles through the forest, clearly unprepared, clearly exhausted—but still searching.
Still calling your name.
Over.
And over. And over again.
“…Why?” you whisper to yourself.
Why would he come back? Why would he want to?
“You saved me,” he says suddenly.
Your breath catches.
He’s looking right at you. At where you’re hiding.
“…I know you’re there,” he says softly now.
Silence stretches.
And then, slowly—
You step out.
Not in your full form. Not entirely human either.
He doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t step back. Doesn’t look afraid.
“I was worried,” he admits, voice trembling slightly. “You disappeared and I thought—”
“You should be afraid of me,” you cut in.
He shakes his head immediately.
“I’m not.”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You hesitated.”
He pauses.
And then, quietly—
“I was scared,” he admits. “But not of you.”
You frown.
“Then what?”
“Of losing you.”
The words hit harder than any weapon ever has.
You stare at him.
At the sincerity in his eyes. At the stubborn warmth that never faded.
“…I’m a monster.”
He smiles softly.
“You’re you.”
It’s such a simple answer.
And somehow… It’s enough.
He steps closer.
Slowly. Carefully.
Like he did the first time.
“Come home,” he says gently.
Home.
The word feels foreign.
Impossible. And yet—
You find yourself taking a step forward.
Then another.
Until you’re standing right in front of him. Until his hand finds yours—warm, steady, real.
The cottage feels the same.
Small. Messy. Warm.
He still burns his spells sometimes.
Still makes terrible pastries. Still smiles at you like you’re something precious instead of something dangerous.
And you—
You let your walls fall, piece by piece. You let yourself belong.
Eight tails instead of nine. But somehow…
You feel more complete than you ever did before.
Because for the first time in your long, lonely life, you’re not hiding.
And neither is he. And maybe…
That’s what happily ever after really looks like.
© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist [open!]: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎ @fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble @hope122598 @maidenless-soul @leewayout
your eyes only 🧡 jungwon x reader
💛 pairing: best friend!jungwon x afab!reader
🧡 summary: what you intended to be a distraction from your unfortunate crush on your best friend turns into your worst possible nightmare; you sent pictures - those kind of pictures - to the wrong person on accident. the person on the other end? jungwon - your best friend of many years and the absolute last person you’d want to damage your friendship with. you’d do anything to keep it from falling apart, so you head out for a late night visit to the dance studio.
💛 genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut
🧡 rating: 18+ (mdni)
💛 word count: 18,040 words (oof)
🧡 content warnings: reader is down bad for bestie jungwon and doesn't relalize it's mutual, reader sends lewds, trope of ‘oh no i sent these pics to my best friend i’m in love with what do i do,’ dancer!wonie bc i feel like that’s a warning by itself, love confessions, kissing, making out, groping, cursing, dirty talk, lots of praise, hair pulling, both are very sensitive bc ✨in love things✨, fingering, mirror shenanigans, hand curved around jaw, oral (m.), jake is kinda a menace tbh but it’s for the plot everyone still loves him ofc
a/n: the way jungwon has had me by the throat ... i had this idea and just needed to get it out somehow 🤩 thank you endlessly to my bestie @moonstruckpark for always entertaining my ideas and for betaing - always know i can count on you and i love you lots <3
if you read this: thank you so much!! i hope you enjoy it~
✮✮🧡💛✮✮✮💛🧡✮✮✮🧡💛✮✮
"You're really not gonna come back with us?"
It was a typical Friday night, or at least it started out that way. You usually would come over every week or every other week on Fridays to watch movies or play games with Jungwon and his roommates — Jay, Jake, and Heeseung — who were also your friends.
Sometimes, Jungwon would work in a dance practice session before you guys could hang out, which was why you were here now in the studio, having watched him dance for the last hour.
Jungwon glanced up at you through the mirror as he heard you approach. He knelt down to re-tie his shoelaces that had come undone during practice.
"Sorry, I need to stay. I'm in the zone — don't wanna let go of that energy."
Your arms were crossed and you gave him your best pout. Which you already knew would have zero effect in this situation because your best friend was stubborn as hell, especially when it came to dancing.
It was one of the many things you admired about him, though: his passion. So even if you were a little bummed that your plans had somewhat fallen through last minute, you couldn't find it in yourself to be that upset.
"You're also my ride home—" you tried to reason before you were cut off by an arm slinging itself around your shoulder, the sudden weight making you stumble.
"You can ride with us back to our place!" Jake reached out to steady you with his hand that wasn't attached to the arm he nearly knocked you over with. "We're all going to the same place anyway."
"And besides," Jake leaned in closer to you, but didn't really make an attempt to lower his volume, "it gives us more time to hang out by ourselves, yeah?"
Jake was now giving you his best puppy dog eyes and honestly how could you ever say no to that? You smiled and nodded, laughing when Jake pulled you closer into his side.
"Sleepover!" He pumped a fist into the air before he finally released you. "I'll probably sit in the back of the car if, ya know — you wanna join or anything."
Jay simply rolled his eyes as he packed his gear and Heeseung was too busy downing a bottle of water to notice Jake being extra. You simply giggled at his antics before you turned to see what Jungwon thought of it all.
Jungwon was still in the same spot, hands frozen as he held his shoelaces. He was looking directly at Jake, and his jaw was slightly clenched.
"Wonie?"
He blinked at the sound of your voice and shook his head quickly, like he was trying to bring himself back to the present. His eyes focused on you and he gave you a soft smile. "Hm?"
"You good?"
"Yeah, uh, just making sure that I'm all set before I start the routine again." He finished tying his shoe before hopping back up like the abrupt change in altitude was nothing.
This time, it was Jungwon's arm that found its way around your shoulders as he pulled you into a hug. A small 'oof' expelled from you at the sudden movement, not expecting that you would collide with his chest the way you did.
Being in this position hugging him was the farthest thing from unfamiliar, but the heat radiating off of him made it feel…different somehow.
"If you're staying the night, use my room, ok?"
You pulled back so you could look up at him, but his expression was hard to read.
"You want me to stay in your room?"
"Mhm." He hugged you closer for another moment before letting you go. His hand fell to your waist casually, like it was supposed to be there. "You can use my bed, and I've got a t-shirt I'm sure you can find if you need something comfortable to sleep in."
It wasn't like you'd never slept in his bed before, because you'd taken dozens of naps at his place, sometimes even with him in the bed…a respectable distance away, but still.
Even so, you didn't want to impose. "Wonie, I can sleep on you guys' couch, it's no big deal—"
"Nah, you'll sleep better in my bed— in my room." He corrected himself quickly and ran a hand through his hair, his blonde locks the slightest bit wavy with how damp they'd gotten from practice. "Think of it as my way of making it up to you since I can't drive you back."
"We'll look after her, don't worry." Jake slid over to you both, making it obvious that he'd just been eavesdropping on your conversation. "And my bed is plenty big enough for two, if you get lonely during the night." Jake added a wink for dramatic effect.
Jungwon's grip tightening on your waist took you by surprise.
It wasn't like Jungwon didn't want people showing you attention or anything like that. It was more like… after seeing you get treated badly one too many times, he'd had enough of it.
Was Jungwon protective of you? Always. Did all of your friends know that? Of course?
Did Jake care that his flirty nature was a little too much at times? Absolutely not.
"Thanks, Jake," you tried to be polite, but he really was going for it tonight. He'd always been more of the teasing sort, and you couldn't deny he was of the most charming people you'd ever met.
Jake had cranked the level up to 11 tonight for some reason, and the way Jungwon was reacting had your mind sprinting off into different directions.
"See you soon," Jake grinned at you as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie. He pulled the hood up and faced Jungwon, looking a little more serious now. "Hey, don't push yourself too hard, ok? You know you're the best — no one's better for this than you."
Jungwon blinked before nodding, holding you a little looser now as he smiled back at Jake. "Thanks, I need that reassurance sometimes."
Jake clapped a hand on Jungwon's shoulder before he left to join Jay and Heeseung near the door leading out of the studio.
Jungwon pulled you closer briefly into a side hug. "Guess you better go with them."
"I can stay—"
"Nope," Jungwon was already gently ushering you towards your friends. "I've already taken up enough of your time tonight."
"Time with you is never wasted, so I disagree." When you said the words, it didn't feel like they had any weight to them. The look on Jungwon's face, however, had you second guessing yourself for a moment.
Was that too far? Surely not. You've said way more incriminating— no, embarrassing things to him before. Something about it this time just seemed… different.
Maybe it was the way his hand was still on your waist as he walked with you to the front of the studio. Maybe it was the way that you could feel the heat radiating from him where he touched you, even through layers of clothing.
Maybe it was because Jungwon was Jungwon. And you were you.
That's all the two of you had ever been— and that was enough.
Before you could think on it too long, you tuned in once again to the men in front of you.
Jake was talking to Jay about something, and as usual Jay just looked on fondly with a puzzled, but very amused, expression. Heeseung was looking over the fliers that had been pasted to the window at the front, adding notes in his phone for important dates like recitals, mandatory practices, etc.
"Text me when you're home?" Jungwon retracted his hand and you missed the warmth immediately. "Well, when you're back at my place."
"Don't worry, loverboy, we'll take good care of her," Jake offered as Jay started pushing him out the door. He was mumbling something to Jake that sounded like "If you don't go get in the car—"
Heeseung waved and smiled at Jungwon before he followed the others, you right behind him as Jungwon closed the door when you finally stepped out into the cool night air.
The ride back to their place was pleasant — you always had a good time with them — but you couldn't shake this feeling that something was off.
✮✮🧡💛✮✮✮💛🧡✮✮✮🧡💛✮✮
[you] 10:02 PM: just got back to your place
A few minutes later, your phone vibrated and the screen lit up, making you smile.
[wonie💙] 10:05 PM: good, use whatever you need in my room. what's mine is yours
You swore you could feel your heart pound against your chest at that response.
[you] 10:06 PM: oh? so if you come back and some of your most treasured items are missing, i won't get in trouble? 🤩 [wonie💙] 10:07 PM: don't push your luck
Barely a minute later:
[wonie💙] 10:08 PM: (but also yeah, because it's you)
You couldn't hold back your smile that time, catching Jake's attention as he was mid-ramble.
"What's got you grinning like that? Won already coming back?"
Jay chuckled and Heeseung went to raid the kitchen to find what you assumed would be ramen.
"No," you rolled your eyes playfully at Jake, "I was just letting him know we got here safe."
"Uh huh," Jake's sly smile didn't go unnoticed by you. "You let him know we were back home safe or that you were safe?"
Jake's knowing tone made you subtly shift from foot to foot. "…does it matter?"
Jake shrugged. "Guess not." He plopped down onto the couch before he resumed his conversation with Jay, this time with you listening in.
"I'm just saying — either she's into me, or she's asking me for advice on how to get another guy's attention."
Jay hummed like he was thinking it over. "And she did that by asking if you'd be alright with her sending you pictures?"
Heeseung called your name from the kitchen, prompting you to look over your shoulder. He raised a soda can to see if you wanted one, but you politely declined with a smile and shake of your head. He returned your smile before his head poked back into the fridge.
Jake groaned like he was personally offended by Jay's comment. "Not just pictures, bro. She asked if she could send me nudes."
Jay shoved Jake's shoulder and Jake retaliated with a shocked "What the hell, man?" You giggled at the absurdity of it all.
Jay, instead, groaned at the audacity and asked "Why are you always so crass?"
Jake shrugged. "Scorpio bullshit, I guess."
"We have a guest." Jay glanced over at you quickly, almost fast enough you didn't see it.
Jake followed the movement until his eyes landed on you. "Her?" He sputtered out a laugh. "C'mon, she doesn't care. We're all adults here, right?"
You sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the room, amused as always by Jake and Jay's push-and-pull with their discussions. "I don't care if you guys don't. Plus, I'm kinda curious to see what wisdom you're going to give us."
Jake made an exaggerated movement with his hand, motioning at you. "See? Thank you." Jay rolled his eyes but didn't disagree further.
Heeseung had joined the three of you now, bowl of ramen in one hand and a drink in the other while he sat in the chair next to you. "Ok so," Heeseung started, "she asked to send you nudes. Then what?"
For how much you sometimes thought Heeseung was in his own world when things were going on, he really did pay close attention to what was happening around him.
"Well I told her of course she could, duh," Jake said it like it was the most logical answer in the world. "I told her that it's one sure fire way to show your interest in a guy — at least if you have some inkling that he likes you back."
"It is?" Your voice even surprised you, because you thought you'd asked that question in your head.
Jake smiled. "Mhm." The smile stretched into a sly grin, one you knew all too well. "Why? You got someone you wanna send some pics to?"
You could feel your face heat up as you quickly shook your head. "No, just…was wondering, is all."
"Fair. Well, if you ever want to send some to anyone, then by all means, I'm available—"
Jake barely got the last word out before Jay was smacking him with a couch cushion.
"What is your deal tonight?!" Jake was trying to fight the onslaught of pillowy punches.
"I could ask you the same thing," Jay nearly yelled back. "I swear, sometimes it's like you want to dig your own grave."
Jake managed to wrestle the cushion away from Jay before tossing it to the floor. Heeseung kicked it further out of the way but made no other moves to intervene.
"You're telling me if she wanted to send you nudes that you would be opposed?"
Jay's mouth hung open for a second as he looked back and forth between you, Jake, Heeseung — who was happily eating his ramen without a care in the world, then back to you again.
"Yes— I mean, no, uh," Jay couldn't hold eye contact with you. "Personally I would say no because we're really good friends. No offense."
Jay offered you a smile but it felt like there was more he wasn't telling you.
"You're a different breed than me, then. If one of my really good friends was hot," Jake paused for a moment to catch your eye before he continued, smirking devilishly "and she wanted to send some to me, there's no way I'm turning that down."
You gulped. "Good to know."
Heeseung chuckled beside you, shaking his head at his friends' nonsense he was witnessing.
"Anyways," Jay said it with a tone of what you thought might be finality. "It's kinda late so I'm turning in soon. You have everything you need?"
You realized Jay was asking you that, having gotten lost in your own thoughts for a moment. "Huh? Yeah, I think so. Wonie said I could use whatever I needed from his room."
"I'm sure he did," Jake mumbled, still loud enough for you to hear. He followed Jay's lead and stood up from the couch, stretching his limbs as he did. "Sure you don't want company? I wasn't lying when I said my bed is big enough for two, you know."
Jay started pulling Jake toward their rooms at the opposite end of the apartment by the hood on his jacket before you could respond. "Goodnight," Jay addressed both you and Heeseung as he walked away, Jake waving as he was dragged along.
You laughed as Jake waved while he was being drug away, barely catching Jay say something like "One day I may not be here to save your ass—"
"Guess I'm gonna wind down, too." Heeseung yawned before he got up to clean his dishes. "You're free to stay in here of course, but I figured you're probably ready to head to Won's room and just chill."
His yawn triggered your own, the action making you realize then just how tired you really were. "Yeah, that sounds like the move."
Heeseung smiled before he turned around to face the sink. "Sleep well," he said over his shoulder, not waiting for you to acknowledge him before he turned the faucet on.
"You too," you hoped you said it at a volume he could hear over the water, but even if you hadn't, you knew Heeseung well enough that he would know you responded if he didn't hear it.
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When you closed Jungwon's room door behind you, the search for a t-shirt started. You knew what drawer Jungwon kept most of his shirts in, and right on top you found a dark blue one that you recognized as being one you'd worn on several occasions at this point.
If you thought about it hard enough, you might even remember Jungwon telling you that he basically always put that shirt near the top for you because you seemed to like it so much. He also once joked about just giving it to you, but then that would 'take the fun out of you wearing something that was his.'
That man really did confuse you sometimes.
Certain things he said and special moments the two of you shared had made you wonder in the past if there really was more to your friendship. It obviously didn't help that you had — and have had for a while — a massive crush on him. You always tried your best to push those feelings down because your friendship mattered more to you than anything else probably ever could. But right now, here, in his room, wearing his shirt while you waited on him to get home…
Well, sometimes it was fun to imagine, right?
You changed clothes, slightly mortified at the fact that you'd forgotten to bring shorts with you. Of course, you had left your place in a kind of frenzy because Jungwon has decided he needed to get some dance practice in right then, which changed your plans. You didn't mind the plan changed, but him grabbing your hand to rush both of you out the door of your place didn't leave you much time to grab anything extra as you left.
You were a little nervous to lay in his bed without them. It wasn't like it'd be wrong or bad of you to do so, it just felt quite— intimate.
Even though Jungwon wasn't there with you. The fact that it was his clothes and his bed was enough.
Your chest had that familiar ache starting, the one that always presented itself whenever you thought about Jungwon too much in a specific way, when you thought about him in a way that you could never have.
When you thought about being his completely— not just being his best friend, but also his person. You thought about meaning to him what he meant to you.
You thought about loving him as more than your best friend.
When your head hit the pillow, you sighed, trying to whisk away all the pesky thoughts that plagued you in that moment. Dwelling on it didn't help anyone, and pining like this would only draw you in further and make it harder for you to claw your way back out.
Your phone vibrated, helping somewhat with bringing you out of your spiral.
[wonie💙] 11:15 PM: hey, i'm almost done here, be back soon. i'll try not to wake you if you're asleep when i come in
Always so considerate. It was just one of the many things you loved about him. You sent him a response and before you closed out of your messages screen, your eyes drifted down to see [jake🐶] sitting a few people under Jungwon in your most recent contacts.
The conversation from earlier came back to you then.
"…it's one sure fire way to show your interest in a guy — at least if you have some inkling that he likes you back."
Did you have an 'inkling' Jungwon liked you back, or was it just wishful thinking?
And what did it even matter— there was no way in hell that you would sending any photos of that sort to Jungwon in the hopes of getting his attention.
…taking pictures, however…that was a different story.
Before you could chicken out, suddenly confident from the slight adrenaline rush you had at the idea, you slid out from under the covers and sat on top of Jungwon's bed.
Seeing yourself in the mirror across from his bed gave you an idea of a certain pose you thought might look nice. You bit your lip while you contemplated, noticing how the lighting in the room would probably look better if you adjusted it just a little bit—
Within a few minutes, you had a setup that you were proud of: you had turned the lighting to more of a blueish hue (Jungwon had taught you how and knew you liked that setting, so he also had it like that a lot when you were over), your phone was set up to where it could take pictures of you through the mirror without you having to hold it or it be in the way, and you were perched almost at the edge of his bed.
You set the camera timer and took a few photos in a pose you felt comfortable with. You exposed skin, but not too much— just enough to leave a little to the imagination. It was exhilarating, not just the act of doing this but where you were doing it; almost like being in Jungwon's room emboldened you to do things that you normally wouldn't.
When you were satisfied with one of the pictures, you saved it and deleted the others before you fixed Jungwon's room back to how it was before you got there (aside from the lights, of course). It was easier then for you to fall asleep since you felt like some kind of weight had been lifted— you just didn't know what.
Jungwon met you in your dreams, but this time, you welcomed the feeling without trying to fight it.
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Soft whispers and a nudge against your shoulder woke you up. You made some incoherent noises as you stirred, blinking as someone came into view.
"Hey there, sleepyhead." Jungwon smiled, sitting down next to you now that you were awake. "I hated waking you but I also wanted to check on you."
"Hi, Wonie," you greeted him back, a slight slur to your voice since you had been sleeping pretty hard. "Happy you're home."
His laughter was soft, and it probably could have lulled you back to sleep if he did it long enough. You faintly were aware of him brushing some of your hair out of your face.
"Me too. Always nice to see you here when I get back."
That had you feeling a little more awake. Your eyes opened more now, and it was then that you noticed Jungwon in front of you. He had on different clothes than the ones he'd been dancing in, and his hair was considerably damp from what you could tell.
He must've already taken a shower and changed before waking you up, and that honestly had you feeling some kind of way.
"I thought about waking you up before I got a shower," Jungwon went on — he had to have the ability to read your mind or something. "You know, just so you'd be aware I'm here if you woke up. But you looked so peaceful I couldn't fathom waking you. I hope that's ok."
His hand was still near your face from where he'd brushed your hair away, and in a moment of bravery, you placed your hand on top of his. The small hitch in his breath had your heart rate picking up.
"It's more than ok. This is your space, Wonie, you're free to do whatever you want."
Jungwon gulped. "R-Right. Well, uh," he slowly pulled his hand away from yours, running it through his hair afterwards. "I'm sure you probably wanna get back to sleep soon, so I'll leave you to it—"
You frowned. "Where are you going?"
Jungwon looked at you like it was obvious as he jerked his thumb behind him towards the bedroom door. "I'm going to go sleep on the couch? I'm not making you move out of my bed when you look this comfy."
You smiled and gently grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward a little bit, making him stumble. "Don't be silly— we can share the bed."
"Oh," Jungwon choked out. "Um, I mean, yeah, we can."
"We've taken naps before, right?" You yawned before you continued, your eyes slowly starting to droop closed again. "It'll be just like that, but kinda different."
Jungwon's lack of an answer had your eyes opening. "Unless you don't want to— I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"
"No, no, never," Jungwon rushed out, his free hand coming down to rest on top of yours that was still wrapped around his wrist. "I'm fine with sharing the bed. Only if you're ok with it, though."
"I wouldn't have made the suggestion if I wasn't." You tried teasing him a little with your tone, but all you did is manage to sound sleepier. The soft laugh you got in return was still worth it.
"Well then, I guess make some room for me. I'll give you as much space as I can." Jungwon walked over to the opposite side of the bed as you shimmied closer to the side you were laying on. You didn't really care about the space issues, but you also wanted him to be comfortable.
When he was settled in under the covers, you could almost feel how rigid his posture was with him trying to stay as far away as possible. Definitely not what you would consider comfortable.
"Wonie?" You didn't even bother looking over your shoulder.
"Y-Yeah?"
"You know you can come closer, right?"
A few seconds of silence before you felt the bed shifting behind you as Jungwon shuffled forward some. There was still some distance between the two of you, but you figured he wasn't at risk of falling off the bed anymore, at the very least.
"This ok?" He sounded hesitant, voice low like if he spoke any louder he might shatter the illusion of you both being here like this.
"Mhm," you nodded. Then you looked over your shoulder at him. "But you can still come closer, if you want."
"Do you…want me to?"
"Do you want to," you tossed the question back to him. It didn't matter if you wanted to cuddle up with him while he held you close — if he didn't want that then it wouldn't happen.
He moved slightly behind you before he answered. "I, uh, I do, but only if you're fine with it—"
You didn't let him finish, instead opting for reaching behind you to grab his arm and pull him closer. When he was closer to you, his hand accidentally brushed against your thigh.
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to," he paused. "Wait…you didn't bring shorts?"
It was your turn to be flustered now, and in all honesty, you had forgotten about that small detail since you'd fallen asleep.
"I didn't get a chance to grab any when we left my place," you willed your voice to stay steady and not betray your panic. "I'm sorry, I can leave if—"
"No," Jungwon's hand landed on your arm, where he patted you reassuringly. "Stay. Please."
You tried to relax then. "Just do what feels right, Wonie."
His hand stopped moving against your arm for a second where he'd been lazily tracing patterns you couldn't identify. "You sure?"
You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. "I trust you."
It seemed like you finally gave Jungwon the confirmation he needed to hear for him to relax with you. His hand disappeared from your arm, and then you felt his arm snake around your waist a moment later as he pulled your closer. He didn't pull you flush against him, but his arm was secure around you, like he didn't dare let you go.
"This ok?" You could feel how close he was to your neck when he spoke, voice quiet, almost inaudible.
You nodded. "It's better than ok." His hand flexed against your stomach in response.
You mumbled out what you hoped sounded like 'goodnight,' not really minding much since you were already halfway back to dreamland. You felt Jungwon chuckle behind you.
After a few moments, he finally responded, his words leaving you with a smile as you drifted back to sleep.
"Goodnight, sweet girl."
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When you woke in the morning, the first thing you noticed was the warmth pressed up against your back, then the arm still looped around your waist. At some point in the night, it seemed like Jungwon had ended up pulling you closer against him — whether intentionally or while sleeping, though, you weren't sure. Jungwon's steady breathing behind you gave you a sense of peace.
Unfortunately for you, the peace didn't last long.
Jungwon let out what sounded like a sigh, his breath tickling your neck and making you shiver in surprise. That was when you felt it — when you felt him.
The slight brush against him was all you needed to be able to tell he was hard. And not just, like, a little bit. Hard enough for you to notice he was rather big—
Morning wood, your brain tried to reason, but whatever it was it did not help you with remaining calm in the slightest.
You shifted awkwardly as you tried to think of a way to shimmy yourself from his grasp. The small grunt he let out at your movement made you freeze before he pulled you in even closer, his grip tightening around you. You gasped as you collided against his chest, feeling your current problem against the back of your thighs.
You hated that you found yourself in this situation merely because you knew Jungwon would be mortified the moment he woke up. You hated yourself more for the fact that, if you put logic aside, you quite liked this.
Stupid conflicting feelings. Stupid Jungwon with his stupidly attractive face and his ridiculously strong arm and his very distracting problem behind you—
You had to get out of here. Fast. You gulped quickly and shut your eyes.
"Wonie," you called out softly. You hated every moment of this because you'd much rather fall back asleep in his embrace, even in the 'compromising' position you found yourself.
He barely stirred behind you, groaning again when he came into contact with you. Your mind was running rampant as you bit your lip to stifle any unnecessary sounds.
"Wonie, hey," you tried a little louder this time. "It's time to wake up."
This time you managed to get his attention, and his face nuzzled against your shoulder. "Hm?"
You didn't say anything else, you simply let him process as he slowly woke up. It took maybe 10 seconds before he let out a sharp gasp behind you.
"Oh, fuck, oh my god, I'm so sorry," his voice was somewhat shaky and you wanted nothing more than to console him in that moment. "This is so embarrassing, god—"
"Hey, it's ok," you tried to soothe him as you looked at him over your shoulder. He still had his arm wound tightly around you, so turning completely in his hold didn't seem like the best idea.
When his eyes met yours, he shut his immediately. "It's not ok, I can't believe this happened, well I actually can, but uh—"
You reached an arm back as best you could, hoping that if you cupped his face he might calm down. It had the complete opposite effect, causing you both to let out startled noises when he bucked up against you as your fingers brushed along his jawline.
"Fuck, maybe don't, uh, touch me right now?" He laughed nervously.
"Right, yeah, whatever you need," you were matching his nervous demeanor, despite your best efforts not to.
Truth be told: you really weren't uncomfortable, not at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Waking up in bed next to your best friend you were devastatingly in love with, and him being in this state at the same time? Truly a win for you, honestly. Especially considering how he was reacting while awake.
Your excitement about the situation made you feel bad though, since Jungwon clearly didn't share the same sentiment, at least from what you could tell. So you kept those thoughts to yourself, like you did most of your thoughts about Jungwon that delved into the 'more than friendly' category.
"I need this to not be happening," he sighed in frustration. "Listen, can I— when I let go of you, I need you to not look at me, ok?"
You nodded, the action jostling you more than you'd hoped. Jungwon grunted again and finally released you.
As you tumbled off the bed, he was gone in a flash, running into the bathroom in his room faster than you'd ever seen him. It was pretty impressive if you thought about it.
You stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to go while he was…busy? You couldn't hear any noise from the bathroom, but you also weren't really straining to listen because the idea made you feel even more guilty.
It was fairly late in the morning, so you figured the other guys must be up by now. Maybe trying to find some breakfast and sharing their company would placate your rattled nerves.
Or at least they would if not for the fact that you still didn't have shorts to wear. You didn't want to put on your clothes from the previous day, so you made a choice.
These men had been around you long enough and had surely seen your legs before, so it shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?
You forgot about one small detail: Jake also lived here.
And even if it was only morning, he was still ruthless in his flirting attempts.
You tried tiptoeing out of Jungwon's room and shutting the door quietly, but the low whistle across the room quickly clued you in to how not subtle you were being.
"Well, you sure are a sight for sore eyes." Jake was grinning ear to ear. Beside him on the couch, Jay rolled his eyes before offering you a soft smile, almost like he was saying 'sorry.' Heeseung acknowledged you with a head nod before he resumed eating his cereal.
"Thanks, Jake," you tried to give them a smile back but it probably came out more like a grimace based on Heeseung's slightly concerned face.
"No problem. Always happy to compliment a pretty lady when I see one." He winked at you, which didn't help your nerves at all. You slowly made your way over to the chair you usually sat in, trying to tug down Jungwon's shirt as much as possible.
You silently sat and watched for a few minutes as the boys casually spoke about their plans for the day. Jungwon still hadn't joined the four of you in the living room yet. You couldn't help but let your thoughts drift to… ideas about what might be taking him this long.
"Why don't you come sit next to me," Jake broke you out of your stupor as he patted the seat beside him. You blinked and looked over.
There was enough room for you, sure, but it would've put you in pretty close proximity to Jake. Which, you didn't really mind, but the only one you wanted to be close to now was Jungwon—
Alright feelings, reel it in.
"That seat's taken," Jay piped up. Jake gave him a confused look before trying again.
"Bro, there's literally nothing in this seat—"
Jay placed one of the pillows on the couch in the spot before Jake was finished. "Now there is."
Heeseung laughed into his cereal and you even let out a chuckle yourself. Jake groaned and let his head fall against the couch. "Why do you do these things?"
Jay scoffed, appalled. "Why do you do these things? I'm trying to help you."
He might've thought he was speaking low enough for his voice to not carry, but you still heard anyway. You spared a glance at Heeseung and he simply shrugged.
"What, you want me to lie? She looks damn good like that," Jake pushed further. You could feel heat across your face, which only intensified when you heard movement from around the corner.
"Who looks good like what now?" Jungwon's voice was still deeper than usual, since he hadn't been awake long, but he looked significantly less flustered. He was standing next to your chair, one hand in his pocket while the other was holding something.
"I brought some of my shorts for you — they'll probably be a little loose, but you can tie them as tightly as you need to."
"Of course, always Jungwon to the rescue." The words dripped from Jake with exaggeration and Jay coughed awkwardly.
You ignored Jake's comment as you took the shorts with shaky hands, your chest feeling fuzzy at the fact that Jungwon had remembered during his… peril. "Thanks, I'll, uh, I'll go change."
"Whose shirt are you even wearing anyway?" You heard Jake call after you, but before you could answer, Jungwon's voice cut through the air — sharp, but calm.
"Mine."
You closed Jungwon's bedroom door and quickly changed, not wanting to miss any of what might be going on outside. Jake liked to push Jungwon — playfully, of course — and you usually found the interactions to be very amusing.
This morning, however, Jungwon didn't seem to be in a 'playful' mood. This was even more evident when you walked back outside and he was now sitting in your chair.
Jake knocked the pillow off the spot next to him and gestured to it like it was the only viable option. You took one step toward him—
—but you were instantly tugged backward by a hand on your wrist.
You landed softly on Jungwon's lap with your back against his chest. Thankfully, this time, he felt normal underneath you. But your heartbeat picked up anyway due to the fact that he has just put you in his lap on purpose.
Not only that, but he wrapped both arms around you from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder. You felt like you couldn't breathe or the illusion might shatter.
Except this was happening, this was real. And your thoughts were even more out of control than before.
Anytime Jungwon showed even a shred of possessiveness it always made your chest feel fluttery. This was one of the most possessive type of gestures you'd ever seen from him, and coming off the heels of staying with him last night and your shared time this morning, the entire situation had you feeling lost for words.
"Aw, c'mon Won, lighten up. Not my fault she looks good in your clothes." Jake dragged out the word 'your,' for a reason you couldn't place. Jungwon's arms tightened around you.
"I know she does."
His bluntness took you off guard, and it didn't seem like it was just you — Jake also raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Noted." Jake blinked before a sinister grin stretched across his face. "Hey, maybe if you're ever over and Won isn't here, you can borrow some of my clothes, yeah? Bet you'd look just as good—"
"No need to bet— you won't be finding out." Jungwon pulled you closer then, the action making you gasp softly.
Jay's mouth was hanging open as he looked between Jungwon and Jake before his stare rested on you. Heeseung had stopped eating his cereal, spoon still halfway to his mouth, full of another bite.
Jake held his hands up in defense, finally conceding, thankfully. "Whatever you say, man. Just teasing is all." His smug smile made you think there was more to his methods, but you let it drop for now.
Jungwon nodded (at least from what you could tell since he still had his chin on your shoulder) and that was the end of that interaction. The silence in the room wasn't tense, but if you had to describe it as anything, it was present.
Jay started up a new conversation, pulling Jake in instantly and even roping in Heeseung since it was about a game the three of them were playing. You watched with fondness in your gaze, resting against Jungwon's chest. You let out a happy sigh, and he readjusted his arms around you.
"Hey," he said quietly, voice right by your ear given the position you were in, "you doing ok?"
"Mhm," you nodded and looked to the side to give him a smile. He returned it, and you finally noticed that he looked a little…shy, perhaps?
"Good. Didn't wanna scare you away with— well, everything this morning."
You laughed as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes. "Nothing you do will ever keep me away. You're stuck with me — no returns, no refunds, no exchanges."
Jungwon chuckled beneath you, and one of his hands rested on your thigh now. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
The rest of the morning was chill and calm, a break from the internal chaos you'd been experiencing for a little over maybe 12 hours now. At some point you dozed off, feeling comfortable and safe in Jungwon's warm embrace.
After you woke up some time later, you noticed that during your slumber, Jungwon had wrapped one of his pinkys around yours. He was still asleep underneath you, letting out soft snores against your shoulder while one arm was still curled around your waist.
You were down so, so bad.
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It'd only been a few days but your feelings were more out of sorts than ever. Each time you and Jungwon hung out now there was some kind of weird energy between the two of you — not weird in a bad way, but just strange. Like you couldn't tell if he might've been feeling more like you were or if you truly were destined to stay this way forever — always the best friend, but never more than that.
For example, anytime Jake was around now, if Jungwon was there, he had to be touching you. Either his hand was brushing against yours, his arm was around your shoulders, he had a hand on your waist when you were beside him, basically anything like that.
Subtle, but very clearly saying: I'm here.
Did that deter Jake from flirting? Not really, but he did tone down the frequency of his comments at least, and for that you were grateful.
You knew there was no bad blood between Jungwon and Jake; they'd been close friends for too long to let lighthearted teasing shake things up. But you'd known Jungwon longer, and you know that for Jungwon, you were his best friend. And maybe that's why Jake being more bold bothered him the way it did.
You wouldn't delude yourself into thinking otherwise, because that would just get your hopes up before they inevitably came crashing down once again.
All these thoughts were racing through your mind while you sat with your back against the wall in the dance studio. Your arms were propped up on your knees as you watched Jungwon and Heeseung practice a routine for an upcoming show.
Jungwon decided today would be an amazing day to wear a black tank top and gray sweatpants— because who needs sanity, right?
Heeseung was a little more modest in his choice of clothing, a white t-shirt and black sweats, but Jungwon was distracting enough on his own that you didn't think it'd matter what Heeseung wore, your eyes would still be glued to him.
His blonde hair was damp from sweat, and he kept having to push it out of his face midway through their repeats of the routine. Heeseung called for a 5 minute break, and Jungwon started jogging over to you, big smile on his face.
"Did you see that? We're so close to nailing it, I can taste it."
That phrasing wasn't helping you think appropriate thoughts, especially not when this close you could see beads of sweat rolling down his neck and ending at the dip in his collarbone.
"You guys are doing great," you stood up and offered him his water bottle with a genuine smile, looking up at the ceiling afterwards to avert your focus from watching his Adam's apple bob when he drank from the bottle.
God, you really needed to get a grip. And not a grip of Jungwon— you needed to pull yourself together.
Jungwon seemed pleased with your praise, wiping the back of his mouth before he handed the water back. "Sorry I'm a bit messy right now, I know it's not like, the most appealing sight—"
"You're one of my favorite sights, no matter what."
The words slipped out before you could control them. There was no brain-to-mouth filter: only untethered feelings escaping you and taking up space in the atmosphere.
Jungwon blinked once, twice, before he stammered out an "O-oh. Thank you."
"R-right," it was your turn to stammer now, "well, uh, don't let me hold you up. Go get 'em!"
You tried to turn Jungwon around so he could walk back over to Heeseung, but when your hands reached out for his shoulders, he caught them with his own.
"By the way," he leaned in closer, giving your hands a small squeeze. You swore all other sound faded out in that moment.
"You're one of my favorite sights, too. Always."
You couldn't breathe. Jungwon's soft tone and closeness had you feeling intoxicated, and all you could do was nod in acknowledgement. He flashed that beautiful smile you saw all the time in your dreams before releasing your hands and turning around on his own.
"We don't have to stay too much longer, ok? Promise!" Without looking back, he held a hand up with his pinky outstretched — promising.
You sunk back to the floor, wrapping your arms around your legs this time (pinky out as you did). Jungwon really gave you whiplash sometimes, and your body was flush with a heat you didn't usually feel, at least not this intensely.
Not out in the open, not here in the actual vicinity of Jungwon. This was a feeling you mostly kept to yourself, left between you and your bed on nights where you were tangled in your sheets, frustrated while you tried to pleasure yourself and calling out the name of the only one you wanted: him.
Today was going to be a long day. You rested your forehead on your knees, already anticipating things to get much worse.
And they did — just not in the way you'd expected.
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Back at your own place now, you couldn't get the images of Jungwon dancing out of your head. The way he moved so fluidly, like his body was influencing the music and not the other way around; you would stare at him in awe every time. You could watch him dance for hours, and had done so multiple times before, but seeing him like that today, it was like a switch had flipped.
His behavior earlier did nothing to stave off the desire you could feel creeping up and threatening to consume you. You'd gone through so many emotions in the span of a few hours and you were exhausted by it all.
Now was not the time to start spiraling over your best friend, the person who knew you better than you knew yourself, the person whose smile could always brighten your day—
You didn't need this breakdown. Not right now. Your thoughts were already muddled enough with all these (re)surfacing feelings about Jungwon.
You needed a distraction. Your mind drifted to Jake, who had been a bit more flirtatious than usual lately.
Were you thinking clearly? Not really.
But you'd try anything to get the stupid thoughts to shut the fuck up for once.
You remembered then the picture you'd taken the night you stayed over at Jungwon's place, in his room, posing on his bed. It was burning a hole in your camera roll, just waiting for you to send it to someone. Waiting for you to bare yourself in a way that you only wanted one person to see.
And you could never show that person — thus was your dilemma.
Although, just because you couldn't send it to that person didn't mean you couldn't send it to anyone. And Jake did say he wouldn't mind if you sent him a picture.
And honestly? If you really thought about it, you could actually see yourself flirting back with a guy like Jake. The two of you had good chemistry already as friends, and it was safe to bet that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you from the compliments you'd both give.
What would Jungwon say, though? If you started dating one of his other good friends — one of your other good friends? Especially now after he's been acting the way he has around Jake? Would he be upset, or annoyed, or—
Would he even care to start with?
That last question left you with uneasiness in your chest. All of the pondering and 'what-ifs' started to make you feel antsy.
Without really thinking it through, you found the picture from the other night in your photo album and sent it.
[you] 8:28 PM: IMG.0902
You'd just texted Jake earlier in the day, so you knew he had to be near the top, if not at the very top, of your text list. You let out the breath you’d been holding, glad to have that out of your system. Now you could focus your attention on other things—
Or you could check and make sure the message sent, because why wouldn’t you? Nothing wrong with being cautious, especially when it's something as normal as sending a guy who has been kinda-sorta flirting with you a risqué picture of yourself with no warning.
You nearly dropped your phone as you stared wide-eyed at the screen.
“Fuck,” you breathed out. “No no no-”
[you] 8:29 PM: oh my god wait [you] 8:29 PM: pls don’t open that [you] 8:29 PM: just [you] 8:29 PM: don’t scroll back up [you] 8:29 PM: nothing to see up here [you] 8:30 PM: i’ll tell you some cool facts instead!! [you] 8:30 PM: did you know that octopuses sometimes throw things when they’re stressed [you] 8:30 PM: just like people do [you] 8:31 PM: crazy huh
You couldn’t even see the picture message on your screen anymore, and you knew Jungwon had a similar, if not the same, phone model like yours. So, it had to also be off his screen by now.
…right?
Panic seeped through your body, trying to settle into your bones. Every passing minute that you didn't get a response felt like torture.
The time it took Jungwon to respond was enough time for you to think of all the ways you could salvage this. It was also long enough for you to realize the only thing you could probably do now is skip town and start a new life elsewhere.
[wonie💙] 8:38 PM: well hi to you too [you] 8:38 PM: yes hi hello pls don’t scroll up thank you 🫶 [wonie💙] 8:38 PM: uh [wonie💙] 8:38 PM: you know i can’t just like [wonie💙] 8:38 PM: ignore that you’re trying to hide something from me rn right? [you] 8:38 PM: ofc you can! [wonie💙] 8:38 PM: actually i can’t [wonie💙] 8:39 PM: it’s in the best friend handbook [wonie💙] 8:39 PM: don’t tell me you already forgot :(
Somehow, Jungwon hadn’t managed to see it yet. Or he was just really good at pretending for your sake, which you wouldn’t put past him at all.
A sigh of relief slipped past your lips and, like a fool, you thought for a moment that you might even be in the clear.
[wonie💙] 8:40 PM: since you forgot the sacred bestie rules, i think it’s only fair that you tell me what you're hiding [you] 8:40 PM: jungwon i am so serious pls just forget about it [wonie💙] 8:40 PM: using the full name?? now i gotta know what you sent me [you] 8:40 PM: wonie don’t [wonie💙] 8:40 PM: nickname won’t save you now
The wording had your heart racing but you shoved aside the feeling for now. You were in damage control mode and everything else could wait.
[you] 8:41 PM: pls?? [wonie💙] 8:41 PM: begging? you REALLY don’t want me to know do you [you] 8:41 PM: believe me it’s better if you don’t :,) [wonie💙] 8:41 PM: huh [wonie💙] 8:41 PM: that so?
His tone was decipherable even through a screen. You knew what was coming next.
[wonie💙] 8:42 PM: bet.
Well, it was nice having an untainted friendship while it lasted. A few minutes went by as you sat at the edge of your bed with your head in your hands.
The vibration from your phone made you squeak because you hadn’t been expecting it so soon. Dread flowed through you as you opened it up to see what kind of damage had been done.
[wonie💙] 8:45 PM: oh
For some reason, you flinched. That simple ‘oh’ hurt probably more than anything else he could’ve said. But also: why did you want him to say more when you were already mortified?
You knew why and just didn’t want to admit it. You could keep the feelings in. You would keep the feelings in.
If there was any way you could crawl back from the cliff edge you were dangerously dangling yourself over, you would do it without hesitation.
Your friendship with Jungwon meant more to you than the happiness you thought you might have if you were ever more than that.
And as soon as you were done dealing with this, you’d make sure everything would be normal and fine and all good again.
Your phone vibrated again in your hold. Surprised, you opened it again.
[wonie💙] 8:46 PM: well [wonie💙] 8:46 PM: definitely wasn't expecting that [you] 8:46 PM: yeah well you saw it now so you can just delete it and forget what happened [wonie💙] 8:47 PM: c’mon you know me better than that
Pause. What?
Before you could question it further, another text popped up.
[wonie💙] 8:47 PM: where are you rn [you] 8:48 PM: i'm at home. why?? [wonie💙] 8:48 PM: by yourself? [you] 8:48 PM: yes?
You fumbled with your phone as it started vibrating wildly in your hands—the custom vibration pattern you had set for whenever Jungwon was calling.
…Jungwon was calling.
Could you answer him like this? Face him so soon without the guarded barrier of texted words without vocals behind them?
Your stomach swirled with anticipation as you decided ‘fuck it, why not.’ You answered after another second of vibration.
“H-hi.”
“Hey,” Jungwon’s voice was…a little off. He still sounded calm, like usual, but there was a slight edge to it. “We gonna talk about it, or?”
"About the octopus fact?" Deflection: that was your only tactic you had left up your sleeve. "It's really interesting actually—"
"As much as I love hearing all your fun facts you have floating around in that pretty head of yours," Jungwon cut you off, tone sounding a little more amused now, "you and I both know what I'm asking about."
Your brain was trying to catch up with the fact that he just called you pretty. Well, more specifically your head, but you'd take what you could get.
It's not like Jungwon had never called you something like that before; he'd told you on numerous occasions when you looked nice in an outfit or he liked the way you styled your hair or something to that effect.
He'd even called you beautiful before, and you were very normal about that and definitely didn't dwell on it for 3 business days.
"Getting shy on me? Because you certainly don't look shy in that picture."
You whined. "Wonie, please delete it, it's so embarrassing."
A small chuckle filtered through the receiver. Had he always sounded that attractive over the phone?
"You sure we're talking about the same picture? Because what I'm looking at…" he trailed off, leaving you to wonder where his thoughts were going.
"You're still looking at it," you nearly hissed in disbelief.
"Why wouldn't I? It's a nice picture. And if I'm not mistaken," his voice dipped lower, not a lot, but enough, "you're also wearing my shirt."
Of course he would be the one to notice that. You knew taking pics in his room had been a bad idea.
But you also felt so…confident while doing it.
"You let me borrow shirts all the time, I fail to see why that's incriminating."
You did your best to keep your voice neutral, but the small hum he let out in response had the threads of your sanity fraying the longer you stayed on the phone.
"Just an observation. Was kinda hard to tell though, since you're almost not even wearing it—"
"Jungwon!" You looked around your empty apartment, checking to make sure you were still alone, as if your outburst would cause someone to randomly appear in the room with you.
"Hey, I'm just pointing out what I'm seeing," you could almost imagine him with his hands held up in defense. "I'm not complaining either."
The conversation was taking a…bit more of an unexpected turn that you thought it would have. It definitely wasn't affecting you in any way, how he was talking to you. (It absolutely was affecting you.)
As if your body wanted to betray your delusions, you noticed then that your palm was sweaty and you had to readjust your grip on your phone.
It impressed you a little bit, not that you'd give him the satisfaction of knowing it, that he was able to tell the shirt was his since it was a dark blue color and the lighting in the room was also blueish in hue. You'd been very intentional about how you wanted the lighting to accentuate the shadows and highlights in the space.
If he only noticed the shirt, you could probably avoid being flustered into oblivion. He wasn't the biggest on attention to detail sometimes, so you breathed a little easier.
"Wait…is that— is that my room?"
Alright so maybe he paid a bit more attention to detail than you thought.
"Uh—" you couldn't lie to him, you'd never been able to. "Yes."
Jungwon let out what sounded almost like a pained noise.
"Shit, ok, uh—" nervous laughter you were unfamiliar with graced your ears. "That's, uh— yeah."
You remembered at that moment how you were posing in the picture and you seriously wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You were on your knees on Jungwon's bed, the same bed you slept in later that exact night, with him next to you. Your legs were slightly spread apart, thighs bare since you'd forgotten to bring shorts with you. Your hands tangled in the shirt as you were pulling it up; the hem of the shirt was only halfway up your chest, still covering you but barely. The look on your face in the picture as you stared at Jungwon's mirror was one that even you couldn't deny looked seductive.
You thought you heard Jungwon sigh; either that, or his breathing was off. "Listen, I—"
"I didn't mean to send it to you," you couldn't hold it in anymore. The words rushed out almost all at once, jumbled and incomprehensible to someone who didn't know any better. But you could tell by the shift you felt that Jungwon heard every word clearly.
"You didn't… mean to send it… to me?" He sounded like he was trying out the words for the first time in that order, saying them like they didn't feel right.
You gulped. "Yeah. I-I didn't."
Rustling could be heard from the other side and you desperately wanted to know what was going through his head.
"So you mean to tell me," his tone was much more stoic than it had been before, "that you took pictures looking like that— in my room, wearing my shirt, sitting like that on my bed."
He sounded guarded, unlike his usual tone with you. Your skin prickled as you waited for him to continue.
"You were posing in front of my mirror," a brief pause, "and you didn't mean to send it to me?"
You nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Right. I meant to send it to—"
"I don't wanna know," Jungwon was quick to cut you off. "It's better if I don't know, actually." He added the last part softer, almost like he didn't want you to hear it.
Your heart thumped painfully in your chest. "Wonie, I'm sorry—"
"Nothing to be sorry for," he sounded a little more like himself, maybe even like he was smiling like he would whenever he wanted to comfort you, but you could see through it. "It was a mistake. Accidents happen. Doesn't mean I'm upset with you."
"I know, but… I'm still sorry." Your grasp on the phone was tight enough that you could feel the pain start to spread through your knuckles with how taut they were.
"Don't be." A moment of silence before he continued with what you knew this time was a sigh. "I need to go."
He hadn't said 'I should go' or 'I have to do something,' he said 'I need to go.'
The very specific phrasing had you panicking internally as you scrambled to fix this— whatever this was. "Wait, please—"
"I'll talk to you later," Jungwon ignored your plea for him to stay. You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat.
"Wonie…"
"Whoever it's meant for is lucky, though," he added quietly, making your breath catch. "And they better know it."
He hung up before you could answer. The dial tone had never seemed so loud.
You sat in the stifling silence of your room for a few minutes, replaying your conversation and trying to pinpoint exactly where you went wrong. The more you mulled it over, it didn't seem like Jungwon had really been bothered by the picture itself, but more so the fact that you didn't mean to send it to him.
Maybe you hadn't been imagining the possessive edge to his tone when he was talking about you being in his room wearing his clothes on his bed.
And maybe Jungwon just needed to leave to go hang out with the guys. Which would be a totally reasonable explanation as to why he would suddenly end the conversation… and also not invite you to tag along…
There wasn't much time to fixate on it further before your phone was going off again, but this time someone different was calling.
"Hello?" There was a small waver to your voice because your emotions were a little all over the place at the moment but you thought you managed to hide it well.
"Hey, hope I'm not bothering you," Jay was on the other end, sounding almost as confused as you were. "Do you have any idea why Won just left the apartment suddenly in the middle of the night? He's not answering his phone, so I figured if anyone knew where he went it would be you."
Your stomach lurched.
"No, he didn't say — I thought he was going somewhere with you guys."
You could picture Jay shaking his head. "Nah, he just walked out of his room and left. I don't think he even took anything like a bag with him and it's supposed to storm soon."
"I talked to him on the phone a few minutes ago but all he said was he needed to go — he's not answering when you call?"
"He hasn't answered me or Hee. I'd get Jake to try but I doubt that would work if us trying already didn't."
A feeling of guilt had clawed its way into your chest, weighing you down with each passing moment. Jungwon wasn't the type to just leave without saying something; he'd tell at least one of his friends, if he didn't already tell you.
Maybe you fucked up more than you thought.
"If he shows up there, call me, yeah? I'm not super worried, really, but— this does seem kinda off."
You gulped. "Yeah, of course. You'll be the first to know if I find out anything."
"Thanks, and same here if we hear something before you do."
You hung up the phone after saying goodbye to Jay and wracked your brain as to where Jungwon could be. It was the middle of the night, there was bound to be rain soon so he probably wouldn't be outside, and it was somewhere he wanted to be right now—
You made up your mind and grabbed an umbrella along with your keys on the way out of your apartment, already knowing where to look first.
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The dance studio — that was the only place that made reasonable sense. You tried a few other places before that, but honestly you should've just started with the studio to begin with.
You parked your car and noticed right away that Jungwon's car wasn't there, meaning he must've walked, despite it being later in the evening. The idea made your stomach twist further when you remembered Jay told you he left without a bag or anything.
The behavior was so unlike Jungwon. No wonder you were all worried.
You got out of the car and hesitated before you walked up to the front door of the studio. There wasn't a light on inside that you could see through the windows, but the feeling in your gut compelled you to try the doorknob anyway. When you did, it turned easily under your hand, and the door creaked open slowly.
Luckily for you, your intuition was right. It usually was when Jungwon was involved.
Light was peeking through underneath one of the doors down the hallway. It looked to be coming from the last room, if your perception could be trusted, which would also make sense because Jungwon preferred practicing in there anyway.
Music got louder as you made your way down the hall. You took a deep breath, hoping that Jungwon might not be here and maybe he went out to grab something quick and was already back home.
Another part of you hoped he was here and you weren't about to walk in on some stranger just trying to enjoy some alone time while they danced.
You wouldn't know until you tried — so with a cautious hand, you turned the door handle and gently pushed the door open. Without thinking, you locked it out of habit once you stepped in the room.
Inside the room was Jungwon, dancing more aggressively than you'd ever seen him dance before. Music was playing from his phone over the speaker in the room. You quickly texted Jay to let him know, heartbeat picking up slightly at his last response.
[jay🐈⬛] 9:35 PM: thanks for letting me know [jay🐈⬛] 9:35 PM: take care of him, yeah? you're the person who does it the best
You would deal with what that could possibly mean at a later time. Right now: Jungwon.
With your eyes fixed on him now, there was a certain kind of ferocity to his moves that took your breath away. His expression that you could see through the mirror, however, hurt your chest.
His brows were furrowed in frustration and he was biting his bottom lip, hard enough that you figured it had to hurt. He was hitting every move with careful precision, but near the end of the song, he fumbled and fell to the floor, hard.
"Jungwon!" You couldn't help the cry you let out, surely inaudible to him due to the loud music that was still playing.
Jungwon sat himself up and stretched his legs out in front of him. He smacked the hardwood floor with his hand as he shouted "Fuck!"
He buried his head in his hands, pulling at the blonde strands of his hair while the music died down before the loop of audio started again.
There was no way you could sit back and watch him like this, you had to do something.
Even if you were the last person he wanted to see right now, even if he wanted nothing to do with you — he was still your best friend. He was still your Jungwon.
You ran over to him, steps barely making any sound since you were wearing lighter shoes. When you were beside him, you crouched down. One hand already was reaching out, but you didn't want to startle him, so you just hoped he'd be able to hear you.
"Wonie?" You said it as loudly as you could without yelling, still trying to do it softly even though there was just no way it would come out like that.
Jungwon flinched before he slowly removed his hands from his face. He looked over at you like he almost couldn't believe you were there next to him. His expression was pained, and you had no idea how to fix it.
He lowered the volume of the music so you didn't have to yell to be heard. "Why are you here?"
The sound of his voice broke your heart. He sounded defeated almost, and whether it was about him missing a move or something else, you still weren't sure.
"I needed to come see you. Needed to make sure you were ok."
He scoffed and looked away, the sound devastating you even further. "Why? It's not like I'm on your mind."
Ouch.
"Wonie, just talk to me, please," you tried to plead, to make him see sense.
"What is there to talk about? I'm here dancing, like usual. Nothing's wrong. You came all this way for nothing."
That may have actually been the first time Jungwon lied to you and you knew he was lying. And fuck, if that didn't also hurt.
"Why are you lying? Are you that upset with me?" You were trying not to let any tears fall but you had been through such an emotional roller coaster in the last hour alone that it was getting more difficult to hold it in.
Jungwon seemed to soften a little at that, but his jaw was still clenched. He shifted to where he was sitting with his arms propped up on his knees now, the movement making him wince slightly.
"Also you fell, are you hurt—"
His laughter, devoid of humor, cut you off. "So you saw that? Great." He ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling on the strands. "How long were you watching me fail before you decided to let me know you were here?"
"You weren't failing, it looked like you were doing great to me."
"Maybe you just don't know what to look for."
The coldness of his tone took you by surprise. Even during fights you'd had in the past, Jungwon never seemed this distant with you. It sparked the defensive reaction in you, even though you desperately wanted anything but that to happen right now.
"I've spent countless amounts of hours watching you dance. I think I know what I'm looking at."
He scoffed. "Do you? Do you really?"
His sudden standing made you wobble a bit before you regained your balance. He was walking toward the mirrors, and you followed him with no hesitation.
"Do you really know what you're looking at when you see me? Because I don't think you do."
He was looking at you through the mirror, placing a palm on it for support.
"I see you dancing, I see your movement, I see when you manage to land what looks to be impossible. Wonie, I see how amazing you are when you dance. You come alive when the music plays."
His head turned and the sad smile on his face made your stomach drop.
"Not what I asked you."
He started walking back over to you, his steps almost hesitant. You stayed rooted where you were — afraid to move, to breathe, to even blink.
You had to find out what was going on, you needed to fix it.
"I'm asking if you see me," Jungwon reiterated, "when you watch me, when you look at me. Or do you see me as just your best friend— just a person, something indifferent?"
Jungwon was, and always had been, so much more than 'just' anything and you'd tell him endlessly if you had to. But right now, you weren't sure what he was implying, so the thought stayed secure in your head, instead of making itself known like it probably should have.
You frowned. "I'm confused, I don't know what you're asking."
He sighed, the sound heavy like it weighed him down. "Just go home. I'll go back eventually."
His dismissal was what finally broke the dam. Tears fell now and you didn't bother to try and stop them.
"Did I fuck up that bad?"
Your voice was quiet, but it was enough. When Jungwon looked at you, any trace of prior frustration was wiped clean off his face as soon as he saw your lower lip quivering.
"Hey, wait—"
"I understand if sending that picture fucked up things with us, and- and if you don't want anything to do with me anymore—"
"Whoa, hang on a second," he responded in an almost panicked voice. He reached a hand out, not sure where to place it or if he should even place it at all.
"—I need to hear it from you." You looked him in the eyes as you said it, before you angled your body away. "I need to know that's what you want."
"What I want," Jungwon placed both hands on your shoulders to turn you so you were facing him, his tone gentler now, "is for you to listen to me. Who said anything about you fucking up?"
You let out a shallow breath. "That's what this is about, isn't it? I fucked up our friendship by doing something stupid."
"No, no, you didn't do anything like that. Hey," Jungwon tilted your chin so you'd face him again, "I mean it."
He had said it with conviction, and you so badly wanted to believe him.
"Then why- why were you acting like I don't see you for who you are, or whatever the hell that meant?" You didn't want to raise your voice but it was getting harder to tame that urge. "Why are you acting like you can't stand to be near me?"
The last words came out as a sob. His hand fell from your chin while the other dropped from your shoulder.
"It's not that I don't want to be around you."
"Then what is it, Jungwon? You're giving me mixed signals." Some thoughts you had kept hidden away for a long time were filtering their way through now, words like 'mixed signals' being thrown around because you were at a loss.
"I don't know how you want me to answer that."
You inhaled, the move somewhat shaky since you'd been crying. "Answering honestly would be a good start."
Jungwon dragged a hand down his face. "Fuck— fine. Fine." He took a deep breath before he continued.
"It's because being around you makes this harder."
That… wasn't what you'd been expecting to hear. You didn't really know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.
"Makes what harder? I don't understand—"
Jungwon groaned, walking closer to the mirrors again. You followed instantly, like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you.
"It makes denying how I feel about you harder, ok?" His voice had raised somewhat, hand running through his hair again. "Please don't ask me to explain, because I don't— I'm not sure I can do that."
"Denying… how you feel?"
Jungwon gulped before he nodded.
"And how do you feel?"
Jungwon sighed, the sound rough, uneven. "Please don't make me do this. I can't— I won't mess up what we have. It's worth everything to me," his voice was quieter now.
At some point he must have stopped the music playing from his phone without you realizing because you couldn't hear it in the background anymore, leaving you plenty of opportunity to notice when he spoke softer.
The gears in your brain were turning and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you understood what path he was trying to go down. Your heart was slamming against your chest, beating much too fast for what was probably appropriate, but if he was saying what you thought he was—
Well, sometimes the risk was worth the reward, right?
"Jungwon," you started, "I love you."
A small smirk graced his lips, but you couldn't tell if it was one of amusement or one of disbelief. "I know. I love you, too—"
"Wonie," you interrupted, stepping closer to where you were right in front of him. "I love you."
Your emphasis on the word 'love' was clear.
Jungwon's breath hitched. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to decipher a riddle you had just dropped on him. "…what are you saying?"
Well, no turning back now.
You took a deep breath and shut your eyes for a brief moment before you looked at him with all your vulnerability bared.
"I'm in love with you. And I'm tired of pretending that I'm not."
The way Jungwon's eyes widened made you panic internally for all of maybe 2 seconds before the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen adorned his face.
"No way," he breathed, laughing a little at the end. "No fucking way." His hands cupped your face as his thumbs gently brushed against your cheeks. "You're not fucking with me, are you?"
It was somewhat hard to shake your head in his hold but you still managed. "Never."
Jungwon pulled you into a tight, nearly suffocating hug and buried his face in your shoulder.
"Me too," he said softly. His embrace loosened a little, so as not to crush you, but he didn't dare move away.
"You too?"
He lifted his head, face mere inches away from yours as his arms remained wrapped around you.
"I'm in love with you, too. I'm so fucking gone for you, I have been for a long time."
Hearing him mirror your confession made your heart do a weird little stutter, but you didn't have long to process it before he was speaking again.
"I've been so terrified of ruining our friendship, which means more to me than anything else in the world, other than you." His eyes were shining, full of emotion.
"The night we slept in my bed— don't remind me about the next morning," he immediately stopped you when your mouth opened the slightest amount. He knew that mischievous look on your face better than anyone else.
You giggled and let him continue.
"That night was the closest I'd come to throwing caution to the wind and confessing."
"Why didn't you?" You brushed a strand of hair back from his face, delighted in the way the small movement seemed to affect him.
Jungwon laughed, a sound you loved dearly. "Well, what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, it's driving me crazy being this close to you in my bed while you're wearing my shirt and looking like that— also I'm very much in love with you, by the way.'"
It was your turn to laugh fully as you laid your forehead on his shoulder. One of his hands came up to rest on the back of your head, while the other arm was still curled around your waist.
"I mean, had you said that, I wouldn't have been opposed—"
Jungwon scoffed teasingly, making you look back up at him. "Of course you would say that."
"You got a problem with it," you teased him.
He smiled. "Not at all."
The silence after was comfortable, and you could feel the charged energy sparking between the two of you. Jungwon broke the silence first, bringing his hand from the back of your head to caress the side of your face.
"Can I kiss you?"
"Please," you responded instantly, wanting to feel his lips against yours more than you wanted anything else in that moment. Jungwon wasted no time leaning in and claiming your mouth with his own.
You'd often imagined what it would feel like to kiss Jungwon, and in every scenario your brain conjured up, you always deemed that it would feel amazing no matter what. Your imagination couldn't even begin to compare to the actual feeling.
His lips moved against yours with a slow, tender rhythm. He wasn't trying to rush anything, savoring the taste of you as you melted against him. His movements were purposeful and gentle, but with just enough pressure to take your breath away. Kissing him felt right, it felt like you were whole, it felt like—
Kissing Jungwon felt like home.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed and he was breathing hard. He rested his forehead against yours.
"Fuck, so much better than I thought it would be," he sounded breathless. You smiled and looked down, surprised to see the tiniest bit of shaking in his knees.
"Wonie? Your knees—"
He chuckled. "Oh right, that. Guess 'weak in the knees' isn't just a phrase after all."
You laughed at his silly response, trying to ignore how you were rapidly heating up inside.
Kissing you made Jungwon's knees weak. You had that much of an effect on him. The revelation was doing things to you.
This time, you were the one who flustered him as you took the lead, pulling him closer by fisting your hands in his shirt. His answering grunt at the impact made your stomach flip.
Jungwon took the opportunity to walk forward as you were kissing, his hands firm on your waist as he guided you backward. His lips didn't leave yours, and the way he deepened the kiss while still making sure you didn't fall as you walked drew a noise from you that he seemed to really like.
Your back collided with a surface, the thud making you gasp into Jungwon's mouth. His fingers curled tighter around your waist.
"Fuck, sorry," he breathed before he started trailing kisses along your jaw. "Can't believe I get to see you like this."
Your fists clenched in his shirt as he went further, leaving light touches along your neck that intensified the lower he went.
"Can't believe I get to hear you like this." He brushed his lips against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you whined at the sensation. You could feel Jungwon's pleased smirk against your skin.
"Can't believe I get to touch you like this." He emphasized his words by squeezing you where his hands were holding you by the waist.
His face was in front of yours again, eyes searching for a moment before you saw a breathtaking smile.
"Can't believe you're mine."
You leaned in for another kiss with a false sense of gentleness before you pulled him closer by the grip you had on his shirt. Your lips landed on his with a hunger you didn't bother trying to tame.
You'd waited so long for even a chance for something like this to happen, there was no way you were holding back now. Especially not when Jungwon was this receptive to it.
The noise you swallowed down from him had you noticing the way you were already soaked from just this little bit of intimacy.
When Jungwon finally managed to pull away — begrudgingly, it looked like — his eyes found yours.
"Are you?" He asked it softly, almost like he was scared of the answer.
"Am I what?"
Jungwon brushed a piece of hair from your face before his palm rested against your cheek.
"Mine."
You smiled so big that if your face could've cracked it surely would have — smiling so hard that it almost hurt.
"Always have been."
Jungwon's deep groan as he pressed his body up against yours was driving you crazy.
"Fuck, god, that's— you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that. How long I've wanted this," his thumbs brushed along your hip from where his hands were still holding onto you for dear life, "how long I've wanted you."
You wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself up against him until you could feel him. He was just as affected as you were by all this, which made you happy in a way you'd never quite felt before.
"Then show me."
His smirk was deadly. "Right now? In here? You sure you want that, baby?"
This man was going to be the death of you, what the fuck—
"What if someone else came in, hm?" His tone was playful, but the look in his eyes made you wonder how much of it was meant in jest. "You want people to see you, to hear you while I make you mine?"
You gulped. "I locked the door, so—"
"Oh? Look at you, thinking ahead," his thumbs skirted around the hem of your shirt, just barely pushing it up.
"I did it without thinking," you tried to clarify, but your body betrayed you when he placed another kiss on that same sensitive spot he found earlier.
"Sure, baby, sure. I believe you." His hands were fully underneath your shirt now, still lingering around your waist. The feeling of skin on skin made you shiver. "Gonna let me take care of you?"
You nodded, ready for whatever Jungwon was about to do and if he didn't do it soon you might have actually started whining for real.
A ghost of a kiss graced your lips, barely there but still enough.
"Can I touch you?"
You nodded a little too fast, making Jungwon chuckle at your eagerness before he shook his head.
"Have to hear you, sweet girl. Tell me what you want."
"Please, Wonie," you mumbled the words against his lips, "touch me."
Jungwon moaned against your mouth. "Fuck, hearing you say my name like that— god, I can't explain what it does to me."
He held you against the wall behind you with one hand while he dipped his other one into the front of your sweats, taking his time even as you trembled with want in his hold. He brushed lightly over your panties and the way you flinched made his eyes widen.
"Holy shit, really? That sensitive?"
"Don't make fun of me," you whined out, eyes shut as you prepared yourself for… well honestly anything, because it appeared that no matter what Jungwon did it was going to wreck you.
"No, baby, never, I'm not making fun of you— it's hot as fuck, are you kidding me?"
He teased you again, pressing firmer against your clit through the fabric. The wetness he felt despite not actually touching you properly yet made his breath stutter.
"All this for me? God," Jungwon sounded amazed, "you're unreal."
"Please," you pleaded, hoping he'd actually touch you like he said he would.
"Fuck, ok, I got you," his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he pushed your panties to the side. His fingers caressed your folds gently, rubbing against your clit in slow, rhythmic circles.
"Wonie," you moaned out his name, making the rhythm of his hand falter.
"Ah, I can't get used to that," Jungwon threw his head his head back to get hair out of his eyes, "you sound so fucking pretty for me."
He caught your eyes as he teased your entrance with one finger, checking to make sure that this was ok, that you were ok.
"Please," you repeated it like a broken record. You wouldn't be surprised if by the end of the night you only knew that word and some form of Jungwon's name.
He didn't hesitate, moving inside you with a steady pace, one that had you clinging now to the back of his shirt. A sharp gasp left you when he hit a familiar spot. You tried to muffle your sounds by biting your lip, but Jungwon wasn't having that.
He pulled your bottom lip down from where your teeth were holding it, smoothing over it with his thumb. "Let it out, baby. Need to hear how I'm making you feel."
You moaned then, unrestrained, and felt how his thumb pressed against your lip in response before he placed his hand back on your hip.
Jungwon added another finger, managing to make you come undone with just two of them. Usually it would probably take more of this, but honestly you had no doubt that Jungwon could make you come untouched if he really tried hard enough.
You were sure he'd probably try that one day— if this was something that continued.
But now wasn't the time for those thoughts. Now was the time to focus on the beautiful man in front of you who you'd been dreaming about for years now, hoping to maybe experience a fraction of this with him even if it was just one time.
"You're so responsive, it's driving me crazy," Jungwon said the words with his tone full of wonder. "You sound like you're already close—"
"I am," you tried to warn him as your hand shot out to grasp his wrist — not to make him stop, but to encourage him to keep going. "Please don't stop."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said the words against the column of your throat, finding that spot inside you over and over again, drawing you closer to your peak.
"God, I wish you could see yourself," he placed kisses anywhere he could on your face. "So beautiful."
When your moans started rising in pitch, you chanced a look at Jungwon. He looked like he'd been studying your reactions — every twitch of your body, every time your eyebrows furrowed, each time your mouth hung open in a silent scream of pleasure. He was studying you the same way he did a new dance routine, taking it all in until the motions were as easy as breathing for him.
He also had a devious expression on his face, which somehow, confusingly, made you even more aroused.
"Hey, baby?"
He was still moving, but the questioning tone took you off guard. "Y-yeah?"
It sounded way too casual for someone who was currently pulling downright depraved noises out of you.
"Got an idea — can I try something?"
"Does it involve you stopping, because please no," you sounded desperate, but if he truly did want to to stop you absolutely would with no questions asked. You had a feeling that wasn't what he was implying, though.
He chuckled and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll only stop for a second, but it'll be worth it, I promise."
You pretended to think about it, knowing damn well you'd happily and very willingly let this man do pretty much anything he wanted to you.
"Go ahead, but make it quick."
Your tone was clearly teasing, and you knew Jungwon got the vibe of it from the way he smiled.
Before you could comprehend what was happening, you were suddenly being turned around. Your hands shot out to brace yourself, and what you thought was a wall in fact wasn't one at all.
You came face to face with your own reflection — eyes glassy, lips swollen, breathing hard. And behind you stood Jungwon, looking just as much a mess, if not even more than you were. He looked beautiful like this, ethereal.
His stare in the mirror was lethal, and he kept his eyes on you as he gave your earlobe a gentle tug with his teeth. He pressed closer to you against your back when you moaned at the feeling.
He placed a kiss on your neck right underneath you ear before he finally said words you didn't know you'd been waiting to hear.
"You're gonna watch while I make you fall apart."
His hand found you again, and he slipped three fingers inside this time, the stretch surprising but not unwelcome. Jungwon grunted at the way you clenched around his fingers as your body jerked in his hold.
You had no time to react before you were moaning louder, eyes shut tightly, the feeling overwhelming you in all the best ways. The effort to open your eyes was overpowered by the intense pleasure coursing through you, but Jungwon wasn't having it.
"Keep those pretty eyes open for me," he mumbled the words against the exposed part of your shoulder, desire coating every syllable. "I meant what I said — you're gonna watch."
Your eyes barely blinked open as you tried to obey, but your head kept dropping down; Jungwon must've decided that he should give you some help.
His 'help' came in the form of a hand curving around your jaw from behind, holding your face in place as his fingers moved faster inside of you. Your back was flush against his chest now with the new positioning, and you could tell through the multiple layers of clothing just how bad he was aching for you — how hard he was for you.
He breathed along the shell of your ear, grunting when he felt your hips moving. "Fuck, do you know how many times I've thought about this? About watching you come undone for me?"
He ground against you, chasing the friction he so desperately wanted while you continued to melt in his hands.
You shook your head when you remembered he had asked you a question. "I don't know— but me too."
"Shit, you've thought about this too, yeah? Me ruining you with just my fingers?" He increased his pace and one of your hands grabbed his arm that was in front of you. Your nails dug in slightly, making him go even harder.
"Yes, yes Wonie," you answered truthfully, because honestly, you'd probably pictured him with you in every explicit way possible at this point.
"Fuck," you felt him moving against you more, somewhat matching the rhythm of his hand that was showing you no mercy. The way he was pushing you up against the mirror now with his own movements made you feel one separation away from going actually feral. You were close enough that your breath fogged up the glass as you tried to keep yourself together.
"Close, baby?" His own breaths were coming out in shorter pants now, and you could feel when he moaned against your cheek as he placed a tender kiss there. "Gonna cum for me?"
"Wonie, fuck, all for you." Your release was approaching quickly, and you still tried your hardest to keep your eyes open.
"All for me—only for me," Jungwon spoke the words against your neck. You trembled in his hold.
"C'mon, give it to me," he continued. He stared at you through the mirror, his eyes determined, his bottom lip caught by his teeth. When he let it go, he leaned in closer, still keeping eye contact with you before he said what would ultimately be your undoing.
"I need it."
As the pleasure rippled through your body, your back arched and your head landed against his shoulder behind you. He held you through your climax, only letting up on his relentless pace when your moans turned more into whines of oversensitivity.
"Fuck," Jungwon almost sounded more out of breath than you did. "Came so good for me. Looked so beautiful, just like I always knew you would."
You tried to catch your breath as you gave him a lazy smile through the mirror. Jungwon carefully pulled his fingers out, focused so intensely on making sure he didn't overstimulate you that he almost missed your response. The sight of him sucking your essence from his fingers made you become the one more weak in the knees this time.
He hummed around his fingers before he pulled them back out. "Taste so good, too."
The sudden change as he went about fixing your clothing was unexpected, but not unwelcome. His gentle movements and the kiss he placed on top of your head made you feel warm and fuzzy inside for a completely different reason.
But if he thought you were done, he was wildly mistaken because you were far from it.
You turned in his hold, his arms releasing you easily. As you pulled him in for a kiss, you moved one hand down until you could feel him. The surprised moan he let out as soon as you touched him over his clothes had to be one of the hottest sounds you'd ever heard in your entire life.
"Oh fuck, didn't think I'd be that sensitive, ha," Jungwon's eyes were having a hard time staying open now — something you would inevitably tease him about later.
"Gonna let me return the favor, Wonie?" Your tone was teasing, playful, but the movements of your hand were a stark contrast, if the noises escaping him were anything to go by.
He managed to open his eyes again before he nodded. "Yeah, yeah, ah— please."
Without wasting anymore time, you fell to your knees in front of him. You dragged your mouth along the bulge in his sweats, and he cursed above you.
Jungwon found it hard to look at you, and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he didn't know how to handle what was happening. "God, you on your knees for me, fuck—"
"Wonie," you said the word against him before your hands went to his waistband. "Look at me."
"Might not be the best idea if you want me to last literally any time at all," Jungwon rushed the words out, resulting in a giggle from you. You really did love this man.
"You can do it, can't you? For me?"
You were using the most sickly-sweet tone you could. Which, honestly, probably wasn't fair because you knew how it made him feel to hear you like that.
With a groan, Jungwon obeyed to the best of his ability. The look in his eyes spurred you on with a renewed sense of vigor, and the way his bottom lip was captured once again between his teeth in anticipation almost ruined you again right there on the floor.
"Want you to watch me," you continued with a quick kiss over his sweats before you started pulling them down. You stopped for only a moment to make sure it was ok, and his vigorous nod was all the answer you needed.
Jungwon's head tilted back when you palmed him again, this time through one less layer. A deep groan rumbled from his throat. "Holy fuck. God, you're— I can't believe what I'm seeing right now."
When he looked back down at you, the smile you graced him with was nothing short of radiant, and you could tell by how it made his breath hitch. When you finally had all clothing out of the way, you just had to admire him for a few seconds because he had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen.
You couldn't help the small laugh you let out when you saw him twitch because you were staring.
"You, uh— like what you see?"
Poor baby sounded so nervous, you had to put this man out of his misery. You wrapped a hand around him and he hissed at the contact.
"Love it," a slow stroke of your hand made him twitch again, this time in your hold. "So pretty, Wonie."
"Pretty is, uh, an interesting word that's for sure," he cut himself off with a moan when you placed a quick kiss on the tip. "How am I gonna survive this—"
"Just let me take care of you, ok?" A gentle tone to coincide with the slow drags of your hand was the perfect combo to have him already losing his mind even though you'd barely started. You had one more trick up your sleeve and you had to see if it would have the effect you were thinking it might.
"Oh, and Wonie?"
He hummed in response, the hum shifting quickly into a grunt when you added a little more pressure. He looked down at you and you gave him your most devious smile.
"It's my turn now to watch you fall apart."
The way Jungwon's head hit the mirror behind him when you took him into your mouth would've concerned you, had it not been for the sound of pure pleasure that he let out. His hands were reaching behind him as well, scrambling against the glass for something to hold onto and failing miserably.
You teased him for a few more seconds before you pulled back, giggling at the way his eyes were shut tight after he'd been the one making you keep yours open. You kept stroking him with a rhythm that had his hands pressing against the mirror once more.
"Can't keep your eyes on me, baby?" Jungwon twitched in your hand at the pet name; you truly loved the effect you had on this man. He opened his eyes just barely to peek at you before quickly shutting them again.
"If you don't want me to — fuck — cum down your throat in like 5 seconds then yeah, I fear I can't look at you."
The teasing tone made you feel a different kind of warmth inside, because as serious as he was (probably) being, he was still the same, silly Wonie you fell in love with.
"Who says I can't make you cum again?"
"Ok, what the actual fuck— you can't just say shit like that and," he paused to swallow down a moan, "expect me to be normal after."
"Wonie, just let go." You reached out and took one of his hands, placing it on top of your head. When you did the same with the other one, his eyes snapped open.
"Oh my god—"
"You can be rough with me, you know." The way Jungwon nearly fell over at your words proved to you that no, he did not know that, but you were determined that he could learn.
"You're sure," he panted out the question, already pulling your hair after every stroke of your hand made him jolt. "I don't, ah, wanna get carried away."
"It's ok, Wonie," you placed a kiss on his thigh as reassurance, but the soft gesture had probably the opposite effect.
And you loved it.
It seemed you had instead managed to spur him on and convince him to finally let go, because as soon as you took him back into your mouth, the way he thrusted was anything but gentle.
It didn't take long for him to find a steady pace. He was still careful to not completely destroy your throat (even if you kind of wanted him to), but tears were still pooling in the corners of your eyes anyway.
"Fuck, I love you, what the fuck," his hands fisted strands of your hair harshly, the sting of the pain making you moan around him. The vibrations made his hips stutter, and another wave of arousal singed your insides with its heat.
"Keep doing that," Jungwon pleaded. "I'm already close, fuck, just keep— please—"
You didn't want to take your mouth off of him, so you blindly reached up to grab one of his hands. His eyes shot open and he slowed to a stop.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, are you ok? Am I being too rough?"
Still, very stubbornly, not wanting to take him out of your mouth, you shook your head as easily as you could. You intertwined your fingers with his hand you were holding now as you kept going. Jungwon's head hit the glass again, the thud sounding much more painful this time.
"Fuck, ok, just, if you need to like — fuck — stop or something, let me know, ok?"
A reassuring squeeze of his hand was all he needed to pick up right where he left off. His sounds were coming out quicker now, and you could feel him twitching in your mouth every few thrusts.
"Close, close, baby—"
As much as you wanted to keep going until your mouth was quite literally full of him, you needed to know what he wanted. You pulled off of him and inhaled, your lungs grateful for the air you didn't realize you'd been depriving yourself of.
"Where do you want it?"
"God, fuck, anywhere, just—ah," Jungwon was breaking down right before your eyes, other hand gripping your hair with a fierceness you didn't really know he had. "You choose—"
"Down my throat," the words sounded better coming from you than you thought they would, considering you didn't usually say things like that. "I wanna taste you."
Jungwon shuddered, nodding with his head rubbing against the glass. "Fuck, ok— won't be long, uh," he trailed off, letting out another alluring moan as he fixed his stare on you.
"This is what you want? You're sure?"
Even if Jungwon had to be moments away from spilling down your throat, it warmed your heart how he still managed to put your comfort above his own pleasure, just as you would do with him. He always put you first.
Always had. Always will.
Nodding wouldn't be efficient enough, you needed him to know just how badly you did want this. With a shred of courage (and honestly a hint of sheer curiosity) you let go of his hand just enough to wrap your pinky around his.
Your shared signal over all these years — you had no idea how this would go, but you couldn't think of a better way to convey how much you wanted to keep going.
And the reaction you got was better than anything you'd ever seen in your dreams.
The sound that left Jungwon's throat was one you weren't sure he made at first; it just sounded so… raw. It reverberated in that part of the room, where he was up against the mirror with you on your knees, taking him in.
You were already aching for him again, every sound driving you a little more crazy, every falter in movement making you throb with want. And now that you'd had a taste, you'd probably never be satiated by anyone but Jungwon ever again.
"I fucking love you, oh my god, you're perfect, I—" Jungwon tried to swallow down his next moan, instead succeeding in only biting his lip. "—cumming, fuck!"
Those few words were all you got for a warning before you felt him fill your mouth. You swallowed down everything you could, mindful of how his hand on the back of your head helped steady you as he was still squeezing your pinky with his.
As soon as he lifted his hand from your head, he helped you stand up, despite the fact that he was still trying to catch his breath. You were barely steady before he pulled you into another heated kiss, this one more sensual but still with the same amount of intensity as before. If he could taste himself on your tongue, he really didn't seem to care at all.
After a few more shared kisses, Jungwon pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. "I'm not dreaming, right? This is real?"
"It better fucking be or you're going to deal with a very annoyed me tomorrow."
Jungwon laughed, the sound thankfully so much brighter and happier than when you first got here earlier. "So like, a regular day. Got it."
You playfully tapped his arm. "I am not always that bad."
"No, you're not." Jungwon agreed. "But I am always the one taking care of you."
"In more ways than one it would seem," you smiled as you brushed some strands of hair out of his eyes.
"In all the ways you'll let me, for as long as you let me." Jungwon looked at you with a softness in his eyes that you'd seen so many times before, but never quite knew what it meant.
After all these years, you finally found the answer: love.
✮✮🧡💛✮✮✮💛🧡✮✮✮🧡💛✮✮
there is an intended drabble about once they go back to his apartment that will hopefully follow in the near future! i felt like this was getting a little long and this would be a good place to stop for now (thank you @moonstruckpark for the reassurance also 🩵)
permanent taglist: @moonstruckpark, @illneverrecover, @dollvtte, @devdozes
thank you so much for reading! 💛🧡
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second chance
pairing : childhood friend! mingi x fem! reader
synopsis : You used to bully him as a child. Years later, he comes back stronger — and no longer hurt by you. Now guilt replaces cruelty, and the distance between you begins to shift into something neither of you expect.
genre : slice of life, fluff, angst, comfort, enemies-to-lovers, childhood, slow-burn, romance, redemption
warnings : bullying
author’s note : once again thank yew everyone who has supported and read my writings 🥹🤍 each and every like is super duper appreciated 🙏
word count : 1.8k
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You don’t remember when it started.
The teasing. The pushing.
The way his name tasted sharp and satisfying on your tongue when you spat it across the playground.
“Hey, Mingi! Why are you so tall and still so useless?”
You both were eight.
He had too-big hands and limbs that didn’t seem to belong to him yet. All knees and elbows.
Quiet. Sensitive. The kind of boy who cried when someone stepped on an ant.
You learned very quickly that he was easy to hurt.
And children are cruel in the way only children can be — not because they’re evil, but because they don’t understand the weight of what they’re doing.
You didn’t understand that when you mocked the way his voice cracked, it would make him stop raising his hand in class.
You didn’t understand that when you hid his notebook and laughed while he searched for it, it would make him start eating alone.
You didn’t understand that when you told him no one would ever like someone so weird, he would believe you.
You just liked the way your friends laughed when you said something mean.
You liked the power. You liked that he never fought back.
He would just look at you.
Not angry. Not even resentful.
Just hurt.
That almost made it worse.
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The last time you bullied him, you were thirteen.
You remember it all too clearly.
He’d grown taller. Broader. His voice had deepened over the summer.
People had started noticing him — whispering that he was handsome in a quiet way.
You hated that.
You didn’t understand why.
So when he tripped during basketball practice and the whole class laughed, you laughed the loudest.
“Careful, giant. Don’t crush the floor.”
He stood up slowly. Dusted his palms. Jaw tight.
For the first time, he looked at you with something other than hurt.
Disappointment.
And he said, very quietly:
“Are you done?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“Are you done?”
His voice didn’t shake.
It was calm. Steady.
Like he’d finally reached the end of something.
You rolled your eyes, scoffed, turned away.
But you felt it.
Something shifting.
That was the last time he ever reacted to you.
He transferred schools a month later.
You told yourself you didn’t care. You told yourself you won.
You don’t see him again until university.
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It was raining the day you recognised him.
You’re standing under the campus overhang, scrolling through your phone, when a familiar voice says your name.
You freeze.
You know that voice.
It’s deeper now. Smoother. No trace of the awkward boy who used to stutter when called on in class.
You look up.
And there he is.
Mingi.
Except not the Mingi you remember.
He’s tall — a giant compared to everyone around him. Broad shoulders under a black coat. Hair falling neatly over his forehead.
His hands are still big, but now they look intentional.
He looks…
Confident.
Not loud. Not arrogant.
Just sure of himself.
He smiles politely.
“Hey.”
Your stomach drops. You haven’t thought about him in years.
At least, that’s what you told yourself.
But now, every memory comes back like it’s been waiting.
The teasing. The laughter. His silence.
You swallow.
“Hi.”
There’s an awkward pause.
Rain hits the pavement between you.
“I didn’t know you were studying here,” he says.
Neither did I know you’d come back looking like that, you think.
Instead, you shrug. “Yeah. Business major.”
He nods. “Music major.”
Of course he is.
He used to write lyrics in the margins of his notebook. You used to make fun of that too.
You shift your weight. “You look… different.”
He laughs softly.
“Yeah. I guess we all do.”
But there’s something in his eyes.
Something careful.
Like he’s measuring the distance between who you were and who you are now.
You want to say something. You want to apologize.
But the word sticks.
Sorry.
It feels too small.
So you say nothing.
And he nods once more.
“Well. See you around.”
He walks away.
And you realize something that unsettles you more than guilt ever did.
He’s not angry. He’s not bitter.
He’s simply… moved on.
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You start seeing him everywhere.
In the library. At the café. In lectures.
And every time, he’s surrounded by people.
Laughing. Talking.
The same boy who used to sit alone now has friends who lean into him, who listen when he speaks.
Girls look at him.
He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does.
You don’t know.
You hate that you don’t know.
Because you used to know everything about him.
You knew what made him flinch. You knew how to make him quiet.
Now, you don’t even know what makes him smile.
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The first real interaction happens because of group work.
Fate is cruel like that.
You walk into class and see your name paired with his on the screen.
Your stomach flips.
He walks in a minute later, glances at the list, and then at you.
There’s no anger. No smirk.
Just acceptance.
“Looks like we’re partners.”
You nod stiffly.
“Yeah.”
The project requires late nights.
Meetings. Collaboration.
You expect tension.
Coldness.
But Mingi is…
Kind. Professional. Patient.
He listens when you speak. He offers ideas gently.
He never interrupts. He never brings up the past.
And that’s what makes it unbearable.
Because you want him to.
You want him to throw it at you. You want him to say, You made my childhood miserable.
You want him to be angry so you can apologize.
Instead, he treats you like you’re just another classmate.
Neutral.
Like he has forgiven without you ever having to ask.
And it feels like you don’t deserve it.
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One night, you’re alone in a study room together.
It’s late.
The campus is quiet.
You’re both tired.
You’re staring at him while he sketches a concept for your presentation.
His brows furrow slightly when he concentrates. His lower lip caught between his teeth.
You remember that habit.
He used to do that when he was nervous.
“Why are you staring?”
You jump.
“I’m not.”
He raises a brow.
You exhale.
“Okay. I am.”
He waits.
And the silence stretches until you can’t take it anymore.
“Why aren’t you mad at me?”
The pencil stops moving. He looks up slowly.
“Should I be?”
Your throat tightens.
“I was awful to you.”
A pause.
“You were a kid.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No,” he agrees softly. “It’s not.”
Your chest aches.
“Then why don’t you hate me?”
He leans back in his chair.
Studies you.
For a long time.
And when he speaks, his voice is quiet.
“I did.”
The words hit harder than you expect.
“I hated you for a long time,” he continues. “I used to replay everything you said. Wonder what was wrong with me.”
Your vision blurs.
“I’m sorry.”
The word finally escapes.
Small. Fragile.
“I know,” he says.
“You know?”
He nods slightly.
“You’ve been looking at me like you want to say it since the first day.”
Your breath shakes.
“I was insecure,” you whisper. “You were… you were different. And talented. And I didn’t understand it. So I made you smaller so I could feel bigger.”
The confession tastes bitter.
He doesn’t look surprised.
“I figured.”
You let out a broken laugh.
“God. You deserved better.”
He looks at you then. And something softens.
“Maybe,” he says. “But I also wouldn’t be who I am without it.”
You frown.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I know.”
A beat.
“But it made me stronger.”
You don’t feel relieved. You feel worse.
Because he had to become strong because of you.
After that night, something shifts.
The tension changes.
It’s no longer enemy-like. It’s fragile.
He starts walking you to the bus stop after meetings.
You start bringing him coffee without asking how he takes it — because you remember.
He likes it sweet.
And he notices.
“Did you memorize that from elementary school?”
You shrug, embarrassed.
“Maybe.”
He smiles.
And it’s the first time it doesn’t feel distant.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The real turning point comes when someone else makes a joke about him.
You’re at a campus event. A group from another class is teasing him about his height, calling him “tree.”
It’s harmless. Playful.
But something inside you twists.
Before you think, you snap.
“Can you not?”
Everyone goes quiet.
You glare at them.
“It’s not funny if you keep repeating it.”
They blink, awkward, then laugh it off and change the subject.
You turn back to Mingi.
And he’s staring at you like he doesn’t recognize you.
“What?” you mumble.
He shakes his head slightly.
“You didn’t have to.”
“No, I don’t.”
A pause.
“I wanted to.”
Something flickers in his eyes.
Something warm.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The confession happens on a rooftop.
Because of course it does.
You’re both there after submitting your final project.
The city lights stretch below.
You’re sitting close. Not touching.
But close enough that your shoulders almost brush.
“I used to wish you’d disappear,” you admit suddenly.
He hums softly.
You look at him.
“And now?”
You swallow.
“Now I think about you more than I should.”
Silence.
Then—
“I used to wish you’d look at me differently,” he says.
Your heart stutters.
“And now?”
He turns to you fully.
“You are.”
Your breath catches.
“I don’t deserve you.”
He shakes his head.
“It’s not about being deserving.”
His hand moves — hesitant — then rests on the concrete between you. Close.
Not touching.
Waiting.
“It’s about who we are now,” he says quietly. “Not who we were.”
Tears sting your eyes.
“I can’t change what I did.”
“No.”
His fingers shift slightly closer.
“But you can choose who you are to me from now on.”
You look at his hand.
Then at him.
“Are you sure?” you whisper. “After everything?”
He smiles softly.
“You were my villain once.”
A pause.
“But you don’t look like one anymore.”
Your hand moves before you can overthink it.
It rests over his.
Warm. Solid.
Real.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
He squeezes gently.
“It’s okay.”
And when he leans in, it’s not rushed.
It's soft. Tentative.
Forgiving.
It tastes like rain and second chances.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Later, when you lie awake in your room, you think about the boy he used to be.
The one you hurt. The one who endured it quietly.
You can’t erase that version of yourself. You can’t undo the damage.
But tomorrow, you’ll hold his hand in public. Tomorrow, you’ll say his name gently.
Tomorrow, you’ll love him in ways that are louder than your cruelty ever was.
And maybe that doesn’t rewrite the past.
But it builds something better over it.
Mingi once asked you, “Are you done?”
Back then, it meant: Are you done hurting me?
Now, when he looks at you, it feels like a different question.
Are you done being the person you were?
You are.
And this time, you choose him.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎@luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones@unfxrgetwble
present, over the past 🥹🧡✨
hide and seek
pairing : non-idol! ateez (ft. husband! seonghwa x fem! reader)
synopsis : You and your husband go on a date, leaving your daughter in the care of the seven boys you trust… or maybe not so much.
genre : slice of life, fluff, comedy, chaos, found family, wholesome, domestic au, non-idol au
warnings : none
author’s note : first week of sch finally done 😮💨 whoever told me poly design sch was easier is a gaslighter 💔🫵 anywaysies hope yall enjoy this short one 🩷
word count : 1.6k
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
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You knew this was a bad idea.
You knew it the moment Seonghwa hesitated at the door, your daughter balanced on his hip, her tiny hands clutching his collar like she sensed betrayal.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked for the fifth time, eyes flicking between you and the seven men currently arguing in your living room.
“Hyung, go already,” Hongjoong called out, not even looking up from where he was trying to assemble a toy kitchen with the instruction manual upside down. “We are perfectly capable adults.”
You raised an eyebrow.
From the couch, Wooyoung was attempting to get your daughter to come to him, while Yeosang silently filmed it like it was a nature documentary.
San was already holding a bag of snacks like he’d prepared for a week-long camping trip.
Jongho had somehow taken over as “safety supervisor” and was checking if all the furniture edges were “child-safe.”
Mingi was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at a plush toy like it had personally offended him.
And Yunho—sweet, golden-retriever Yunho—was standing in front of your daughter in your husband’s arms, smiling like this was the greatest moment of his life.
“Hi,” he said gently, waving at her again even though he’d done it ten times already. “Do you remember me?”
She blinked. Then promptly hid her face in Seonghwa’s shoulder.
You sighed.
“See?” Seonghwa said immediately. “She doesn’t even know them.”
“She knows us,” Wooyoung protested. “She just prefers you, which is honestly rude considering how entertaining I am.”
“You taught her how to throw socks into the toilet last time,” you deadpanned.
“That was enrichment.”
“That was plumbing damage.”
Hongjoong finally looked up. “Okay, first of all—irrelevant. Second of all—we have a system.”
You crossed your arms. “You have a what?”
“A system,” he repeated confidently. “We’ve divided roles.”
“…I’m scared.”
He pointed.
“Yunho: emotional support. San: snacks. Jongho: safety. Yeosang: documentation. Wooyoung: entertainment. Mingi: backup.”
You blinked. “Backup for what?”
Mingi looked up slowly. “I don’t know yet.”
“…And you?” you asked.
Hongjoong straightened. “I’m the leader.”
“That explains what again?”
“It explains everything.”
Seonghwa leaned closer to you. “We can still cancel.”
You looked at your daughter, who was now peeking over his shoulder at Yunho, curious but cautious.
Then you looked at the seven men who, despite the chaos, were all watching her like she was the most important thing in the room.
You exhaled.
“…Two hours,” you said.
The room erupted.
“LET’S GOOOO—”
“Wait, what if she cries—”
“Do we have emergency numbers—”
“Hyung, go before they change their mind—”
Seonghwa hesitated one last time.
Your daughter reached out suddenly. Tiny hands.
Grabbing Yunho’s sleeve.
Everyone froze. Yunho froze most of all.
“…She chose me,” he whispered, like he’d just been selected by fate itself.
“Don’t mess this up,” Seonghwa warned.
“I won’t,” Yunho said immediately, deadly serious.
You grabbed Seonghwa’s hand before he could spiral further.
“Come on. Before you kidnap her back.”
As the door closed behind you, you heard Wooyoung’s voice:
“Okay first lesson—how to overthrow parental authority—”
“NO—”
PHASE ONE: OVERCONFIDENCE
The thing was… surprisingly fine.
Your daughter warmed up quickly—especially to Yunho, who she decided was her personal climbing structure.
“Up!” she demanded.
“You’re already up,” he laughed, adjusting her on his shoulders anyway.
“Higher!”
“This is as high as legally allowed!”
San handed her snacks like he was fueling a tiny athlete.
Jongho hovered nearby like a bodyguard.
“No running,” he warned gently.
She ran anyway. Wooyoung chased her.
“YOU CAN’T OUTRUN ME—”
She absolutely could.
Yeosang narrated quietly from behind his phone.
“And here we see the wild toddler asserting dominance over her natural predators…”
Mingi, still sitting on the floor, held up a stuffed animal.
“Does she like this one or is this one ugly?”
No one answered him.
Hongjoong clapped his hands. “Okay! Structured playtime!”
“No,” Wooyoung said immediately.
“Yes,” Hongjoong insisted. “We need order.”
“She’s a toddler, not a military unit.”
“We can do both.”
They could not do both.
PHASE TWO: THE SLIP
It happened fast.
Too fast.
One second she was there—laughing, running between Yunho and San.
The next—
She wasn’t.
Silence. The kind that drops like a stone.
“…Where is she?” Jongho asked.
Everyone froze.
Yunho turned in a slow circle.
“She was just here.”
“She was literally here,” San said, voice rising.
Wooyoung laughed nervously. “Okay, funny joke, where did she go—”
“No one’s joking,” Yeosang said quietly.
Mingi stood up so fast he knocked over three toys.
“Wait—wait—WAIT—”
Hongjoong’s voice cut through.
“Everyone stop.”
They did.
“Think,” he said. “No panic. Just think.”
There was a beat.
Then—
“WHY WOULD YOU LET HER OUT OF YOUR SIGHT—”
“ME?! YOU WERE THE LEADER—”
“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH HER—”
“I WAS GETTING SNACKS—”
“WHY DO WE NEED THIS MANY SNACKS—”
“BECAUSE SHE NEEDS OPTIONS—”
“THIS IS NOT ABOUT OPTIONS—”
“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Jongho snapped.
Silence again. Heavy. Tense.
“…We need to find her,” Yunho said, voice shaking.
And just like that, chaos erupted.
PHASE THREE: PANIC MODE
They split up immediately.
“Check the rooms!”
“Bathroom!”
“Kitchen!”
“BALCONY—WAIT NO NOT THE BALCONY—”
Yunho’s heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
“She wouldn’t go far,” he muttered, opening every door like it might magically fix things.
San was checking under furniture.
“She’s small, she could fit anywhere—”
“That’s not comforting!”
Wooyoung was near tears.
“Seonghwa is going to kill us. Not even metaphorically. Like actually—”
“Focus!” Hongjoong snapped, though his hands were shaking.
Yeosang lowered his phone for once.
“She likes hiding games,” he said slowly.
Everyone turned to him.
“…What?”
“She played hide and seek with me last time,” he explained. “She hides and waits.”
“…So she’s not lost,” Mingi said.
“She’s playing?”
A beat.
Then—
“ARE YOU SERIOUS—”
“THIS IS A GAME TO HER—”
“WE ARE GOING TO DIE—”
Yunho dropped to his knees.
“Hey,” he called softly. “Where are you? It’s not funny anymore…”
Nothing. Then—
A giggle. Faint.
From somewhere.
Everyone froze.
“…Did you hear that?” San whispered.
Another giggle. Closer.
They turned. Slowly.
Towards the hallway closet.
Wooyoung approached it like it might explode.
“…If she’s not in here I’m going to pass out.”
He opened the door.
Silence.
Then—
A tiny voice:
“Boo.”
She popped out from behind a pile of blankets, grinning like she’d just pulled off the greatest prank in history.
There was a full second where no one moved.
Then—
“Oh my GOD—”
Yunho scooped her up so fast she squeaked.
“Don’t do that,” he said, voice cracking. “You scared us.”
She blinked at him. Then giggled. Like this was the best day ever.
San dropped to the floor in relief.
“I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
Wooyoung clutched his chest. “I aged ten years.”
Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
Jongho crouched in front of her.
“No more hiding, okay?”
She nodded.
Then immediately whispered to Yeosang, “Again later?”
Yeosang hesitated.
“…No.”
PHASE FOUR: EVERYTHING IS FINE
“Act normal,” Hongjoong said.
“We are normal,” Wooyoung replied.
“You are the least normal person here.”
They quickly cleaned up, repositioned everything, and sat your daughter in the middle like she’d been there the whole time.
Yunho didn’t let go of her hand. Not once.
When the door finally opened—
Everyone froze again.
You walked in first, smiling.
Seonghwa followed, immediately scanning the room.
“…How was she?” he asked.
Seven voices answered at once:
“Perfect.”
“Amazing.”
“Didn’t cry once.”
“Very well-behaved.”
“An angel.”
Seonghwa narrowed his eyes.
“…Why do you all look like you’ve been through war?”
“We haven’t,” Hongjoong said quickly.
“We definitely haven’t,” Wooyoung added.
Your daughter ran to you.
“Mommy!”
You picked her up, laughing. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes!”
“What did you do?”
She grinned.
“I hide.”
Seven men stopped breathing.
“…You what?” you asked.
“Hide!” she repeated happily. “They panic!”
Silence. Slowly—
You turned.
“…You lost my child?”
“WE FOUND HER—” they shouted in unison.
Seonghwa’s eye twitched.
“You—”
“She was safe!”
“For like 99% of the time!”
“That is not a reassuring percentage—”
Yunho stepped forward,“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “We should’ve been more careful.”
There was a pause.
You looked at your daughter.
Then at them. Then sighed.
“…Did she at least eat?”
San immediately pulled out three empty snack wrappers like evidence.
“She had balanced nutrition.”
“…That’s actually impressive.”
Seonghwa exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re never babysitting again.”
“WHAT—”
“Except Yunho,” he added.
Yunho blinked.
“…Me?”
“She likes you,” Seonghwa said simply.
Your daughter nodded enthusiastically.
“Yunho safe.”
Something in Yunho’s expression softened completely.
“…I’ll do better next time,” he promised.
Wooyoung scoffed. “There won’t be a next time—”
“There will,” you said.
Everyone turned to you.
“…There will?” Hongjoong asked carefully.
You smiled.
“But next time,” you added, “we’re installing tracking devices.”
“Fair enough.”
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─────────
After they left, Seonghwa watched your daughter sleep, brushing her hair back gently.
“…That took twenty years off my life,” he muttered.
You leaned against the doorway.
“They handled it.”
“Barely.”
“But they did.”
He glanced at you.
“…Would you trust them again?”
You thought about it.
About the panic. The chaos.
The way they’d all searched like nothing else mattered.
“…Yeah,” you said softly. “I would.”
He looked back at your daughter.
Then smiled, just a little.
“…Next time, we’re keeping the date shorter.”
You laughed.
“Or we just don’t tell them.”
He considered that.
“…Tempting.”
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© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist [open!]: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎ @fluffypuddingatz ❤︎ @luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unfxrgetwble @hope122598 @maidenless-soul@leewayout @klowiishere
absolute cute chaos 🫶🏼
how you sleep together : lee jeno
pairing — lee jeno x reader
genre — fluff
with legs intertwined during your deepest form of innocence, you and jeno laid next to each other. the silence of your bedroom, save for the passing cars, filled your senses and made the night peaceful as usual.
jeno’s arm was curled around your shoulder as you laid pressed up against his shirtless body. your fingertips would occasionally graze along his torso and he'd just watch you with a look of sheer amusement across his face. when you were exhausted you would just simply bury your face into the crook of his neck and plant one quick kiss to it before slowly drifting to sleep.
when jeno was tired you could tell immediately by the look on his face. his once alert features would drop, he would shift around a lot before settling on his back with his arms spread out and before you knew it, he would be asleep. this meant that you would usually sleep with your head on his chest, jeno’s hands tangled in your hair. his arm would protectively stay wrapped around your shoulder, though. and if you ever stirred in the night, sometimes he’d pull you closer so more of you were lying on him.
during the course of the night you both would change sleeping positions but you both made sure that you were both physically touching one another. jeno loved the warmth of your bodies laying skin to skin. he could listen to your heartbeat this way and he could also hear you breathe lightly in the night hours. his arm would sometimes come out from your shoulder and would rest on your hip or often kneading your thigh. he would pull you into his body and you could feel his radiating warmth glimmer off like a sun.
© 2025 MARKBIGDICKLEE all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred! i don’t take requests.
Study Buddies → Pairing: Lee Jeno x GenderNeutral!Reader Tags: 1.5k words, College!AU, Fluff, F2L, NCT What Is Love? Event Warnings: None other than kissing and Jeno being REALLY cute. Summary: When three out of five members of your study group suddenly drop out, you’re stuck going solo with Jeno with whom you share a mutual crush neither of you knows about.
You were in the middle of a lecture when your phone buzzed in your pocket and you discreetly pulled it while the professor droned on to check your messages. It was your friend, who was also a part of your study group, letting you know she was feeling under the weather and wouldn’t be able to meet up later. Ok, no problem there were three other people in the group aside from you.
In the process of tucking your phone away, it buzzed again and you pulled it out far enough to see a message from another member of your group who was going to skip today’s session because of a family thing. Your brows bunched up in confusion. It was weird that two people texted about missing study at the same time but still, there were at least three of you left now. No need to worry.
Finally managing to make it to the end of class without falling asleep, you’d gone back to your dorm in hopes of actually catching a quick nap before you had to get ready to meet up with the others for your study group. Again, your phone buzzes and your huff of exasperation gets caught in your throat when you see who’s texting you now.
Jeno [2:47pm]: Hey… Jeno [2:47pm]: So, just got a text from Chan that he won’t be coming. You [2:48pm]: Seriously? What is up with everybody today? You [2:49pm]: JJ and Sylvi aren’t coming either. Jeno [2:50pm]: Yeah, I heard. Guess it’s just you and I today?
Keep reading
⭑ you're jeno's favourite gift ﹙+18﹚
all that could be heard from that bedroom was soft, breathless whines, muffled moans, the sharp rhythm of skin meeting skin, and the sound of jeno’s voice—low, sweet, and full of reverent praise.
it was jeno’s birthday, and—true to the quiet, homebody heart he had—he wanted nothing more than to stay where he felt most at peace: at home, wrapped in your arms, spoiled by your attention, and fed by your hands. you had made his favorite dishes, laughed with him over wine, curled up in his lap while the candles burned low… but as night fell, his desire shifted.
he wanted his favorite gift of all.
you.
and how could you possibly deny him?
“fuck, baby…” he groaned, voice dropping deeper as he watched the way your body gave in to him. his fingers pressed tighter into the curve of your hips, guiding you back to meet his every thrust, relentless and hungry. “so fuckin’ good to me… always ready for me… mine.”
your face was buried in the pillows, your ass arched high in the air—just how he liked it. the angle let him hit that perfect spot over and over again, and your moans were so high and sweet they came out broken and muffled into the sheets. he’d be smug about it if he weren’t so utterly ruined by the way your body gripped him like a vice, so warm and wet and perfect just for him.
you were going for the fourth round already, but jeno didn’t seem any near to finish what he had started.
he leaned over you, his chest flush against your back for a moment as he kissed your shoulder, then your spine. “can’t believe i get to have you like this…” he whispered, almost to himself. “you make me feel like the luckiest man alive.”
you let out a choked sob of pleasure, and jeno only chuckled softly, hand sliding along your waist, gripping you tighter. “that feel good, baby? you’re doing so well… taking me so good, just like i knew you would. such a good girl for me, even on my birthday…”
you nodded desperately into the pillow, fingers clutching at the sheets as he kept rocking into you with deep, measured strokes now—less frantic, more intense, like he wanted to feel every second of it, draw it out. worship you.
“wanna hear you,” he muttered. “just a little. let me hear my pretty girl.”
you turned your head, gasping, your voice breathy and wrecked. “jeno—feels so good—i love you, love you so much—”
“yeah?” he breathed, hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your voice. “love you too, angel. gonna make you cum so hard. gonna have you creaming all over my cock, just the way i like it.”
and you did.
with a loud, trembling moan of his name, your body tensed beneath him, walls clenching, thighs shaking as the orgasm tore through you. jeno cursed under his breath, hips losing rhythm as he chased his own release, groaning into your back when he finally buried himself deep and filled you up, both of you panting and trembling, tangled in each other’s warmth.
he stayed inside you for a moment longer, letting your bodies breathe in sync, your skin slick and flushed, your heartbeats loud in your ears. then, with a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, he slowly pulled out—watching his seed leaking from you from the previous orgasms—grabbing a warm towel from the nearby dresser to clean you up with the same tender care he always showed.
you whimpered softly, still sensitive, and he murmured a quiet, “sorry, baby,” as he wiped your thighs gently. his hands lingered longer than necessary, though—you could feel how much he loved touching you, even in the smallest ways.
you weren’t sure how long you laid there in jeno’s arms, your limbs tangled, hearts still fluttering from everything you’d just shared. his warmth surrounded you, grounding and intoxicating all at once. you could’ve fallen asleep like that—completely satisfied, safe.
but then you felt it.
a subtle shift in his breathing. the way his hand, which had been resting innocently on your waist, slowly trailed downward, fingers stroking lazy patterns across your hip. his lips were brushing against your shoulder again, softer this time, more tender—like he was savoring every inch of your skin.
you stirred gently, turning in his arms to face him. the look in his eyes made your breath hitch.
“still hungry, birthday boy?” you teased, voice barely above a whisper.
he chuckled, low and warm, but there was heat behind his smile now. “i can’t help it,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you make it impossible to get enough of you…”
before you could respond, his lips were on yours again—slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize your taste. he kissed you with reverence, taking his time, tongues barely brushing, the heat building all over again with every slow pull of your lips.
his hand found your thigh, slipping beneath the covers, tracing up until his fingers were skimming the sensitive skin between your legs. you were still warm, still wet, and his breath caught at the feel of you.
“so ready for me,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “even after all that…”
you nodded, heart thudding. “only for you, jen.”
that’s all he needed to hear.
he guided you onto your back, kissing down your collarbone, then your chest—worshipping every part of you with gentle bites and licks, his name whispered from your lips like a prayer. his hand stayed between your thighs, slowly working you open again, fingers curling just enough to make you gasp.
“you’re perfect,” he breathed against your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “i could do this forever. just touch you, taste you… make you feel good.”
you whimpered softly, arching into his touch, hips rolling instinctively into his hand. “please… want you again.”
he looked up at you from between your breasts, hair slightly messy, lips kiss-swollen. “then take me, baby,” he said, voice thick with affection. “i’m all yours.”
and he meant it.
he slid into you with a deep, slow stroke—your legs wrapped around his waist instantly, pulling him as close as he could possibly get. this wasn’t like the last round. this time, he moved slow, savoring the way your body clenched around him. every roll of his hips was steady, deep, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered praise between kisses.
“so beautiful… god, you feel so good around me…”
“you’re doing so good for me… fuck, i love being inside you…”
“you were made for me, weren’t you?”
each thrust drew soft moans from your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails grazing down his back. the tension built gradually—less explosive, more consuming. it spread like fire under your skin, until you were trembling beneath him, whispering his name like a promise.
jeno’s hands gripped yours, fingers laced tight as he stared down at you, flushed and breathless. “cum for me again,” he murmured. “just one more, baby. wanna feel you around me one more time.”
you couldn’t even respond. you were already there.
your body locked up beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing through your core as you cried out his name, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion of it all. jeno kissed them away, hips stuttering, then slowing as he came with a deep, ragged moan, burying himself inside you completely, like he needed to mark every inch of you as his.
he didn’t pull away immediately.
instead, he stayed nestled against you, his body heavy and warm, his breath evening out against your neck. your fingers traced along his spine, feeling his heart still racing.
“that,” he mumbled, voice hoarse but full of affection, “was the best birthday gift i’ve ever gotten.”
you smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “i’m happy i’m the one who can give you the best gift ever.” he let out a soft laugh, nuzzling his face onto your neck. “happy birthday, baby. i love you.”
he pulled away, looking up at you, soft and glowing, like you’d hung the stars for him.
“i love you too,” he whispered. “so much.”
｜ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𖹭 have i ever said how much i love jen and how much i fucking wanna sit on his nose??? like, respectfully, but how is this man built like that?? his body proportions are insane and his face fuckk his face man..........
★ @lyvhie @spacejip @zhapire
send off
pairing : idol! wooyoung x fem! reader
synopsis : After you accuse an idol of ignoring your little sister, your post goes viral and sparks backlash. But when he reaches out to explain, anger turns into understanding, and maybe something more.
genre : slice of life, fluff, idol au, slow-burn, angst, comfort, miscommunication,
warnings : none
author’s note : i realised i have been writing alot of wooyoung so i wont be writing for him for awhile due to my lack of attention for the other members 🤓 also very unrelated but my co-worker saw my hongjoong pc and thought that he was chinese 😭
word count : 3.7k
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You didn’t mean for it to become a war.
You only meant to protect her.
Your little sister’s fingers were sticky from the strawberry candy she’d been nervously chewing for hours.
She was small — unfairly small for her age — the kind of small that gets swallowed by crowds and overlooked in group photos. The kind of small that makes strangers pat her head without asking.
Tonight, she wore her oversized ATEEZ hoodie like armor.
Specifically, his name across the back.
Wooyoung.
She’d practiced what she wanted to say to him all week.
“Thank you for working hard.” “I hope you’re not tired.” “I love your dancing.”
She rehearsed it in the mirror like it was a speech for a national ceremony.
You stood behind her during the send-off, hands braced on her shoulders so she wouldn’t get crushed.
The air smelled like sweat, perfume, and the metallic tang of barricades. Fans were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, phones raised like a forest of glowing screens.
She was on her tiptoes.
Jumping.
Waving her slogan.
“WOOYOUNG!”
Her voice cracked but she kept going.
He was walking down the line, close enough now that you could see the sheen of stage sweat still on his skin. He was smiling — wide, bright, the kind that makes thousands of people believe it’s only for them.
He waved.
High-fived someone.
Accepted a plushie.
Then he walked past your section.
Your sister jumped higher.
“Wooyoung! I’m here!”
Her fingers stretched between two taller fans.
He didn’t look. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t hesitate.
He just kept walking.
And you felt her go still beneath your hands.
It wasn’t dramatic.
That’s what hurt the most.
She didn’t cry immediately.
She just stopped moving.
The picket dipped.
The smile faded like someone dimmed it with a switch.
He reached the end of the line. Bowed. Waved again.
Security then ushered him out.
Only then did you feel the tremble in her shoulders.
“Maybe he didn’t see me,” she said, too quickly.
But her voice was already breaking.
And something hot and ugly rose in your chest.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
In the car, she tried to laugh it off.
“It’s okay. There were a lot of people.”
But her eyes were red.
You had never hated a three-second moment so much.
You replayed it in your head again and again.
He was right there.
Right there.
And he didn’t look.
By the time you reached home, the anger had hardened into something sharp.
You opened Instagram.
You didn’t plan it. You didn’t draft it.
You just typed.
‘Imagine ignoring a child who waited 6 hours just to see you. Some idols really only care about the cameras.’
You posted the clip.
Three seconds.
Him walking past. Your sister’s tiny arm barely visible between bodies.
You didn’t tag him.
But you didn’t need to.
You closed the app.
You told yourself you didn’t care.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You woke up to 2,437 notifications.
Your stomach dropped.
The post had spread beyond your followers.
Someone screen-recorded it. Someone translated it. Put dramatic music behind it.
The comments were chaos.
“You’re lying.”
“He always looks at fans.”
“Delete this.”
“Clout chaser.”
“She’s just short, how is that his fault?”
“You’re ruining his reputation.”
But then—
“My little sister got ignored too.”
“Idols need to do better.”
“He looked right at her though?”
“This is disappointing.”
Your hands started shaking.
His name was trending.
Your sister walked into your room, rubbing her eyes.
“Why are you pale?”
You locked your phone.
“Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
You checked X, Tik Tok, even Facebook.
Clips slowed down.
Zoomed in.
Red circles drawn around your sister’s hand like it was evidence in a crime documentary.
People were dissecting his facial expressions frame by frame.
Some defended him like their lives depended on it. Some were furious, some at you.
And suddenly it wasn’t about your sister anymore.
It was about narratives.
Idols vs fans.
Entitlement vs accountability.
“Protect him at all costs.”
“Hold him responsible.”
You hadn’t meant for it to become this.
Your phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
You ignored it.
Another notification.
Instagram DM request.
You almost didn’t open it.
But the username made your throat close.
@ wooyoungggg
Your heart slammed so hard you could hear it.
You stared at the preview:
“Hi. I think we need to talk.”
Your first instinct was panic.
Second instinct — anger.
Now he wants to talk? After ignoring her?
You opened it.
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
“I promise I didn’t see her.”
No greeting.
No PR script.
Just that.
You swallowed.
You typed back before you could overthink.
“She was right there.”
Three dots.
Pause.
“Can you tell me exactly where she was standing?”
Your jaw tightened.
You sent a screenshot from the video, circling her tiny hand.
The typing bubble reappeared.
Stopped.
Reappeared.
Then:
“From my angle, I couldn’t see past the first row.”
Another message came.
A video.
You hesitated before opening it.
It was filmed from the same place — probably from one of the staff phones. The fans at the barricade were tall. From his POV, fans blended into a wall of movement.
You tried to find your sister in it.
You couldn’t.
Your chest tightened.
“I swear to you,” he typed,
“I would never ignore a kid on purpose.”
The word kid made your defenses crack just slightly.
He continued.
“Send-offs are chaotic. Security pushes us to keep moving. I don’t get to stop long.”
You stared at the screen. Anger warred with doubt.
Because in the staff’s video, you genuinely couldn’t see her.
But that didn’t erase her face in the car.
“She cried,” you typed.
It took longer for him to respond this time.
When he did, it was just:
“I’m really sorry.”
Not defensive. Not sarcastic. Not irritated.
Just sorry.
You didn’t know what to do with that.
Another message came.
“Can we talk in person? I don’t want this to be a misunderstanding.”
Your stomach flipped.
Meet him?
After everything?
You imagined:
– Him angry.
– His manager there.
– A warning.
– Legal threats.
As if reading your mind, he added:
“No company. Just me. I don’t want this to turn into something bigger.”
Too late, you thought.
It already had.
But for the first time since last night, your anger wasn’t the loudest thing in your chest.
It was confusion.
Because if he truly didn’t see her…
Then what had you just done?
Your sister knocked on your door again.
“Are people mad?” she asked quietly.
You forced a smile.
“No.”
But she saw through it.
“Did I cause trouble?”
Your heart shattered.
“No. No, you didn’t.”
You hugged her tighter than you meant to.
And suddenly you didn’t know who you were protecting anymore.
Her? Or your pride?
Your phone buzzed again.
“Please. Just coffee. Somewhere quiet.”
You stared at the message for a long time.
You should say no. You should let the fandom storm burn out.
But something in his tone didn’t feel hostile.
It felt… tired.
You typed:
“Fine.”
He responded almost immediately.
“Thank you.”
And for the first time since you posted, your anger felt less certain.
Less solid.
More complicated.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The café he chose is small.
Too small for scandal. Too quiet for chaos.
It’s tucked between a bookstore and a florist, the kind of place that smells like roasted beans and clean wood.
Not trendy. Not aesthetic enough to attract influencers. Just… safe.
You arrive ten minutes early.
Not because you’re eager.
Because you don’t want to walk in and see him first.
You sit near the back, hands wrapped around an untouched iced latte, heart performing violent gymnastics in your chest.
Every time the door chimes, your shoulders tense.
You check your phone.
The hate hasn’t stopped.
Someone dug up your old posts. Someone called you an attention-seeker. Another edited your sister’s crying face into a meme.
You swallow hard.
You did this.
The door chimes again.
You don’t look up at first.
But the energy shifts.
It’s subtle — like the air changes pressure.
Then you see black sneakers stop near your table.
You look up.
He’s wearing a cap pulled low, mask covering half his face, hoodie zipped up despite the humidity. His eyes are the only visible part of him.
And they’re already on you.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
He’s taller than you expected up close.
Realer.
He pulls out the chair across from you.
“Hi,” he says quietly.
His voice is softer than it is on stage.
Less performance. More human.
You nod. “Hi.”
He sits.
There’s an awkward pause.
You notice he hasn’t ordered anything.
“Do you want coffee?” you ask stiffly.
He shakes his head. “I’m too nervous.”
The honesty catches you off guard.
You weren’t prepared for honest. You were prepared for attitude.
For ego. For irritation.
Instead, he’s fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie.
Silence stretches.
Finally, you break it.
“Why did you DM me instead of letting your company handle it?”
His eyes flicker up.
“Because I didn’t want it handled.”
You frown.
“They could’ve shut it down.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because your sister cried.”
The words land heavy.
You blink.
“You saw that?”
He nods once. “You posted it after.”
You had forgotten.
In your anger, you’d uploaded a short clip from the car. Your sister wiping her face, trying to smile.
You’d captioned it:
“She waited all day.”
You hadn’t thought he’d see it.
“People sent it to me,” he says. “A lot.”
There’s something tight in his voice now.
Not defensive. Not angry.
Guilty.
“I wouldn’t ignore a kid on purpose,” he says, quieter this time. “Especially one holding my name.”
Your throat tightens.
“She was calling you,” you say. “She kept jumping.”
He nods slowly. “I believe you.”
You hesitate. “But?”
“But from where I was standing, I couldn’t see past the front line.”
He leans back slightly, hands clasped.
“Other fans were giants. Security tells us to keep moving. If we stop too long, it becomes dangerous. People push.”
You hate that it makes sense. You hate that your anger feels less stable.
“I watched the video from my angle,” he continues. “I tried to find her.”
You search his eyes.
“Could you?”
“No.”
There’s no pride in it.
No excuse.
Just facts.
“And when I saw your post…” he exhales through his nose. “It hurt.”
You stiffen.
“Hurt?” you repeat.
“Yes.”
His gaze meets yours fully now.
“Not because of my image. That part… I’m used to it. People misunderstand us all the time.”
Your chest feels strange.
“Then why?”
“Because someone genuinely believed I would ignore a child like that.”
The words settle between you.
You didn’t expect that answer. It sounds like something bruised.
“I didn’t think you were evil,” you say quietly. “I just thought… maybe you only look where cameras are.”
He huffs softly.
“That’s what people think.”
“Is it wrong?”
He tilts his head.
“Sometimes cameras are just easier to see.”
The answer isn’t defensive. It’s practical.
“And fans closer to the barricade are louder. Taller. Easier to notice.”
You look down at your hands.
“She’s always overlooked,” you murmur.
He watches you carefully now.
“She’s small. People block her without realizing. I thought… for once… she’d be seen.”
The café feels too warm.
Too small.
“I was angry,” you admit. “Not just at you. At the situation.”
He nods.
“I figured.”
There’s a brief pause.
Then he says, “You were protecting her.”
You look up.
“I can’t be mad at that.”
That disarms you more than any argument would have.
“You should be mad,” you say.
“Why?”
“Because I started a mess.”
He shrugs lightly.
“It was already messy. You just pressed ‘post.’”
You almost laugh despite yourself.
He studies you for a moment.
“You didn’t tag me.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means you weren’t trying to destroy me. You were venting.”
You stare at him.
“How are you so calm?”
He lets out a quiet, humorless chuckle.
“I’m not calm. I didn’t sleep.”
Your guilt spikes.
“Because of the hate?”
He nods once.
“For you too.”
Your head snaps up.
“What?”
“People were digging into your account. I saw.”
Your stomach twists.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
He looks almost annoyed now — but not at you.
“At them.”
“They shouldn’t be attacking you over something I can explain.”
The shift in energy is subtle but real.
It’s no longer between you and him.
It’s both of you against the noise.
“You could’ve posted a statement,” you say.
“I might still. But I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Why?”
His answer comes without hesitation.
“Because your sister is real. The internet isn’t.”
The simplicity of it knocks the air out of you. He runs a hand through his hair under the cap.
“Can I make it up to her?”
You blink.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
There’s that tone again. Soft but firm.
“What would that even look like?” you ask.
He thinks for a second.
“A signed album. A video message. Maybe I can mention her at the next show.”
Your heart squeezes.
“She’d pass out.”
A faint smile appears in his eyes.
“Good.”
The tension in your chest loosens for the first time since yesterday.
Silence settles again, but this time it’s not sharp.
It’s thoughtful.
You study him more openly now.
Without stage lights, he looks younger. Less intimidating.
His posture is slightly slouched, like he’s trying to take up less space.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“Depends.”
A tiny spark of mischief flickers in his eyes.
“Were you always this scary?”
You scoff.
“Excuse me?”
“Your post was brutal.”
“You ignored my sister.”
“I didn’t see her.”
“You still walked past.”
He lifts his hands in surrender.
“See? Scary.”
You roll your eyes, but warmth creeps into your chest despite yourself.
“I was upset,” you mutter.
“I know.”
“And you were the easiest target.”
He nods.
“I’m used to that.”
Something about that sentence makes you uncomfortable.
Used to that. Used to being blamed. Used to being projected onto.
“I’m sorry,” you say, quieter than you planned.
His gaze softens.
“I know.”
There’s no sarcasm. No lingering resentment.
Just acceptance.
The café door chimes again, but neither of you look.
For the first time since the scandal started, you’re not thinking about comments.
Or trending hashtags.
You’re just… here.
With him.
A boy who didn’t see.
A sister who wasn’t seen.
A misunderstanding that spiraled into a battlefield.
And somehow, sitting across from him now, it doesn’t feel like war anymore.
It feels like the fragile beginning of something else.
Not forgiveness. Not friendship.
But understanding.
He glances at your untouched drink.
“You haven’t taken a sip.”
“I’ve been too nervous.”
He smiles faintly.
“Same.”
There’s a beat.
Then he says, almost casually—
“So… are we still enemies?”
You hesitate.
A slow, reluctant smile tugs at your lips.
“I’m considering downgrading you to ‘mild annoyance.’”
He presses a hand to his chest dramatically.
“That’s progress.”
You shake your head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You posted a hate story about me.”
“And?”
“And now you’re sitting here drinking coffee with me.”
You glance at him.
“And you’re sitting here apologizing to your biggest anti.”
His eyes gleam.
“Biggest anti turned… what?”
You don’t answer.
But something shifts again.
Subtle. Unspoken.
Less sharp. More curious.
Outside, the world is still arguing.
Clips still circulating.
People still choosing sides.
But inside this tiny café, it’s just two people untangling a moment neither of them fully saw.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
This is where enemies start becoming something else.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You tell yourself you’re not nervous.
It’s just another concert.
Just another venue. Just another crowd screaming his name.
But your sister is vibrating beside you in line, clutching the signed album he mailed three days ago like it’s made of glass.
Wooyoung insisted on adding her name inside. Handwritten.
For the smallest but loudest.
She hasn’t stopped carrying it around the house.
You haven’t stopped thinking about him either.
Late-night texts became routine faster than you expected.
It started small.
“Did you eat?”
“Practice ran long. I’m dead.”
“Stop doom-scrolling.”
Then voice notes.
Short ones at first.
Complaining about choreography. Mocking one of his members for stealing his hoodie.
Once, half-asleep and mumbling, “You’re still kind of scary, by the way.”
You saved that one. You don’t know why.
Now you’re here again.
Different city. Different night.
Same anticipation curling tight in your chest.
“Are you going to post about him again?” your sister teases.
You bump her shoulder lightly.
“Behave.”
She grins. “You’re the one who started it.”
You don’t respond.
Because you don’t trust your voice not to give something away.
The concert is louder this time.
Or maybe you’re just more aware.
You watch him differently now.
Not just as an idol on stage.
But as someone who once sat across from you in a café, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeve.
He’s electric under the lights.
Confident.
Sharp movements. Playful smirks.
The crowd roars every time he gets close to the edge of the stage.
Your sister screams like she promised she would.
You catch yourself smiling.
He looks happy tonight.
Less tense than in the videos from the week of the scandal.
During a ment, he steps forward with a mic.
“Last time,” he says, slightly breathless, “I missed someone important during send-off.”
Your heart stops.
The arena quiets curiously.
He grins sheepishly.
“She was small. But apparently very loud.”
Your sister freezes. You freeze too.
“I’m sorry again,” he continues, softer now. “So tonight… I’m going to look extra carefully.”
The crowd erupts in affectionate laughter.
Your sister’s hands are shaking.
“He remembered,” she whispers again, like she can’t believe it.
You swallow hard.
He doesn’t look directly at you.
But you feel it.
That this is intentional.
Not PR. Not forced.
Just him.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Send-off is chaos again.
Security shouting. Fans pressing forward. Phones everywhere.
Your pulse pounds.
You don’t know what you’re expecting.
Redemption? Closure?
Or just confirmation that tonight will be different.
You position your sister carefully this time.
Closer to the edge.
Not at the barricade, but visible.
“Don’t jump too much,” you murmur.
“I have to!”
“You’ll fall.”
“You’ll catch me.”
You grip her shoulders firmly.
The members start walking down the line.
One by one.
Waves. Smiles. High-fives.
Then—
Wooyoung.
He moves slower tonight.Deliberate.
Scanning faces instead of just hands.
Your heart hammers.
Your sister starts waving immediately.
“WOOYOUNG!”
Her voice cracks again.
He looks left. Then right.
Then—
His gaze catches.
You see it. Recognition.
His eyes widen slightly.
And then he breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.
He points at her.
At her.
“You!” he mouths dramatically.
Your sister gasps so loudly the people around you laugh.
He crouches slightly — lowering himself to her height.
Even though security is already urging him forward.
He waves exaggeratedly. Both hands.
Your sister is crying again.
But this time, she’s laughing too.
He taps his chest, then points to her.
A silent promise.
I see you.
Security nudges him along.
But just before he moves past—
His eyes flicker up.
To you.
It’s brief. Half a second.
But it’s intentional.
Not stage-smile bright. Not idol-performed.
It’s smaller. Softer.
Like he’s checking.
Are we okay?
Your breath catches.
You nod before you even realize you are.
He moves on. The crowd swallows him.
But the moment lingers.
Your sister turns to you, sobbing into your arm.
“He saw me! He saw me!”
“I know,” you whisper.
You blink rapidly.
You didn’t expect to feel this emotional. You didn’t expect relief to feel this intense.
You didn’t expect him looking at you to feel—
Different.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Your phone buzzes moments after you leave the venue.
“Mission accomplished?”
You stare at the message.
He must have sent it the second he got backstage.
You type back:
“She hasn’t stopped crying.”
A pause.
“Bad cry or good cry?”
You laugh softly.
“Good.”
Three dots appear immediately.
“Okay. I can breathe again.”
You hesitate.
Then:
“Thank you.”
He responds almost instantly.
“I told you I’d look extra hard.”
You bite your lip.
“You crouched.”
“I’m committed.”
“Security looked stressed.”
“Worth it.”
Your sister leans over your shoulder.
“Are you texting him?!”
“No.”
“Yes, you are!”
You roll your eyes, but your cheeks feel warm.
Another message comes.
“You were there too.”
Your heart stutters.
“Obviously.”
“No. I mean… I saw you.”
You stare at the screen. Your fingers hover.
“And?”
There’s a longer pause this time.
Long enough to make your pulse spike.
Then:
“You didn’t look scary tonight.”
Your mouth drops open.
“That’s your takeaway?”
“It’s progress.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re welcome.”
You type before you can overthink it:
“I’m glad you didn’t ignore her this time.”
Three dots.
Then:
“I never meant to ignore her.”
Your chest tightens.
You know that now.
Fully. Completely.
And somehow, that knowledge makes everything softer.
He sends one more message.
“Are you proud of me?”
The question is teasing.
But underneath it, there’s something real.
You think about the café.
The apology. The video.
The way he scanned the crowd that night like he was searching for something specific.
You type slowly.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
Then:
“Good. Because I kind of wanted you to be.”
Your heart forgets how to beat properly for a second.
Your sister is still buzzing beside you, replaying the moment in her head.
People begin to disperse.
But you’re standing there, staring at your screen, feeling something shift again.
This isn’t about being enemies anymore. It’s not even just friends.
It’s something building quietly in the space between texts.
In half-second eye contact. In crouched gestures.
In I wanted you to be.
And that’s far more dangerous than a hate post ever was.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎@luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones
snuggle pile
requested by anonymous "Heyy i love ur writing so much , could u please write about jay and toddler ( the gender doesnt matter) and overwhelmed pregnant who just need hugs and kisses from her favourite people"
The sun was low in the sky, painting the living room in a lazy golden glow, but Y/N didn’t even notice. She was sprawled on the couch, one hand pressed to her swelling belly, the other dragging a blanket closer around her shoulders. Her chest felt tight with exhaustion; every step of the day, the appointments, the chores, the constant mental juggling, had piled up, leaving her drained.
A soft thump on the couch beside her made her glance up. Their toddler, cheeks flushed with excitement, crawled toward her with a grin that could melt mountains.
“Mommy!” he squealed, flinging himself onto her lap and wrapping his tiny arms around her middle. Y/N laughed, a breathy, tired sound, as she scooped him up. “Hey, little love,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his soft hair.
“Mommy tired,” he said knowingly, resting his head against her chest.
Y/N chuckled, nuzzling him. “Yeah… a little.”
Before the moment could slip away, Jay came into view, moving quietly so as not to startle them. His hand brushed over Y/N’s shoulder as he crouched beside the couch. “I think I know exactly what we need,” he said, voice soft. His eyes glimmered with that warmth Y/N had memorized over the years, the one that made everything feel okay.
Their toddler squealed and reached for him. “Daddy hug!”
Jay laughed, leaning in to scoop their son into his arms, lifting him just enough to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Gotcha, buddy. Big hugs only today.”
Y/N stretched out on the couch, letting Jay settle beside her, one arm curling around her shoulders. “Big hugs… and maybe a few kisses, too?” she asked, voice faint with fatigue.
Jay leaned in, brushing his lips over hers softly. “Anything you need,” he whispered. The toddler, not to be left out, pressed his face against her cheek, squealing happily. “Mommy kisses!”
The trio melted together in a cozy, jumbled heap of warmth. Jay’s hand rested over hers on her belly, gently rubbing in slow circles, while the toddler wriggled between them, giggling and occasionally planting tiny, sticky kisses on Y/N’s cheeks.
“You two are ridiculous,” Y/N murmured, her laughter soft and tired. “I love you both so much.”
Jay smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “Then let us show it,” he said. “All afternoon. No one moves. No one worries. Just cuddles.”
And that’s exactly what they did. The toddler drifted off into a nap on Y/N’s chest, little hands resting on her belly as if guarding the baby inside. Jay stayed close, whispering soft words to both of them, pressing gentle kisses along Y/N’s forehead and jawline whenever she let out a tiny sigh of contentment.
They shifted as one: a slight groan from Y/N when her back ached, a shuffle from Jay to support her more comfortably, a tiny stretch from the toddler. And in between, there were kisses—lots of kisses—and murmurs of love.
Time stretched lazily around them. The sun dipped lower, turning the room into shades of amber and rose. The world outside could wait. The dishes, the laundry, the stress, none of it mattered in this cocoon of warmth and softness.
Y/N let her eyes close fully, trusting the steady heartbeat of Jay against her back, the gentle breathing of their son against her chest, the quiet promise of love in every touch. She could feel the baby fluttering inside, as if it were joining the cuddle pile, tiny kicks echoing the rhythm of their hearts.
“I could stay like this forever,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
Jay pressed another kiss to her temple, his hand tightening around hers. “And we will,” he said softly. “Forever… at least until nap time ends.”
They all laughed quietly together, the sound warm and soft, wrapping around them like another blanket. For the rest of the evening, they stayed like that: tangled, sleepy, loved, and completely, blissfully content.
And Y/N finally let herself fully relax, knowing she had her favourite people wrapped around her, the perfect storm of hugs, kisses, and love—and that was all she needed.
The afternoon had dissolved into golden quiet, the kind that makes you think time itself has slowed. But for their toddler, quiet was just the perfect setup for mischief.
“More kisses!” he declared suddenly, sitting up from his nap on Y/N’s chest, hair tousled and cheeks pink.
Y/N groaned dramatically, smiling at him through tired but happy eyes. “More kisses? But I’m already covered in your little smooches!”
“Not enough!” he insisted, launching himself at her again, tiny hands grabbing at her cheeks. Jay laughed, rolling his eyes fondly. “Looks like someone’s on a mission,” he said, scooping him up. “Operation Kisses is in full swing.”
“No! Mommy first!” the toddler protested, wriggling in Jay’s arms.
Jay leaned over Y/N, tilting the toddler so he could land a sloppy, giggly kiss on her cheek. “Mission accomplished,” he said, smirking.
But the toddler wasn’t done. He squealed and squirmed, trying to escape Jay’s arms to press more kisses on Y/N’s other cheek. “Daddy! Daddy kisses too!”
Jay laughed, giving in and planting exaggerated, tiny kisses along the toddler’s cheeks. “Okay, okay, buddy… you’re a kiss monster,” he said, holding him close.
Y/N snorted, wrapping her arms around both of them. “I think a tiny, sticky dictator has conquered me,” she said. Her belly nudged gently against their toddler, who giggled in response. “And his army,” she added, pointing at Jay.
“Hey! I’m not the army, I’m the general of cuddle operations,” Jay said, feigning indignation while pulling Y/N closer into his chest.
The toddler erupted into giggles, squirming between them, throwing kisses wildly in all directions. “Mommy! Daddy! Kisses! Kisses!” His little hands were everywhere, tugging at hair, poking cheeks, and attempting to squish them into one enormous hug.
Before long, they were all a tangled, wiggling heap on the couch, Jay’s arms wrapped around Y/N, Y/N’s arms around both of them, and their toddler somewhere in the middle, squealing in delight. “Stop laughing!” he shrieked between giggles, but he couldn’t help it—neither could they.
Jay pressed soft, warm kisses along Y/N’s temple, jaw, and shoulder, while Y/N peppered their toddler with tiny kisses on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. The toddler retaliated with sticky little kisses of his own, smearing them across everyone’s faces, laughing so hard his little legs kicked the air.
“I—can’t—breathe!” Y/N giggled, her sides aching from laughter as she tried to scoop up their giggling son.
“Good!” Jay said, tickling her ribs lightly, “Then you’re feeling exactly what love is supposed to feel like.”
The toddler, seeing an opening, leaned over and smushed both their faces together in one big family kiss, giggling uncontrollably. Y/N and Jay laughed so hard they nearly toppled off the couch, tangled in limbs and kisses.
Finally, after a long stretch of giggles, kisses, and blanket-wrapping chaos, they all collapsed into a blissfully tired, sticky, snuggly pile. The toddler yawned big, curling against Y/N’s belly, and Jay brushed a hand through his hair.
Y/N let out a contented sigh, pressing a kiss to Jay’s chest and another to their son’s head. “This… this is perfect,” she whispered, eyes closing as the last traces of stress melted away.
Jay leaned over, pressing one last soft kiss to her temple. “This is us,” he murmured. “Messy, loud, silly, but exactly perfect. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Their toddler murmured in agreement, drifting off to sleep between them. And for a moment, just a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving only the warmth of hugs, the softness of kisses, and the perfect chaos of family.
Copyright 2026 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.
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reputations
pairing : classmate! wooyoung x fem! reader
synopsis : A quiet university girl becomes the target of cruel rumors, until the campus troublemaker unexpectedly steps in to defend her.
genre : slice of life, fluff, university au, bad boy x shy girl, strangers-to-lovers, angst, comfort, drama
warnings : none
author’s note : long time no post! i actually have been occupied wif work and the concert (and pcd rn) so i haven’t been writing ill fufill all ur requests soon 🤞
word count : 2.5k
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You don’t know when it started.
Maybe it was the first presentation of the semester.
Maybe it was when you tripped on the lecture stairs.
Maybe it was nothing at all.
That’s the worst part.
You never did anything.
But somehow, you became the girl people roll their eyes at.
The girl who gets left out of group chats.
The girl who gets “accidentally” bumped in the hallways.
The girl who is too quiet, too awkward.
You learned to walk with your eyes down. You learned to eat lunch in empty classrooms.
You learned that silence is safer.
And then there’s him.
Jung Wooyoung.
The boy everyone knows.
The boy professors warn about. The boy girls whisper about.
He laughs too loud. Talks back. Skips lectures but still passes. Wears rings and confidence like armor.
You’ve never spoken to him.
You’ve barely even looked at him.
But he sits two rows ahead of you in biology.
And sometimes— sometimes — you feel his gaze flicker back.
You tell yourself it’s nothing.
Until the chair disappears from under you.
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─────────
It happens during roll call.
You stand up to answer.
And when you go to sit down —
Your chair is gone.
You fall hard against the tiled floor.
The sound echoes.
Your bag spills. Papers scatter. Your elbow burns.
The lecture hall explodes with laughter.
Heat rushes to your face. You want the ground to swallow you so badly.
Someone mutters, “Clumsy.” Someone else snickers, “So dramatic.”
Your throat closes.
Then—
A chair scrapes back loudly.
The laughter falters.
“What’s so funny?”
It’s him.
Wooyoung.
His voice isn’t playful.
It’s flat. Cold.
He doesn’t look at you.
He looks at the boys standing behind you — the ones who moved your chair.
“Pick it up.”
One of them scoffs. “Relax. It’s just a joke.”
Wooyoung steps forward slowly.
You’ve never seen him serious before.
It’s different. Dangerous.
“It isn’t funny,” he says.
The room goes quiet. The boy shifts uncomfortably.
“Pick. It. Up.”
They do.
They gather your papers.
You’re still frozen on the floor.
Embarrassed. Exposed. Shaking.
Then a hand appears in your vision.
You blink.
Wooyoung is looking down at you now.
“You’re bleeding,” he mutters.
You look at your palm.
A thin line of red across your skin.
You hadn’t noticed.
Your fingers hesitate before you place them in his.
His grip is firm. Warm.
He pulls you up easily. Too easily.
Like you weigh nothing.
The class is silent.
Wooyoung glances around once more.
“Anyone else think that was funny?”
No one answers.
He picks up your bag and sets it on your desk.
Then he sits down.
Like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t just shift the entire atmosphere of the room.
Your heart doesn’t stop racing for the rest of the lecture.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
After that day, things change.
Not for everyone.
Just for you.
Wooyoung starts sitting beside you.
The first time he does, you nearly choke on your water.
“You don’t mind, right?” he says casually.
You shake your head too fast.
He smirks faintly.
“You’re too polite.”
You stare at your notebook.
He leans back in his chair.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
You swallow. “It would’ve made it worse.”
He watches you.
Long. Too long.
“You don’t deserve it.”
Your chest tightens.
You’ve never heard anyone say that.
Not about you.
You nod slightly.
He doesn’t look convinced.
It becomes a pattern.
If someone whispers about you in the hallway, Wooyoung stares until they look away. If someone bumps your shoulder, he bumps them harder.
If someone “forgets” to add you to the group chat, he adds you himself.
“Don’t ignore her,” he says once, loud enough for them to hear.
You don’t understand him.
Why he cares. Why he notices.
Why he always walks a little slower so you can keep up.
Why he always makes sure you’re walking beside him — never behind.
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─────────
One afternoon, you’re alone in the cafeteria.
You prefer it that way.
Until someone dumps their tray near you — too close
“Careful,” the girl mutters sarcastically. “Wouldn’t want her to cry again.”
You lower your head.
Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.
The chair across from you scrapes loudly.
“You done?”
You freeze.
Wooyoung drops into the seat across from the girl.
He doesn’t smile.
“Is there a problem?” she asks.
He tilts his head.
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“I’m looking at it.”
The table goes quiet.
The girl scoffs. “Why do you even care? She’s not your type.”
Wooyoung’s jaw tightens.
“And you are?”
You’ve never seen him this sharp.
The girl flushes. He stands.
“Apologize.”
She laughs nervously.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Wooyoung leans down slightly, hands on the table.
“You did.”
His voice is low.
Controlled.
And it scares her.
“Sorry,” she mutters quickly.
To you.
She leaves.
The cafeteria buzz slowly returns.
Wooyoung sits back down.
You stare at him.
“You didn’t have to—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts. “I did.”
He looks at you.
Really looks at you.
“You need to stop acting like it’s okay.”
You look down.
“It’s easier this way.”
His voice softens.
“Easy doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Your heart skips.
That night, you can’t sleep.
Because you keep replaying the way he looked at you.
Not like you were pathetic. Not like you were fragile.
Like you were worth something.
And that’s terrifying.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
A week later, rumors start.
You hear them before you see them.
“She’s only around him because she wants protection.” “He probably feels bad for her.” “She’s using him.”
Your chest feels heavy.
You try to avoid him that day.
You sit somewhere else. You leave early. You don’t respond to his messages.
Until your phone buzzes again.
Wooyoung: Where are you?
You don’t reply.
Wooyoung: Don’t ignore me.
Wooyoung: Did someone say something?
Your hands shake slightly. You type.
You: It’s fine.
Three dots.
Wooyoung: No. It’s not.
And for the first time since all this started —
You feel something worse than loneliness.
You feel guilty.
Because now he’s involved. Because now they hate him too.
And you don’t know if you’re worth all that.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The confrontation happens on a Friday.
You’re walking past the courtyard when you hear it.
“She’s dragging him down.” “He used to be fun.” “She’s pathetic.”
Something inside you cracks.
You keep walking.
Until someone grabs your wrist.
“Hey.”
You turn.
It’s Wooyoung.
He looks irritated. And worried.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You try to pull away gently.
“You shouldn’t hang around me.”
His eyebrows furrow.
“What?”
“It’s ruining your reputation.”
He stares at you.
Then laughs once.
Sharply.
“My reputation?” he repeats.
“Yes.”
He steps closer.
“Do you think I care about that?”
You hesitate.
He softens slightly.
“I care about you.”
The words hang in the air. You blink at him.
“Why?” you whisper.
His expression falters.
Like he didn’t expect that question.
But before he can answer—
A voice calls out from behind.
“Wooyoung! You ditching us now?”
A group of boys from his friend circle approach.
One of them looks at you and smirks.
“Babysitting again?”
Your stomach drops.
Wooyoung’s shoulders tense.
“Shut up.”
The boy laughs.
“What? It’s true.”
You pull your wrist from Wooyoung’s grasp.
“It’s okay,” you mumble. “You can go.”
His eyes snap to yours.
“I don’t want to.”
You force a small smile.
“You should.”
Because you don’t want to be the reason he loses everything.
He stares at you.
And for the first time —
You see something like hurt.
He steps back slowly.
“Fine.”
And he walks away.
Without looking back.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
That night, it rains.
And you don’t realize you’re crying until the drops mix with it.
You tell yourself this is better.
Safer.
He deserves friends.
Fun. Laughter.
Not whispers. Not drama.
Not you.
But when your phone lights up with his name again —
Your heart aches.
Wooyoung: Why are you pushing me away?
You don’t answer.
Because if you do, you’re not sure you’ll be strong enough to let him go.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The rain doesn’t stop.
It falls heavy against the pavement, soaking through your cardigan, your hair clinging to your cheeks. You should go home.
Instead, you stand under the weak shelter near the bus stop, staring at your unread messages.
Wooyoung: Why are you pushing me away?
Wooyoung: Talk to me
Wooyoung: Please
You bite your lip.
He doesn’t deserve to get dragged into your mess. He doesn’t deserve the whispers.
The rumors are worse now.
“She trapped him.” “He’s going soft.”
“He used to be fun.”
And every time you hear it, it feels like proof.
Proof that you’re ruining something.
Your phone vibrates again. You don’t need to look to know it’s him.
Then you hear footsteps.
Fast. Familiar.
You turn.
He’s there.
Hair damp. Hoodie half-soaked. Breathing hard like he ran.
“You weren’t answering,” he says.
You freeze.
“You followed me?”
“I asked around.”
His eyes scan your face immediately.
“You’ve been crying.”
You shake your head automatically.
He steps closer.
“Don’t lie.”
The rain hits harder against the metal roof above you. You look down.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?”
“Because,” your voice wavers, “they’re right.”
His jaw tightens. “About what?”
“About me dragging you down.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
“Who said that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
You swallow.
“I don’t want to be the reason you lose your friends.”
He stares at you for a long moment.
Then he laughs softly.
But there’s no humor in it.
“You think I care about them more than you?”
Your breath catches.
“That’s not what I—”
“They only liked me when I was loud and reckless,” he interrupts. “You’re the first person who didn’t.”
You look up.
You can see water clinging to his lashes.
“You look at me like I’m not a joke,” he says quietly.
“You’re not.”
He steps closer.
“So stop acting like you’re one.”
Your heart stutters.
“You don’t understand,” you whisper. “They hate me.”
He nods once.
“Yeah.”
You blink.
“Yeah,” he repeats. “They do.”
The blunt honesty knocks the air out of you.
“And I don’t care.”
His hand lifts slowly.
Then brushes a wet strand of hair from your face.
“I don’t care if they hate you,” he says. “I care that you hate yourself because of it.”
The words hit harder than the rain.
Your throat tightens.
“I don’t hate myself,” you murmur weakly.
He gives you a look.
The kind that says he sees through you completely.
“You shrink,” he says softly. “You apologize for breathing. You act like you deserve it.”
You feel exposed.
“I don’t,” you whisper.
“I know.”
His voice is firm.
“You don’t.”
The silence between you fills with rain and something fragile and electric.
“And you don’t get to decide what’s good for me,” he says suddenly.
You blink.
“What?”
“You don’t get to push me away because you think I deserve better.”
He steps even closer now.
“You don’t get to choose that for me.”
Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.
“I’m not good at this,” you admit.
“At what?”
“Being… wanted.”
Something in his expression breaks.
Softens.
He cups your face gently.
“You’re not hard to want,” he whispers.
And then he kisses you.
It’s not rushed. It’s not aggressive.
It’s warm. Careful.
Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
Your hands clutch at his hoodie instinctively.
The rain doesn’t matter anymore.
Nothing does.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
“You’re not a burden,” he breathes. “You’re the only thing that’s made this place tolerable.”
Your chest aches.
“I’m scared,” you admit.
“Of what?”
“That you’ll regret this.”
He smiles faintly.
“I don’t regret protecting you. I don’t regret standing beside you.”
His thumb brushes over your cheek.
“And I definitely don’t regret that.”
Your lips tremble slightly.
“You’re really stubborn,” you murmur.
He grins.
“Yeah.”
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─────────
The next week changes everything.
Because Wooyoung stops being subtle.
He holds your hand in public. He sits even closer in lectures. He walks you everywhere.
And when someone whispers?
He stares until they shut up.
The rumors shift.
“She’s controlling him.” “He’s whipped.”
“You see the way he looks at her?”
You hear it.
But this time—
You don’t shrink.
Because his fingers are laced through yours. Because when you glance at him, he squeezes once like a silent reminder.
I’m here.
Until the day he almost loses it.
It happens in the courtyard again.
You’re sitting beside him on the steps, going over notes.
A guy from his old friend group approaches.
“Yo,” he calls.
Wooyoung doesn’t look up.
“Busy.”
The guy snorts.
“With her?”
You stiffen.
Wooyoung’s jaw tightens.
“Say what you came to say.”
The guy shrugs.
“Just think it’s funny. You used to make fun of girls like her.”
Silence.
Wooyoung stands slowly.
The movement is controlled.
“Watch your mouth.”
The guy laughs.
“Or what?”
You see it.
The shift.
The way Wooyoung’s shoulders tense. The way his hands curl into fists.
“Wooyoung,” you whisper.
He doesn’t hear you.
“Apologize,” he says flatly.
The guy scoffs.
“Why? She gonna cry?”
That’s when Wooyoung shoves him.
Hard.
Gasps echo around you.
The guy stumbles back.
“Are you crazy?”
Wooyoung steps forward again.
You grab his sleeve.
“Stop.”
He doesn’t move.
“Stop,” you repeat, louder.
His breathing is heavy.
He looks furious.
It terrifies you.
“Please,” you say softly.
His gaze flickers to you.
And immediately softens.
Like someone flipped a switch.
He steps back.
Runs a hand through his hair.
The guy mutters something under his breath and walks away.
Wooyoung doesn’t look at you.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did.”
“No,” you say firmly. “You don’t have to fight my battles.”
His eyes flash.
“I want to.”
You shake your head.
“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
He stares at you for a long moment.
“I’d rather get hurt than watch you get hurt.”
Your heart aches.
He exhales slowly.
“I’m trying not to be that guy anymore.”
“What guy?”
“The one who solves everything with his fists.”
You step closer.
“You’re not him.”
He looks at you.
“I don’t want to scare you.”
You reach for his hand.
“You don’t.”
He squeezes your fingers gently.
“I just hate seeing you look small.”
You swallow.
“I’m trying not to.”
He nods.
“That’s all I need.”
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─────────
That night, he walks you home again.
No rain this time.
He stops in front of your building.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For choosing me.”
He smiles.
“I didn’t choose you.”
Your heart sinks slightly.
He steps closer.
“I just fell.”
And then he kisses you again.
Softer this time. Like a promise.
The hate doesn’t disappear.
But it doesn’t control you anymore.
Because now when someone whispers, you don’t look down.
You look at him.
And he looks back like you’re the only person in the world.
And for the first time since university started—
You don’t feel like the girl everyone hates.
You feel like the girl Jung Wooyoung loves.
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© lcvejjoong, 2026
taglist: @darjeelinglemontea ❤︎@fluffypuddingatz ❤︎@luumiinaa @snow0-0fairy @snow0-0fairy-writes @life-is-a-game-of-thrones
6:17PM — kang yeosang x gn!reader
0.6k words, fluff, est. relationship au, kissing, idk tbh this was inspired by @everyonewooeverywhere post abt yeosang's current tom ford perfume(s), and also i did say out loud while writing this "man, i am so single" so.
a/n: low-key might actually write a drabble later w my original intention of it being comedic rather than this ooey-gooey TT
You can read Yeosang's mind simply by how he smells.
“Vanille Fatale,” you mutter in a half-sigh, nearly tripping over your socked feet as you glide atop the polished wood floors in your home. It's a quarter past six in the evening, the sky has just bruised to the perfect shade of blueberry compote, and your ankles are begging for respite from a long day of work.
You follow the scent trail like a fish on a hook, trapped but willing to take the bait. There's a song playing in the living room with a subtle beat that makes your head bob mindlessly to its rhythm.
A blond head of hair is poking up from where he lounges on the couch, one ankle crossing over his knee, face dewy and fresh as if he has just come from a shower; though, you know personally that his skin is naturally luminous like that. After six years by this man's side, it's difficult to ignore his effortless beauty.
A smile breathes life onto your face and the stress melts away from your shoulders as you come up behind him. “Mmh,” you hum under your breath, bending down to gently graze your nose against his throat. “Someone smells good.”
His low chuckle vibrates in his throat. He turns his head slightly so his lips meet your cheekbone. “Hi, beautiful,” he murmurs, “I missed you.”
There's a book in his lap, one that he's been steadily making his way through this week during the evenings in order to wind down. It is a habit that both of you have been striving to keep as you become “real adults,” as you enjoy joking about every so often. Less phone time, more time in the present.
“I can tell,” you reply and answer his kiss with a small one on his mouth. You laugh against his skin. “How does the website describe this perfume? 'A beguiling, deeply seductive scent of vanilla, mahogany, and roasted barley?’” As soon as Yeosang comes home with a new fragrance obsession from Tom Ford, you're already committing the scent's official description to memory. It began as a way to tease him, but after some time, it has become tradition.
He kisses you again—this time, it's a beat longer, as if savoring your own smell, your unique musk and lingering remnants of apple blossom perfume. It's slow, patient. You know what he wants. “Well, is it working?”
You straighten from your bent position, already missing his warmth. There's a smile on your face, though. “What? The seduction or the beguilement?” You're taking long strides down the hallway then, your voice carrying through the acoustic wood-lined corridors, to disassemble your work self.
Dim, warm light floods the room as you tug the lamp cord on your desk, the metal beads zipping through their ring. You set your work bag on the floor by your desk, shrug your jacket off and drape it over the back of your chair. There is a considerable amount of weight that lifts from your body as you go through the motions, deconstructing the mounting tension that work always piles onto you.
Yeosang's lithe and lean figure appears at the mouth of your office, shoulder braced against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a smile on his lips, eyes soft at its corners, as he breathes you in.
You can't help but smile back at him, laughing. “What?” you voice out loud, taking your laptop from its fold in your bag and placing it onto your desk.
“Nothin’,” he muses. His blond hair falls in his eyes and you are struck by something awfully tender. “Just missed you.”
A pang resounds in your chest, not empty but full. "I missed you, too."
a/n: i love writing prose in first person ngl
atz m.list
perm. taglist: @jaehunnyy @seomisaho @gaonashi @thecarnivaloflies @mars101 @sanbangchan @http-gyu @luumiinaa @starlightkwan @empire-x @kpopjackie @shakalakaboomboo @vernonburger @kangyeosanq @fluorescentloves @distvrbia @an-annyeoing-recs @ffenjoyerdazme @newworldwritings @hueningsgirl @ihynjae @eighteez-net
where the day gets softer-
★genre : just a fluffy moment between you and this guy you adore more than anything. ★words : 1k
Your day has been long. The kind of long that sinks into your bones, makes your limbs heavy, makes your brain static. You drop onto your bed the second you step into your room, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything at once. Moving? Not an option. Thinking? Barely. You just wish you could skip ahead—to the part where you’re clean, wrapped up in blankets, and today is nothing but a blur in your memory.
Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. It buzzes again. You groan, blindly reaching for it, glancing at the screen.
Mark.
Your lips twitch into something close to a smile. Suddenly, you have the strength to lift yourself up on your elbows.
Markie - Hey, babe. You done with classes? Wanna see me for a quick kiss?
Yes. A million times yes.
Your reply is instant, desperate in the way you don’t even try to hide. The thought of seeing him makes something in your chest untangle, makes your ribs feel a little less tight. You sit up, glancing around your room, half-heartedly straightening things up. You should shower before he gets here, at least try to make yourself presentable—
The doorbell rings. Not even ten minutes later.
“Shit.”
You roll your eyes at yourself, but honestly? You’re not mad. You’re already moving, already reaching for the door, already smiling before you even open it.
And there he is.
Messy brown hair. Ridiculously pretty eyes. That smile—the one that always makes your stomach feel like it’s folding in on itself. He steps inside without a word, without hesitation, arms slipping around your waist, body fitting against yours like it was made to. A kiss on your forehead, soft, lingering.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
You exhale against his chest, sinking into him.
“Hi,” you mumble against his chest, breathing him in. Suddenly, today doesn’t feel so bad anymore.
“You got here so fast.” You pull back just enough to look at him. “Were you nearby?”
“Mhm. And I was kind of excited to see you, so I didn’t waste time.” His fingers slide through yours, effortlessly, like second nature. Leading you toward your room, toward the quiet comfort of your space. “Should I have given you more time?”
“No, it’s just—” You hesitate. “I thought I’d have time to shower before you got here. I feel gross. I wanted to look cute for you.”
His head tilts. Something amused, something fond in the way he looks at you.
“That’s an easy fix.”
Before you can ask what he means, he’s steering you toward the bathroom.
You blink. “Wait—”
“If you need a shower, let’s shower.” His voice is soft, but firm, like he’s stating the most obvious thing in the world. “I love being clean. And I love seeing you naked. This is a win for me.”
“You’re impossible—”
You don’t finish, because his lips are on yours, and your brain goes quiet.
It’s slow, unhurried, his hands moving with the kind of gentleness that makes your heart ache. He pulls your shirt over your head, unbuttons your jeans, sliding them off inch by inch. Every movement deliberate. Worshipful. And then his own clothes hit the floor, and the warmth of his skin against yours makes your breath hitch.
The water turns on.
He watches you with something close to amusement as you shiver at the warmth seeping in, presses a dozen tiny kisses across your face, like he’s mapping you out.
“So,” he murmurs, “how was your day?”
You huff, tilting your head up to look at him. “Not great. Until now.”
“On a scale of 1 to 10?”
You pretend to think about it. “Before you texted me? A 3. After your text? A 7. Once you got here? 8. In the shower? 9.”
He hums, pleased. “Excellent. That means I’m doing my job right.” Then, lower, softer—“Turn around.”
You do, closing your eyes, waiting.
For a second, his hands disappear. Your brows knit together. But then—
The scent of your body wash.
The warmth of his palms returning, slow and deliberate, moving over your skin in soft circles.
And just like that, the weight of the day dissolves.
“Mark…”
“Shhh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Let me take care of you. It’ll feel nice.”
And it does. God, it does. You let yourself sink into it. Let yourself exist here, in this moment, where everything is warm and quiet and safe. He rinses you just as carefully, and by the time the water shuts off, you feel boneless.
Then—softness. Warmth. He’s wrapping you in a towel, his hands impossibly gentle. You grip his shoulders, barely thinking, just following. He leads you back to your room, and you let him.
You sit on the bed, half in a daze, watching as he kneels in front of you, rummages through your drawer like it’s his own. He pulls out a pair of underwear, slides it up your legs, his touch featherlight.
“I can do that myself, you know.”
“I know.” He presses a kiss to your knee. “But you need someone to take care of you tonight. Let me.”
He smooths the fabric into place, then smirks. “Though, I usually prefer taking these off of you.” A wink.
You laugh, breathless, fingers sliding into his hair.
“And now?” His voice is quieter, lower. Eyes locked onto yours.
“10/10.”
The smile he gives you is something secret, something warm, something that makes your chest ache.
He smiles, pulling you down into bed with him, tucking you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, warm and steady, and you think—this. This is the safest place in the world. You could stay like this forever, feeling his breath against your neck, letting the rest of the world fade away.
And in this moment, you know. You’ll cherish this. This little pocket of happiness, this unexpected ending to an otherwise forgettable day.
“And now?” he whispers against your ear.
You smile, eyes fluttering shut.
“20/10.”
He kisses your temple.
And just like that, you fall asleep. Wrapped in warmth, in safety, in love.
Mark will always be your safe place. And nights like this always remind you why.
“Goodnight, babe.”
Your last thought before sleep takes you is simple.
You are loved. You are cherished. You are home.
-
my muse
pairing : stranger! wooyoung x art student! fem! reader
synopsis : You unexpectedly find inspiration in a boy you see at the park and chooses him as your muse—but as you both start talking, it becomes harder to tell where your assignment ends and your feelings begin.
genre : slice of life, romance, slow-burn, fluff, comedy, drama
warnings : none
author’s note : you know how when you look at someone and just know that they’re god’s favourite? that is my exact thought whenever i look at wooyoung 🫠 anywaysies thank yew to those who requested for my 1k event! 🥹🫶 keep them coming in tho im really excited to fufill them 😍
word count : 2.9k
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There were exactly three reasons you regretted taking Advanced Studio Art.
Number one: Your professor believed sleep is an option, not a necessity.
Number two: Critiques. Public ones. With feelings involved.
And number three—currently the bane of your existence—
“Find a muse,” your professor had said, clasping her hands like she had just bestowed enlightenment upon the class. “Something—or someone—that moves you. Obsesses you. Haunts your thoughts.”
Haunts your thoughts?
You had blinked at her from your seat, paint-stained fingers hovering mid-air. That sounded less like an assignment and more like the beginning of a psychological thriller.
“Capture them,” she continued, pacing slowly. “Not just their appearance. Their essence.”
Right. No pressure.
Just capture someone’s entire soul on canvas.
Easy.
Later, you stared at your blank canvas.
It stared back.
You tapped your paintbrush against your palette.
Nothing.
Your roommate poked her head into your room, chewing on a granola bar. “Still staring at that thing like it owes you money?”
“Yes,” you replied flatly. “It owes me inspiration.”
She snorted. “Have you tried… going outside?”
You turned slowly.
“Outside?” you echoed, as if she had just suggested skydiving without a parachute.
“Yes. Fresh air. Grass. Sunlight. People.”
“I hate people.”
“You’re literally doing an assignment about people.”
“Exactly why I hate it.”
She rolled her eyes and walked in, grabbing your wrist. “Come on. Park. Now. If you don’t find your muse today, you’re going to start painting your coffee mug and call it ‘existential despair.’”
You paused.
“…That actually sounds kind of good.”
“No.”
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The park wasn’t anything special.
Just a wide stretch of green with scattered trees, a jogging path, and people minding their own business.
You hated how normal it was.
“Okay,” your roommate—Mina said, clapping her hands. “Muse-hunting time. Go.”
“I feel like a predator.”
“You’re an art student, not a hawk. Relax.”
You sighed, dragging your feet along the path. Your eyes scanned half-heartedly—someone walking their dog, a couple arguing softly, a kid crying over a dropped ice cream cone.
None of them screamed muse.
More like background characters in a sad indie film.
You were about to give up—fully prepared to go home and paint that coffee mug—when it happened.
You noticed him.
He was sitting under a tree.
That was it. That was all he was doing.
And yet—
The sunlight filtered through the leaves above him, scattering across his hair like it had been specifically designed for him. His skin looked almost luminous, like he was holding light rather than reflecting it. There was a softness to him—something calm, something warm.
He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary.
Just sitting. But somehow—
Everything else in the park faded.
Your steps slowed. Then stopped.
“…Oh.”
Mina, who had been walking ahead, turned. “What?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Because your brain had just completely shut down.
“Hello?” Mina waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to—”
You grabbed her arm.
“That one,” you whispered, eyes locked onto him.
She followed your gaze.
“…Oh,” she repeated.
“Right?”
“Okay, yeah. I see it.”
“Do you see the lighting? Mina, the lighting.”
“It’s the sun.”
“No, it’s not just the sun. It’s—he’s—”
You gestured helplessly. Words failed you.
Which was rude, because you needed them right now.
“He looks like he walked out of a painting,” you finally managed.
Mina squinted. “Or like a skincare commercial.”
You smacked her arm. “I’m being serious!”
“I am too! Look at his skin. That’s not normal.”
It really wasn’t. It was unfair, actually.
You narrowed your eyes slightly.
“Do you think he’s real?”
“…What?”
“Like, genuinely. Because if he turns out to be some kind of forest spirit, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”
Mina snorted. “Please go talk to your ‘forest spirit.’ I need to witness this.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, I can’t just go up to him and say, ‘Hi, you look like divine inspiration, can I paint your soul?’”
“…You absolutely should say that.”
“I will not.”
“Coward.”
You inhaled slowly. Exhaled. Looked at him again.
He shifted slightly, leaning back on his hands, face tilted toward the sun.
And that was it. That was the moment your fate was sealed.
“…I have to paint him.”
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Step one: Approach him.
Step two: Don’t embarrass yourself.
Step three: Somehow convince him to let you paint him.
You stared at him. He remained blissfully unaware of the artistic crisis he had just caused.
“…Okay,” you muttered. “I can do this.”
Mina leaned in. “If you run away, I’m telling everyone you got rejected by a guy you never even spoke to.”
“That’s not even possible.”
“Watch me.”
You glared at her.
Then—
You walked forward. Each step felt heavier than the last.
What were you even supposed to say?
Hi, I’m an art student and you’ve accidentally ruined my life? Hi, are you aware that you look like you belong in a museum?
Hi, are you human?
You stopped a few feet away. He hadn’t noticed you yet.
Good.
That gave you time. Time to think.
Time to—
He turned his head. And looked straight at you.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Abort mission. Abort—
“Hi,” he said.
Your brain disconnected.
“Hi,” you echoed.
Brilliant. Incredible. A conversational masterpiece.
He smiled.
And that somehow made everything worse.
Because now he didn’t just look angelic. He looked approachable.
“I feel like I’m supposed to know why you’re staring at me,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But I don’t.”
Your soul left your body.
“I wasn’t staring,” you said immediately.
You were. Very obviously.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You weren’t?”
“…Okay, maybe a little.”
He laughed. And that was it.
That was the sound that ended you. It was light and easy, like it just existed naturally in him.
“You’re honest,” he said.
“I try,” you replied weakly.
There was a pause.
This was it. Now or never.
You straightened slightly, clutching your sketchbook like it was a lifeline.
“Okay, this is going to sound weird,” you said.
“I’m ready.”
“You might not be.”
“I believe in myself.”
You took a deep breath.
“I’m an art student,” you began.
“So far, so good.”
“And I have this assignment where I need to find a muse.”
He nodded slowly.
“And?”
“And I saw you.”
Another pause. His expression shifted—curious now.
“And?” he repeated.
“And you look like sunlight,” you blurted.
Silence. Complete silence.
You closed your eyes.
This was it. This was how you died.
Right here in a park, after telling a stranger he looked like sunlight.
Mina was going to put that on your tombstone.
She said something weird and never recovered.
“…Sunlight?” he said.
You opened one eye.
He wasn’t horrified. If anything—
He looked amused.
“Yes,” you said, doubling down because there was no going back now. “Like… soft sunlight. Like an angel.”
“…That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he said.
You blinked.
“Really?”
“No,” he said. “But it’s definitely the most creative.”
You let out a breath.
Okay. Okay, you weren’t completely doomed.
“So,” he continued, “what does that have to do with me?”
You held up your sketchbook.
“I was wondering if… I could paint you.”
There it was. The question. Hanging in the air.
He looked at the sketchbook.
Then at you. Then back at the sketchbook.
“…You want to paint me because I look like sunlight.”
“Yes.”
Another pause. And then—
He smiled again.
“Okay.”
You blinked.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Wait—really?”
“Yeah.”
“…That’s it? No questions? No concerns about being turned into art?”
He shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s muse. Sounds kind of cool.”
You stared at him. Suspiciously.
“Are you sure you’re real?” you asked.
He laughed again.
“I think so,” he said. “Do you want to check?”
“I wouldn’t even know how.”
“You could start by asking my name.”
Right. Names.
“Yes. That would be helpful.”
He extended a hand.
“Wooyoung.”
You hesitated for a split second—
Then shook it.
His hand was warm. Of course it was.
Everything about him was warm.
“Nice to meet you.”
Then immediately forgot how to function again.
This was going to be such a problem.
“So,” Wooyoung said, leaning back against the tree again, completely at ease. “When do I become your sunlight painting?”
You sat down across from him, pulling out your sketchbook.
“Now, if that’s okay.”
“Wow,” he said. “Straight to work. I respect that.”
“I have deadlines,” you muttered.
“And I have free time,” he replied cheerfully.
You glanced up at him. He was already looking at you.
“Do I just… sit here?” he asked.
“Yes. But, like—naturally.”
He blinked.
“What does that mean?”
“Just… be yourself.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You said you wanted to be a muse.”
“I didn’t realize it came with expectations.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“Do you want me to find another muse?”
He immediately sat up straighter.
“No. I’m the best option you have.”
You huffed.
“Confidence.”
“Obviously.”
You shook your head, but you couldn’t help the small smile that crept in.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You lifted your pencil.
And started to draw.
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If there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your ability to focus.
When you painted, the world narrowed. Sounds fade. Time slipped. It was just you, your subject, and the quiet hum of creation.
That ability?
Gone. Completely gone.
“Am I doing it right?” Wooyoung asked.
You didn’t look up. “You’re sitting.”
“Yes, but am I sitting artistically?”
You paused. Lowered your pencil.
He was sitting exactly how he had been before—back against the tree, one knee bent, sunlight catching on his hair like it had signed a contract to make him look ethereal at all times.
“…You’re fine,” you said.
“Are you sure? Because I feel like I could be doing more.”
“Please don’t do more.”
“Okay, but what if I—”
“Wooyoung.”
“Yes?”
“If you move, I will replace you with a rock.”
He gasped softly. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. You narrowed yours back.
A beat.
He relaxed again, dramatically sighing. “Fine. I’ll be a still, obedient muse.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I expect this to be reflected in the painting.”
“You’re getting stick figures at this rate.”
“That’s disrespectful.”
You started with rough lines.
Structure first. Always structure first.
You mapped the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips—
And then you stopped. Your pencil hovered.
“…This is annoying,” you muttered.
“What is?” Wooyoung asked immediately.
“Your face.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s too…” You gestured vaguely. “Balanced.”
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“It’s not. It’s inconvenient.”
He stared at you, clearly trying to decide if he should be offended.
“I’ve never been told my face is inconvenient before,” he said slowly.
“Well, now you have.”
“Should I mess it up a little? Would that help?”
“Yes. Can you just—shift everything slightly to the left?”
He let out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s how faces work.”
You sighed, rubbing your temple.
“This is why I paint objects,” you said. “Objects don’t have symmetry issues. A mug doesn’t wake up and decide to be perfect.”
“Mugs don’t have personalities either.”
“Exactly. They behave.”
“Wow.”
You glanced up at him again.
He was smiling. Of course he was.
“You’re enjoying this,” you accused.
“A little.”
“You’re making my assignment harder.”
“I’m making it memorable.”
You paused.
“…That’s worse.”
Then comes another issue. A much bigger issue.
You couldn’t stop looking at him.
Which, in theory, was part of the process. You had to observe your subject.
Study the details. Capture them.
But this? This wasn’t studying.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?” Wooyoung asked.
You froze.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m an artist.”
You inhaled slowly.
“Do you want me to paint you or not?”
“I do,” he said quickly. “I just didn’t realize I’d be psychologically analyzed in the process.”
“You’re not being analyzed.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re seeing into my soul?”
You paused.
“…Because I am.”
He blinked. Then laughed again.
“You’re scary,” he said.
“You agreed to this.”
“I didn’t read the terms and conditions.”
“That’s your fault.”
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After about twenty minutes, your hand started to cramp.
You flexed your fingers, frowning.
“Break?” Wooyoung suggested.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re literally shaking your hand.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“You’re talkative.”
“That’s because you’re quiet.”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m being ignored.”
You looked up.
He was pouting. Actually pouting.
“…Are you serious?” you asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re pouting because I’m focusing on my assignment.”
“I’m your muse. I deserve attention.”
“You’re getting attention. I’m drawing you.”
“That’s not the same.”
“It is the same.”
“It’s not.”
You stared at him. He stared back.
You sighed.
“…Five minutes,” you said.
He lit up immediately. “Yes.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told that.”
You set your sketchbook down beside you, stretching your arms slightly. Wooyoung shifted, turning a little so he was facing you more directly now.
“So,” he said. “How long have you been doing art?”
“Since I was a kid,” you replied. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”
“That’s not true.”
You frowned. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
He gestured at you vaguely. “You don’t seem like a one-skill person.”
You blinked.
“…That’s a weirdly nice thing to say.”
“I’m a weirdly nice person.”
“I noticed.”
He grinned.
“What about you?” you asked. “Do you just sit in parks and wait for art students to find you?”
“Obviously. It’s my full-time job.”
“Ah. That explains everything.”
“No, I just come here to relax,” he said. “It’s quiet.”
You glanced around.
“It’s not that quiet.”
“It is if you ignore people.”
“…I like that philosophy.”
“I can tell.”
You huffed a small laugh.
There was a pause. But it wasn’t awkward.
It was calm. Comfortable.
Which was strange. Because you had just met him.
“You’re easy to talk to,” Wooyoung said suddenly.
You blinked.
“I barely talk.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.”
You stare blankly, trying to figure out what he meant.
But you had work to do.
“Okay,” you said, grabbing your sketchbook again. “Back to being a professional muse.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Stop talking.”
“No.”
You sighed. But you didn’t argue. Because, for some reason, you didn’t mind anymore.
You started sketching again, refining the lines, adding more detail.
And this time, it was easier. Not because his face had become less inconvenient.
But because you were starting to understand it.
The subtle asymmetry. The way his expression shifted constantly.
The warmth in his eyes.
You paused again.
“…Don’t smile,” you said suddenly.
“What?”
“Don’t smile.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to draw your neutral expression.”
“But I’m happy.”
“Be less happy.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
He pressed his lips together, attempting to suppress his smile.
It lasted exactly three seconds. Then he broke.
“I can’t do it,” he said, laughing.
You stared at him.
“…You’re impossible.”
“And yet, I’m your muse.”
You groaned softly.
Somewhere between his constant talking, your constant pretending-to-be-annoyed, and the sunlight slowly shifting across the park—
You realized something.
You weren’t just drawing him anymore.
You were enjoying this. A lot.
More than you should. More than it made sense.
And that was dangerous.
Because this was supposed to be an assignment. Just an assignment.
Nothing more.
“…Why are you smiling?” Wooyoung asked.
You froze.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
You turned your sketchbook slightly, hiding your face.
“Stop looking at me,” you muttered.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like the sunlight right now.”
Your brain short-circuited. You looked up.
“…You did not just say that.”
He grinned.
“I did.”
“You stole that from me.”
“I improved it.”
“That’s plagiarism.”
“That’s inspiration.”
You stared at him.
Then, despite everything—
You laughed.
And just like that, the assignment didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
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As the sun started to dip slightly, casting softer, warmer tones across the park, you finally lowered your pencil.
“That’s all for today,” you said.
Wooyoung stretched his arms above his head. “Freedom.”
“You were just sitting.”
“It was emotionally exhausting.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m expressive.”
You rolled your eyes, closing your sketchbook carefully.
“…I’m going to need more sessions,” you said.
He looked at you.
“Good.”
You blinked.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” he said, standing up and brushing off his clothes. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“…Why?”
He shrugged lightly.
“Because I like this.”
You stared at him.
There it was again. That strange, warm feeling in your chest.
“Oh,” you said.
Very eloquent. Very cool.
He smiled.
“So,” he continued, “same time tomorrow?”
You hesitated. You should say no.
But instead—
“…Yeah,” you said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His smile widened.
“Cool.”
And for some reason, that felt like the start of something.
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© lcvejjoong, 2026
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