First fic in a while, kinda nauseous about posting my writing again ngl, but it's also so nice to be back in a headspace where I actually have the capacity to write, so ya win some ya lose some ig
╰⪼┆LATEST UPDATE: 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙮... being your safety net
∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘
⋆˙⟡ I genuinely believe with every fiber of my being that being yudai’s partner means feeling loved and cared for no matter what, because at his core, he’s a nurturing soul
⋆˙⟡ it’s in the way he presses kisses to your forehead or gently clasps your hand on the way out of every room. how he gives you a rundown of his plans for the day while he ties on his shoelaces, finishing with a, “I’ll be back soon, stay safe, okay?”
⋆˙⟡ he doesn’t have to do these things, you’ve never asked him to tell you where he goes or how long he’ll be gone (although that is in part because you’ve never had to), but yudai chooses to anyway
⋆˙⟡ because he never wants you to feel anxious or worried on his account. because he wants you to know where to reach him in an emergency. because he thinks of you throughout his day, wonders where you are and what you’re doing, so a small (big) part of him secretly hopes you do the same
⋆˙⟡ yudai has a lot of reasons for his little habit, but it really just boils down to the fact that love, to him, means safety
⋆˙⟡ he wants more than anything to be someone who you never have to be scared of, needs you to know and believe that he’d never hurt any part of you; body, mind, or soul
⋆˙⟡ and it works
⋆˙⟡ no matter what fears or anxieties you may have had stepping into that relationship, he unravels them one by one, patient to a fault no matter how slow you need to take things
⋆˙⟡ and every time he feels you letting him take a step closer? he’s absolutely elated
⋆˙⟡ don’t get him wrong, he’s extremely worried when you call him in a panic because it’s raining and late and you have a very drunk friend leaning a little too heavily into your side–but underneath all that he’s grinning like an idiot. this was the first time you’d called him outside of any reasonable hour, and the first time you’d ever explicitly asked for his help with something. he makes sure to let you know that if you ever need a driver for your girls nights he’d be more than happy to make sure that you and your friends get home safe
⋆˙⟡that incident was one of many that yudai files away in his mind, like the first time you grabbed his arm in a crowd so you wouldn’t be seperated, when you’d laughed so hard your eyelashes were damp when you smiled at him after, or the day he noticed you started stomping your foot when he annoyed you
⋆˙⟡ you laughed, joked, and moved more freely when you were together, and bit by bit, he realised that he was doing the same
⋆˙⟡ because two could play at his game
⋆˙⟡ you remembered the look on yudai’s face when you grabbed onto his sleeve and navigated the two of you to a less busy corner so he could work out the map he had on his phone screen, you remember the day he’d called you right after work and sat on a park bench with his head on your shoulder in complete silence for the better part of a half hour after a long day, and you still kept one of the first flowers he’d ever sent you as an apology after a fight pressed between the pages of a book on your nightstand
⋆˙⟡ you knew without a doubt that no matter what happened, even if you did hurt each other and he walked out to cool off before hashing things out, he’d always come back
⋆˙⟡ sending you his location so you’d still know where to find him just in case
⋆˙⟡ the symptoms were different, but neither you nor yudai really knew how to receive romantic love unconditionally when you’d first met, but you learned how to from one another nonetheless
⋆˙⟡ now here you are, sound asleep on his chest while rain pours down the windows of your shared home, legs tossed lazily over his, shoulder digging just a little into his thigh, head nuzzled into the crook of his elbow
⋆˙⟡ he’s not really sure when you slid down and rolled over, but he’s not about to wake you, the steady rise and fall of your chest too peaceful to disturb
✦•···················•✦•···················•✦
this fic triggered like five different K related plotlines in my head and I might have to write all of them now ฅᨐฅ
Hello lovies!! It's been a hot minute since I was active, I know 😓 but life has finally let up enough for me to feel like coming back to writing ☺️
Before I do tho, I wanted to just give a quick psa about some changes that'll be made to this blog moving forward:
♡ from now on this will be a strictly MDNI space, I really don't feel comfortable with minors interacting with me or my writing anymore, so blank and ageless blogs will be blocked
♡ I might start posting nsfw fics 👉🏻👈🏻
♡ I'll likely be taking down "Surviving a Romance Fantasy Novel for Dummies" 🥹 it's been so long since I initially planned and started that fic, so I genuinely can't see myself ever finishing it at this point, so it feels a bit ridiculous to have it up here. But idk, if anyone wants me to keep it up just send an ask, ik how bad it sucks to have a fic taken down 😭
I don't think this necessarily matters, since I doubt anyone actively follows this graveyard of a blog lol, but I just wanted to throw it out there just in case
Some snippets for a Forensic Pathologist Yunho au I have in my drafts for @sorryimananti-romantic (because of the comments she left on this post)
NOT proofread, edited, or cleaned ya'll this is a word vomit draft WHICH I MAY NEVER ACTUALLY FINISH please don't count on me getting round to it 😭
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Jeong Yunho was a man of science, at least that’s what he told himself when he closed the door to the incinerator in his basement. The smell of charred flesh burning his nostrils as yet another failed experiment was reduced to ashes.
It was honestly quite inconvenient, he mused, listening to the crunch of crisp freshly cut grass beneath his boots. Making his way to the lake that glistened just behind the manor he called home. Life would have been much simpler if he could just dispose of the bodies like any other dead rat caught in a trap, or feed them to the large black hunting dogs his cousin was so fond of.
But he had a gut feeling that the local community would enjoy such rumours a little too much if word reached their ears (which it most definitely would). And while Yunho didn’t truly care for the thoughts or feelings of any but his closest confidants, it would be quite a hassle if his already dubious reputation somehow fell further through the pits of hell.
As things stood, he was generally regarded by the people around him as either a renowned forensic pathologist and teacher at the local university, or an unholy heathen who desecrated the sanctity of the dead. He didn’t really fancy the idea of being branded a witch or a madman who needed to be hung at the gallows. Which was certainly the fate that awaited him if his experiments were revealed to the world before they were ready. Before he figured out the final piece of the puzzle and picked the lock to death’s door.
And so there he was, pouring the ashes of whats-his-name and whoever-he-was into a neatly dug hole a few feet away from the water. Stepping back as his groundskeeper dropped a baby willow tree into the space, letting out a tired huff when the weight finally dropped from his broad shoulders.
Yunho chuckled at the sound. “Getting old already are we, sannie?”
“Not a chance,” San panted, glaring at his eccentric employer, “I’m handing in my letter of resignation before I start getting old. Fuck knows what you’ll do to my corpse if I die on your watch.” He grimaced at the ground whilst he said it, shaking his head and running a consoling hand over the branches of the willow tree.
“Well you are a fine specimen…” Yunho murmured absently. Watching San run his fingers through the soft branches, tilting his head to the side in thought.
San only scoffed in response, ignoring his friend for the most part. Till Yunho broke the silence.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“That,” Yunho said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of San’s own, “they can no longer hear nor feel… anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do. We’re all just flesh and bone, San, nothing more and nothing less,” Yunho said, crossing his arms over his chest and assuming the same tone he used with his students when he was giving a lecture. “Life is simply the beating of your heart in your chest and blood in your veins. Once your body fails you, you’re gone.”
San laughed at that, much to Yunho’s confusion (and mild irritation). Shaking his head and picking up the shovel he’d laid out after digging the hole and filling in the space around the young tree. “I can see why all your experiments are failing, Doctor.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing can really be alive without a soul, Yunho. You’re failing because you think human life is as arbitrary and mundane as this willow or those invasive hyacynths growing over the lake… it’s not, you know… and if you took the time to take notice, you’d realise that.”
The Doctor scoffed, disappointed that his old friend was just spewing the usual philosophical drivel he’d been prone to indulging in since he’d first met him at age fifteen.
A scrawny beggar boy barely scraping by in back alleys and crowded markets. He’d been a hopeless romantic then too, always believing that better things would come, never agreeing with his companion’s insistence that it was alright to steal and cheat and lie a little to get by. It was foolish. He would never have made it out if Yunho’s groundskeeper hadn’t died (of natural causes mind you), allowing him to take pity on his friend and pull a few strings to get him the position.
San was wrong. Yunho was sure of it.
Until he wasn’t.
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It all started with a downpour and an accident.
The rain washing over the hillside was relentless, blurring the world around Yunho’s car and turning the road beneath his tired slick with water and mud. There was no way he could’ve seen you coming.
Tumbling down the side of the hill, black raincoat torn by branches and stones,
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He barely left the lab over the next few days. San damn near begging him to get him to emerge at mealtimes, worry growing heavier and heavier on his mind as his friend emerged covered in blood and drenched in the sickly sweet smell of decomposing flesh. A wild, distracted look in his eyes. Substances of odd colors staining his clothes and skin.
“Her heart’s still beating San, it shouldn’t be doing that.”
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Yunho sat with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the clumps of bloodied sawdust gathered around his shoes, listening to the steady breathing above him.
He’d done it.
He wasn’t sure how.
Your heart had definitely stopped by the time he placed you on the metal table. He’d had specimens that had died within the hour before. And he’d filled their veins with the same pearly white liquid now flowing through yours. None of this was new. You should’ve died and been buried somewhere beneath a willow tree just like the rest.
Yet there you lay. Defying his expectations every time your chest rose after caving to each exhale. Skin cold, but your heartbeat clear in the pulse that beat under his fingers every time he reached up to check.
You were alive.
He’d won.
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Lowkey one of my favorite Ateez authors who wrote the story that is THE Yunho fic imo (go read it and yell at her about how amazing it is pls) asking to see one of my drafts has me tweakin out 😭 I'm not nearly as skilled a writer as you but really hope you like it yumi!!
rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the titles that most intrigue them and then post a little snippet or tell us about them.
Tbh I don't think most people on this blog are even aware that I occasionally write?... but here:
1. Summer in Avonlea (riwoo)
2. Forensic Pathologist Yunho
3. Fae AU (hongjoong)
4. Dino (showing up)
5. Leehan little mermaid AU
6. 3am ramblings abt fox hybrid myungjae
7. Aliennnnnns
8. Isekai au (revisions?) (Losing it)
9. Deity au
No pressure tags: @everyonewooeverywhere @beenbaanbuun @kitten4sannie @sailorsoons @thecarnivaloflies
⋆˙⟡ I forgot who said it or where I even heard it from, but I remember seeing a compilation of clips where Wonwoo would seek out his members, laying on top of them or leaning on them. These clips were paired with text explaining that one of the members had said that Wonwoo is like a cat. If you just wait, he’ll come to you when he wants attention.
⋆˙⟡ Based on this, and what I’ve observed of him in my short time as a baby carat, I believe it’s safe to say that Wonwoo would be the type of person who would really value quality time.
⋆˙⟡ You may not always wake up at the same time, but your morning routines slot comfortably around one another. Moving through each other’s space with an ease that can only come with familiarity. He swears it throws his whole day off if he’s deprived of your presence in the kitchen, his hand sliding over your waist when he moves around your sleepy form. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head just because he can (and because he wants to hear your giggles).
⋆˙⟡ The rest of the day forces the two of you apart. Classes, work, family matters, doctor’s appointments, meet-ups with friends; it’s never consistent. But no matter what his plans are–whether his day is marked by crisp blue skies or sudden torrential downpours and broken umbrella–his favorite part of it will always be coming home to you.
⋆˙⟡ It’s nothing grand, really. He walks through that door and looks around, pulling his shoes off with a groan, shedding the day in layers. Jacket. Socks. Bag. Watch. All of them gradually dropped in their designated spots as he searches for you.
⋆˙⟡ More often than not, he’ll find you in the game room, curled into your pink and white chair with a half finished bowl of your favorite snack off to the side. He leans against the doorframe and watches you for a moment. Feeling the last layer of tension roll off his shoulders as the glow from your fairy lights makes you look so soft and comfortable.
⋆˙⟡ When he finally snaps out of his you-induced stupor, he walks over to greet you. Turns your chair a little so he can give you a little kiss on the forehead, muttering that he needs to go wash up, quietly asking if you’ve had dinner.
⋆˙⟡ Once he’s warm and clean and fuzzy round the edges, the rest of your night goes more or less as it always does.
⋆˙⟡ Your desks are placed right next to each other, a smaller table which serves as a snack station dividing the space neatly.
⋆˙⟡ Playing your favorite games side by side.
⋆˙⟡ Laughing and throwing the small plushies you have lined up on your desk when you happen to be playing one together.
⊹₊⟡⋆ Sometimes you’ll sigh and shut down your computer, tapping Wonwoo over the snack table to get his attention. One look at you and he knows exactly what you need, adjusting in his seat so you can slide onto his lap and rest your head on his shoulder, listening to the faint sounds of clashing metal and dramatic music leaking through his headset as his heart thrums against your cheek.
⋆˙⟡ There are days when the reverse happens. And its you who has to shift to accommodate the chair rolled in next to yours as Wonwoo drapes himself against your side, quietly watching you play as his hands trace sleepy patterns against your skin.
⋆˙⟡ But there are days where the two of you just exist, too. Where you’ll curl up on a beanbag behind him reading or working on a project. Where he’ll lay sprawled out on the floor with his laptop, catching up with the anime you’d introduced him to last week.
⋆˙⟡ These evenings mean everything to Wonwoo. It scares him a little to admit how much he’s come to rely on them to get through the day. Because sure, you’re a great listener, and so is he. You both talk things out and vent to each other often. But not every problem needs to be spoken about. Not every burden and heartache can be soothed with words. Wonwoo knows this. He used to believe that learning to live with those small wounds and bruises was just part and parcel with being alive. He’d accepted that.
⋆˙⟡ Until he met you.
⋆˙⟡ Something about being with you. Being near you. Holding you against his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline… something about you felt like home. And he knew not-so-deep-down that he’d be lost without you now he’d had a taste of what it meant for his heart to feel light and whole and so full of affection he worried sometimes it might burst.
⋆˙⟡ He couldn’t face a single day without you.
⋆˙⟡ Lucky for him, you felt the same.
✦•···················•✦•···················•✦
Hihiii~ back from the dead yet again to post this little drabble (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) might make a habit of it since longer fics seem to drive me to the brink of insanity lately, and I really do wanna write and post more (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)
first time writing for wonwoo or seventeen in general haha, so would love to hear your thoughts and feedback ฅᨐฅ
genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?
content warnings: none
summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3
Everything below the cut is NOT proofread
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“Forever”
In hindsight, it was a fickle promise.
Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line.
“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”
“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”
“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”
Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert.
A minute.
An hour.
Months.
Days.
In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years.
Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into.
You’d never planned for a life without them in it.
Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave.
So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”
Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned.
You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul.
That was of course until you met him.
“Here’s your order”
Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.
You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day.
It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide.
Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.
As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes.
It was nice.
”It’s on the house”
Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm.
Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella.
But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-
“y/n?”
The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag.
It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change.
“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.”
His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’
You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”
He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest.
You remembered his name.
He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.
“Of course, what are friends for.”
From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise.
”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”
Is what yeosang says on all your dates.
You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.
It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be.
Because he was with you.
And that was all he needed.
Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles.
He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage.
You knew that look.
That was exactly how you used to look at them.
Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you.
You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking.
Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process.
He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you.
Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed).
With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.
It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt.
But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood.
More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved.
So he sat with you in silence for a while.
Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles.
Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.
Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why.
He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”
You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.
“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout.
“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met.
You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights.
He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist.
“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question.
You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile.
Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-”
“Can you say it again?”
“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park.
It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.”
Yeosang was sure he might implode.
”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”
Panic sets in when he says it.
You wish it wouldn’t.
The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat.
You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it.
“My love? You with me baby?”
His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced.
He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?”
“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.
“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”
Oh.
You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”
“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”
Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”
“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”
“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”
You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?”
“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”
You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?”
He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist.
You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”
You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life.
Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul.
1. All of the fanfictions that are below are not mine in any way, the owners are tagged with the fanfictions.
2. Almost all the Brief Descriptions are from the writers themselves.
3. Thank you writers for writing these Masterpieces!!
4. I love details... Maybe a little too much 😔
List
🔥-Smut
🥀-Angst
💕-Fluff
🌟- My Personal Favorites
💕🥀 "Forever" is compromised of "Now's" by @sleep-drunk-kitten
Brief Description: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?
content warnings: none
summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...
notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!
Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3
Everything below the cut is NOT proofread
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“Forever”
In hindsight, it was a fickle promise.
Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line.
“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”
“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”
“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”
Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert.
A minute.
An hour.
Months.
Days.
In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years.
Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into.
You’d never planned for a life without them in it.
Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave.
So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”
Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned.
You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul.
That was of course until you met him.
“Here’s your order”
Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.
You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day.
It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide.
Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.
As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes.
It was nice.
”It’s on the house”
Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm.
Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella.
But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-
“y/n?”
The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag.
It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change.
“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.”
His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’
You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”
He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest.
You remembered his name.
He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.
“Of course, what are friends for.”
From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise.
”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”
Is what yeosang says on all your dates.
You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.
It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be.
Because he was with you.
And that was all he needed.
Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles.
He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage.
You knew that look.
That was exactly how you used to look at them.
Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you.
You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking.
Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process.
He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you.
Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed).
With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.
It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt.
But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood.
More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved.
So he sat with you in silence for a while.
Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles.
Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.
Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why.
He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”
You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.
“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout.
“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met.
You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights.
He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist.
“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question.
You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile.
Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-”
“Can you say it again?”
“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park.
It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.”
Yeosang was sure he might implode.
”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”
Panic sets in when he says it.
You wish it wouldn’t.
The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat.
You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it.
“My love? You with me baby?”
His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced.
He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?”
“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.
“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”
Oh.
You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”
“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”
Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”
“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”
“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”
You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?”
“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”
You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?”
He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist.
You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”
You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life.
Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul.
