Chapter 6, the finale of the BOOM BOOM BOOM series!
sypnosis: Woonhak finally meets the mystery person who had been writing notes on napkins for weeks. Now he has a plan to woo them over.
pairing: waiter!WOONHAK x female!READER
genre: fluff, crack:comedic, strangers to lovers
warnings: Woon is down bad (this isn't self-indulgent at all mhm mhm), Taesan is his coworker, use of: hyung|Y/N, many d£ath threats cuz TS is TIRED of this nonsense, the best wingman ever though
w/c: 1.51k
A/N: THE FINALE IS UPON US!! BOOMx3 OUT TMRW!!
I felt like making this a female reader :( If any of y'all prefer gender neutral ones pls lmk!!!
woonni's collection
BOOM BOOM BOOM masterlist
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
Woonhak stared at the napkin, fondly caressing the corner as if it were a sacred relic.
Taesan rolled his eyes next to him. "You haven't exchanged a single word, by the way."
Woonhak shook his head solemnly. "But I know the truth of her heart, hyung. That's more than I know about most people."
Taesan lightly smacked his head as he passed. "Yeah, but with most people you'd know their names before you begin drooling over them. Get back to work."
Woonhak remained staring at the napkin.
He had only started to notice these a few weeks ago. Whenever you made your weekly visit to the restaurant, you'd leave some sort of note in the corner, scribbled with adorable handwriting. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was about the weather, sometimes it was just a plain old I hate chemistry.
It didn't matter what it was though. Woonhak waited every week for this special highlight, and when he discovered it he was always over the moon, no matter what the note contained.
Taesan found this absolutely ridiculous, but he grudgingly allowed Woonhak to be in charge of serving you.
Today was no different. Woonhak walked out to the dining area, holding your modest regular dish. You nodded politely in thanks, scribbling away at a napkin. You didn't notice him leaning backwards, trying to get a sneak peek of today's note.
When you realized he wasn't gone yet, you looked up. "Is something wrong?"
Woonhak scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse for being an idiot. "I— Er— No. Weather's nice today."
You tilted your head, but nodded. "Yeah, it's finally sunny."
He nodded, patting down his already flattened uniform. "Well, I'll be—"
"Woonhak."
He jaw dropped, heat crawling up his face. You knew his name? How'd you know that? Play it cool, Woonhak. "Um, do I know you?"
You furrowed your brow. "What, no. You have a name tag."
Woonhak swore he heard the sad loser trumpet noise in the background.
"Oh, right, um. Did you need something?"
"Could I have more napkins please?"
Woonhak nodded, quickly retrieving it for you. He then mustered up some courage. "More drawing material?"
You looked suddenly flustered, coughing and choking on your drink. "You know about that?"
He nodded shyly. "I liked last week's. Did you write it?" He was referring to a stanza of poetry that had been last week's note.
You shook your head frantically. "Just something I read somewhere."
He hummed, filling up your water. He then realised something. "Please don't stop doing it. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop reading them," he said hurriedly.
You sipped your water, avoiding his gaze. "No, it's okay. It's your choice..."
"Then... Then can I keep reading them?"
You shrugged, causing him to beam. Your eyes widened at his huge grin. The napkins made him that happy?
He quickly bowed and returned to the back room.
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
All Woonhak could think about for the rest of his shift was your face.
All Taesan could think about was how he wanted to chop this kid's head off.
"Say one more word about her and I'm gonna become an occupational hazard."
"She was literally blushing! I'm telling you, there's something there. There's tension. I could feel it. I need to seize this chance."
"I'm gonna seize you by the neck," Taesan muttered, aggressively folding a takeout box. Woonhak paid him no mind.
"I'm gonna ask her out." He said suddenly.
Taesan deadpanned. "Great. I'll report you to the boss, and then I won't have to see you anymore."
Woonhak rolled his eyes. "Not while working, hyung. If I could just get her number..." He sprang up. "The napkins! I'll use the napkins."
Taesan glared at him. "Work while you speak or you'll have some real problems to deal with."
Woonhak quickly sat down, resuming the box folding. "I'll write my number on her napkin!"
Taesan sighed. "Oh, brother."
Woonhak was getting more and more excited. "I get her number, become friends with her, take her out somewhere, maybe even this restaurant! But I come in normal clothes, as a customer, and I ask her out! Maybe I'll write out a confession on a napkin. And then she is enamoured by my efforts and she says she likes me back. Then we live happily ever after. Bada bing, bada boom boom boom!"
Taesan stared, genuinely concerned for him. "Maybe just ask for her name before the number."
Woonhak nodded in agreement, grinning from ear to ear.
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
Next week, Woonhak kept a napkin prepared in advance. He had crossed out a bunch that looked "too messy" or "too performative", all of which repeated the same words: "What's your name, by the way? If you're fine with me asking. I'm Woonhak, but you know that already ・⌣・"
Taesan had threatened that if Woonhak wasted another napkin, he would personally force feed him one.
When he served you, he added the special napkin amongst the rest. He practically ran away afterwards, retreating to the back in case you were weirded out.
When he went at the end of the day to collect your empty dishes, he shifted through your napkins as usual. This time, the message was written nice and crisp, as if you wanted it to be as pretty as possible.
I'm Y/N! Nice to meet you, Woonhak. D'you wanna talk? My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
Woonhak was sure he had rescued a kingdom in his past life.
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
Over the next few weeks, you became friends with Woonhak fast. You had started exchanging texts, and now you looked forward to your weekly outings for more reasons than just food.
Taesan watched with pure disgust as both you and Woonhak attempted to stifle giggles as he served you your food.
At the back, he grabbed Woonhak. "So what, is the plan working?"
Woonhak grinned. "What, operation bada bing, bada boom boom boom?"
Taesan glared. "I'm not calling it that."
Woonhak nodded. "We're gonna come here next week."
Taesan happily released him, turning to grab more plates. "Great. Quit giggling like teenage dorks then."
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
A week later, you let Woonhak lead you into the familiar restaurant. He was dressed in a casual shirt, complimenting your own semi formal look.
After sitting down, Woonhak fiddled with his thumbs.
Taesan sauntered over with a lazy grin, still in his uniform. "And what will you be having?"
Woonhak replied with your regular order. "Two of them, please."
You smiled at him while Taesan made puking noises as he left.
While waiting for food, Woonhak was trying his best not to stare at you. When you finally caught him, he panicked and looked up, staring at the restaurant ceiling. "It's nice being here as a customer for once."
You nodded, doodling a heart on a napkin. Woonhak noticed and grinned. "Is the heart up for interpretation?"
You shook your head frantically. "I'm just drawing whatever."
He smiled, taking out a pen and drawing something. He concentrated, tongue sticking out as he drew silently for a few minutes.
"Done!" He showed you the napkin and you burst out laughing. It was as if a five year old had tried to draw you with their eyes closed.
Taesan facepalmed from his spying spot in the back.
"Very cute," you offered, still laughing. "The drawing, I mean, not me. If, er, that's even supposed to be me."
Woonhak smiled. "It is. You are."
Before you could process this, Taesan quickly arrived with your dishes. He also discreetly slid a bouquet of roses to Woonhak while you were distracted.
Before you started eating, Woonhak quickly spoke up. "Um, Y/N. I actually have something I planned to say. Please stop me at any moment if you feel uncomfortable, or cringed out, or scared, or annoyed, or anything."
You raised an eyebrow but nodded.
Woonhak took a deep breath before continuing. Taesan had given up on work, coming to learn against the doorway in the corner to openly spy.
"Y/N, I have been watching you for weeks. Shoot, wait, that's not what I meant to say. Ignore that. Restart."
He took a deep breath and started again.
"Y/N, before I sent you my name on a napkin, I had been noticing you for weeks. At first I saw your little notes every week, then I noticed how you always stared out the window on rainy days, and how you always smiled to yourself when you heard a child talking to their parents. I wasn't spying on you, I promise. I just... noticed. And I'm glad I did, because it made me realise just how wonderful of a person you are."
You were covering your face with a hand, stunned and flustered.
"And I... I think I won't be able to be just friends with you, Y/N. Cuz I like you. A lot. Do you... Would you like to try and, y'know, try and be something more with me?" He shyly produce the bouquet from behind his back.
You nodded fervently, accepting it. "I like you too, Woonhak."
From the doorway, Taesan grinned and did a tiny air pump, whispering to himself. "Bada bing, bada boom boom boom."
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
A/N: AND THAT'S A WRAP!!
It was so fun writing out this series that no one asked for, and ARE WE HYPED FOR BOOMSAM?????
Thanks to anyone out there who read every piece in the series (if y'all exist), and I shall be back soon ☺️ (I'll finally get to my requests now lol)
WARNINGS: READ BEFORE CONTINUING !! the first three screen shots are connected / in one day, while the others are over the span of months. these are just random tweets between the two and how they “hard launch” their relationship, there is use of “y/n” and “l/n,” there’s cursing and kms jokes. read till end for sappy authors note LMFAO
SS: 17
prev - next - masterlist
NOTE 🗒️: guys ok sap time! i wanna start by thanking everyone everyone who has read the entire smau series and the few who have been here since the beginning. this might seem like an abrupt end and i apologize but i do think if i continued it would’ve gotten repetitive and boring. i hope you guys liked the silly jokes, fluff, and the tiny bit of angst i included! a HUUUGE thanks to my moots and the readers who have commented, liked, or reblogged any of my posts related to lovely dasher! to the new readers, thanks you for clicking on this in the first place and reading the entire thing, it means so much to me! and finally, this may be the first work of mine that someone has read—and i hope you do tune into my current ongoing series (as of early august 2026,) Battle of the bands, or any of my other smau’s or written works ! thank you again for reading lovely dasher, lost of love !!!
The house was too quiet.
You had been lying on your side in the middle bedroom for almost an hour, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, listening to every creak the old wooden floors made when the wind pushed against the windows. The small town you and Woonhak had driven to for the week was peaceful during the day—coffee shops, a single main street, the kind of place where people still waved at strangers—but at night it felt empty. Too empty. No distant traffic. No neighbors’ televisions. Just the occasional groan of the house settling and the soft tick of the clock in the hallway.
You’d taken the bedroom farthest down the hall. Woonhak’s was in the middle. The third stayed empty, a guest room neither of you needed. After dinner you’d both claimed exhaustion from the drive and the long walk around town, but sleep refused to come for you. The house creaked. Branches scraped the windows. Every shadow stretched longer than it should. Your phone screen glowed 1:47 a.m. when another sharp crack from somewhere downstairs made your heart jump.
You sat up, bare feet hitting the cool floor. The oversized T-shirt you slept in brushed the tops of your thighs. No bra, no nothing underneath except a pair of soft cotton shorts and underwear. You hesitated only a second before padding down the hall and stopping outside Woonhak’s door.
That’s when you heard it.
A low hiss of breath. A soft, choked moan. The faint, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.
You should have turned around. You should have gone back to your room and put a pillow over your head. Instead your knuckles tapped lightly against the door.
The sounds stopped.
“What?” Woonhak’s voice came out rough, irritated, a little breathless.
You swallowed. “It’s me. I… I got scared. Can I come in?”
“I’m jerking off.” He said, voice flat and irritated. “I was just about to be finished, so either come in or go back to your room and stop hovering outside my door like a creep.”
The bluntness hit you square in the chest. You’d talked about sex before—late-night conversations over the years, half-joking, half-curious, the kind of easy honesty that came from knowing someone since you were kids. You knew he did this. He knew you knew. Still, hearing him say it while he kept going made your ears ring.
You stood there in the hallway, fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt, suddenly very aware of how thin the door was.
“Oh,” you said, small. “Okay. Sorry. I’ll just… go back.”
You turned toward your room.
The mattress creaked hard. Footsteps crossed the floor fast. The door yanked open before you could take a second step.
“Y/N.”
You kept walking. Your steps were quiet, almost hurried.
Bare feet hit the hallway floor fast. A hand closed around your upper arm and spun you halfway around. Woonhak stood in the doorway, flushed red from the neck up, hair messy in that soft, silky way that somehow still looked expensive even when it was ruined. His black t-shirt stuck slightly to his chest. The outline of his cock was obvious against the soft fabric of his sweatpants, thick and straining.
He looked pissed. Properly pissed.
“Just come in,” he muttered.
He stepped aside with an impatient gesture, the door still held open by his hand. The visible line of his erection made your stomach flip. You slipped past him into the room. He shut the door with a quiet but firm click and walked straight back to the bed without looking at you.
He dropped onto the mattress hard enough to make it bounce, grabbed an extra pillow, and shoved it over his lap with zero subtlety. Then he turned onto his side so his back faced you, shoulders tense, the pillow still pressed firmly over his groin.
“Sit or lie down or whatever,” he muttered at the wall. “Just don’t talk for five minutes. I was right in the middle of something and now my dick hurts.”
You stood frozen for a second, then climbed onto the far side of the bed, leaving a careful space between your bodies. The sheets still held his warmth and the faint scent of him—clean soap, the cologne he always wore, and something warmer underneath that made your pulse jump. You stared at the ceiling, listening to him breathe. His breathing was still uneven. Every small shift of the mattress made you hyper-aware of how close he was and how hard he’d been when he opened the door.
Neither of you slept.
Minutes stretched. You could feel the restlessness coming off him in waves. He kept adjusting the pillow, shifting his hips like the pressure was getting worse instead of better. You kept replaying the way he’d looked standing in the doorway—flushed, messy, openly hard, and irritated that you’d seen any of it.
Finally Woonhak sat up. The pillow tumbled off his lap. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.
You turned your head. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.” His voice was tight. “To finish. Since somebody interrupted.”
“Can I see?”
Woonhak went still.
Slowly he looked over his shoulder. His eyes were darker than usual, pupils wide. The flush on his face deepened. For a long second he just stared at you, like he was trying to decide if you’d actually said it.
“Y/N.” His voice was low, warning and something hungrier mixed together. “We’re friends. Best friends. Since we were six. You don’t get to knock on my door, interrupt me mid-stroke, and then ask to watch like it’s some fucking sleepover game.”
“I know.” Your heart hammered. “We’ve talked about this kind of stuff before. I’m just… asking. You don’t have to.”
“You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question. His voice had gone lower. “You knock on my door, interrupt me, stand there looking at my dick through my pants, and now you want a show?”
Your face burned. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being honest.” He took a step closer to the bed. “We’ve been best friends since we were six, Y/N. I used to push you into the creek when we were kids. Now you want to watch me jerk off? That’s not nothing.”
Your voice stayed quiet. “You can say no.”
He stared at you for another long second. Then he exhaled hard through his nose, the sound almost a scoff, and sat back down on the edge of the bed facing the room instead of you. His hands rested on his thighs for a moment, fingers flexing. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his breathing had gone shallow again.
“Fine,” he said, voice still edged. “You want to watch, you sit where I can see your face. And if you freak out halfway through, that’s on you. I’m not stopping again.”
You moved closer, timid. The mattress dipped. Your bare knee almost brushed his. He looked at the contact, then at your expression, and his jaw flexed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “It’s just a dick. You’ve heard me talk about this shit before.”
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and shoved them down just enough. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already wet and shiny. The sight made your mouth go dry. He was bigger than the vague pictures you’d let yourself form during late-night conversations. Veins stood out along the shaft. The head was slick with precum.
Woonhak wrapped his right hand around himself without looking away from your face. The first slow stroke made his jaw tighten. A soft, involuntary sound left his throat before he could kill it.
“This is what you wanted to see,” he muttered, voice rough and still carrying that annoyed edge. He stroked again, firmer this time, twisting slightly at the head the way he clearly liked. “Fuck. Don’t just stare like that. You’re the one who asked.”
But you couldn’t look away. You watched the way his fingers flexed, the way his hips gave the smallest upward roll into his own grip. His breathing turned uneven. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the quiet room. He was trying to keep quiet and failing—little hisses, soft groans every time his thumb dragged over the sensitive underside.
You shifted closer without thinking. Your thigh pressed against his. He glanced down at the contact, then back at your face. His eyes were glassy now, focused and dark, the earlier irritation slowly burning into something else.
You watched, eyes wide, cheeks burning. The wet sound of skin on skin filled the quiet room. He was trying to keep quiet and failing—little hisses, soft groans every time his thumb dragged over the sensitive underside. His hips gave the smallest upward roll into his own grip. The muscles in his stomach tensed under the t-shirt.
“You can help if you’re going to keep staring like that,” he said, blunt. “Or you can sit there being useless. Your choice.”
Heat flooded your face. Your voice came out barely audible. “I can… help. You can show me. If you want.”
He stared at you for another beat, then reached for your wrist. His fingers were warm, a little damp. He guided your hand to him with no gentleness.
“Wrap your fingers. Not that tight—Jesus, are you trying to break it? Softer. Yeah. Like that.” He kept his hand over yours for the first few strokes, forcing the pressure and the twist he liked. “Upstroke harder. Thumb over the head. Use the precum, don’t be precious about it.”
When he let go you kept the rhythm, movements careful and uncertain. He was heavy in your palm, silky-smooth over the hardness underneath. Every time you twisted the way he’d shown you, his breathing hitched.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s—keep going. Don’t slow down just because I’m making noise. You’re not going to hurt me.”
You stroked him steadily, eyes flicking between his face and your hand. Precum slicked your fingers, making the glide easier. His thighs flexed. His free hand gripped the sheets hard enough that the fabric pulled. The mean edge in his voice had thinned into something strained and hungry, but it was still there, and every sharp word made the confusion in your chest twist tighter.
“You’re not bad at this for someone who’s never done it,” he said, almost like an accusation. “Faster. I’m close and I’m not dragging this out because you’re shy.
You tightened your grip a fraction and sped up, obedient. His hips jerked. A low, punched-out sound left him.
“Y/N—shit—don’t stop—”
It didn’t take long. His breathing turned ragged. His cock swelled harder in your grip.
“I’m close—” he warned, voice cracking.
You didn’t stop. A few more strokes and he came with a low, broken groan, thick ropes of cum spilling over your fingers, his stomach, his thighs. His whole body shuddered. You kept stroking him through it until he was oversensitive and gently pushed your hand away.
He dropped back onto the bed, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling while he tried to catch his breath. Cum still streaked his skin and yours. Woonhak reached for the tissues on the nightstand, cleaned himself up quickly, then took your hand and wiped it with surprising gentleness compared to how sharp he’d been earlier. When he was done he didn’t let go. He tugged you closer, one hand sliding into your hair, and kissed you.
It wasn’t careful. It was deep and hungry and a little desperate, like the mean edge had finally cracked and everything underneath spilled out. You made a small sound against his mouth. His tongue slid against yours, slow and thorough, tasting you. When he finally pulled back you were both breathing harder again.
He rested his forehead against yours for a moment.
“Do you want me to help you?” he asked, voice quieter now, gentler. The earlier irritation had burned off, leaving only focus. “You don’t have to. But if you want… I’ll make it good. I’m not going to half-ass it.”
Heat flooded your face. You looked down at your hands. “I’ve never… I mean. I’ve tried. By myself. It never works. I don’t think I can.”
Something shifted in his expression—focused, almost angry at the information itself.
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said tonight.” He pulled back enough to look at you properly.
“Yes or no, Y/N. Don’t nod like a fucking child.”
“Yes”
He kissed you again, slower this time, while his hands found the hem of your sleep shirt. He pushed it up carefully, past your stomach, past your ribs, until the fabric bunched above your breasts. Cool air kissed your skin. Your nipples tightened immediately. Woonhak’s eyes dropped, dark and intent.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re pretty like this. I’ve thought about this more than I should have.”
He guided you to lie back against the pillows. Your shorts and underwear came next—he hooked his fingers in the waistband and looked at you once more for permission before sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. You were bare from the waist down, shirt still rucked up under your chin. The vulnerability made your pulse race, but the way he looked at you—hungry, careful, almost reverent—kept the fear from taking over.
He settled between your knees, one hand bracing beside your hip. The other rose to cup your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple in slow circles. You shivered. When he leaned down and took the other nipple into his mouth, warm and wet, a soft sound escaped you before you could stop it.
He sucked gently, then harder, tongue flicking, while his free hand drifted lower. Fingers trailed over your stomach, through the soft hair between your legs, and found your clit with unerring accuracy. He rubbed in slow, firm circles, matching the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.
Your hips jerked. Pleasure sparked sharp and bright, different from anything you’d managed alone. He switched breasts, leaving the first nipple wet and tight, and kept working your clit with steady pressure. Every time you made a sound he answered with a low hum against your skin, like he was cataloguing what you liked.
“Feel that?” he asked, lifting his head just enough to speak against your collarbone. His fingers never stopped. “That’s you getting close. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen. I’ve got you.”
You trembled under him. Your hands found his shoulders, then his hair. The silky strands slid between your fingers as he went back to sucking your nipple, harder now, while his thumb pressed more firmly against your clit. The dual sensation built fast—heat coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it felt almost unbearable.
“Woonhak—” Your voice broke. “I think—I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice was rough against your skin, no trace of the earlier meanness left. “I’ve got you. Let go. Come for me.”
The orgasm hit like a wave breaking. Your back arched. A broken cry left your throat as pleasure pulsed through you in long, shaking waves—the first real orgasm of your life, brighter and stronger than anything you’d imagined. Your thighs clenched around his hand. He kept rubbing you through it, gentler now, drawing every last tremor out until you were gasping and oversensitive.
Only then did he move lower.
He settled between your legs, pushed your thighs open with careful hands, and looked at you—really looked. The soft, swollen pink of your cunt, shiny with your release. A low sound left him, almost a growl.
“Messy,” he muttered. Then he leaned in and licked a slow stripe through the wetness, cleaning you with deliberate, thorough strokes of his tongue. You jerked at the oversensitive touch, but he held your hips steady and kept going until every trace was gone. When he finally lifted his head his mouth was wet and his eyes were dark with satisfaction.
Then he settled beside you, one arm sliding under your shoulders, the other draping over your waist hard enough that you couldn’t easily move away. He kissed you—still deep, still edged, tasting faintly of you.
“I’m never letting you go,” he said against your mouth, voice quiet and absolute. The earlier irritation felt like it belonged to a different person. “Not after that. Not ever. You’re stuck with me, Y/N. Best friend or more. Both. I don’t care. You’re mine now.”
You turned into him, face pressed against his neck, still trembling faintly from the aftershocks. His heartbeat was steady under your cheek. His hand stroked slow circles on your back.
Outside, the old house creaked in the wind. Inside, the lamp glowed warm, and for the first time all night the quiet didn’t feel empty.
You stayed like that until sleep finally took you both—tangled together, his arm locked around you like a promise, the taste of him still on your tongue and the memory of your first orgasm still humming under your skin.
He had started the night mean and sharp and annoyed that you’d interrupted him.
By the end of it he held you like he’d never planned on letting go again.
cheating on your boyfriend with taesan... 📞 contains CHEATING!! / oral (m receiving) / riding / rough! ts (hair pulling mostly) / slight praise ('good girl') / taesan slaps reader and calls her a whore 😭 / orgasm denial / edging 🐈⬛ inspired by this post (boyfriend pov later? 👀)
taesan who teases yet praises you at the same time: "fuck, baby. you take dick this well and he still doesn't treat you right? no wonder you always crawl back to me."
he loves to watch the way his thick cock disappear between your lips, his hand gripping the back of the sofa as you gag on his length, the flushed head of his cock hitting the back of your throat...
his other hand comes down to hold your head, threading his fingers into your hair as he pushes your hair down slightly, his breathing growing heavier. anything to keep feeding you his dick and being a good girl for him.
"ngh, you look so pretty like this, lips wrapped around my cock," he groans, thumb swiping over your cheek as you continue to take his dick, "fuck - you're gonna make me cum, baby. you're gonna take it like a good girl, right?"
he lets out a loud groan as you hum in agreement around his dick, head falling back against the couch as his hips begin to twitch deeper down your throat, his hand keeping you on his cock as his adam's apple bobs.
"shit - that's it. i'm cumming, ngh -"
you swallow the thick ropes of cum that splurts from his tip, taking it all down as taesan's hips stutter and his hand grips your hair. he's breathing heavily when you pull off his cock with a wet plop, your tongue lolling out to lick away the strings of saliva from your lips to his dick. it's so fucking lewd, he thinks, his cock still twitching with want when you moan in delight just from the taste.
"open," he demands, hooking his finger into your mouth and smirking in satisfaction when you dutifully open your lips and he sees that you've swallowed all of his cum.
"good girl," he strokes your hair, pulling you up onto the couch so you straddle him, "should i give you my cum inside too, hmm?"
he mouths at your chest as his hands run up and down your waist and hips, squeezing your ass as his hips jerk under you. you feel his teeth graze the flesh of your boobs and you shove his head away, giggling.
"sannie, no marks, remember?"
taesan pouts, "so what he finds out? i'm better than him anyways. i can treat you better - i bet his cock doesn't feel half as good as mine. when are you going to break up with that loser?"
"sannie," you whine, tugging on his hair as he attempts to bite at your shoulder again, "you know i can't."
"this is so fucking unfair," he grumbles as you laugh and grind against his cock - his mumbles becoming gasps as you fully sit on his cock, sinking until his entire length is wrapped in your tight cunt. his head falls back again before he forces himself to look at where you're connected, you still sinking deliciously slowly down his cock, dick still wet from your saliva and his fluids. he groans and throws an arm over his eyes, fucking up into you slightly as his other hand roams across your body. he revels in the way you gasp, and he can't help but smile when you arch into him when he pinches your nipple, chasing after his touch like a desperate whore - his whore, his pretty girl ♡
taesan's hands move down to grip onto your hips as you start to bounce slowly. your head spins at how deep he reaches inside you, your cunt sucking him in as your movements grow more sloppy and desperate, already dripping and turned on for him from earlier.
taesan lets out a frustrated groan at your slow speed as his grip on your hips suddenly tighten, stilling your movements as he begins to fuck up into you, the sound of skin against skin loud in the quiet room. you're reduced to a mess as he set a relentless pace, the loud squelches going straight to your head as his cock drills into you and that sweet spot.
"look at you, fucked so stupid on this cock and still won't break up with your boyfriend," he groans against your ear, "hm? say it. say you'll dump him."
"s - sannie!" you moan out, boobs bouncing with each of his thrusts, "mm! i - i -"
"i'm close!" you gasp out, trying to wriggle out of his hold and fuck yourself down on his cock, chasing your orgasm as your pussy clenches around his cock, "please let me cum - pleasepleaseple -"
"no - you have to - to say it," he demands, slamming you down on his cock with a loud groan and stilling, relishing in the way your cute cunt spasms around him, still trying to cum like a desperate whore even when he's not moving, "mm - fuck! say it and i'll let you cum."
"hn - sannie!" you protest, trying to move on his cock, your hips drawing small circles. he slaps your cheek with a hand and you gasp at the sting.
"break up with him. right now. text him or whatever. tell him it's over," his hand grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back so you have to meet his eyes, "or i won't let you cum tonight."
he rolls his hips slowly, drawing a gasp from you as his cock hits that delicious spot in your pussy. then he stops, his hand slowly drifting from the valley of your breasts down to your clit, drawing teasing light circles to keep you just at the edge. you pant as you whine, grabbing onto taesan's wrist. he usually crumbles so quickly when you whine in that cute voice of yours and stare at him so desperately, but this time he isn't budging - content to keep edging you while having you sit in his cock all prettily - and then probably ruin everything when he gets bored and pulls you off his huge cock :(
"do it," he says, eyes flickering to the phone on the coffee table, "tell leehan you're done. then i'll give you the best fuck of your life."
sypnosis: A misunderstanding about project partners leads to a very happy beginning.
pairing: project partner!LEEHAN x READER
genre: fluff, strangers to lovers?
warnings: reader is down bad lol, and kinda low-key dumdum cuz she mistook the time, they kinda go out on a date! rawr, Taesan mentioned, they flirt a bunch, Mr. Kim I was not familiar with your game
w/c: 1.21k
A/N: too much angst these days 😔 back to fluff we go
The teaser? Are we hearing this? Woonhak? 🥴
woonni's collection
BOOM BOOM BOOM masterlist
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
You groaned as you read over the email. One thing you hadn't realised when you majored in architecture was that there would be this many group projects. This time it was with partners, and the email didn't even tell you who by name.
"Please follow the schedule and arrive at the project room by 4.00. The work period will end at 6.00. Your partner will also attend at this time."
"IMPORTANT: The room must be cleared by 6.00 PM for the next group."
You lazily surveyed the content, groaning. 6 p.m.? You'd have to skip that meetup with your friends.
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
On the day that you started your project, you made your way to the project room. You checked the time: 6:05 p.m. You shrugged inwardly, hoping your new partner wouldn't mind a bit of tardiness.
When you entered the room, there was already someone sitting at the table. A man, apparently. You groaned to yourself.
"Hello," you started up. "I think we're partners."
The man turned, and you felt a physical jump in your heart. He had long hair, and he was wearing glasses.
Architecture just became much more interesting.
You introduced yourself, then listened as he told you his name. Leehan. What an interesting name.
The two began to brainstorm, coming up with a plan and a schedule for working on the project. Leehan was pretty work orientated, barely ever straying from talking about the project.
"So if you're always free on Tuesday evenings, we could... Do I have something on my face?" He had caught you staring for the thousandth time.
"Er, sorry. I have a tendency to zone out."
He giggled, his eyes crinkling. "You kinda look like a telescope goldfish."
You raised an eyebrow. "Um... Gee, thanks. Anyways, yes, I'm free Tuesdays."
As the project actually got into swing, you found yourself liking this guy a lot. He was quick, efficient, not too wordy, but also not cold. In fact, he radiated a certain warmth that had maybe been missing from your life for a bit too long.
When the clock hit 8:00, Leehan stood up, stretching. "Thanks for deciding to show up, by the way."
You frowned. "What? I never said I wouldn't show up."
Leehan just stared. "The professor told me that you were leaving on a trip? And that I'd be alone for this project."
You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. When you checked your phone, you saw an email.
Your partner has informed me that you did not attend the meeting. Please provide a reason for your absence.
You stared at Leehan in shock before going back to the original email. Your mouth dropped in shock, eyes widening.
Leehan simply stared. You really did look like a telescope goldfish.
"I was supposed to come at 4:00! It ended at 6:00, not started! I read the time wrong!"
Leehan dropped back into his chair, considering this. "So what are we gonna do?"
You ran a hand through your hair. "I'll try and fix this, I'm so sorry—"
Leehan cut you off. "We're gonna do it together, though, right?"
You stared at him. "I'll talk to the professor and see what I can do."
He nodded. "Good. I..." He stared down at the pen he was twirling in his fingers. "I'm glad you were wrong. This was really fun."
You unashamedly blushed, fiddling with your own fingers. "Believe me, so am I."
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
And so here you were, a week later, going to meet a cute boy at a café thanks to your own stupidity.
The air was cold and frigid, snow threatening to fall as you pushed open the door and looked around. Leehan was already sitting, smiling and waving when he spotted you. You sat down, gratefully sipping the hot cocoa he had already ordered for you.
Leehan immediately started talking. "So, about that part of the project you were talking about wanting to fix—"
"Isn't the weather real chilly today? Geez, it may snow." You cut him off quick.
He smiled, raising his eyebrows. "No work talk at the café?"
You nodded, nudging him to sip his cocoa. He scoffed affectionately at your antics, picking up his cup.
You don't know how you and Leehan had grown so close over a single week. You had barely met up, and even then it was only at the project room for work. Sure, you had been texting nonstop since the first day when you exchanged contacts, but you had clicked with Leehan in a way that surpassed simple acquaintances.
"Han," you started, the nickname rolling off with ease. "D'you believe in the first snow stuff?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What stuff?"
You shrugged. "Y'know, if you see the first snow with someone you'll fall in love with them."
Leehan thought. "Last year I saw the first snow with my friend. Remember Taesan? He was the one who—"
"Okay, but like, if you see it with someone of the gender you're attracted to."
Leehan considered this. "I don't really remember. I never considered it a big deal. I guess I'm not that superstitious."
You shrugged again. "Suit yourself."
He leaned in. "Can I please ask one work related question?"
Your eyes narrowed. "Proceed."
"Was the plan you showed me going to be altered for a wider angle? Remember, we were talking about the obstruction in view."
You mulled this over, tilting your head. "I didn't think about that yet. Hmm..."
"It's alright then. Just focus on relaxing for now."
"No no, I want to finalize that."
Despite his protests, you began thoughtfully considering your options. As you did, your eyes naturally drifted to his face.
He was staring right at you. Perfect face. Perfect eyes. Perfect lips. Perfect everything. You made a noise of frustration. "I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."
He grinned. "Well, you should be concentrating on me instead, so..."
You scoffed. "Great, pretty boy's got a mouth on him."
He smiled, tilting his head. "You think I'm pretty?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"
"Is it working?"
You sighed, sipping your hot cocoa in an attempt to hide your rapidly reddening face. "Idiot," you muttered into the cup.
He giggled at you, reaching over to gently brush off a piece of lint on your shoulder.
You stared at him with horror. "There's no way there was actually something there."
He lifted his shoulders and outstretched his hands in a stance of defense. "There was lint! I swear there was lint!"
You were laughing your head off.
He smiled in a resigned way and slowly stood up. "Let's get going, then."
You nodded, throwing out your cup and looking out the café window.
Leehan looked with you. As the two stared outside, you saw a tiny particle drift onto the ground.
You gasped loudly, patting Leehan's arm frantically.
"What? What happened?" But then he saw too. It was snowing. The first snow of the year.
He turned to look at you, unashamedly grinning from ear to ear. You had turned fully red by now, but you were too amazed by the snow to care.
And as Leehan stared at your excited face full of wonder, he thought maybe he was a little superstitious.
₊˚⊹♡🧸ྀི♡‧₊˚
A/N: Bit meh but I wrote this on a time crunch
They were sent on a date cuz the w/c was too low lol
summary: your vampire boyfriend has a biting kink.
genre: a bit suggestive but also not really? both are just freaks.
wc: 224
dongmin loves when you sink your fangs into his collarbones. he loves the stinging feeling it gives him. as a natural born vampire, he never got the chance to experience being bitten, but you his turned lover, gets to give him that experience anytime. you love to bite him just for the fun of it. you enjoy seeing the seconds long puncture wounds on whichever part of his body you’ve decided to bite for the day before his skin regenerates.
“is it a bit insane to admit i fantasize about you as a human that i get to bite anytime i want?” your finger trails over the punctures on his collarbone. “it just gives me a bit of a thrill imagining you as a hopeless human, lying here beneath me, my venom running through you, hearing your sounds of pain.”
“don’t start something you won’t finish.” he gets a hold of your wrist, kissing the inside before sinking his own teeth in.
“a vampire with a biting kink, isn’t that funny?” you slide down his body, lifting the hem of his shirt. you kiss the skin just above his hip then bite down on it.
“a shame my fantasy could only be just that,” you pout watching as the skin regenerates again. “how i would’ve loved to see my bite marks all over you.”
✐ᝰ : i just felt like adding a kitty in the middle for the lack of a third pic
━━━ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ what would i pay to stay here beside you?
merman! leehan x princess f! reader
genre: little mermaid! au, fluff, a bit of pining, fairytale retelling
wc: 3.3k
a/n: requested by @ivehan as part of my 1st anniversary event! tysm my fae for requesting, this was so fun to try out hehe the long awaited arielhan!
Some days, swimming feels an awful lot like drowning. Today is one of those days—languid and weighty.
In the depths of the cerulean ocean, Leehan lays on the sand-bed with his hands splayed out—fiery red hair swaying with the water, his hands stretched out above where baby fish flitter about, some tickling his bare stomach, and some, the teal scales of his tail.
He lets out a long, bored sigh.
“This is just cruel. There's nothing to do down here,” he complains in a pout, letting a pinky-sized seahorse weave in through the gaps between his fingers. “Mother is cruel, isn't she?”
The seahorse does not respond, as seahorses tend to do. But Leehan can tell the little guy is unimpressed by his whining from the way he wiggles away, his tiny tail following after him.
“Bet your mother is nice to you. You lucky bastard,” he huffs, leaning up to sit and raise his head to the light leaking into the cavern, refracting through the inky blue.
It's such a shame—that he's here and not out there. All because he's got the title of a prince and nothing else to aid that privilege. Not even the threat of a crown, since that'll be a burden for his older sisters to carry.
So yeah, being the youngest of the seven royal siblings simply means that as much as he's coddled with affection, he's also suffocating down here without any freedom.
He's done everything he can to pass the time already: rearranged his entire trove of trinkets—lost items stolen by the sea that he'd had the pleasure of finding, like a broken shard of something smooth and reflective, but solid, unlike water; then he’d mentally catalogued all the fish within a two hundred feet radius; then he’d swum in big, whirlpool-inducing circles until that too got too stupid to continue with.
There's only so much to do down in the sea—nothing adventurous or risky. Other than the occasional exploring, of course.
The first time Leehan had felt the rush of chemicals was when he'd found the ruins.
He visits it often, to loot pretty items from. Not that it's really looting at all—it looked too weathered and destroyed for it to still belong to anyone. An orphan of a wreck, of…something. A vessel of sorts—with planks that cased the body, and a circle that turned around and around if Leehan pushed it with strength, and a faded painting—of a girl.
She had looked his age. And like she held the wonders of the world in her water-worn eyes, like something Leehan yearns to see himself one day.
But he's not allowed up there, is he?
Hmff.
What a stupid rule! The queen—his mother—had said he'd get skewered by a human pole if he even tried such a feat to sneak away. His sisters are all of the same mind; Wonyoung thinks he's going to get fried on a rock and fed to land creatures; Gaeul finds it amusing when he yelps every time she scares him with the idea of an instrument that would chop of all his beautiful auburn hair in a single snip; Liz is positively terrified he's going to somehow get his tail caught in a fishing net and bleed out.
His best friend and attendant Riwoo, on the other hand—just thinks he's going to go and fall in love with the first person he sees up there.
“All the romance is in the ocean, Leehan-ah. Find a good merperson and marry them into royalty,” he says, often as he's checking for seaweed between his teeth, basking on Leehan’s bed instead of doing his assigned duties—(Like picking seaweed out of Leehan's teeth, for example.) “Every soul here would be lining up the second you show an interest in them—heck, even I would.”
“That's because you just want to stop working.”
“Unemployment is a luxury to the common merpeople, okay? A prince wouldn't understand this,” Riwoo rolls his eyes. “What's so good up there on land anyways? It's just danger, danger, danger, when you can just stay here and swim with fish all day. I thought you liked that.”
“I do,” Leehan admits with a forlorn sigh. “But…there's more out there. So much I want to see and explore and—the people! The two-limbed creatures! I want to know how they walk…and how they breathe without gills, and how they—”
“I wasn't asking for a monologue,” Riwoo grumbles. “Your mother would skin me alive if she heard me entertain this conversation. Talking about land-people like you’re intending to leave all of this behind. That's not very smart.”
The talk is a bitter memory. It had ended with Riwoo redirecting the topic to his coming-of-age ceremony soon and how he needed to be on his best behaviour for it if he didn't want to get both of them in trouble with the queen.
It's in a few days from today—and Leehan hasn't even practiced the song he's supposed to be performing in front of the royal audience. He'd been too busy collecting knick-knacks and daydreaming about the surface to give it any thought.
How lovely it would be to visit.
The sea is uncharacteristically turbulent tonight; he can't see it, but his senses tell him a storm is coming.
Leehan has nothing to worry because he's a strong swimmer, of course. In fact, he loves the ocean when it storms. How the waves ripple and how it gets warmer the deeper you go, all the cold water rolling over to the top. How dolphins and sharks swim to safer spots to take cover until the hurricane has passed. How he knows the merpeople will be distracted with taking care of the smaller, more vulnerable creatures tonight—so that no one will think twice about pestering his solitude.
Maybe that's why he feels brave enough to swim up, the urge pushing like a tide against his body. Maybe it's the looming shadow of the ceremony that will happen, staring at him like it'll be the last day he gets to do anything out of his own will and want.
Something about the storm calls to him like a Siren song—and this time, he listens.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Grey clouds hang low in the sky, rolling and coiling and not dissimilar to the waves underneath, as Leehan breaks through the surface, gasping sharply as his lungs fill with cold air.
His eyes blink open out of the water, adjusting to the sight in front.
And it's beautiful.
It's every bit as breathtaking as he'd imagined, the puffy clouds he'd only heard stories of from the traveller merpeople, or from the visitors from neighbouring kingdoms that Leehan would beg for information from, eager to know more about ships and sailors and something called birds.
And now he gets to see them in the flesh! A caw echoes from above as something white and quick swoops by, flapping off into the distance. Leehan watches in awe.
The moon is pale and bulbous—like a glowing ball of mist, peeking out from behind wisps of clouds. He knows the moon well, it shapes the tides after all, but to see it this close, not just in the light that leaks through into the water and onto his skin when he longs to see the real thing. Unreal, that's what he'd call this.
Between the rise and fall of waves, and the inky horizon where the sky and the ocean melt into one, he sees it.
Or hears it, more accurately.
The sound of song and celebration.
And then comes into view, a giant, curving beast, reminding him of the wreck he'd found under the water long ago. A ship.
Leehan inches closer without even thinking.
“—fifteen strokes to midnight, everyone grab booze and get ready for the fireworks!”
“The princess shouldn't be drinking,” a grumpy voice joins the lilted exclamation, and a face comes into view. “She’s a mess when she drinks. I’m not cleaning up throw-up off the deck,” the young man says, his narrowed cat-like eyes levelled on someone who grins back at him.
A…girl?
“Oh let loose, Taesan,” you toss back carelessly, stretching your arm into the air and letting your billowy shirt ripple in the sharp wind, like you enjoy getting caught in a storm. Leehan peers throw a gap in the ship’s wood, where he’d pulled himself up for a better look.
“I am let loose. You’re just reckless when you’re out on the sea, and I am not reporting back to your father to say I’ve lost the princess to a glorified bowl of soup.”
“Did you just call the ocean a bowl of soup—”
“A cold bowl of soup. Same principles,” the boy—Taesan—cuts you off. “I am not letting you die on your birthday of all days. The king will have my head.”
Leehan is eavesdropping with acute attention, his ears perking up every time you speak back to Taesan, all giddy as a thunder-clap erupts above and your face grows brighter at the prospect of rain, grinning as the first drop hits your cheek.
“Three… Two…” The rest of the ship starts to count, a band of people readying with their strange looking musical instruments before a merry tune floats out. “ONE!”
A sonorous blast goes off and when Leehan looks up, he sees lights sparking into the sky, blooming before it spreads into petals, like a giant artwork in the sky. Over and over as the music amplifies and people begin to cheer and laugh and dance around on the deck. He can't look away once he's seen you smile at it, rushing to climb the mast to get a better look, balancing yourself effortlessly with one hand and one foot, the rest weightless against the whip of cold wind.
You…you're beautiful. And he knows you, somehow.
“Get down from there!” Taesan shouts over the sound, ignoring how there's a trumpet blowing right into his ear. He tosses over an annoyed look before glaring up at you again. “Y/N, DON'T MAKE ME COME UP THERE YOUNG LADY—”
“It's so pretty, Taesan—look!!” You’re not even looking at him while you say it, eyes glazed over in wonder as the sparks reflect in them. You see the horizon, the moon, breathe in deep like you could swallow the night and keep it inside you forever if you try.
Leehan feels the same—but he's not looking at the moon or the sea or the clouds or the light anymore. His mouth is parted in awe as he looks up at your carefree form, the way wind whips at your loose hair.
And then, a shift in the air. He feels it before anyone else does, a prickle on his skin.
The storm—it’s not going to stay down.
The ship is too busy indulging in booze and festivities to notice, and Leehan feels a rush of panic when he sees you climb higher up the pole, despite Taesan’s worried calls. He has to do something. He could…
What can he do? It's not like you’d trust him. He's not supposed to contact humans, he knows that, he knows he’ll get in trouble for coming up to the surface, let alone if he were to meddle in human business.
Before he can make a plan or a move, a bolt of lightning strikes the centre of the water and he feels himself lose his balance, the waves growing angrier. They beat against the body of the ship, against Leehan’s own limbs and tail—but he regains control quick enough, swimming up ahead where the current isn’t harsh yet.
The winds howl louder, and someone in the ship hollers, “Shouldn’t we go take cover now? It’s not safe to stay out…the waves don’t look so good.”
“Y/N, come down now!” Taesan tries again, between ushering most of the workers and shiphands to get back into the cabins, away from the surface. “Y/N! Princess, please—”
He doesn’t get to say more before a giant wave of water crashes into the wood, over the ledges, flooding into where the people are slowly packing up their instruments and food. It drenches the bottom of their feet.
Taesan looks down, then up. “Y/N, THE STORM ISN’T GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT. STOP FOOLING AROUND NOW!”
But you’re too high up to hear, too lost in the whistle of sea-winds and the scent of the ocean to care. Too in love with the storm.
And then.
“Y/N, look out!” Leehan doesn't even realise it's his own voice that screams, the surge of tide caving in on the ship like a gargantuan creature, opening its jaws and clapping shut over the miniscule creatures overboard. It sweeps; Leehan feels the ship rock and his fingers slide over the surface, submerging him into the water before he knows it.
When he comes up again, breaths shallow and ragged and terrified, he sees people flailing to hold onto anything they can. “Help!” someone screams, and Taesan has found footing to immediately grab them, even though he himself looks thoroughly soaked. He ushers whoever is left on the deck back under the floorboards, prying it open and holding it up with sheer strength.
The crew help each other, until Taesan pushes the last person in and shuts the door before looking for you again. “Princess?” his voice wavers, eyes squinting through the foggy spray of water.
He tries again, with no avail. Another tide washes over, and he's forced backwards, falling against the wood. Leehan doesn't know what's happening, just that he can't see you up there either… There's no one atop the mast. Just the wild flap of a flag and rainclouds descending upon it, bringing down a heavy sheet of rain before Leehan can even catch his breath.
Lightning strikes again, and he can hear the frantic shouts of your name out of Taesan’s mouth, roaring over the ledge before someone creeps up to force him inside as well, knowing full well he's a gone man if he keeps risking the storm like this.
Leehan feels the panic in himself—he’s not sure why he cares, just that he does.
His head swivels around like a pendulum, knowing if you aren’t anywhere on the ship then you have to have gotten swept away by the water somehow, somewhere under. When he can’t see anything through the crash and calamity, he dives underneath, deeper until things make sense to him again—until he can feel every drop of the ocean on his own skin.
And there it is—a silver glint, a white burn in all the greys and blues that catch his attention.
He propels towards it without wasting a second, your slowly sinking body coming into view the closer he gets, the sparkle evidently from the brooch on your shirt. Leehan’s hands find your spine, he sees how you’ve lost consciousness, your eyes closed and skin turning pale in his hold. You look so…
Fragile.
You can’t breathe in here. You aren’t like him.
Leehan holds you close to him before he brings you up to the surface, letting the air enter your lungs as he swims through the storm, in the hopes that he can bring you to shore just as long as he follows the dot of a ship vanishing into the distance.
The sun finds your eyelids and creeps its light underneath, stirring you awake from what feels like the longest, deepest slumber you have ever had.
There's sand underneath your fingertips and soles when you come to; the sky is blazing blue, a seagull cawing as it flies across your vision.
Huh…
“Where am I…” Your voice is hoarse when it comes out, head swimming in delirium. But your question is answered the second you look around, leaning up on your elbow only to see a castle in the distance, up the mountain of rocks near where you seem to have crashed.
Your castle.
Your memory is but a blur. There was water. You were standing above the world, up on the ship a second ago, feeling alive—and now, you're sunbathing with sand all over you. How weird…
How weird, that you also remember a voice, a boyish one, saying your name. You remember…him singing. A soft lullaby that sounds a little sad in your memory. A little desperate. You remember wanting to wake up to see who such a beautiful voice belonged to. Red hair? But you can't be sure.
Maybe he was a dream, but he'd surely saved you, in one way or another, you think as you look out to the sea.
Before you can reach out to the water to test if he's watching from somewhere, someone else interrupts your curiosity.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE!?” Taesan scolds, rushing down the rocks and almost slipping on one of them before he catches himself. “I've been—” he heaves, running to kneel next to you, checking for injuries the second he's got you. “I've been looking all night. The entire castle has. And you're here! How!?”
“A boy.”
Your whisper has him stare at you in confusion. “A boy?”
“I…” You don't know how to explain it to him, that you'd seen something no dream can match. The loveliest siren song in the universe. So you shake your head and replace it with a, “Did you miss me too much?”
That seems to do the trick. In a split second, his brows furrow at your audacity to be teasing even after surviving a near-death experience. He hauls you up without fussing about concussions like he was going to, scolding you for trying to be a daredevil and threatening to never let you on a ship ever again.
You pout, but you let him lead you to the castle, where you have no doubt your mother has a long list of angry scoldings set out for you, and the medic will no doubt force treatments down your throat whether you consent or not.
But the whole way there, even as people rush to engulf you in relieved hugs for making it back home, all you can think of is the red haired boy who's saved your life.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Leehan watches until you've been escorted off the shore, his arms braced on the rock he's hiding behind, letting the water keep him floating.
“She's gone…” he whispers to himself once he no longer sees you, a soft dejection catching in his throat.
Leehan had to sing to keep you from falling back asleep, slowly thumbing away the droplets of water on your cheeks until he knew you were okay, quickly scurrying off to take cover before you could see his tail and pass out from fright.
But watching you, keeping you company, seeing your lashes flutter awake, he'd figured out where he'd seen that face before.
At the wreck underneath the ocean, in the picture he'd been visiting to see for a while now. It's you, but now in the flesh—real, with a pulse and a heart that came back to life when he'd squeezed water out your lungs and quietly begged for the ocean to take mercy on you.
When he returns back down to where he's supposed to have been, knowing several complaints await him this morning both from Riwoo as well as the queen, he doesn't feel antsy like he should be.
He feels hopeful. Like new life has been breathed into him, too. His tail wiggles excitedly as he swims down to his abode, skin tingling everywhere from where you'd accidentally held on too tight as you came awake, a smile tugging at the corners of his lip.
And Leehan, he's already dreaming about coming to the surface once more, to the sun and the sky and the birds, everything the ocean refuses to offer.
Some days, swimming feels an awful lot like drowning. Tonight, he’ll be floating on a puff of clouds at the thought of seeing you again.
