husband!seungcheol x wife!reader | jeonghan x joshua
Summary: A cranky Seungcheol comes to get you (and the peanut gallery he calls his friends) after a drunken night out. Based on the prompt “picking up a drunk partner from an event.”
Word Count: 2.3k
Tags/Warnings: alcohol/drunkeness (duh), otherwise just a very cute mix of sickfic and carefic.
AO3 | Masterlist
Seungcheol’s holding his phone when it rings.
He’s supposed to be resting. That was the entire point of staying home tonight. He’s had an exhausting work week and is trying to kick the tail end of a cold that won’t die, so he promised he’d do nothing besides eat your delicious soup and go to bed early.
And he’s had the soup, but he’s definitely not in bed because it’s almost midnight and you’re still not home. So it’s understandable why, when he sees Joshua’s name flash on the screen, he answers with a short, “Where’s my wife?”
Joshua chuckles at him through the speaker. “I knew you would still be awake.”
“Answer the question.”
“She is sitting on someone’s stoop and petting their cat.”
Ah. Seungcheol knows what that means. You’re likely drunk. Sober you can’t pass up a street cat so drunk you stands absolutely no chance.
When you told him you wanted to go to the art and drinks night at the museum, he was less than enthused.
“What’s so interesting there anyway?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. I’ve left dinner in the fridge and medicine on the nightstand. You’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be fine,” he protested. “I won’t have my wife here with me.”
Sure enough, he’s spent the entire evening moping and waiting. And now Joshua’s on the phone instead of you and Seungcheol already knows he’s not going to like what comes next.
“It’s almost midnight. Why isn’t she home?”
“You are really crabby tonight, aren’t you? Look, there was a small misunderstanding.”
“Mhm.”
“I thought Hannie agreed to be the designated driver tonight but he thought I was going to drive, so…we both accidentally drank.”
“You really thought that Jeonghan would be a DD? When has he ever driven?”
“Okay, that is on me. But…that does not change the fact that we are all drunk and cannot drive. Any chance you haven’t chugged your cold medicine tonight?”
It’s a little unnerving how calm Joshua sounds when intoxicated. You’re the one who pointed out that Joshua loses the ability to form contractions properly when drunk; since then, Seungcheol can always tell.
“We knew that if we tried to stick her in an Uber you would kill us.”
“Damn right,” growls Seungcheol, grabbing his keys from the table.
“It was a joke, Cheol.”
Ignoring Joshua, he says, “I’m on my way.”
Stuffing a few tissues into his jacket as a precaution, he heads downstairs with the sole focus of retrieving you as quickly as possible. He can’t help but feel annoyed with his friends, who suggested the idea to you in the first place, thus ruining what would have been a perfectly good Friday night at home.
More annoying is that he had to see you done up all pretty to go out without him. The thought of other men flirting with you without him there to run interference has plagued him all night. His only comfort is knowing you’re more interested in a stray cat than another man.
He finds you only a block away from the museum. Joshua and Jeonghan are still standing, but that’s to be expected: they have a much better tolerance than you do.
The cat is nowhere to be seen, but you’re still sitting on the stoop in your pretty black dress, head leaning towards the wrought-iron railing.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
You blink up at him before breaking into a wide smile. “Cheollie!”
“Correct.”
“Are you here to take me home?”
“You bet, baby.”
Your legs are wobbly, so he hoists you up the rest of the way. You giggle at his show of strength, holding onto his forearms for support. If he wasn’t so tired and so addled, he’d be more of a show-off about it.
Still, seeing you again has already improved his mood. He just needs to get you home and in bed now. For purely innocent reasons. Judging by the way your eyes keep fluttering, you’re just as tired as he is.
“Any chance you can take us home, too?” asks Joshua. His delicate cheekbones and the tips of his ears are flushed. Jeonghan is resting his cheek against his husband’s back looking extra pathetic.
Sighing, Seungcheol says, “Fine, but you have to find your own ride back for your car tomorrow.”
“Fair.”
Seungcheol corrals everyone over to his car, feeling all too much like a mom after a soccer game. You seem to have found your second wind the moment he clicks your seatbelt around you.
“Three guys asked for my number,” you tell him, whispering loudly like it’s an exciting secret.
Seungcheol can’t help but feel miffed by your enthusiasm. “And what did you say?”
“That I have the strongest, hottest, smart…smartest husband in the entire fucking world!” you declare happily.
“She really did,” confirms Joshua. “The ‘f’ word and everything.”
Seungcheol sits a little taller, puffs his chest out a little more. “Well then.” A poorly-timed cough makes him buckle a bit.
“Cheollie…” Your suddenly anxious gaze is on him. “That doesn’t sound good. When we get home I’ll make you some soup,” you decide.
Never mind that you already did that and never mind that he’s not letting you near a kitchen in this state. It’s still sweet knowing that you care this much. “Okay, baby. That sounds good.”
Seungcheol’s barely started up the car when Jeonghan calls from the backseat, “I’m hungry.”
Of course he is. Seungcheol is ready to tell him that’s not his problem when you perk up again, raising your head from the seat belt. “Me too. That was mouse food!”
Only enough for a mouse, he thinks, quickly puzzling out what you mean. If you’re hungry, you’re definitely not going to fall asleep and he already ate all the soup.
“Noodles, chicken, or burgers?” he asks.
“Noodles,” says Jeonghan.
“Noodles,” agrees Joshua.
“Burgers!” you call out.
Seungcheol flicks on his blinker. “Burgers it is.”
Laughter echoes from the back seat. Seungcheol doesn’t care if they want to laugh at him. What his baby wants, she gets.
You twist in your seat to smirk at the guys. “That’s called pretty privilege.”
Jeonghan scoffs. “If that was true, we’d be going to get noodles.”
“Listen, asshole–”
“That’s enough,” orders Seungcheol. His headache is creeping back in now. He’s desperately relieved that tomorrow–well, today really–is Saturday. All he has to do is get some food into everyone and then get home. And get you out of the dress and into some pajamas. And get your face washed. And…
There are still too many steps between him and bed. He pulls into the burger restaurant parking lot, which is still brightly lit despite the hour. Everyone scrambles out of the car. This late at night there’s one bored cashier, who’s likely used to encountering drunken groups, and one cook who’s slowly scraping down the grill with the enthusiasm of someone facing a firing squad.
Everyone squints at the brightly lit menu boards.
Jeonghan moves first, placing an order for a meal he won’t finish; Joshua follows immediately afterwards.
You’ve got a dazed look on your face. Seungcheol gives you a little nudge. “What sounds good, baby?”
“Four burgers,” you decide.
Seungcheol cuts off the cashier before she can enter the order. “No. One burger, please.”
Perhaps sensing his plight, the cashier looks first at you, then over at Joshua and Jeonghan, who are still leaning heavily against each other. Finally, she gives Seungcheol a subtle nod.
“Large fries,” you demand.
“Regular fries,” Seungcheol tells the beleaguered cashier. Before you can pout, he says, “If you want more fries, I’ll buy you more to take home. Deal?”
You respond by snuggling up under his arm. If you eat more than three bites before falling asleep, he’ll be surprised. With you wrapped around his body like a drunken koala, it takes some effort to retrieve his wallet. Joshua and Jeonghan have already gone over to the soda machine to puzzle out the screen.
“Long night?” asks the cashier.
Seungcheol isn’t sure how he feels receiving sympathy from someone who works the night shift at a 24-hour restaurant, but it seems appropriate. He leaves an extra large tip and drags you over to a table.
Jeonghan’s gotten you a lemonade but hasn’t been able to fit the straw into the lid. After watching you make two painful attempts, Seungcheol takes the straw away from you and pokes it in.
You drink with both hands around the cup.
“How much trouble are we in?”
Before Seungcheol can answer Joshua’s question, the cashier calls their order. There’s no point in pretending anyone else is coordinated enough to get it right now. Seungcheol brings the food over and Jeonghan grabs for the first burger he can reach.
The three of you take your first bites with enthusiasm. Seungcheol is still mostly full from dinner, though he does steal a few fries while you’re occupied. Sure enough, after the third bite, you rest your head against his arm, burger still clasped in your hands. You haven’t even touched your fries.
Jeonghan has given up on his food, too, but that’s normal. He eats like a squirrel seventeen times a day. Going on a trip with him is impossible as it’s spent primarily on finding him food.
To his credit, Joshua eats his entire meal, taking forever to do so. Finally, he rests his napkin on the tray and sips at his Coke. “She hit a new record tonight,” he remarks. “She had a whole three drinks.”
“Two,” corrects Jeonghan. “The third one was literally just juice.”
“Really?”
“I know better than to send her home to Cheol with that much alcohol in her.”
Seungcheol rests his palm on your forehead, which has already cooled down substantially. If he can get some water into you tonight, you might wake up fine tomorrow. He steals another fry from your tray and munches on it tiredly.
Joshua gives him a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Cheol. We really didn’t mean to drag you out tonight.”
“It’s fine.” His voice sounds more petulant than he likes and it escapes no one.
“She missed you all night,” says Jeonghan, picking at his fries. “At one point she told someone that the real work of art was at home in bed.”
“Oh, God,” he laughs, tapering off into a cough. “She’s something else. Are you done yet?”
The food seems to have improved Joshua and Jeonghan’s constitutions quite a bit, but they’re closer to home now than to the museum, so Seungcheol still drives them the rest of the way. You’re fast asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the seatbelt. Seungcheol’s draped his spare jacket over you, but you’re beyond noticing.
“Night, Cheol,” whispers Jeonghan, before shutting his door. “Good luck.”
It’s a short drive home from there. Exhaustion weighs on his shoulders; Seungcheol presses a tissue against his leaky nose and sniffles, trying not to wake you up. He’s going to be the biggest baby to ever be babied tomorrow. He wants your attention for the entire day.
Even with the car turned off, you’re curled up so soundly that he feels bad about waking you. Seungcheol rests his palm on your knee and shakes gently. “Baby. We’re home finally.”
He really hopes you wake up because he doesn’t have the energy to carry you inside. At this point all he wants is a swig of Nyquil and his pillow.
You come awake with yawn. “Cheollie?”
“Here, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed.”
Not only can you walk on your own, you seem to be doing it pretty well. He still follows you closely up the stairs, ready to brace you if you start to wobble.
You go straight into the kitchen and drink a massive glass of water. Sighing with relief, you say, “Okay, I’m better now.”
“Good, that makes one of us then.”
Seungcheol heads straight for the bed, curling up under the covers. He watches blearily as you unzip your own dress and put away your jewelry.
“Wow,” you say, tugging on your pajamas. “In my underwear and you’re not even trying to make a move. You really are sick still.”
“My head feels like sand. You’re beautiful but I’m so tired.”
“And you still came out for us? Cheollie, you’re too sweet.”
He dozes while you wash off your makeup and brush your teeth. The bed dips a bit later and he smells mint and your moisturizer. He blinks at you for a moment, watching you rub lotion into your hands.
“Oh! I thought you were asleep. Go to sleep, baby.”
“Need my good night kiss.”
You lean over to kiss him, still waving your hands so they dry quicker. “I missed you.”
“I should have just gone with you. I was too worried about you to rest anyway.”
“The art was ass,” you say crossly. “One of the pieces was just a toilet in the center of a room. Like. Okay?”
When you put it like that, maybe he’s not so sad he missed it.
“Apparently you said something about the real art being at home in your bed?”
Covering your face, you giggle. “Oh, God. Did I really?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No. But it sounds like something I’d say.”
Wrapping his arms around your waist, he tugs you down against him, ignoring your delighted yelp. “Stay with me tomorrow,” he mumbles into your shoulder.
PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x f!reader
GENRE: humor, 2000s au, smut [18+ mdni]
WC: 5,864
WARNINGS: getting stranded, making out sloppy style, fingering, petnames (good girl, princess), jeonghan is obsessed with the movie Cars (2006) bc i felt like it
A/N: requested by @jeongcheols for my milestone event! this one ended up a bit silly but i hope you enjoy!! [not beta'd]
SUMMARY: You and your boyfriend decide to take a roadtrip together, adventuring down historic Route 66 as you make your way to the Grand Canyon. But when what started out as a fun summer vacation unexpectedly takes a turn for the worse, you soon find yourself in the midst of several risky predicaments.
"Sooo, what did you think?"
Jeonghan turns to look at you as he pushes the heavy wooden door open, a slight grin spreading across his lips as he rolls his eyes, the look quickly extinguished by the blinding afternoon sun hitting him in the face like a grenade. You both squeeze your eyes shut; fumbling around in your bag for a moment, your fingers graze across the sleek acetate of your sunglasses, hurriedly retrieving them and shoving them onto your face. Blinking your eyes open, you can see Jeonghan again through the brown-tinted lenses, also having donned his shades. You've only been in New Mexico for one day, but you learned immediately that the desert sun is harsh and unforgiving; your skin tingles in its glare, the arid summer heat doing nothing to cool you down.
"It was pretty cool," he answers nonchalantly. You give him a light shove, nearly pushing him off the sidewalk.
"Hey!" he protests.
"'Pretty cool' my ass," you smirk. "I practically had to drag you out of the dinosaur exhibit."
"Okay," he concedes with a chuckle. "It was super duper really cool. Happy?"
"That's better," you reply smugly. "And you wanted to skip Albuquerque altogether!"
"All I said is we could've made it to the Grand Canyon in one go!"
"Sure, but where's the fun in that?" you grin.
He shrugs. "I'd just never been on a road trip before. I thought it would be boring."
"But I've proven you wrong?" you inquire hopefully.
"Technically it was Cars," he smirks, prompting you to whack him playfully in the arm.
"You and that fucking movie, I swear to god…"
"It's a good movie!!!" he insists. "It inspired me to visit the Southwest!"
"Oh my god, whatever," you grumble.
Jeonghan's face softens with a smile. He wraps his arm around you waist, pulling you in and giving you a kiss on the cheek.
"But there's no one I'd rather road trip with than you, babe."
Crossing the parking lot you arrive back to your boyfriend's 1995 Ford Taurus; its red paint is slightly dulled with age — a bit faded after 12 years of exposure to the elements — but today it seems to shine bright as new in the radiating summer sun. As soon as Jeonghan unlocks the vehicle you open the passenger-side door, only to immediately be hit with a stifling wall of dense heat.
"Blech," is your immediate reaction, your face contorting into a grimace at the unpleasant sensation. "I thought people were joking when they said cars can get as hot as ovens."
"Yeouch!" Jeonghan exclaims, rapidly pulling his hand off the top of the car he had grabbed without thinking. "How do people live with this heat every day??"
After letting some of the steaming air escape, the two of you reluctantly climb into the car's boiling interior. The backs of your thighs sting against the hot vinyl seat; you shift around awkwardly for a minute before you acclimate to the temperature. Jeonghan starts the car and the AC vents roar to life, blasting more hot air directly onto you. He quickly rolls down all four windows, the heat from outside feeling somehow cooler relative to the inside the car despite there being no breeze.
"Uh oh," Jeonghan says, staring at the dashboard. You peer over to see what he's looking at, frowning when you spot that the yellow check engine light is on.
"That wasn't there before, was it?"
"Nope," he replies, also frowning. "It's probably nothing, but…"
He thinks for a minute, then shuts the car off. He pulls the lever to pop the hood open, then opening his door again.
"I'm just gonna take a look real quick."
He hops out of the car and you watch as he walks to the front of the vehicle. He grabs the hood to open it, but quickly yanks his hand off, shouting out a string of curses at the searing hot metal. He tries again, more carefully this time, sticking his fingers under the hood and giving it a swift push. Your view of Jeonghan is now obstructed; you wait for him to come back, but he's out there for several minutes.
"Do you need help?" you call out the window.
"I think I got it," he calls back. "But thanks babe."
You hear him tinkering with something for a moment, then the hood shuts. Jeonghan walks back to the car, hopping in and turning the ignition. You both stare at the dashboard, but the check engine light does not reappear.
"Oh thank god," he says with a sigh of relief.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing, actually," he answers with a shrug. "Hopefully it was just a glitch."
You pull up the portable GPS navigator as Jeonghan takes off from the museum parking lot, typing in your destination as he heads back to the highway.
"We're finally gonna be driving on Route 66!" you announce excitedly. Despite Jeonghan's insistence that the movie Cars was the sole reason for this vacation, you've always wanted to take a road trip down the historic highway. As Jeonghan heads onto the entrance ramp the iconic Route 66 sign on the side of the road comes into view. You wish you would have thought to take a picture, but your digital camera is buried somewhere in your bag, and the camera on your flip phone isn't the greatest. Next time we see one, you make a mental note to yourself.
Jeonghan accelerates as he merges onto the highway, also smiling at the sight of the bold 66 on the route marker. He reaches over, taking hold of your hand and squeezing it tight.
"Grand Canyon, here we come."
It is peak golden hour when you stop at a small gas station to refuel. The current state of the desert sky is absolutely breathtaking, its palette more vibrant than any you've ever seen before; neon pinks, deep oranges, bold blues, and majestic purples paint the heavens — dreamy and picturesque in all their natural wonder.
Jeonghan parks the car at one of the pumps, shutting the engine off and reaching for his wallet.
"I'll start filling up then go grab us some snacks," he tells you. "You want anything in particular?"
"Surprise me."
As he starts pumping the gas, you rummage through your bag, feeling around until your hand closes on your camera. You hop out of the car; Jeonghan gives you an inquisitive look, but you just show him the camera in your hand.
"The sky is amazing," you tell him. "I gotta get a picture of this."
He smiles. "It is amazing, isn't it?"
You do your best to photograph the incredible scenery as Jeonghan pops inside the store, but although the previews on the small digital screen are beautiful they don't do it proper justice. As you wrap up you hear the click of the gas pump shutting off; walking back to the car, you place the pump back and screw the gas cap back on the tank. The air is still hot, but with the sun setting things have cooled off slightly now, the relief from the blazing sunlight making it feel almost pleasant out.
A minute later you spot Jeonghan returning from the store, carrying a heavy-looking plastic bag filled with goodies.
"Damn, did you buy the whole store?" you ask teasingly as he approaches the car.
He shrugs. "Figured it'd be better to have extra snacks than not enough snacks."
"True," you smile.
"Got you your favorite, though," he says, pulling a bottle of Diet Coke and a pack of Sour Skittles from the bag and handing them to you.
"Fuck yeah," you grin, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you happily accept the sweet treats. "Thanks babe, you're the best."
He gives you a soft smile. "Anything for you, my love."
"Here," you say to him, gesturing for hm to hand you the keys. "Let me drive. You've been driving this whole time."
"I'm okay—" he starts, going to open the driver-side door, but you snatch the keys out oof his hand anyway.
"I insist. You deserve a break."
"Okay," he concedes. "But I get the aux cord."
"Sure," you agree. "As long as you don't fucking play 'Life is a Highway' again."
"Hater," he teases, a wide grin spreading across his face as he gets into the passenger seat.
"I'm NOT a hater," you reply as you get in the car too, taking your seat behind the wheel. "It's a fine song, I just don't want to hear it a million times."
"It's a great song," he corrects you. "And we've only listened to it twice, thank you."
"Whatever," you roll your eyes, but you just laugh.
You take off down the desert road again, driving into the stunning sunset as you leave the gas station in the rear view mirror. At this point, there's not much out here — you're well in between towns now, the flat land around you seemingly stretching endlessly in every direction. You even spot a few tumbleweeds rolling alongside the two-land road, a phenomenon you didn't know was actually real until today. But despite the barren landscape, you find the open road to be calming, welcoming even; you can drive for miles without seeing another car, but the quiet serenity feels peaceful. You never expected to enjoy the desert this much, especially as a life-long city-dweller, but there is a certain charm to its beauty that is unlike anything you've ever experienced before.
You drive for about 30 minutes before you hear the unmistakable guitar riff of that god-forsaken Rascal Flatts song.
"Jeonghan, I swear to god."
"It wasn't me!" he insists. "My iPod is on shuffle!"
"Riiight."
"But since it came on…"
He reaches for the volume knob, but you slap his hand away.
"I'll let you listen to it at a normal volume."
"Okay, okay," he agrees, but even out of the corner of your eye you can see a slight smirk lighting up his face.
You're not even halfway through the song when the car suddenly hits a big bump.
"Whoa!" you yelp, hoping it wasn't anything too serious, but immediately the car starts to rattle and shake. You brake, quickly pulling over into the dusty dirt just off the side of the road. You and Jeonghan look at each other, nervous, but not panicking just yet.
"What the hell was that??"
"I don't know," he replies, hopping out of the vehicle. You put the car into park and join him, but as soon as you get out and shut the door you see the problem: your front tire is busted. There's a huge gash along its side, with a sizeable scrap of metal jutting out from the rubber.
"Oh."
Jeonghan comes over, his face dropping as soon as he sees the issue.
"Well," he says calmly. "That fucking sucks."
"You can say that again."
You both stand there in silence staring at it for a moment, trying to process the situation at hand.
"Well," Jeonghan finally says, reaching into the car to pop the trunk and walking over to it. "At least I know how to change a tire… sort of. I should have the toolkit in my trun—"
He freezes as soon as he lifts the lid, staring blankly into the trunk.
"Oh no," he mumbles under his breath.
"Do you not have the toolkit?"
He slowly shakes his head. "Worse."
You step over to join him at the trunk. Peering in, you see each of your packed bags, a small toolkit, a few old crumpled receipts, and an empty wheel well where a spare tire should be.
"Um," you start quietly. "Where's the spare?"
Jeonghan shuts the trunk, hanging his head as he leans over the car.
"That was the spare."
"What?" you ask, genuinely confused. "What do you mea— oh."
You've both just had the same terrible, stupid realization: six months ago when Jeonghan's sister borrowed his car she got a flat tire. The spare in the trunk she had to use was a full-sized one, meaning Jeonghan could drive around on it for a good while without needing to get a proper tire re-installed. He fully intended to do it sooner rather than later — but half a year has passed now, and he had forgotten about it completely.
You feel a bit guilty, because you did know about it — but apparently, you also entirely forgot.
"Oh my god," you groan as the reality of the situation starts to sink in. "We're stuck in the fucking desert, aren't we."
"I cannot believe I completely forgot about the tire," Jeonghan laments, holding his forehead in his hands. "You idiot!!!"
"You are not an idiot," you reassure him. "I forgot too. If anything, that makes us both idiots."
That pulls a chuckle out of Jeonghan. "Gee, thanks babe."
You step over to him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his shoulder. He sighs, relaxing slightly as he takes you in his arms.
"What now?" you ask, feeling much calmer at the moment than you would expect. You're sure you'll start freaking out eventually, but you're saving that for later.
"I guess call a tow service?" he answers, sounding uncertain at the idea. "But it's not like we have a phone number for one, especially not out here…"
"Do they even send tow trucks out to the middle of nowhere?" you wonder.
"I mean, maybe? It would certainly take a while though."
"What about… 911? I know it's not really an emergency, but maybe they can help?"
"We could try the non-emergency line," he suggests.
He pulls out his cell phone, flipping it open to dial 311, but he grimaces at the small screen.
"No signal," he sighs. "Let me try anyway."
He tries to make the call, but the line just beeps for a few seconds before the call ends. You pull out your phone, trying the number as well, but you also aren't getting any service out here.
"Dammit," you grumble. "What the fuck are we supposed to do??"
"I guess we could try to hitchhike to somewhere we can make a call?"
Your head snaps up, looking at your boyfriend like he's lost his mind.
"Are you crazy?! That sounds like a great way to get murdered."
"I mean, I don't love the idea of it," he agrees. "But I don't really know if we have any other options."
As much as you hate it, he's right. You're stranded, and you need help — even if it is from a complete stranger.
You bury your hands in your face for a second, letting out a disgruntled groan, but then you shake it off.
"Well, I guess we have to wait for somebody to even drive by in the first place," you say, peering both ways down the highway — but each direction is void of life as far as you can see, the endless empty road simply disappearing into to the horizon without a trace of another human.
"I guess so," Jeonghan agrees. You then see an idea pop into his mind, marked by the mischievous look in his eyes.
"Wanna fool around in the backseat?"
"What the fuck?!" you laugh. That was the last thing you expected him to say right now, but you're honestly not even too surprised by it.
"You're insane."
"Yeah, because you drive me insane," he says sweetly, prompting you to lightly thump him in the chest. "What?!" he asks, pretending like he's not full of shit.
"Jeonghan, you were already insane before I even met you."
He gives you a sly smile. "Touché. Anyway, c'mon, let's make out," he says as he grabs your hand, pulling you toward the backseat door as he opens it.
"Are you seriously horny right now?"
"Only a little!" he insists. "I just want to kiss my pretty girlfriend, is that so much of a crime?"
"Oh whatever," you roll your eyes, but you smile, getting into the backseat anyway. "But we can't get too carried away — we have to keep an eye out for other cars passing by."
"Aye aye, captain," he salutes you, excitedly crawling into the backseat after you and shutting the door behind him. He reaches for the crank and gives it a few rotations, rolling down the window slightly. "Don't want it to get too hot in here," he explains smugly, giving you a wink.
He grabs ahold of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you into him as he plants a slow kiss upon your lips. Despite the anxieties of being stuck in the middle of the fucking desert with no spare tire and no cell signal, Jeonghan is a really good kisser — which is a perfect distraction from the issue at hand. The kiss starts gentle, innocent; but before long both of you are grasping at each other, hands finding their way inside shirts, completely disregarding the layer of sweat you've each been drenched in all day that never was able to dissipate in the sweltering New Mexico heat. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, and the kissing turns more feverish by the moment, his hand grasping the side of your head as his lips tug ceaselessly at yours. Eventually his hand begins to drift down your torso, lingering at your breasts for a minute, before reaching between your legs and touching you over your jean shorts.
"Babe, we have to watch for cars—" you remind him, but your words are cut short by his fingers beginning to apply pressure against your clit.
"Don't worry baby, I'm watching, I promise."
His fingers dance up to the button, undoing it and slowly pulling your zipper down.
"Besides, it's getting dark — we'll see any headlights from a mile away."
"I suppose you're right," you smile sweetly, but your jaw drops slightly open as he glides his fingers beneath your underwear and drags them between your folds.
"Hey," you protest half-heartedly, but your hips begin to rock slowly against his hand.
"Hay is for horses," he replies, kissing you on the apple of your cheek as he slips his fingers into your pussy, making you let out a gasp.
"Oh you're wet," he smirks.
"Shut up," you mumble, spreading your thighs as he begins to work them in and out of your cunt.
"No, it's cute!" he insists. "I love that you fold the moment I start touching you."
"So you're saying I'm pathetic."
"Of course not," he answers sincerely, leaning in and murmuring softly into your ear. "You're my perfect little princess."
His hand starts to move faster, pulsing in and out of your cunt that is only getting wetter by the second. You start to hum, your eyelids fluttering shut with pleasure as he fucks you, your hums turning into whines and your whines turning into moans, the sound filling the car as Jeonghan gets you off.
"Fuck," you whine, squirming against the seat. "That's so good…"
"That's it, baby, let it all go."
"Don't stop," you plead. "I'm so close."
"Go on baby, cum for me."
He fucks his fingers into you, maintaining the perfect pace that quickly has you unraveling at the seams. You cry out as your orgasm overtakes you, your legs trembling as you cum on Jeonghan's fingers.
"Good girl," he praises, watching you release as the overwhelming pleasure floods through your whole body. You ride out your high, head fallen back onto the top of the seat; you start to come down, giggling as you grab Jeonghan's arm with both your hands. His fingers stop, but they remain inside you as he gives you a soft kiss on the lips.
"Wow," you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. Slowly he retrieves his hand from your shorts; you're staring off into space a bit when you notice a faint dot of light appear in the rearview mirror.
"Car," you say, perking your head up. Jeonghan notices it too; you turn around in tandem, spotting the approaching light coming from behind that is still well in the distance. You look at each other, relieved but still slightly nervous at the prospect of having to hitchhike.
"Should we flag them down?" you ask. Jeonghan nods.
"It's getting late — I don't want to be out here all night. I think we should at least try."
With that he pops his fingers into your mouth, catching you off guard. You let out a laugh, the sound muffled, but you suck on them for a moment, cleaning up your own mess.
"Thank you," Jeonghan says teasingly, wiping the excess off on his shirt before opening the door. You follow, stepping out into the night air that has cooled off significantly now that the sun has set. Standing there, you watch as the approaching car draws near, the headlights getting brighter and brighter — too bright, almost.
"Um, I don't think that's a car," you say as the vehicle gets closer. The lights are too bright for either of you to really tell, but you're pretty sure what you're seeing is a very large truck. Sure enough, as it comes into view you see that it is in fact an 18-wheeler.
"They're not gonna stop, right?" Jeonghan wonders aloud.
"I… don't know."
"Well, one way to find out."
As the big rig closes in Jeonghan begins to wave at it. A loud double honk makes you jump; the truck zooms past you, causing a surge of wind that picks up the sand and dirt and sends it swirling in the air around you. You shield your eyes, turning around as the truck drives away. You've just about lost hope until you notice the red brake lights — the truck slows, pulling to a stop well ahead of you. It's lights begin to flash as you see a figure exit the cab; you wrap your arm around Jeonghan's, holding onto him nervously as the driver starts walking toward you. It's not quite completely dark out yet, but from this distance you can really only make out the silhouette of a very tall but stocky man lumbering down the side of the road. As he comes into view you see a tough looking gray-haired man, probably in his 50s, sporting a thick handlebar mustache and equally-thick furrowed brows. He wears a plaid shirt that seems to only be buttoned halfway, faded denim jeans, big brown boots, and a blue cap covering his unkempt shoulder-length hair. He looks like the kind of guy you don't want to cross, and you're starting to wonder if flagging him down was a mistake — but as he approaches his hardened face turns into a smile.
"Looks like the two of you are in quite a pickle here, aren't ya?" he says with a southern drawl, looking at the busted tire on Jeonghan's car. He leans over, hands resting on his belt as he inspects the piece of metal jutting out of the wheel. "How the hell did y'all manage this?"
He stands back up, facing you again. "Y'all ain't got a spare, I presume?"
"No, that uh, that was the spare," Jeonghan answers, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"Well, shit," the truck driver responds. "That's no good. Y'all got help on the way yet?"
"No, neither of us have cell service," you answer.
"Yup, them cellular phones are pretty useless out here," he nods. "I'm afraid I ain't much help with the tire here, but I'm happy to give y'all a ride to the next pay phone."
Jeonghan glances over at you. Of all the strangers who could've shown up, this man seems nice enough, and he really doesn't seem like he has any interest in murdering you.
"That would be amazing," you answer him politely. "Thank you so much."
"Eh, don't mention it," he replies, waving his hand. "Ain't the first time I've had to do this, and I'm certain it ain't gonna be the last either. Grab y'all's things now, and we'll be off."
Jeonghan retrieves the bags from the trunk while you roll up the windows and lock the car, saying a silent prayer that nobody is going to break in and steal it. The man heads off back toward the truck, and the two of you follow after him. You can't really see much of the truck as you walk toward it, due to its bright flashing red lights obscuring your view, but as you approach it you notice a strange odor in the air. You've never been on a farm before, but if you had to guess, it smells exactly the way you think a barn would smell. When you get right up on the truck you're able to make out small, open-air windows up near the top of the trailer, and as you pass by a sudden huffing sound coming from the inside the trailer makes you and Jeonghan both jump.
"Horses," Jim says casually as you reach the cab, nodding his head toward the trailer. "Don't mind the smell." He swiftly grabs your bags from you, tossing them into the open passenger door as if they weighed nothing.
"Afraid there's only one passenger seat," he tells you. "Hope y'all don't mind sharin'."
You climb up the high step into the cab with some difficulty, Jeonghan behind you giving you a helpful boost. He climbs in after you, scooting into the other half of the one available seat. You awkwardly try to situate yourselves comfortably, to no avail; eventually you give up, and you end up half-sitting in Jeonghan's lap, his arm wrapped around you to help prevent you from falling off. The driver hops into the truck with ease, shifting into gear and taking off down the dark road. You peek in the rear view mirror, watching as Jeonghan's car turns into a red speck in the growing distance, and then disappears in the night altogether.
"Name's Jim, by the way," the driver pipes up. "And who might you two be?"
"I'm Jeonghan and this is y/n," Jeonghan answers.
"Pleasure to meet you, Jeonghan and y/n," he nods. "What brings y'all out to this stretch of desert, if y'all don't mind my askin'?"
"We're driving to the Grand Canyon," you tell him.
"Figures," he replies matter-of-factly. "That is the main attraction 'round these parts, after all. Not much else out here but nature. Anyways, there's a gas station 'bout 20 miles down the road — I'll drop y'all off there."
Jim falls silent after that — you didn't take him to be the chatty type, after all; the only sounds that remain are the old classic rock tunes playing from the stereo, the volume just loud enough for you to hear the music over the loud humming of the truck's engine as Jim floors it down the open road. The speed combined with the height and size of the truck worries you slightly, but you figure it's better to get where you're going sooner rather than later. You rest your head on Jeonghan's shoulder, staring out the window as you silently tell yourself everything is going to be okay.
About twenty minutes later, a well-lit area just off the road comes into view. You and Jeonghan both perk up, looking at each other with cautious optimism as what appears to be a trucker's rest stop comes into view. Jim doesn't slow down, and as you approach the exit road splitting off from the highway he speeds right past it. You and Jeonghan give each other a nervous glance.
"We aren't stopping here?" Jeonghan asks, looking over to Jim.
"Nope," he replies as the truck barrels on. "The next one. We can't stop here."
"Why not?" Jeonghan asks cautiously. Jim lets out a huff of a laugh.
"Man who runs it has it out for me," he answers. "He thinks I stole a bunch of money from him."
"Why does he think that?"
Jim glances over at the two of you, giving you a sly grin that reveals a silver tooth in his mouth.
"Probably because I stole a bunch of money from him."
He notices you and Jeonghan tensing up slightly, but he just shakes his head and chuckles.
"Next gas station is 'bout 10 miles from here," he tells you. "I know the owner. I'll drop y'all there."
As promised, you arrive at a gas station shortly — if it can even be called that. There's only two pumps, each looking outdated by several decades, and the attached shop is tiny and run-down. If you had driven past it on your own, you probably would've assumed it wasn't even open. Jim parks in the road, as the station is nowhere large enough to accommodate an 18-wheeler. You exit the vehicle, Jeonghan right behind you, lugging your bags out of the cab. Hesitantly, you head toward the small shop, a faded sign bearing the words GENERAL STORE welcoming you to the otherwise unwelcoming establishment. You hear the crunch of Jim's boots against the dirt as he walks over with you, seemingly keeping his distance. Suddenly, a gangly-looking man in a cowboy hat emerges from around the back, wielding a shotgun. You jump, grabbing onto Jeonghan as you start to retreat, but the man only points the gun directly at Jim.
"You gotta lot of nerve comin' round here, Jim," the man sneers at the driver, but Jim just grins.
"Nice to see you too, Billy."
"Who's the kids?" Billy asks him, cocking his head toward you.
"Car broke down 'bout 20 miles back, flat tire 'n no spare. Brought 'em here to use your payphone."
Billy peers over to you and Jeonghan, studying your wide-eyed, fearful faces for a moment before he lowers the gun, grumbling something under his breath.
"Payphone ain't workin'," he says, turning to you and Jeonghan. "But if it's a spare tire y'all need I can help."
You turn to Jeonghan, and you can tell he's thinking the same thing — you didn't particularly trust Jim, and you find Billy even less trustworthy. But again, what choice do you have?
"That would be great," Jeonghan tells Billy politely.
"Wonderful. Now, you best be on your way," he scowls to Jim. Jim tips his cap at him, turning to face you.
"Best of luck to y'all," he tells you. "Billy here's a real piece of work, but you're in good hands."
You find that hard to believe, but you thank him for the ride anyway.
"My pleasure," he says politely, turning and walking back to his truck.
Billy sighs loudly, but he rolls his eyes, beckoning the two of you to follow as he heads around to the back of the store. You watch as Jim and his horses take off, wondering again if this was a huge mistake and if you're going to get murdered after all, but the truck drives away, and now you're stuck in this tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere.
Following Billy he leads you to a small garage, where an old pickup truck is parked. Stacks of tires and various car parts lay cluttered around the yard; Billy looks around, grabbing a couple tires and tossing them into the truck bed, along with a large tool kit.
"I should be able to fix your tire predicament for ya," he says. "If not… well, we'll figure somethin' out."
He opens the passenger door for you; the truck is small, featuring one bench-style seat in the cab. Jeonghan takes the middle, and you slide in after him. Billy hops in the truck and starts it up, the engine making some less-than-favorable sounds as it roars to life, but he shifts into reverse and takes off, heading back down the highway the way you came.
He drives in silence, making no effort at conversation nor turning the radio on. Its awkward, but you're honestly too tired to even care at this point. You lean into Jeonghan again, resting your head against his as he takes hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together. The road trip that started out wonderfully has turned out disastrously, but you haven't lost hope yet. If you have to be stuck in this nightmarish predicament with anyone, you're glad it's with him.
You're starting to nod off, being lulled to sleep by the quiet ambience of the desolate highway, when Jeonghan suddenly perks up.
"There's our car!" he tells Billy, pointing to the red vehicle parked on the side of the road right where you left it. Billy makes a u-turn, pulling up right behind Jeonghan's car. Without a word he hops out, getting to work immediately. The old, busted tire comes off within minutes, discarded into the back of Billy's truck as he heaves the new spare out of the bed and rolls it over to the car. You watch anxiously as he works, but sooner than you expect he has the tire fully installed into place.
"That should do it," he tells you in a gruff voice, rising to his feet and wiping his hands on his dingy jeans.
"Thank you so much!" Jeonghan tells him excitedly as you both inspect the tire, but it looks good as new. "Um… how much do we owe you?"
"Don't worry 'bout it," he waves his hand at you. He gathers his tools, walking back to his truck.
"There's a motel about 8 miles past the gas station," he tells you over his shoulder as he tosses the toolkit back into the truck bed. "If Margie's workin' tell her I sent ya."
With that, he gets in his truck and drives away.
You fling yourself around Jeonghan, startling him slightly as you squeeze him tightly in your arms — but he just laughs, embracing you back and giving you a kiss on the head.
"That could have been so much worse, oh my god," you say, a huge wave of relief washing over you.
"Cheers to not getting murdered!" he laughs. You pull your head back, staring at him with a big beaming grin.
"Let's get to that motel," he says, kissing you on the lips several times.
"Are you seriously horny again?!" you giggle.
"Yup," he answers, grinning proudly as he playfully smacks you on the ass. "And I'm gonna make sweet, sweet love to my girlfriend all night about it."
"Oh my god," you laugh, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited about it too.
You get in the car, Jeonghan in the driver's seat this time. He turns the car on, the AC from earlier suddenly blasting in your faces as you scramble to turn it down. You see him plugging his iPod into the aux cable, scrolling through its library before he selects a song with a grin on his face. The intro to "Life is a Highway" starts blaring from the speakers as he puts the car into drive and take off; you roll your eyes, but after the day you've had, and with the joyous look on his face as he sets off into the night again, you can't even be mad about it.
summary: You think Jihoon is courting you, but the waiting is making you crazy.
word count: 1350
SVT Shorts Series (AO3 link)| Masterlist
“You really don’t have to do that.”
Jihoon follows you into the kitchen as you carry the night’s dinner dishes to the sink. As you set them down, he adds, “I don’t mind doing clean up.”
“You cooked, which means you don’t clean,” you reply, soaping up the sponge. “That’s the rule.”
Still, he hovers. He does that a lot lately, always appearing by your elbow like he’s a planet caught in your orbit. Like he can’t bear to be too far away from you. You don’t mind. After all, if it wasn’t him, it would be you. You like having him close by.
He’s been courting you, or at least you think he has. Jihoon is quiet, deliberate. He’s also shy. It’s only because you know him so well that you’ve allowed yourself to believe this. Why else would he share his time with you willingly? Text you, call you even? His soothing voice heavy with sleep because he can’t bring himself to hang up even though he clearly should. Or his enthusiasm when he’s in the middle of a project that’s going well.
Why else would he show these sides to you?
The others tease you. Call him your shadow, make fun of how “dreamy” your eyes get when you catch sight of him. One time Jihoon ordered everyone to be quiet so you could speak–the others make it a point to mimic him now every time you try to talk.
So you do this now instead: the two of you, dinner, alone. The peace of his apartment, no pressure to perform for each other.
Jihoon takes a towel and wordlessly, you hand him a plate. He drags it through the towel efficiently before setting it in the dish rack. He doesn’t need to do this, of course. The dishes will dry on their own. It’s an excuse and you’re both glad of it.
He brushes your hand as he takes the next plate and you fight not to jump. After all, physical contact is still exciting.
There have been close calls. Looks traded in hallways, over restaurant tables while sandwiched between louder friends, or while leaning in car doors to wish the other a good night. One time, when everyone was walking in front of you, Jihoon took your hand, gripped it for as long as he dared, which would never be long enough.
You’re the one who initiated the kiss. Hand on the car door handle, knowing you needed to leave but not wanting to. Jihoon looking at you with an expression that bordered on reverence, enough to make your stomach twist with eager embarrassment. A chaste brush of lips that shocked you both at first; then, a not-so-chaste follow up.
Nervous laughter and apologies in equal measure as you both hurried to clear the air. Waited for the other to make another move. It never came. Hasn’t yet.
But he still invited you over tonight, which means something, right? He gave you his hoodie to wear when you showed up sodden from the warm June rain. It smells like him. You never want to take it off again. But you will when you go.
And the time to go is inching closer. You finish the dishes and Jihoon hangs up the towel and the two of you return to the living room.
“Movie?” he offers, voice almost like a plea. “We can watch that documentary you were interested in. The one on–”
“Mary Oliver?” you ask. “You don’t even like poetry.”
“I’m learning.”
For the past month you’ve sent him a verse each day. He sends you songs, you send him poems, the two of you caught up in the beauty of words in any format. It’s the easiest way to say the words neither of you can seem to find yourselves.
It’s not all about love. (But it is.)
“I don’t think it’s out yet,” you say, and he goes for his phone immediately, slim fingers–musician fingers, deliberate–tapping away rapidly.
He looks up at you after a moment, defeated. “You’re right.”
There’s always something else. A million other things you could watch, maybe curled up with him, inhaling his comforting scent. It’s not about the movie after all. It’s about how long you can stand to be close to him with everything still uncertain. You don’t know how many more of these nights you have left in you.
You can wait. Have waited. He’s worth it, after all. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going slowly crazy, too.
“I should go,” you tell him, though you really don’t want to. Your fingers grip the cuffs of his hoodie as you psych yourself up to remove it.
“It’s still raining,” says Jihoon, looking anxiously at the windows. “You should stay a little longer.”
A soft laugh shakes your shoulders. “Hoon, if I stay any longer I’ll be here all night.”
“Okay.”
Just one word. Quick, earnest. Weighted.
Everything he hasn’t said to you is in that word and you know it. Can feel it, the warmth of it curling around you like a cat snuggling in for the night.
Still, you say, “You don’t mean that. I probably snore.”
“I’m a heavy sleeper,” is his easy response. “Stay.”
What does that mean? You know what you want it to mean. What you think it means. But you’ve been wrong before. You have a memory of a searing kiss with nothing to follow it. (Yet.)
“I want you to,” he insists, seeing your hesitation.
“But do you want me?”
You’re not sure where you get the courage. Now that you’ve asked the question though, you stand strong. Watching him. Waiting.
Jihoon pushes himself off the sofa, comes to stand in front of you. His beautiful eyes with their beautiful lashes are fixed on you, unblinking, unwavering.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life,” he says without hesitation, and you believe him.
You let him cup your cheek, let him decide the angle as he presses his lips to yours. It’s a sweet kiss, an earnest one. He breaks away too soon.
“Jihoon…”
“Is that okay?” he asks suddenly, his bravado swept away. “Do you want to stay?”
You kiss him back with force, fingers trembling with excitement as they hold the front of his shirt, trying to pull him ever closer. Your tongue brushes against the seam of his lips and he groans, opens for you immediately. He’s yours finally, after so long. And it’s perfect. He’s perfect.
This quiet man whose body language is so loud right now, every atom fixated on you and you alone. His hands slide to your lower back, pressing you closer, holding you steady. You want him so much it’s making you a bit crazy. Lightheaded.
Or maybe that’s the lack of air.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. “I’ve wanted to stay for a long time.”
He ducks his head at this, gives you a soft smile. “Thanks for being patient.”
“You’re worth the wait.” He is. Every second.
You tug at the hem of his hoodie where it falls across your thighs, ready to lift it over your head when he stops you, a wild look in his gaze.
“Keep it on a little longer,” he urges.
“Oh?” you tease him. “You like seeing me in your clothes?”
“You can’t imagine how much. It’s making me a little crazy.”
But you don’t remove your grip on the garment. “You know, Hoon, you have plenty of t-shirts I can borrow, too.”
The hunger deepens between the two of you as he pulls you flush with his body once more. You can feel his desire pressing against you; it’s taking every bit of your self-control to not fall to your knees in front of him and show him you’re worth the wait as well.
His lithe fingers slide under the hoodie, under your shirt as well, seeking your bare skin. You shiver as they dance across your stomach, moving higher.
“Then in that case,” he says lowly, slowly, “allow me.”
PAIRING: lee chan x tarot reader!reader
GENRE: romance, hurt/comfort
WC: 4,831
WARNINGS: reader has some psychic abilities, mention of a bad breakup, mention of minor character death, themes of depression and loneliness, alcohol consumption
A/N: this was requested by @haologram and @pikachudino for my Cosmos event!! ♡ disclaimer that i don't know literally anything about tarot, so i apologize if i got anything wrong but i did my best :) also, no beta we die like men xoxo
SYNOPSIS: An old schoolmate suddenly turns up in your psychic shop asking for a tarot reading. You never knew him all that well, and he looks so different now that you didn't even recognize him at first — but you quickly begin to become re-acquainted with each other.
Today was such a slow, boring day at the shop that you nearly closed early and went home.
It's not like business is particularly booming these days anyway, but you only had a single customer today, and the strange elderly woman who lives in the apartment above your shop and comes down every Wednesday at 10am on the dot to buy a pack of incense hardly counts. But you were close to finishing your book, so you figured even if nobody else came in you could at least sit behind the counter reading for the remainder of the day.
You have 15 pages left when the light jingling of the bells hanging above the doorframe snap you back to reality. You look up from your paperback to see a dark-haired man entering your shop; he's around your age, and he looks familiar, but you can't place who he might be — strange, considering that you know pretty much everyone in town. The man peers around, seemingly looking for somebody, but his eyes linger on all the various oddities displayed on the hodge-podge of shelves and vintage furniture around the small store.
"Hi there!" you say cheerfully, rising to your feet. The man jumps slightly at the sound of your voice.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there," he apologizes, looking startled and a bit embarrassed.
"No worries," you smile at him politely. "I was kind of hidden back here."
Now that you're making eye contact with him, you're certain you must know him from somewhere.
"What brings you in today?" you inquire.
The man raises his brow at you. "I thought you were a psychic. Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?"
You smile. "Well, that's not exactly how it works," you explain. "But if I had to guess…"
You study him for a moment. You could tell he had nervous energy from the moment he walked through the door, but his aura is heavy and murky, as if he is utterly plagued with despair. He feels lost, and he is desperately searching for anything that might give him some answers or peace of mind. You also get the sense that he has been crying a lot lately.
"Wow, you have been going through it," you say to him, staring back at him sympathetically. You can tell he's skeptical about psychics, witchcraft, anything that might be considered woo-woo nonsense — but the deep look of concern on your face makes him feel like you genuinely just peered right into his soul. He stares back at you anxiously.
"You're here in search of guidance to help you overcome your recent heartbreak, yes?"
He nods timidly. You give him a soft smile.
"I recommend a tarot reading," you tell him. "I find the cards to be the most useful medium when one is in search of answers."
"Yeah, that sounds good," he replies. He's still unsure of all this, but at this point he's willing to try anything.
"Perfect," you say as you step out from behind the counter, gesturing toward the back wall, where a deep purple velvet curtain hangs closed over a small opening. "Step through the curtain and make yourself comfortable, I will be right in."
You quickly disappear into the back of the shop. He shuffles over to the wall, hesitantly parting the curtain. Behind it he finds a tiny room, lit only by one low-wattage light bulb overhead and big enough only to fit two armchairs and a small table with a large, ornate piece of fabric draped over it. He takes a seat in the chair nearest the entrance.
A few moments later you emerge through the curtain, carrying a candle, matchbook, and a deck of cards. You take a seat and light the candle.
"This is your first tarot reading," you say as you open the small gilded box of cards and begin to shuffle them.
"Uh, yeah," he answers. "First time."
You make eye contact with him. He still seems nervous, but you also notice recognition in his gaze — he knows you. You still can't place why he looks familiar, but you're positive you must know him from somewhere. But, you don't want to distract him, so you decide you'll inquire after the reading.
"Great! I'll explain how it works: First, you can either start out with a question, or I can do a general reading. Once the cards are shuffled I will draw three cards — these represent the past, present, and future, and their meanings can vary based on the card itself and as well as its orientation. I will give you my insight into what I believe each card means for you, but how you fully interpret the reading is up to you. Make sense?"
"I guess so," he shrugs.
"Perfect, let's begin then. Did you have a specific question you want to explore? The only requirement is that it's not a yes-or-no question."
"Um… not really."
"No problem — I will do a general reading for you."
You shuffle the deck a couple more times, then set it face down right in front of you. You draw the top card and place it face-up on the table before your customer, revealing an ornately-illustrated tower being struck by a lightning bolt.
"This card deals with the past," you explain. "The Upright Tower represents a sudden or tumultuous change, often resulting in great loss or broken pride."
The man lets out a huff of laughter. "Yeah, I'll say."
"This card can seem quite ominous," you continue. "But it doesn't necessarily have to be negative. Change is a part of life — it can be scary, but in order to overcome it we have to embrace it. Sometimes our old ways no longer work for us, and we have to shift our beliefs and habits to help us grow and carry on."
He grimaces slightly. "You're probably right," he admits. "But I still hate it."
You smile. "It certainly isn't always fun. But evolving from our old ways will allow us to live as our genuine selves, and will prepare you for things to come."
"So you're saying I need to get over it," he says bluntly.
"I'm not saying you need to do anything one way or the other," you remind him. "The cards are meant to make you think, and it's up to you to decide what you want to do with their insight."
He nods, but you can tell he is still reluctant.
"Next, we'll take a look at the present."
You draw the next card from the top of the deck, placing it on the table beside the first card.
"The Hermit, Reversed."
His cheeks turn noticeably pink, a look of embarrassment coloring his face, but he doesn't say anything.
"When reversed, The Hermit can indicate that you want to be alone. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but too much seclusion can have negative effects on your wellbeing as well as on others around you. Isolation can cause you to lose perspective on the world, and may trap you in a downward spiral of loneliness and depression."
"Honestly, I think I'm already there," he says glumly.
"And that's okay," you reassure him. "It's a much more common experience than you think. The recommendation here is self-reflection: search within yourself, find the root of your troubles — it may not be as obvious as you'd expect. Don't dismiss human connection, either. It can be hard, but it's essential in the healing process."
He stares at the card, frowning.
"Honestly, I didn't know I was signing myself up to get roasted here," he tells you. You bite your lip, stifling the giggle that wants to escape you.
"There is no judgment here," you assure him gently. "I'm human too. Reading cards for others often helps me learn something about myself as well. You're not alone in your struggles — despite how it may feel in the moment."
He still doesn't look convinced, but he nods somewhat acceptingly.
"So the last card is going to be about my future right?" he asks.
"It's not going to explicitly tell you what's going to happen," you remind him. "But it can be useful when it comes to thinking about decisions you will have to make."
"Okay," he shrugs, letting out a small laugh. "Can't be any worse than the first two…"
You draw the third card, setting it face-up before him.
"Death, Reversed," you read.
"Oh my god I'm going to die," he groans, dropping his forehead into his hand.
"I know how it may sound," you smile. "But it has nothing to do with actual death. It's true that Death holds great power, but it's more so about change and the metaphorical 'death' that comes with letting go of the past. The card is Reversed, which still refers change, transitions, endings — whatever you want to call it; but the reversal indicates that you're afraid of letting go. It may mean that you've been resisting the change out of fear of the unknown, which can actually limit your future — instead of healing, it may lead to negative patterns, causing you to feel stuck."
He thinks, absorbing your words. "You're not wrong," he eventually says with a sigh. "But what am I supposed to do about it? How am I supposed to cope?"
"I can't answer that for you," you reply. "That's a solution you need to come to on your own. But I can tell you that even though it's scary to face the unknown, you have to trust yourself. Life moves on whether we want it to or not, and resisting it will only cause you more pain in the long run. Take things one step at a time — it may be hard to see now, but believing in yourself a little can go a long way."
The poor guy looks like he wants to burst into tears. He stares at the cards for a moment, deep in thought; but he shakes it off, reluctantly making eye contact with you again.
"Is that… the end?" he asks awkwardly.
"That concludes the reading, yes," you nod. "But hopefully you have found something useful to take away here. Remember that your fate is not tied to the cards, but they can be helpful in offering insight and direction if you allow them to."
You snuff the candle and place the cards back into their box, then head back into the main area of the shop, the man trailing behind you slowly. You return to your spot behind the counter; he slowly walks over to you, still eyeing all the strange items around the store. The fact that he looks so familiar is still bothering you. You've been debating bringing it up, but you're not quite sure how to ask — after all, that might be an awkward conversation if he is someone you should know. But, your curiosity is getting the best of you.
"You know, you're the first person who's walked through my doors in a while that isn't a regular customer," you say casually as he approaches the counter. "Are you just passing through town?"
"Actually, uh, I just moved back," he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets, seemingly nervous again all of a sudden.
"Oh! So you're from here," you reply, genuinely surprised.
He chuckles. "I could tell you didn't recognize me. I'm Chan, I was a grade behind you in school."
Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Of course you remember Chan — he was the small, nerdy kid with thick-rimmed glasses who hardly ever spoke, spending all his lunches doing homework alone or trading Pokémon cards with the other nerdy kids. He lived down the street from your best friend, but that's about all you ever knew about him. Rumor had it he was going to Harvard to become an aerospace engineer, but after graduation you never saw or heard from him again.
But that was all years ago. The man standing before you now is unrecognizable from the dorky kid you knew from childhood. You have so many questions, but none of them feel appropriate to ask right this moment.
"Oh my god," you say, trying not to look as shocked as you actually are. "I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn't sure…"
"It's okay," he smiles sheepishly. "I've been getting that a lot. I guess that's what happens when you've been gone for almost eight years. I was actually really surprised to see you in here, I always remember this being your mom's shop when we were in school."
"Yeah, I took over managing the store when she got sick," you tell him. "I wasn't ever planning on doing it long-term, but after she passed it felt like a good way to keep her memory alive."
"Oh," Chan says softly. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Thank you," you say sincerely. "She was sick for a few years, so it didn't come as a surprise. But it still was really hard, especially moving back into the house by myself."
He nods sympathetically. "Not exactly the same, but it is weird to be back in my parents' house all these years later as well. I just never thought I'd find myself back here, not like this anyway."
You figure his recent breakup is the reason for him being here, but you definitely don't want to bring up a sore subject. He is clearly suffering enough as is.
"Life sure knows how to throw a curveball, huh," you say with a slight smile.
"You can say that again."
"Well, thanks for coming in," you say warmly to Chan after he pays for his tarot reading. "Hopefully I was able to help you find some answers."
"Yeah," he nods. "I hope so too."
He is almost to the front door when a thought pops into your mind.
"Wait," you call out. He turns, looking back at you with a confused look on his face. You grab something off the counter and walk over, handing the small object to him. He takes it in his open palm — it's a small bird-shaped pendant, carved out of jade and hanging from a leather string.
"For good luck," you tell him as he stares at the talisman.
"I don't—"
"It's on the house," you smile at him.
Chan looks up at you, his brown eyes locking with yours momentarily.
"Thank you," he replies, looking down at the pendant again before slipping it in his pocket. You can tell he doesn't really believe in good luck charms, but he is genuinely appreciative of the gesture anyway.
The next time you run into Chan, you're in the middle of the bread aisle at the grocery store.
"Can I help you find anything?" a voice calls out from behind you. You turn around to see him, wearing the green Lee's Market and Pharmacy employee vest, restocking six-packs of bagels on the shelves.
"Oh, hi!" you respond suprisedly. "I kinda forgot your parents own the grocery store," you say with a chuckle.
"Yeah," he laughs sheepishly. "They were happy to let me move back home — with the one stipulation that I helped out at the store."
"Hey, nothing wrong with that," you reassure him.
"No, I suppose not," he replies casually, but he still carries the same heavy aura he had when he stepped foot in your shop a couple weeks ago.
"You know, I never knew what happened to you after we graduated," you say to him. "You were one of the few people who actually ever made it out of this town."
He chuckles. "I suppose that's true."
"Everyone thought you were gonna go work at NASA or something."
He cocks his head, a confused expression appearing on his face. "What?" he laughs. "Why did people think that?"
"Because you were always the smartest kid in school."
"You mean I was a nerd," he raises his brow at you.
"That's not what I said!" you protest playfully, but he just smiles.
"It's okay, it's true. I was an absolute dweeb. Definitely not cool enough to work at NASA or anything."
"But you did go to college."
"Yup," he answers. "UChicago. Got my degree in Computer Science."
"Holy shit," you respond bluntly. "That's so impressive."
He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, well, look at me now," he replies, gesturing to the store around him. "Some use of my degree, huh?"
"I'm sure you'll be able to find a new job soon," you console him. "Everyone wants to hire smart computer people these days, or at least so I've heard."
He looks at you, debating whether to elaborate any further. He's already said too much. But, for some reason, talking to you comes easily.
"It's not really finding a job that's the problem," he admits. "I just… needed to get out of Chicago. But my whole life was there, so it feels like I'm completely starting over now."
"I'm sorry," you tell him sincerely. "That's definitely not easy."
"Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this," he shakes his head.
"It's okay — really," you smile softly at him. "Happens all the time. You wouldn't believe some of the things people have told me."
"Is that a psychic thing?"
"That's part of it, I think," you answer. "I've been told I'm a good listener."
"You are," he replies warmly.
The aura of sadness he carries still surrounds him, but it seems a little bit lighter than before. As he leans over, you spot a black leather string around his neck. The pendant is hidden beneath his shirt, but you can immediately tell its the jade bird charm you gave to him.
"Well, I'll let you get back to work, now," you say amicably, trying not to smile too much. "It was nice running into you again!"
Chan smiles back. "You too, y/n."
A few weeks pass without you running into Chan again, but you've thought of him more times in that duration than you'd like to admit. You also don't want to admit that you got butterflies when he suddenly walked into your shop on a random Tuesday afternoon, but alas, you did.
"Hi!" you greet him cheerfully, trying not to smile too much.
"Hi," he grins back at you. "I thought I might run into you here."
"Good intuition. You must be psychic, too."
"Well, I don't know about that," he laughs.
"What brings you in today?" you inquire.
"Actually, I was wondering if you could do another tarot reading for me," he says shyly. "I don't know how often I can do that or anything, but… yeah. If you can."
His earnestness make you giggle.
"There's no limit to tarot readings," you tell him. "You can do it every day, if you want."
"Oh, cool," he smiles. "Then yes, one tarot reading please."
You return to the small reading room with Chan. As you light the candle, it somehow feels more intimate than before. Maybe because you actually know who he is now; but you can feel that you've formed a strong connection with him, completely unintentionally — but you sense that he feels it too.
"Alright," you start once you're all set up. "Do you have specific question today? Or would you just like a general reading again?"
"Just a general reading."
You shuffle the cards thoroughly, placing the deck before you and drawing the top card.
"Strength, Reversed," you read as you set it on the table. "This represents insecurity, self-esteem issues, lack of confidence in your own abilities. You feel like the happiness is being drained from you, and you might even feel depressed. But remember — this first card represents your past. To me, that suggests you might be overcoming this negative period in your life."
"I sure hope you're right," he chuckles halfheartedly. You sense that, for the first time in a very long while, he's feeling cautiously optimistic.
"For the present," you say as you draw the next card, placing it beside the first. "We have Temperance, Upright. This represents balance and moderation — you are able to remain calm even in the face of stress, which indicates you are experiencing a period of inner peace. You have a clear vision of what you want to achieve in the future, so you are able to grow."
"Okay, not bad," he nods, a slight smile poking at the corners of his mouth. "I like the sound of that."
"And for the future…"
You draw the final card, displaying it beside the others. "Death, Upright," you read, making Chan's smile drop.
"Again?!" he exclaims, slumping despondently into his chair.
"Well, the good news is it's upright this time," you tell him. "It still has to do with change, but this indicates the end of an old cycle and the beginning of something new. A metamorphosis in your life, if you will."
"Oh," he says softly, perking back up. "Really?"
You nod. "I didn't need the card to tell me that, though," you say with a grin. "I could already sense it."
Back out in the shop, you try to tell Chan the reading was on the house, but he insists on paying.
"Okay, at least let me give you my friends and family discount, then."
"Are you calling me your friend?" he asks cheekily, but you just nod.
"Yes, I am. If that's alright with you."
"Of course it is," he grins.
An idea pops into your mind. Without a second thought, you blurt it out before he can leave.
"Would you want to come over for dinner sometime?"
"Oh!" he replies, sounding surprised but excited. "Sure!"
"I'm not exactly a Michelin star chef or anything, but I can cook up a decent meal."
He smiles at you. "I would like that a lot."
You haven't had anybody over to the house in years.
You have a few friends around town, sure, but no one you're particularly close to anymore. Normally, this doesn't bother you — you enjoy being by yourself. But, as much as you hate to admit it, you have been feeling a bit lonely lately.
You spend the day tidying up the house, making it look extra welcoming. You even cut some fresh flowers from the garden, placing them in a vase to display on the table. There's a couple more hours before you have to start cooking, so you curl up on the couch with your book to pass the time. Once you finish the book, you're about to go start on dinner, but the deck of tarot cards on your coffee table catches your eye. You haven't actually read for yourself in a while, so you figure why not?
You shuffle the deck and draw your first card — it's the High Priestess, Reversed. You frown slightly. This is telling you that recently, you've been ignoring your intuition, not following your gut as much as you should be. You think again about the loneliness you've been feeling lately, about how you've been wishing to do something about it, but have done nothing.
Your draw the next card, revealing it to be Judgement, Reversed — telling you you are currently in a period of reflection and renewal. You're finding a sense of purpose, and gaining a clearer understanding about where you are and what you want for your future. Which is certainly true — because as much as you'd like to ignore it, you do wish you had someone to be by your side at all times, someone to share your life with on a much more intimate level than any of your current relationships.
The third card you pull is The Lovers, Upright. Because of course it is. The start of a supportive relationship is in your future, bringing you balance, harmony, trust and love.
You put the deck away, heading to the kitchen to begin cooking before it gets too late. But the whole time you're prepping veggies you can't stop thinking about Chan. There has to be a reason he came back into your life right here and now — maybe one you can't see at the moment, but you trust that the universe is on your side here.
Dinner is nearly finished when the doorbell rings. You flutter over to the front door, opening it to reveal your dinner guest, dressed handsomely in nice slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, carrying a fancy-looking bottle of wine. A big smile lights up his face when he sees you, and you can't help but smile too.
"Wow, you look so nice," you say as you invite him in. "I feel underdressed to my own dinner party."
"Nonsense," he shakes his head. "You look lovely."
As you lead him inside to the dinner table he hands the wine over to you.
"I hope this is alright. I wasn't sure what you liked."
You look at the label. It's a Cabernet Sauvignon, five years aged — definitely a little bit fancy.
"No, this is great," you smile. "I actually bought some wine as well, but yours looks much nicer."
"Okay, good," he replies, looking relieved. "I don't know anything about wine, so I kind of just grabbed this off the shelf at the store and hoped it was a good one."
You return to the kitchen and open the bottle, pouring the both of you a generous glass of the dark red wine. Dinner now ready as well, you plate up the food and bring it out to the dining room.
"This looks amazing," he praises as you set the salmon and risotto in front of him.
You chat as you eat, talking about anything and everything. Conversation with Chan seems to come naturally — you don't even usually feel this comfortable talking to people you do know well, but with him you can talk about childhood memories as if you are old friends.
"Do you remember that one summer when everyone was convinced there was a bigfoot in the woods?"
"Oh my god, I do," Chan replies with a laugh. "I never played outside, but even I went out there and tried to find bigfoot."
"Did you ever see him?"
"No, I took three steps into the woods and got scared," he admits. "I ran all the way home. Ran so fast I had an asthma attack, actually."
"Oh no," you gasp, but he shakes his head.
"It's okay, my mom never let me leave the house without my inhaler in my pocket," he grins. "That was one of the few times I ever got into trouble as a kid."
"My mom said there was probably just a crazy old man living out there, and that's what everyone was seeing," you say, sipping at your wine. "But I always liked to think there were magical creatures in the woods. Made life more interesting."
"Do you still think that?" he asks.
"Not exactly," you smile. "But sometimes I like to pretend."
As you finish your glass of wine, Chan offers to pour you another.
"I wasn't planning on having this much wine, honestly," he tells you as he fills both of your glasses. You can tell he's a little bit tipsy — if his giggly state didn't give it away, the tomato-red ears and neck certainly would.
"Me neither," you gush. Your cheeks burn hot, and you know it's not just from the wine.
Meal and drinks long gone, you sit there with Chan for far longer than you anticipated, talking and laughing and enjoying each others' company. Eventually, you both realize how late it's gotten.
"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," Chan tells you reluctantly. You can tell he's being polite, because he doesn't want the night to end either. This is the most fun he's had in a long while — you hate to know that he was in a dark place for so long, but the fact that his aura feels significantly brighter after tonight makes you smile.
You linger together by the front door for a minute, dragging out your goodbyes. He finally turns to leave, reaching for the doorknob, but he pauses. Turning back to you, his dark eyes meet yours, and you notice how little space there is between the two of you.
"You can say no," he says softly, his heart beating a million miles a minute. "But can I kiss you?"
A huge grin spreads across your face. Without a word you step forward, grabbing gently onto his waist as you kiss him on the lips. For a second, he is genuinely stunned, but with your lips on his he quickly wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as you both melt into the kiss. After several sweet moments, your mouths part, you let go, stepping back slightly to meet his gaze again.
"We should do this again sometime," you beam at him. He smiles back, staring at you affectionately.
Summary: When your friends offer up Seungcheol as a solution to your relationship woes, you feel even more pressure to find someone. But when a first date goes poorly, you find yourself relying on him more than you ever wanted to.
This is the prequel to september but should be read after it (and in no particular order with the others).
Pairings: Seungcheol x Reader (Bun), Mingyu x Wonwoo, Jeonghan x Joshua
Word Count: 6.9k
Tags/Warnings: Enemies (to pre-friends/lovers), bickering/arguing, dinners with friends, online dating, first date gone wrong, brief threat of physical/sexual violence (please skip this one if this is triggering!), protective Seungcheol, insecurity and anxiety.
boyfriend!seungcheol x f!reader (honestly this reads like Bun & Cheol to me hahaha)
based on this YT video
genre: fluff
summary: Seungcheol’s confidence in the kitchen takes a blow.
word count: 994
SVT Shorts Series | Masterlist
Thanks to you all so much for the love you've been showing these!
It’s a lazy evening. You’re laying back against the sofa arm, book in hand, feet resting on Seungcheol’s thighs as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. The sun is starting to set just enough that you reach back to turn the lamp on, filling the room with warm light.
As you come out of your comfortable haze, you realize that you’re hungry. Seungcheol must realize the same thing, because he proclaims, “I’m going to cook us dinner.”
You lower your book to give him an uneasy look. “I was thinking I’d just make us something simple tonight.”
But he’s got that determined look on his face that you know you won’t win against. All you can do is go along with it and hope things turn out okay.
“What’s for dinner?” you ask lightly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray your anxiety. Seungcheol doesn’t often cook but when he does, it never turns out quite right. Meat cooked a bit too long, soups a little overseasoned. His heart is in the right place, but he lacks the technique to see his creations through.
You’ve tried to teach him over the years, but he’s stubborn. He’s convinced he has the “chef instinct” and it’s just a matter of unlocking it.
“Sundubu jjigae!” he announces cheerfully. He lifts your ankles before setting them back onto the cushion, and heads into the kitchen.
Sighing, you slip your bookmark between the pages and slide your book under a throw pillow. Overseasoned soft tofu stew it is. At least there’s instant rice. He can’t ruin rice.
That’s not true, you realize. He’s microwaved it almost to burning before. Maybe you should offer to handle the rice.
Seungcheol is already pulling things out of the fridge. You can hear him humming as he painstakingly chops the vegetables. No matter how many times you’ve tried to show him how to properly chop, he always brushes you off and continues doing things his way.
Which is why you can’t bear to go in there and watch what he’s doing. You take your time fluffing the sofa pillows, refolding the blanket that Joshua lovingly crocheted the two of you as an anniversary gift. It’s a bit itchy and sometimes your toes get caught in the gaps, but it’s a sweet gift so you keep it on the sofa anyway.
Seungcheol often remarks that he’s glad Joshua gave up that particular hobby before it got more out of hand; secretly, so are you. Similarly, you wish Seungcheol would give up his desire to cook. Your cookware wishes the same thing.
“Ow!”
Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, you head into the kitchen. There’s a mess of half-chopped vegetables on the counter and a cutting board overflowing with uneven ingredients. Seungcheol is rummaging in the fridge.
“Are you sure this is right?” You hover near the pot, which is close to boiling over.
Seungcheol nudges you out of the way to check. His hair is pushed up on one side where he keeps touching it while he checks his phone. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s supposed to look like that.”
“But is it supposed to smell like that?” you press, fighting the urge to turn down the stove. When Seungcheol insisted on making dinner tonight, you were wary. Now, seeing him in action, you’re downright stressed.
“Seungcheol–”
“Have some faith in me, will you? I read the recipe this time, and I–oh!”
The bubbling pot really has boiled over now; reflexively, he grabs for it before you can stop him, getting hot liquid over his fingers.
His pained whine hurts your heart. Clicking off the stove, you drag him over to the sink and thrust his hand under the cold water. The two of you stand there for a minute, letting the water rush over his reddened fingers.
When you finally shut off the water to check the extent of his injury, he sighs. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I know. I definitely know.”
The burn isn’t too bad. Using a clean towel, you dry off his hand before turning towards the stove. Maybe you can at least salvage dinner.
Except, looking at the remains of the soup, you’re not sure you want to. It doesn’t look edible.
“I give up,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I can’t cook.”
“Darn,” you tease him, hugging him from behind and resting your cheek against his broad back. “No house husband for me.”
“I can do other things,” he protests. “I can clean stuff. Laundry…take out the trash. Stuff like that.”
“Mm. Looks like we’ll just have to split the responsibilities. I can get behind that.”
“What about dinner?”
“Spam egg rice sound good?”
While Seungcheol gingerly cleans up the mess he’s made, you fry off some cubes of spam and scramble some eggs with green onion. Sliding the fluffy eggs over some steaming instant rice, you add a little drizzle of kewpie mayo and some more green onion and sesame seeds for decoration before presenting him with a bowl.
“Nothing fancy, but how’s that for a quick dinner?”
He takes the bowl, looking morose all the while. “Just once I’d like to be the one making you something delicious. I don’t know why I have a kitchen curse.”
“No. Hansol has a kitchen curse,” you correct. “You just don’t listen very well.”
“I try.”
“You don’t. You’re stubborn and ridiculous about it no matter how many times I try to tell you what to do.” Seeing the pout spreading across his handsome face, you pinch his cheek. “And I love you so much anyway.”
He gives you a sulky look that makes your heart fond. “How much?”
“So, so much.”
“How much is so, so much?”
“Enough that I’m willing to put up with you destroying my pans.”
He glances at the stove before ducking his head. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Yes, you will. Now let’s go eat before it gets cold.”
Like legit so Bun & Cheol coded hahahaha, I might include this in a sequel or something.
summary: You try to send Jihoon off to work with a parting gift that he doesn't like--or so he claims.
word count: 959
SVT Shorts Series | Masterlist
You stir as Jihoon’s warm body shifts out of your grasp, leaving cool air behind. He takes a moment to stretch; you take a moment to admire his naked torso, blinking sleep out of your eyes. He looks so good with his lithe form backlit by the early morning sun.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, voice still low.
“Mm…like what?”
“Like you want to bite me.”
Giggling, you snuggle deeper into the pillows. You already did that last night; left a beautiful mark behind, too. He’ll find it soon. You’re looking forward to it.
Yawning, Jihoon heads into the bathroom. Wait for it…
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You stifle another giggle, tugging at the thin straps of your camisole, which have slipped down in the night. You like to sleep with bare arms, mostly so you can enjoy the feel of his skin against yours. It’s grounding.
Jihoon’s angry face appears in the doorway. “What did you do?”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“This!” Pointing at the huge red mark high on his neck, he hisses, “You know, just the giant hickey you left on me!”
Rolling over onto your stomach, you grin. “I did a good job, huh?”
“I can’t go to work like this!”
He absolutely can and that’s the point. You’re sick to death of the Head of Information Security thinking that just because she has a fancy title, she can keep trying to ask your fiance out to dinner. She’s tried making it a date, a team-building exercise, a reward for his hard work. Jihoon is running out of ways to politely refuse her.
So you thought of a more straightforward one.
Striding over to the closet, Jihoon pulls on his work clothes, feeling along his shirt collar. His nerdy little polo falls just underneath the edge of your mark, almost an underline to your explosive statement.
“I think you look sexy.”
“I’m not supposed to look sexy at work.” He tugs his shirt collar up a little more, trying and failing to cover the mark.
“I don’t know,” you tease, kicking your feet back and forth. “I kind of like the idea of the hot IT nerd coming over to help fix my computer problem.”
Jihoon responds with an exhausted glare. “We are not doing roleplay. This is a serious issue.”
Sighing, you push yourself off the bed and head to the bathroom. Rummaging through your makeup bag, you pluck out a tube of concealer. “Come here.”
“Now what are you going to do to me?”
“Hide all my hard work,” you say, showing him the tube. “It’s supposed to match your skin tone when it goes on, though I don’t think it does transparent.”
“Hurry up,” he urges, tugging his collar down for you.
It’s tempting to lean forward and give him another one. Instead, you go about covering it up the best you can. When you’re done, the hickey is practically invisible. His skin looks a bit strange if you stare at it too long, but there’s not much else you can do with so little time.
Jihoon turns to study his neck in the mirror, then nods. “Good enough.”
“So glad you approve,” you retort.
Not bothering to clean up your makeup, you wander out into the living room where your desk is set up facing the window. Dropping down into your chair, you yank your laptop open and type in your password.
Jihoon hovers behind you. “Baby.”
“Bye, go to work.”
“Don’t be like this, please.”
“I’m busy. Working.”
You open your email to make a point, clicking through each one without reading it. Jihoon sighs.
Placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, he finishes getting ready and heads out the door. You continue staring at your computer screen until you hear the door close and lock. Then you slump in your chair.
Whatever. He’s right, he’s the Security Operations Center Lead. He can’t show up to work looking ravished.
It still drives you crazy that his boss gets to spend all day flirting with him while you have to sit here and deal with it. And it’s not that you don’t trust Jihoon, because you absolutely do. His boss doesn’t stand a chance against you.
You just can’t help your desire to make it really, really obvious that he’s yours.
Resolving to be more mature about the situation when he gets home, you head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. It’s only after you’ve dressed, brushed your teeth, and started on your hair that you hear the front door close.
Jihoon should be at work right now. Unless…
Sure enough, he’s standing in the entryway, hurriedly toeing off his shoes.
“Jihoon? Did something happen?”
Your eyes drop to his collar where the edge has been rubbing against his neck. The fabric is stained with concealer and you can see the very bottom of the hickey. Your heart rate jumps.
“You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”
“No. I took a sick day.”
“But–”
“I kept thinking about the mark you left and, well…”
You follow his gaze down to the very obvious bulge in the front of his work slacks.
“Ended up with a bigger problem.”
The grin that splits your face is indecent. “You made such a fuss about it and it secretly made you horny.”
“Not a secret,” he grumbles. “Get over here.”
But you dance just out of his grip. “I think you owe me an apology.”
Jihoon’s eyes flash; his hand darts out, catching you around the waist. With one smooth movement, he pulls you flush against his body. “I think,” he says dangerously, “that I owe you something else. Something to match.”
summary: when you can't sleep, you call minghao for help
word count: 870
Masterlist
Minghao is pulling down the covers when his phone rings. It’s another hotel bed, another set of sheets tucked in so tightly that he has to fight not to tear them as he angles them out. It’s impressive really, the skill it takes to make such neat creases, but he’s tired and right now it’s just a pain.
The show was long. Fun, like always, but he’s running on fumes at this point. The catered food made his stomach ache and after the extra long hot shower, the rest of his body aches, too.
All he wants is a good night’s sleep.
That’s when your name pops up on his phone. It vibrates against the mattress as he stares at it, trying to understand why you’re calling now.
“Love–”
“I’m okay,” you say quickly. “Nothing’s wrong.”
His tension ebbs. “Love, it’s awfully late.”
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep.”
He hums, shifting the phone to his other ear. “Did you try the tea I gave you?”
“Yep. Brewed it exactly how you showed me.”
You sound sincere this time. He knows how much it goes against your instinct to throw out the first cup. Hell, you don’t even use loose leaf tea half the time. You drink your water iced and your tea strong and lukewarm, because you forget about the tea bag. You forget about the tea.
“I tried meditating, too.”
That’s pretty bad then. No matter how often Minghao extolls the health benefits of meditation, you can’t sit still for more than two minutes. The longest you manage to sit still is when he’s meditating and you’re watching him. You claim that admiring him is more relaxing than measured breathing.
Hansol often jokes that Minghao’s dating a heathen. Sometimes, when he witnesses enough of your antics, Minghao agrees.
And yet hearing your voice is like a balm for his exhaustion. He slides into the bed, using his body to loosen up the rest of the bedding. The sheets are too crisp, the mattress too soft. Nothing smells like you.
But with your voice in his ear, he can almost pretend you’re here.
“I miss you.”
“I’m coming home tomorrow,” he reminds you.
“I know. But I miss you now.”
Sometimes when he’s traveling, the two of you will play games. “I miss you” is often code for something else, something more. But there’s no tease in your voice tonight.
It’s been a long tour. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel your body against his, but more than anything he wants you see you smile. Hear your laugh. You got a haircut while he was away and he’s seen photos, but it’s not the same as seeing it in person.
“I miss you, too,” he says, and the yearning in his voice matches yours.
He hears you shifting, imagines you snuggling deeper into bed.
“Tell me about the concert.”
“Soonyoung made a mistake.”
“Really?” Your soft laugh makes him grin. “I love how that’s the first thing you have to say.”
Perhaps a bit childish, but Minghao enjoys remembering the look on his leader’s face when he realized Minghao caught his error. After all, Minghao’s been caught plenty of times now.
“Hansol was flirting with you again,” you prompt.
Minghao sighs. “It’s just the angle of the fancams.”
“Nope. It’s definitely not.”
“You’re really jealous. Of Hansol.”
“Maybe I’m jealous of you.”
“Very funny.”
Reaching over, Minghao clicks off the light. Now it’s only the light from his phone, dim and a bit liminal. Like this, he could be anywhere.
Well, almost anywhere. Not home with you, where he really wants to be. Not yet at least.
“When things quiet down, I’m going to take you to Hangzhou.”
“Mm? Is it pretty there?” you ask sleepily.
“Beautiful. It was raining while we were there so the tea bushes looked extra vibrant.”
Your words are slower now. “Ah, of course you had tea.”
He can’t help but tease you. “Hansol came with me. He didn’t even slurp this time.”
“Good for him.”
“Hangzhou is one of my favorite cities in the world,” he continues. “There’s a famous lake there, too.”
You surprise him by mumbling, “Xi Lake.” When he doesn’t immediately respond, you add, “I listen when you talk, Hao.”
“You do. Do you remember what else I like about it?”
“Tell me again.”
So he tells you about the poets, about the misty, rainy weather he so enjoys, and again about the tea. He forgets how tired he is as he speaks, too busy envisioning taking you to all these places. To show you the things he loves, that would be a gift.
It’s only when he realizes that you haven’t responded in a while that he pauses.
“Love?”
Nothing. If he tries really hard, he can make out the sound of your even breathing, but that’s likely more his imagination than reality.
His thumb hovers over the red bubble; in the end, he sets the phone down on the pillow beside him. Minghao smiles as he settles in to sleep, knowing that you’re already doing the same. Tomorrow he’ll fall asleep with his arms around you; tonight though, you’re at his side.
