you think minghao is already asleep by the time you lay down beside him, body finally relaxed after such a long, hectic day.
your hair is a bit damp from how hot the shower was, but you don't mind - and you know that neither does minghao. in fact, as you make yourself comfortable on the bed, you feel one of his arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you closer to his chest.
"you changed your lotion."
it isn't a question, but it's not a full statement either; it's as if minghao has commented on something in his sleepy state. you even doubt if you have actually heard him, but then he lays his lips on the back of your neck, nostrils breathing in your scent.
you did in fact change your lotion to a new one.
"you like it?", you ask him, a soft smile on your lips.
minghao only hums, telling you he did. you think you hear him mumble something like 'it's good', but right after you hear his soft snores in your ear, and you know he's back in dreamland again.
Xu Minghao x f!reader
content: fluff, established relationship
Synopsis: after years of missed timing, you finally get to travel to china with minghao and spend one of your last nights there walking through the streets of shanghai together.
you’ve never been to china. not once. ever since you and minghao started dating, it’s been on your list. a country he’s always loved, a place he’s always wanted to show you.
every time he went, he’d come back with little things. a box of tea, carefully wrapped. a tiny porcelain cup he said “reminded me of you.” sometimes a scarf or a bookmark with delicate chinese characters. every time, he’d hand it over like it was treasure, his smile soft and proud, saying, “i wanted you to see a little bit of it, even if you can’t come yet.”
you always smiled, sometimes laughed, sometimes quietly let your heart catch at how thoughtful he was. and somehow, work and life and time had kept you away, until now.
you always meant to go. work got in the way. timing never lined up. it stayed a “someday.”
until now.
you finally got the opportunity.
here you are in shanghai, two days left of your vacation together, after traveling to his birthplace and spending days doing everything and nothing at once. walking too much. eating until you were full. laughing at things only the two of you would find funny.
right now, you’re walking beside him through the city, his hand loosely holding yours as he leads you toward the restaurant he chose for tonight’s date.
“you’re quiet,” he says, glancing over at you.
you hum. “just thinking.”
“about what?”
you look around, then back at him. “that you’ve been bringing this place to me for years… and i’m only just seeing it.”
he smiles at that, small and fond. “told you i’d bring you someday.”
“you were patient,” you say. “i wasn’t.”
you smile, heart feeling a little too full. before you can say anything else, he leans in, not rushed, just a soft kiss, brief but warm.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours.
“worth the wait?” he asks quietly.
you nod, still smiling. “more than anything”
his thumb brushes your knuckles, and only then does he tug you gently toward the door.
★ | member — husband!minghao x wife!reader
★ | genre — romance, smut, fluff, newlyweds au
★ | word count — 3k
★ | synopsis — the only thing on minghao's mind tonight is you.
★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, a lot of making out, wayyy too eager & desperate minghao, hints of a marriage kink, disgusting sappy feelings, emotionally prepare yourself bc they're Making Love™
★ | notes — requested by anon — this ask is from over 2 years ago i am SO sorry anon but if you're still here please lmk if you see this :) if you liked this style of writing, please reblog and tell me your thoughts in the tags!! reblogs are what makes tumblr work, and they show me that this is something you want to read more of <3
minghao isn’t usually the clingy one in your relationship, but he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of you all day.
he’s never been the type to publicly show off his affection, always preferring whispered words and touches in private. those are the things that mean the most to him, you always thought. but as soon as you heard the words “you may now kiss the bride” at the altar he was suddenly pulling you in and kissing you harder than ever before, the warmth of his lips melting into yours. in that moment everything else melted away, too; the dying sunlight, the rustle of the wind in the palm trees, the clapping and cheering of your friends and family behind you.
even after you’d changed out of your long white gown into a shorter, more comfortable party dress for the reception, his hand had stayed on your thigh the entire time. food was served, guests came to greet you at your table, and all the while there was his warmth on your skin, only letting go so you could make your way to the dance floor. persistent, offering the reassurance you need that he'll always be by your side. although tonight, you're not sure if you're the one who needs it most, or if it's him.
and then your first dance. his hands were just a little too tight on your waist, his lips lingering just a little too long against your cheek as he held you close.
“baby, what’s gotten into you?” you giggle breathlessly as he pushes you against the wall of your honeymoon suite, not-so-quietly slamming the door shut with his foot.
“you,” he breathes, and you’re surprised at the way his voice comes out deep and raspy. “you… are so fucking beautiful. and now you’re my wife.” he gives you a glance up and down, a look you're used to by now, but this time it seems so much more special than usual. maybe it's the way his eyes pause on your hand, the glittering new ring that shines there. maybe it's the reverent way he watches you begin to undress for him, slipping the straps off your shoulders one by one, trying so hard to contain himself and not ruin this moment. it's been an exhausting few months, and it's a relief now that everything is finally over. “ … my wife.”
no. that's not right, it suddenly hits him. everything's not over. it's only just beginning.
with that realization he snaps into action. his hands are everywhere, holding your sides and sliding down to your ass, then sliding back up to your shoulder blades. he holds you tight then loosens his grip, as if his brain is short circuiting at the fact that you're finally completely alone for the rest of the night, a night that's been so eagerly-awaited for song that he's almost hesitant in fear of messing it up. but he can't hesitate, not now. not when he's finally got you.
in all the years you've known him you don't think he's ever kissed you this passionately, this intensely, this hungrily. you've barely walked through the goddamn door and he's acting like it's the last night he'll ever get to see you. but really, it's the first of many.
you wrap your arms around him and try to keep up, hugging him as tight as you can and chasing his lips. you're fighting your hardest to keep your knees from buckling, and even with your back pressed against the wall for support it's not enough to extinguish the fire that's alight inside your chest. minghao kisses you like he's trying to steal the air from your lungs while simultaneously breathing life into you, like he needs to remind every cell and molecule in your body of how much he loves you.
he pulls away only once he feels himself start to go lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, or maybe he's just lightheaded in general because you're finally, officially his. but even that short break doesn't last long, allowing himself only a few precious seconds to breathe before he reattaches his lips on your jaw and starts kissing down your neck.
your eyelashes flutter as he moves down, his breath tickling your throat as he presses his face into your skin while he lets out heavy breaths through his nose. there's that warmth again; the heat of his eagerness, every hot exhale filled with life that he breathes only for you.
he pushes his nose into the corner of your neck and shoulder, inhaling the memories of the day. the fading scent of your perfume fills his nose as he kisses against your collarbone, reminding him of everything that led him to this moment.
he tries to imagine how you looked getting ready in the morning, a past that already seems lifetimes away. he pictures you slipping on your dress while friends and stylists crowd around you, talking and giggling as they fix your hair and your makeup to make you look as perfect as possible — though to him, you already are. he wishes he could’ve seen that moment, had it not been for stupid tradition. he's usually a fan of traditions, but not this one. every second he spends away from you is agony, but it's worth it a million times over for what he gets to experience right now, the excitement, the anticipation, and now, the payoff.
he vaguely remembers the cake, the dancing, the music, the applause, the toasts. all of it is still a blur, a rush of emotions he hasn't quite had time to sit with yet. maybe tomorrow, or in a few days, or even a few years, it'll sink in. maybe he's stuck in the honeymoon phase and this, too, will fade over time. but somehow he knows it won't.
what he remembers as clear as day are the vows he said to you at the altar, and every single word is something he'll never forget as long as he lives. he remembers vividly the way you walked towards him, almost in slow motion, gliding down the aisle straight out of a dream. he didn't think he'd cry; he's never one to get emotional in front of people, and you've rehearsed this day together more than a few times. but then suddenly there you were standing in front of him, holding his hands and looking up into his eyes, and he had to fight to keep himself from getting choked up at the sight of you, the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
he kisses your neck again and moans, out loud and unabashed, like he's been holding it in all day. in all honesty, he has. he isn't the type to be jealous, either, but he would be lying if he said letting you go to dance with other people after the ceremony wasn't one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. he never wants to leave your side, never again.
minghao knows he isn't normally a desperate man. but tonight it's like he's become a brand new man; a man who needs you so badly, more than he's ever needed anything before in his life. he needs to touch you, kiss you, hold you, please you, do everything that he possibly can with you, for you.
“h-hao?”
you let out a breathy gasp of his name and it finally gets his attention. his eyes find yours in an instant, silently pleading with you to tell him what you want. he needs to give you whatever you want.
“we can— do you… baby, there's a bed,” you finally settle on, trying to straighten out all the words that are jumbled in your head as you motion across the room. he's still got you caged against the wall, barely a step away from the door.
that finally seems to snap him out of his daze, and the familiar understanding you're used to seeing flashes across his eyes. so caught up in his eagerness he almost forgot the most important thing: that you're here too, with your own needs and wants, and you're probably feeling exactly the same things he's feeling. he's got to remind himself that this is as much of a new thing for you as it is for him, too.
so he nods, kissing you again and forcing himself to slow down. there's no rush, no need to do everything all at once immediately. he has all night with you, and several other nights with you after tonight, and then after that, the whole rest of your lives. for a few fleeting days he gets to be here with you: no interruptions, no commitments, and no responsibilities. just you and him. he wants every second of your time, and he wants to give you every second of his.
he sweeps you up into his arms and whisks you around before laying you gently on the bed behind him, his cheeks rosy and his smile soft. and for the second time today, the whole world melts away, leaving just you. just you, and him.
his hands hold your hips tightly as he drags his lips across your stomach, pressing kisses all over your body. he lifts his eyes to meet yours as he kneels between your legs, and his long fingers dig into your sides when you whimpers softly for him. he could truly spend hours here, coaxing moans from your beautiful lips and working you up into a perfect state of bliss.
and that's exactly what he does. he fills you with air and then leaves you breathless, cleansing waves washing over you again and again until you forget what it was ever like to be with him before this. it's different but not noticeably so; it's a familiar feeling lingering in the back of your mind, but the memories are so much brighter now, as if the colors have been restored and remastered like an old, well-loved movie. everything comes easier now, a routine you'll never get bored of, and the feeling of fitting together is more natural than anything you've ever felt in your entire life.
long after your bodies have become a sweaty mess and half the sheets are on the floor, he slips away from the bed to tug on a pair of boxers from his suitcase, bringing your swim cover-up back with him for you to wear like a robe. all you have the energy to do is shrug it onto your shoulders, the fabric twisted and folded and barely covering anything, but you can't find it in you to care.
the night is so warm and you're so comfortable, lying practically naked curled up against minghao's body. you let out a long, deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs in a calming rhythm. in, out, in, out. he moves to sit up a little, adjusting his position against the mountain of pillows on the bed, but you catch him with a hand on his thigh and he pauses, his attention returning to you in the blink of an eye.
“stay with me, will you?” you hum out softly, letting your thumb rub languidly along the hem of his shorts as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
“wouldn't wanna be anywhere else, my love.”
you open your eyes a while later, and you're only a little surprised to see that minghao is still awake. as promised he didn't leave your side, still sitting up in bed with your head resting on his lap. his gaze is fixed on the open back door, quietly watching the waves crashing on the shore. you’re not sure how long you’ve been napping, but however long it's been he doesn’t seem to mind.
you pull yourself up onto your elbows and his head instantly swivels to look down at your motion. your muscles ache, but it's a satisfying sort of soreness, one that you don't mind if it lingers for a little while. you manage to sit up all the way, leaning your head against his bicep, and he adjusts ever so slightly to make it more comfortable for you.
“wanna go for a walk?” you finally break the silence, your thumb gently brushing against his arm. if it were any other day than today, he would've teased you and questioned if you even had the ability to walk anymore, but both of you can tell this isn't the moment for that. not after everything you did, everything you said, everything you shared.
he doesn't reply, only nods and carefully slips off the bed, holding out his hand to help you after him. it's impossible to miss the way he squeezes your hand so gently, lacing your fingers together and leading you out the back door.
the ocean comes right up to the backyard of the house, so you decide to forego shoes and walk straight out into the sand. the town is quiet at night, and for a view this beautiful and private you know it must've cost minghao a fortune. but he refused to tell you the price, insisting that since you planned the wedding he was in charge of the honeymoon, his gift to you. to him, you’re worth more than anything money could buy, but that doesn’t mean he won’t spend all of his on you.
there's a log a little ways from the shore, close enough to see the glint of the moonlight on the water but far enough to avoid the waves. it's an old piece of driftwood filed smooth by the wind and weather, soft enough to sit on without splintering, and it crosses your mind to wonder how many couples this log has seen throughout the years, in the same position as you. how many people have come to this beach, sat in this spot under the dim light of the moon, filled with so much love and joy and hope for the future.
you sit down and gently tug on his hand, still entwined with yours, to pull him down beside you. there's no way of telling what time it is, but it's clearly late. you didn't leave the reception until everyone was too tired to party any longer, and then the hour's drive up the coast, plus however long you slept for. it's probably some early hour of the morning, but time is nothing more than a fleeting thought in the back of your mind at this point. time doesn't feel real here; counting the hours would be a waste of precious seconds you could spend on him instead.
“i don't want this night to end,” minghao says softly, as if he's reading your thoughts. he's staring off at the water again, mesmerized by the foamy waves rushing up the sand and the reflection of the moon that makes the surface of it almost seem to glow.
it's odd, to see him so vulnerable like this. it's unlike him, but that's exactly how you know it means so much to him. if he didn't care so much, he wouldn't have held you the way he did, kissing you and worshipping you like you're the only thing he's ever known. he wouldn't be acting so unusual if you didn't turn his world completely upside down every time you kissed him back. if you meant less to him then maybe he'd be able to collect himself the way he always does, a calm demeanor and a knowing smile assuaging your own nerves. but he can't. not today.
you can tell that it's finally starting to sink in for him now. how different things are, and yet they're still exactly the same. the rings and the expensive clothes and the fancy venue are just for show. a distraction, almost, from the real reason why you're here with him right now. at the end of the day he would still be fine without all that, but you? you're the one thing he never wants to be without. and now, he's realizing, he never has to be.
if you didn't know him so well, you'd think he was melancholy or even insecure, but as the silence stretches on you can tell what he really means. you know his words aren't regretful of a night ended, they're in anticipation of the day that's about to begin. many, many more days and nights he'll get to share with you. perhaps not as intense or special as tonight, but still filled with just as much passion and love.
“it will end, eventually. soon.” you say. it's still night but by now the moon is just barely hovering over the horizon, waiting patiently to take its reprieve and let the dawn break forth into morning instead. he knows it's a fact, there's no use trying to pretend otherwise. but that doesn't make it a bad thing. it just makes it a fact. your voice is soft, clear as the night sky. “you and i aren't going to, though.”
he finally looks over to meet your gaze, and even in near-darkness you can read his expression.
he's quiet for a long moment, just sitting and watching. watching the wind blowing through your hair, watching the moonlight illuminating your face, watching the sand sticking to your legs as you pull your knees up to your chest.
“i love you,” he says, so quietly that it almost gets swallowed up by the crashing sounds of the waves.
but you hear him, and you can tell he means it so sincerely. maybe even more sincerely than when he whispered it earlier to you as he was putting the ring on your finger, because this moment is private. in the stillness of the night, in the seclusion of the beach, where it's for you and only you. not to say that all the times he said it in front of your friends and family and guests weren't sincere, but this time is personal; a moment that no one else gets to witness but you. and that's exactly how you want it.
you sigh. it's another soft sound, barely audible over the wind, but you know he hears you, too. he always hears you, and you always hear him.
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!
genre: best friends to lovers · humor · fake texts · witty banter themes: casual chaos, sharp wit, playful teasing, reluctant affection, unexpected sweetness, love disguised as sarcasm. cw: suggestive tone
ps: there’s a little something under the cut. make sure to check it out so you don’t miss the story’s context lol
from kai: hi friends 🫶 just a quick note: i've been super low energy these days bc a toothache decided to turn into a whole dental abscess (love that for me). i've got quite a few things ready to post (fics, requests, all of it) but i haven't had the headspace to revise anything or answer comments properly :(
so instead of leaving things too quiet im dropping this smau for now 💌 hope it keeps you company while i rest a bit. i'll be back soon (hopefully not with another plot twist from my teeth)
you weren’t exactly expecting minghao to suggest the aquarium for a date. it wasn’t like him to pick something like that or at least that’s what you thought until he hit you with the classic “i want good lighting for the inevitable photos where you pretend you’re not staring at me.” you almost rolled your eyes, but okay, that was fair.
he met you outside the building, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair still damp from the rain. he was smiling before you even reached him. one of those lazy, sideways smiles that looked like he knew something you didn’t. he didn’t say anything at first. just looked you up and down and nodded like okay. cool. she showed up. you rolled your eyes. he laughed.
inside, the light turned everything blue. it reflected off the glass tanks and rippled across his face when he leaned in to read the little signs, pretending to be more interested in the fish than he actually was.
"you think they’re on a date too?" he said at one point, pointing to two jellyfish drifting suspiciously close to each other. "you think they’re in a situationship" you corrected. "true..." he nodded, dead serious. "classic avoidant behavior."
you didn’t know what was weirder: the fact that minghao had picked the most romantic possible location and still managed to make it sarcastic or the way he kept hovering close. his shoulder brushing yours. the warmth of his arm when he let you loop your hand through it without a word. he never did that before, not like this. not without an offhand "ugh, you’re clingy" to deflect the fact that he was always the one standing too close.
but today, he didn’t pull away. he didn’t even try to be funny about it.
you caught him looking at you once, near the tank with the sea otters. you were squatting down to get a better view, probably saying something dumb like “why do they hold hands, that’s so cute”, and when you turned to look at him, he didn’t even flinch. just kept looking, like this was something he’d been doing for a while and only now got caught.
he smiled. not the usual teasing one. a quieter one. a little softer.
“what?” you asked.
he shrugged. “nothing. you just look really into this otter romance.”
you didn’t have a comeback for that, so you stood up and walked away, heart doing things it definitely should not be doing on a date that may or may not have been real.
you ended up in the gift shop because of course you did. and of course he bought you a stupid plush keychain of a stingray that he claimed “looks like your resting face.” you told him he was annoying and he just said “i know” and paid anyway.
the sun was going down when you left. the sky was pink and the pavement still wet and you didn’t even notice that you were still holding onto his arm until he stopped walking.
“you know this means we’re dating now, right?” he said casually.
you blinked at him. “what?”
“this. today. me choosing the most coupley location possible. buying you a gift. not roasting you the entire time, even though you wore socks with holes in them...”
you smacked his arm. “you weren’t supposed to notice that.”
he laughed. “i notice everything. i’ve been screening all your crushes for years, you just never asked.”
you stared at him. he stared back. no smile now, just something very real in his eyes.
“look” he said, voice dropping just enough. “i meant what i said. i’m the best option. and i like you. so unless you’re planning on fighting me about it…”
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to. your fingers found his, and he squeezed your hand like he’d been waiting for that confirmation all day.
“yeah” he said. “thought so.”
he walked you home after that. didn’t even let go.
— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week.
— WC: 3k
— WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.
look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.
but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:
“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”
[...]
so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.
you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”
minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”
traitor.
“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.
he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.
“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”
“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”
he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”
and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.
but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.
you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.
“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”
your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”
“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.
“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.
he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
you don’t answer.
[...]
the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.
fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.
no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.
by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.
and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.
minghao’s sharp eyes.
you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.
you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.
[...]
minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.
he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.
you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.
and then, plot twist of the year:
your name came up five times.
designer of the year: you.
new vision in fashion: you.
collection of the year: your brand.
runway innovation: your brand.
showstopper of the year: your brand.
walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.
but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.
and lucky for you, fate delivered.
you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.
“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.
“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.
his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.
“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.
“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”
and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.
[...]
days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.
when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”
“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”
he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”
you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”
his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”
“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.
he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”
you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”
“maybe that’s why we should work together.”
you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”
he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”
for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”
“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”
“you’re intolerable.”
“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”
your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”
“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”
you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.
“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”
his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.
your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”
“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.
your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.
his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”
“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.
he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.
“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”
“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”
“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”
your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”
he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”
you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.
minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.
he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”
“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”
his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.
his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.
he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.
“hao..” you warned.
“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.
your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”
he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.
“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”
“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.
and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.
his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.
“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”
his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.
“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”
he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”
your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.
“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”
he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.
the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.
your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.
he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.
“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.
you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”
his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”
your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”
his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.
his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.
“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.
you swallowed hard.
“relax... mhmm”
he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.
“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.
“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.
“trying”
he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”
you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.
“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”
you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.
your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.
“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”
you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”
he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”
your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”
minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.
he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”
“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”
his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”
“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.
“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.
“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.
“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”
you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.
your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.
“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”
“maybe i am.”
he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”
“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”
“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”
you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.
“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”
your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.
“you okay?”
you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”
he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”
your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”
“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”
“i can,”
“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.
“hao, just—fuck me already.”
his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”
“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.
“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.
“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”
Preview: The mission is simple— convince your first child.
Myungho was nestled into the couch, cradling a warm cup of tea between his palms, enjoying the rare stillness of the house. Usually, the walls echoed with the powerful, off-key voice of his superstar daughter, Hua, belting out her favorite movie soundtracks at full volume. But today, the quiet felt almost foreign—Hua had an extra school activity, leaving the weekend unusually peaceful.
He took a slow sip, letting the warmth coat his throat, when a sudden noise broke through the silence. A sharp clatter. Muffled movement. It came from the bedroom. His brows furrowed. He tilted his head, listening closely, already rising to his feet before placing the cup on the coffee table.
The sounds led him to the bathroom, where the door was half-closed. He pushed it open just as a wave of nausea hit you. You were hunched over the toilet, trembling, trying to steady yourself as your body refused to cooperate.
“Hey, hey—I'm here,” Myungho said gently, rushing to your side.
He dropped to his knees without hesitation, one hand gathering your hair out of your face while the other rubbed soothing circles on your back. His voice was calm, but the crease in his forehead showed his worry. He whispered soft encouragements, letting you lean on him as your body slowly relaxed.
When you finally finished, he pulled you close, letting you rest against his chest as you caught your breath.
“Is it the morning sickness?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your damp forehead.
You nodded weakly, too tired to speak, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to guide you back to the bed.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you lying down,” he murmured.
Once you were settled under the covers, he tucked them around you with care and kissed your temple.
“Rest. I’ll go make your tea,” he said, standing up and casting one last glance at you before heading back to the kitchen, already thinking of which herbs would soothe your stomach best.
A few minutes later, Myungho returned from the kitchen, careful not to spill the tea as he walked with a gentle urgency in his steps. The comforting scent of chamomile and ginger drifted through the air. He set the cup down on the bedside table, then leaned in to help you sit up, one arm behind your back, the other steadying your legs.
“Slowly,” he murmured, guiding you into a comfortable position against the pillows. Once you were upright, he handed you the warm cup, wrapping your fingers around it with his own for a brief second, letting the warmth seep into your skin.
You took a small sip, the herbal blend easing the lingering queasiness in your stomach. Myungho sat at the edge of the bed, watching your expression soften as the warmth did its work.
“Thank you,” you whispered, glancing at him with a grateful smile.
He brushed your hair back behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek. “Always.”
Your eyes drifted toward the window, where the sun had begun to tilt westward. A small frown tugged at your lips. “Hua’s school will finish soon…”
Before the concern could fully settle in your voice, Myungho was already shaking his head. “I’ll pick her up,” he said quickly, standing up and grabbing his keys from the nightstand. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You rest, love. I’ve got it.”
You watched him for a moment, your chest blooming with affection. Even with his calm demeanor, you could see how much he cared—how every small gesture, every soft word, was filled with love.
“Tell her I missed her,” you murmured as you settled back into the pillows.
Myungho turned at the door, smiling. “She’ll tell you all about her day the moment she walks in, don’t worry.”
And just like that, he was gone—off to pick up your little star while you let your body rest, comforted by the taste of warm tea and the echo of his gentle presence.
You were deep in sleep, cocooned in warmth, when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway—small, fast, and full of urgency. Before your mind could piece together what was happening, the bedroom door flew open.
“Eomma!”
Hua’s voice rang out, sharp with worry, and your eyes fluttered open just in time to see her burst into the room, her school bag bouncing behind her and her brows furrowed in concern.
“Hey, eomma is resting,” came Myungho’s gentle warning from behind her, but Hua was already halfway across the room.
With determined little legs, she climbed onto the bed, shoes still on, and reached for you with all the panic of a six-year-old who hadn’t seen her mother in a few hours.
You smiled sleepily, stretching your hand toward her. “Hi baby, you’re home.”
“I was worried because eomma didn’t come to pick me! And appa said you’re sick. Eomma sick?” Her voice trembled slightly, the corners of her mouth turning down as she looked at you with wide, teary eyes.
Before you could answer, Myungho appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “No outside clothes on my bed, Hua.”
She turned to him with a dramatic pout. “But I’m worried for eomma,” she protested, clinging to you for emphasis.
Myungho chuckled, already walking over. “I know, baby, I know. Let’s go get changed first, okay?” He scooped her up effortlessly, her arms wrapping around his neck as he carried her out of the room toward hers, mumbling something about “quick change” and “five-minute rule for hugs.”
You shook your head fondly, chuckling softly to yourself as you pushed the covers back. The house now buzzed with life again. You padded out to the kitchen, determined to prepare a little snack for your girl, already knowing she’d come trailing behind soon.
By the time you opened the biscuit tin and laid out slices of cheese, Hua had already climbed onto the stool beside the counter, her feet swinging as she began her animated recap of the school day.
“And then, during art class,” she said, grabbing a biscuit, “my friend dropped her glue stick into the paint bucket! It turned all purple and sticky. Everyone laughed except Teacher Kim.”
You nodded, half-listening as you arranged the snack on a small plate. Myungho joined you, settling beside her and gently holding the stool steady with one hand. His other rested lightly on Hua’s back, an instinctive gesture to keep her safe as she leaned and shifted with the excitement of her storytelling.
She didn’t seem to notice—too immersed in her own tale.
“And…” she paused dramatically, eyes wide, “her tomato sauce exploded! Phew! I was relieved mine was fine.”
You laughed, covering your mouth. “That sounds like a close call.”
With a triumphant little huff, she wrapped her arms around her appa’s neck and giggled. “It went everywhere! On her bag, her skirt… even her hair!”
Myungho shook his head, smiling, as he lifted her from the stool and carried her to the couch. You followed, holding the plate of biscuits and cheese, and sat beside them just as Hua plopped herself right between the two of you, like she always did.
She leaned into you, biscuit in hand, crumbs already decorating her lap. “But now I’m home. And eomma is okay,” she whispered like it was a secret meant only for the three of you.
Myungho draped his arm behind the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder. “Eomma’s more than okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Especially with you around.”
You looked down at Hua, her cheeks full, eyes still shining with leftover worry and storytelling spark, and smiled.
As the warm afternoon light filtered through the curtains, you sat on the couch with Hua nestled between you and Myungho, her small hands sticky with biscuit crumbs and her face glowing with energy. You glanced at her, then at Myungho, and felt the subtle tension rise in your chest again—one you'd both been carrying quietly these past few weeks.
You leaned in slightly, mimicking her curious expression. “Do you remember what we talked about a few days ago?” you asked softly, tilting your head playfully.
She looked up from her snack, eyes narrowing as she tried to recall. “About what?”
“About when you were still in eomma’s belly,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Recognition sparked in her eyes and she nodded enthusiastically. “You said I’m an angel, right?”
Before you could respond, Myungho chuckled beside her and pinched her cheek gently. “You are!” he said with a grin, voice warm and full of affection.
“You were an angel in my belly,” you added, voice tender, “and you are now too.”
Hua giggled, her tiny shoulders rising with the sound, clearly pleased with the idea. “Angel~” she echoed, like she was tasting the word.
You and Myungho exchanged a brief look over her head—fond, nervous, understanding. The conversation you'd had just the other night played quietly in both your minds.
“I don’t think she’ll immediately like the idea of having a sibling,” you had said while curled under the covers, hand resting on your belly, where the new life had just begun to take root.
Myungho reached over, fingers lacing with yours. “We’ll talk it out with her, slowly... little by little. She’ll understand.”
“She’s been so firm about it, though,” you murmured. “Every time your friends bring up siblings, she says, ‘No! I like being the only child!’ Like it’s her royal title.”
He had laughed softly, though his gaze remained thoughtful. “She’s just used to us being hers. All of us. She doesn’t know what it means to share that yet.”
You nodded. “It’s new for all of us.”
He gently kissed your knuckles. “We won’t rush her. And we won’t ruin this. It’s our first time again... just in a different way.”
Now, back on the couch, watching Hua lick cheese off her fingertips, the thought returned—how fragile this moment felt. How precious.
Maybe you didn’t need to tell her everything yet. Maybe it started with small seeds. Like stories. Like the memory of her in your belly. Like the soft word “angel.”
You reached over and smoothed her hair gently. “Do you think, maybe, angels can come more than once?” you asked her carefully.
Hua looked up at you, eyes wide with curiosity. “Like... more angels in your belly?”
You smiled. “Maybe. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?”
She was quiet for a moment, chewing over the idea—not rejecting it, not accepting it either. Just holding it.
“Like… a sister?” Hua asked, tilting her head, her voice laced with both wonder and suspicion.
Myungho leaned back, his hand gently rubbing her back. “Yes, like a sister,” he said softly, his tone careful, patient.
Almost immediately, her face shifted. Her brows dipped, lips puckered into a pout, and her eyes dropped to her lap. “But… I like being your only child…”
There it was—that truth she never hesitated to share whenever the topic came up. You felt a soft ache in your chest as you watched her struggle with the idea, her little fingers picking at the hem of her dress while her thoughts swirled in silence.
You reached out and cupped her cheek gently, coaxing her to look at you. “And you always will be. Our first. Our angel,” you said, your voice low, reassuring. “No one can ever take that place.”
“But… if I have to share…” she mumbled, looking back and forth between you and Myungho, “will you love me less?”
The question nearly unraveled you.
Myungho immediately shifted closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest. “Hey, no,” he said, almost firmly. “Never, Hua. Appa’s heart isn’t a slice of cake you have to divide. It grows. More love fits in it, not less.”
You leaned in too, resting your forehead against hers. “There’s no one like you. You made us a family, baby. Nothing will ever change that.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, nestled between the two of you, absorbing your warmth and words. Then, with a tiny sigh, she whispered, “But what if the baby cries a lot?”
Myungho laughed, relief slipping into his tone. “That’s what babies do. But that’s why we’ll need your help. You’ll be the big sister—strong, smart, and already the best part of this family.”
She pulled back a little, considering the title. “Big sister…”
You could almost see the thought blooming in her mind—equal parts curiosity and caution.
“I don’t know if I’ll like it yet,” she admitted quietly.
“And that’s okay,” you said, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “You can take your time.”
She nodded slowly, then leaned into you again. “Can I still sleep between you and appa sometimes?”
“Always,” Myungho and you answered in perfect unison.
That night, the soft glow of the nightlight cast a gentle warmth over Hua’s room as Myungho sat beside her, the children’s storybook still open in his hand. After two bedtime stories and a long yawn from her, she was beginning to drift, her lashes growing heavier with every breath.
Just as he began to rise, her small voice broke through the quiet.
“Appa,” she murmured, half-lidded eyes still fixed on the ceiling, “I don’t want a little sister or brother.”
Myungho paused and looked down at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I know.”
“I don’t want to share you.”
A soft sigh escaped him. “You have a lot of worries, Hua,” he teased gently, smoothing the blanket over her chest. She huffed, turning her face slightly to the side in protest.
He sat back down, his fingers brushing through her silky hair as she curled beneath the covers.
“You know,” he began quietly, “it was just me and your mom before you were here.”
Her eyes fluttered open slightly, glancing up at him. He continued, his voice low and steady.
“We had a lot of love to share. A lot… And that’s why we had you. Because we wanted to give that love to someone—someone who would make us even happier.”
He looked into her eyes, waiting.
“Are you happy, Hua?”
She nodded slowly, her little face softening.
Myungho smiled and leaned down to kiss her temple. “That’s because you have a lot of love too. And when you give some of that love to your little sister or brother, you’ll feel even happier. Just like eomma and appa.”
There was a stretch of silence. The kind that feels like thought blooming in the dark.
Then she whispered, “I’ll think about it.”
A quiet smile rose on Myungho’s lips as she turned onto her side, finally saying, “Good night, appa.”
“Good night, my angel,” he said, standing and tucking the blanket around her one last time before tiptoeing out.
As he stepped into the hallway and gently closed her door, his eyes lifted—and found you in the TV room, folding freshly washed clothes on the couch. The soft flicker of the muted television danced across your face, but the way you looked at him said you’d been listening.
He walked over, sat beside you, and leaned his head on your shoulder with a long, quiet exhale. “She said she’ll think about it.”
You smiled softly, your fingers still folding a tiny pink shirt. “That’s more than I hoped for.”
He nodded. “She’ll come around… just like we are. One step at a time.”
And as you leaned into him, folding together not just clothes but the shifting shape of your family, the night around you felt full—not with noise, but with love unfolding slowly in the quiet.
*
“I have a condition.”
The words came out of nowhere, slicing through the calm of the morning as you, Myungho, and Hua sat around the breakfast table. You were just about to take a sip of your tea when you paused, eyes narrowing playfully at your daughter’s serious tone.
Myungho raised a brow, exchanging a glance with you across the table, trying to decipher what kind of dramatic clause a six-year-old could possibly have now.
“A condition for what?” he asked carefully.
Hua paused mid-chew, then placed her spoon down with the kind of gravity only a child trying to negotiate something big would have. “If I have to have a brother or sister…”
You and Myungho leaned in slightly, curiosity piqued.
“I want a treehouse.”
There it was. A solid, absolutely adorable demand—complete with a little pout and furrowed brow for emphasis.
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. Myungho chuckled too, shaking his head as he leaned on the table.
“That’s pretty fancy, Hua. We live in an apartment building,” you reminded gently, your voice warm.
“But I need a treehouse to play with them!” she insisted, eyes wide, as if it were the most logical arrangement in the world. “We can’t just play on the floor. It has to be a treehouse. A secret one.”
Your heart softened immediately—not just at her determination, but at the intention behind it. The way she said them, like she was already preparing to make space for someone else in her world.
Myungho, clearly moved by it too, looked at her with a proud smile. “A treehouse means we’d need to move to a house, right?”
Hua nodded frantically, her whole body bobbing with it.
You turned to him, eyes slightly wide. “That’d be too much,” you mumbled, your hand instinctively reaching for his under the table.
He took it, laced his fingers through yours, and gave you that signature reassuring look of his—though to you, it felt more like trouble is coming than actual comfort.
“Then we move,” he said simply.
Your eyes widened. “What?”
Hua gasped, bouncing in her seat. “Really?! I’ll have a sibling and a treehouse?!”
You turned to him again, mouthing, Really?
Myungho smiled, completely unbothered by the mild chaos he just ignited. “Yes.”
He leaned in and kissed your temple gently, still holding your hand, while Hua was already listing what she'd need in her future treehouse: “A window, and pillows, and snacks… and a telescope!”
You sighed, not sure if you were more overwhelmed by the idea of moving or the fact that your little girl just accepted the arrival of a sibling in exchange for a make-believe wooden tower.
But as you watched her chatter with newfound excitement—planning a space not just for herself, but for someone else—you couldn’t help but smile too.
Maybe her heart was already growing, just like yours had.
SYNOPSIS. in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop.
PAIRING. florist!xu minghao x gn!reader
GENRE. fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers
WARNINGS. hao basically falls in love at first sight HAHA, mild cursing, implied that yn lost someone close to them, a lot of yearning n pining, kissing
WORD COUNT. 8.3k
notes: wheeboo is NOT in their short-ish fic era anymore and is in their long-ish fic era rn 😭 anyway,, i didnt have a title for the fic until hao posted his song on his birthday so... I hope u all enjoy?? this might be one of my faves haha
Minghao likes these kinds of days.
Thin, irregular shapes of cotton drift lazily across the endless blue embrace of the skies. The afternoon sun carries warmth in its hands that he could feel right through the glass windows of his flower shop. It's almost as if the season of summer itself is breathing through his shop, softly encouraging his little garden to reach for the light.
Minghao runs his slender fingers through the cool edges of a hydrangea, its soft petals a deep shade of prismarine.
Ever since he was younger, his mother had told him that flowers weren't just things to be cared for. They were companions, your friends if you'd let them be, each blooming with all different kinds of personalities.
He likes how the flowers didn't ask for much; they simply needed patience and care, and in return, they gave him a sense of peace that he couldn't find anywhere else.
The sudden chime of the bell pulls him from his thoughts. He straightens up, wiping his hands on the apron tied loosely around his waist, and glances toward the door.
The figure the walks through the door is unfamiliar, yet it's easy to catch the way the sunlight highlights the edges of your silhouette, almost like a halo as you step inside the shop. For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.
Your gaze circles around the shop, taking in the rows of flowers with a soft curiosity. There's some sort of quiet hesitation in your movements when you take a few more tentative steps inside, as if you're trying to find the right place to be in this space, just as much as you're trying to find the right flower.
Minghao finds himself clearing his throat, drawing a polite smile across his lips and catching your attention right away.
"Good afternoon," he greets calmly. "Can I help you with something today?"
You glance up at him, a slight surprise in your eyes before they soften.
"Hi, um... Yeah, I was actually looking to see if I could buy some flowers. The shop I went to before closed down, so I've been searching for a new place. It was a bit of a drive." Then you hesitate briefly, before continuing, "I'm not sure what to look for exactly, but something for a first date would be nice."
Minghao's heart stirs a bit disappointingly at that, though he quickly suppresses the feeling away. After all, it's just flowers, and you're simply here to buy them for someone else.
He nods thoughtfully, giving a soft, understanding look.
"Ah, well. Congratulations first of all on the date," he says calmly, though the nerves itches his fingers. "A first date is always special, isn't it?"
"They are," You reply sheepishly, and the hint of a blush to your cheeks nearly resembles the colour of the roses displayed near the window.
"Is there a specific kind of vibe you're going for?" Minghao asks. "I can help you pick something that feels right."
You pause for a moment, eyes lingering on a beautifully-painted vase. "Hmm, I think... something romantic, but not too traditional, if that makes sense? Not something too cliché, you know, but I also want it to feel special."
Minghao simply hums in response, his mind sifting through the variety of options he could think of. There's this odd sense of responsibility within him to make your choice is beyond perfect.
"Roses are always a classic," he begins. "but they're quite conventional, so..."
He can sense you following closely to him as he walks toward another part of the shop.
"These are tulips," Minghao explains, gesturing to a row of soft, voluminous blooms in shades of pale pink and coral. "They're not commonly picked like roses, but there's a nice charm about it. They're meant to represent long-lasting love."
You take a good look of the flowers, and you're amazed by how bright they appear.
"Wow, they're so beautiful." Then you take a small glance up at Minghao, before back down at the flowers. "You must really take care of these flowers to make them look this vibrant."
"I try my best," he mutters quietly, watching as you continue to take in their beauty. "Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."
Your eyes flicker back up at him, and for a moment, there's a quiet stillness between you, as if the space between you two is holding its breath. Then you let out a warm, somewhat nervous chuckle.
"I think I understand," You say, taking a step closer towards the tulips and carefully running a finger over its petals. "It's about giving them space to grow, right? Not forcing them to be something they're not."
There's something about the way you speak, something thoughtful, almost as if you also understand the language of patience he's grown so accustomed to.
"Exactly." He smiles faintly. "That's what I like about flowers𑁋they don't rush. They just exist, and somehow, they slowly become what they're meant to be."
You lift your gaze to meet his, and in your eyes, Minghao sees something more than just curiosity. There's a softness there, a sincerity that draws him in. At his sides, he feels his fingers twitch slightly, but he quickly smooths his hands down his apron.
It's strange how a simple conversation about flowers can make him feel so... connected to someone.
"I think these are perfect," You tell him, eyes brightening with confidence.
A wave of satisfaction washes over Minghao, who nods in agreement.
"Would you like me to wrap them up for you?" he asks.
"That would be great, thank you," You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now. The thought makes his heart flutter.
Minghao begins to wrap the delicate stems with some brown wrapping paper, carefully arranging them so they're secure. As he ties a ribbon around the bouquet, he can't help but sneak up a glance at you. You're wandering around the shop with your hands clasped in front of you, looking at the other arrangements on display, and he smiles to himself.
He finishes the bouquet and smooths out any remaining creases with his fingertips. When you make your way back over to him, he offers it to you.
"Do you want to write your name on a gift tag?" Minghao asks, holding up a small card and a pen. He doesn’t know why his heart's beating faster𑁋perhaps it's the subtle hopefulness in his voice that will make your name linger longer, even after you leave.
You glance at the pen in his hand, considering it for a moment before nodding.
"Sure, I'd love to," You tell him with a faint smile, snatching the pen from his grasp, giving it a quick click before writing something down, the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.
When you finish, you hand the card back to him. He takes it from you carefully, inspecting your neat, intricate handwriting. It's simple, yet there's a certain elegance to it it. Minghao reads it under his breath: For someone special, who I hope feels the same - Y/N.
Y/N, he repeats in his mind.
"I'll finish it up for you now," he says, placing the card with the bouquet. He arranges the flowers once more, making sure everything is perfect before handing it to you.
You find yourself fishing into your bag for your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
Minghao hesitates for a moment, his fingers hovering over the register, but there's something about the way your features soften and how your eyes meet his that makes him pause.
"It's on the house."
You stop your hands, peering back up at him with a surprised look. "Really? Are you sure?"
"Of course," he assures calmly. "It's the least I can do."
You just blink at him a few times, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.
"Thank you," You let out sheepishly as you take the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon slipping through your fingers as you carefully adjust it. There's a split second that passes where you sneak a glance at the nametag on his chest. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure they'll love them."
Something in his chest tightens at that𑁋they'll love them. Minghao tries not to overthink it, tries to ignore the brief twinge of something unsettling in his chest.
But you're smiling, so he smiles back.
"I hope so," he replies gently, and with a polite bow of his head, he adds, "I'm sure they'll appreciate the thought behind it."
As you walk towards the exit, you take a final look around the shop, eyes lingering on the shelves of flowers, before turning back to Minghao.
"I'll be sure to come back," You say brightly, and the way the afternoon sunlight pours down all around you in the doorway makes you appear almost angelic. "Thank you for everything."
"I'll be here," Minghao responds, offering a small, timid wave of his hand. "Take care."
The chime of the bell above the door announces your departure, and a sigh leaves him.
It's just flowers, he tells himself again. Just flowers.
And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.
Minghao finds himself wiping away some spilled soil on the counter, the soft hum of piano music drifting throughout the quiet flower shop. He had just gotten done cleaning up after a busy morning of rearranging a few displays around the shop to tie into the slow seasonal changes that were beginning to take shape outside.
The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with. Chrysanthemums, petunias, dahlias, and marigolds were beginning to make their way into the shop, taking their place next to the peonies and roses that had been so meticulously cared for.
When the last bits of soil are wiped away, Minghao steps back to admire the beauty of the shop around him, he takes in a deep inhale, letting in the earthy scent of the fresh blooms fill his lungs.
After storing away a few extra vases in the backroom, the chime of the door hits his ears, and Minghao finds himself straightening back up to greet whoever had come inside.
When looks up, however, he freezes for a moment. He catches you standing in the doorway, and Minghao has to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him.
"Hi, again," You're the first to greet this time, and then that grin spreads across your face once again, one that seems all-too familiar.
Minghao leans against the counter. "Back so soon?"
"I was just in the area, couldn't help myself, you know..." You drawl with a playful shrug. "I actually just officially moved into the city just last week, hopefully to be closer for this new job and well... The drive here isn't as long as before."
Minghao smiles softly. It's an unexpected but pleasant surprise for you to admit all that to him, and for some reason, it makes him feel a little lighter.
"That's great," he responds, pushing himself off the counter as he straightens up. "I imagine that must be a relief. How do you like it so far?"
You step further into the shop, your eyes eagerly scanning the new arrangements he's set up.
"It's been great, actually," You say with a relieved look. "Life has been... good, honestly. I think the city suits me. It's different, but in a positive way, and I'm already surrounded by a lot of nice people."
This warm and genuine feeling tugs at Minghao's lips as he listens to you, adjusting the stems of a vase full of a plethora of zinnias.
"I'm assuming that date from before went well then?"
His words makes the smile on your face flicker, and the change is subtle but noticeable enough for Minghao to catch it, even when he's not directly looking at you. You shift your weight between your two feet, and the way you glance around the shop seems almost like you're trying to distract yourself from something.
"The date didn't go well at all, actually."
Minghao's fingertips pause on the cold surface of the vase, brows furrowing in a bit of surprise.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologises gently, regretting for the sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable."
You let out a small, rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no, it's okay. Really."
The air seems to thicken a little. You could only stand and watch for a few long moments as Minghao moves gracefully around, tending to all the flowers with his usual care.
After a long pause, you finally break the silence.
"It was good at first, I think, then it just became... awkward. Like really awkward. I thought I had everything planned out𑁋good place, nice flowers, all that jazz... but I guess it just didn't click. I think we both kind of felt it." You feel your shoulders deflate in a pit of defeat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you run a hand through your hair. "I don't know why I just rambled all that. Sorry about that."
Minghao doesn't say anything at first, simply giving you some space, but he feels his heart tighten in his chest. He casts his eyes on you, also unsure why you're telling him this or why it feels important to him, but he knows it's a moment of vulnerability𑁋a rare one𑁋and he wants to handle it with care.
"No need to say sorry," he reaffirms, tone soothing. "Sometimes things don't go as expected, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it wasn't meaningful."
You glance towards him, catching the sincerity dripping down from his words. It catches you by surprise at how almost... comfortable it feels to be open right now, with him. The atmosphere here doesn't demand anything of you.
"As people, we try so hard to make things go right that we forget to just... let them unfold naturally," he says softly, as if thinking aloud. "I think sometimes things don't work out because we're not ready for them yet, or maybe they're not the right kind of flower at the right time. You can spend so much time trying to arrange them, placing them in the perfect spot, hoping they'll just fit… but sometimes they don't. And that's okay."
You can't help but quirk a playful lip at that, but you can't resist the way his words appear to tug right at your heartstrings. "Are you comparing me to a flower?"
"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."
The thought about being a flower𑁋in another life, perhaps𑁋is a bit silly. But you also wonder about other things too𑁋if you're being treated with the same care and attention that Minghao gives to his flowers, or if you're wilting like one that hasn't found the right light yet. And as you gaze around the shop, taking in the beauty of the blooms around you, you find yourself smiling.
"I think I'd like to try and take care of a flower," You announce, determination weaving around your voice and words. "I'm not sure if I'd be good at it, but I'd like to try."
Minghao crosses his arms together, letting out a thoughtful hum while studying you for a few seconds. "I think you'd do well."
For some reason, those few words were enough to send heat crawling up your body and into your face.
"Thank you," You breathe out sheepishly, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "Can you give me a few recommendations?"
Minghao just nods. "Sure."
From there, he leads you toward a small display near the front of the shop where a few different pots and seedlings are carefully arranged. He describes a few of them to you. You're immediately drawn to the passion dripping from his tone, and the way he appears to light up when he speaks.
"These might be a good start," he suggests, gesturing to a small seedling. "Marigolds are pretty low maintenance. They need light, of course, but they're easy to grow and care for."
You take a moment to study over the baby plant with sweet curiosity.
"I think I'll start with these, then," You say, glancing back at Minghao. "Something easy."
Minghao's eyes don't stray away from how you admire the tiny plant, how you cradle the pot in your hands to take a closer look at it as if you're already imagining yourself taking care of it.
"Taking care of them can be a good reminder to take care of yourself too," he points out. "They need patience, consistency… and a little bit of trust, just like people do."
You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips once more, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. His words settle into you in a way that's hard to describe, but they feel right𑁋like they're exactly what you need to hear.
"That's true," You reply, the weight of the sentiment settling comfortably within you. "I guess I could use a reminder like that."
"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he offers.
"Yes, please. Thank you."
After mulling over some options, he chooses the perfect wrapping paper and adds a small note about caring for marigolds. You watch him, mesmerised by the ease in his movements, the care he pours into something so simple. For a moment, you forget about all the bustling noise outside the shop, and all that exists is Minghao and the flowers, his flowers.
As Minghao ties the final knot around the marigold pot, he hands it to you, and his fingertips briefly brush against yours.
"Thank you," You tell him softly. "For everything, really. It's very calming in here."
Minghao's smile widens, almost like he's heard those same words before, and perhaps he has; maybe many people find themselves drawn to his calm presence and the haven he's created in this little shop.
There's a strange warmth that spreads throughout your chest as you cradle the small plant in your hands. "I'll be sure to take good care of it."
A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you both stand there, your eyes drifting around the shop to take in the palette of autumn that colours the space. Yet it's almost instinctive in the way your gaze finds Minghao.
"I hope you won't mind me coming back, you know... to make sure I'm doing a good job with this little one." You gesture to the plant in your hands, a playful tone to your words.
Minghao chuckles, a sound as gentle as the petals surrounding him. "Of course. I'll be here."
"Do you mind if I take another look around with the place? It looks great, by the way."
"Take all the time you need."
And for the first time in a long while, Minghao felt like he wasn't just waiting for the next flower to bloom.
He was blooming, too.
"Do you have a favourite flower?"
The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders while he waters a cluster of orchids in the back corner of the shop. You're hovering near him, aimlessly trudging your fingertips over, but instead lets the question settle in between the quiet moments.
"I imagine it's hard to pick as a florist, right?" You let out a meek laugh. "It's kind of like asking a painter to pick their favourite colour."
The corners of Minghao's lips curl up slightly, his eyes fixed on the glistening leaves under the faint droplets of water. You can tell he's contemplating the question from the quiet hums leaving his mouth, and for some reason, you find comfort in his patience.
"Not exactly," he says after a pause, his voice steady, thoughtful. "A painter might have a favourite colour, but they don't use it all the time. It's about balance. Knowing when to bring it forward and when to hold it back."
"Ah, so you do have a favourite flower," You tease lightly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "You just don't want to admit it."
The brief touch seems to linger in the air, a soft warmth that you both let pass without acknowledging. Minghao gently sets the watering can down and looks at you for a moment, his gaze a little deeper than before.
"In China, we have a lot of flowers that hold meaning," Minghao continues. "It's hard to pick one specifically, but... I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."
You tilt your head as you take in his words. You already knew yourself that you didn't know much about flowers, but there's a certain curiosity that washes over you from how Minghao speaks so fondly about them. Even something as simple as a flower has layers of meaning for him.
"That's really beautiful, I..." You trail off, trying to find the right words. "I've always looked at things really surface-level, you know, like I've always found daisies beautiful because they're so simple and bright, but I never really thought much about their deeper meanings. It's kind of like... I never thought about why I liked them. It's just easy to see them and appreciate them, I guess."
Minghao blinks at you, before lowering his gaze down to the floor. "Daisies suit you."
You turn to him, dazed. "Really?"
Minghao takes a contemplative pause. "Well, they're not only... beautiful to look at, but they brighten up any space they're in."
You feel your feet seep into the floor, sinking deeper as your cheeks warm, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing next to him. And it's the way he acts like he didn't fucking say anything out of the ordinary almost makes you lose it.
"Are you flirting with me right now?"
However, Minghao doesn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then a few seconds later, your phone rings.
Minghao just offers you a little wave of his soil-painted hand. "Have fun at work, Y/N."
"Minghao! Can you teach me how to wrap these flowers?"
Minghao casts his attention up from displaying a new set of hyacinths, catching you behind the counter with a bouquet in your hands, along with a small old lady on the other side with a cheerful grin.
There's a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears you holler for him again, and he brushes his hands against his apron, before marching his way toward you. He steps up to you, taking the flowers from your hand while you beam happily towards the old lady.
"What's the occasion for the flowers, ma'am?" You ask curiously. The elderly woman lets out a soft laugh, resting her wrinkled hands on the counter.
"It's for my grandson! He's graduating from high school today. Time flies by, doesn't it?"
"Wow, that's such a milestone! Congratulations to him," You exclaim enthusiastically, softly clapping your hands together as Minghao deftly arranges the flowers within the wrapping paper, before sliding it over to you.
He leans in a bit more, almost too close you feel the way his arm brushes against yours and the way his breath fans against your skin.
"Fold the edges like this," Minghao instructs softly, his hands hovering right over yours. "Make sure the paper covers the stems. Too much pressure could break them; too loose could make them fall apart."
You watch as his hands follow yours while you nervously, yet carefully trace the frail edge of the paper, showing you how to make each fold with a care that's almost tender. His close proximity sends strange flutters to your stomach, but you do your best to ignore it.
"Okay, like this?" You question, pulling the paper slightly tighter around the bouquet.
Minghao hums approvingly, letting you hold the flowers while he circles a ribbon around it with ease. His hands brush against yours as he neatly ties it, and the two of you pull back to watch how it delicately falls over the bouquet.
The old lady glances between the two of you with a knowing smile.
"The two of you make such a cute couple! Do you run the shop together?"
You feel your face fire up at that, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then you instinctively glance over at Minghao, who surprisingly doesn't seem as flustered as you are.
"Oh, um, we're not𑁋"
"They like to help out here once in a while," Minghao adds in smoothly, though you aren't sure if that entirely helps or not. However you know what he's saying is true, because whenever your break for work comes or on your free time, you find yourself naturally walking towards the flower shop to help out at times.
The lady just beams up even more, scooping up the bouquet in her grasp. "Well, it's nice to see young faces working together! You two sure do have a lot of chemistry."
You offer a wave of your hand. "I hope your grandson enjoys the flowers. Congratulations to him once again!"
With that, the old woman offers a small wink before turning to head out of the shop. "Thank you, dear! Take care, both of you." Her delighted steps echo off the walls as she exits the shop.
The shop grows quiet again. You let out a sigh, cracking your knuckles as you turn to Minghao, who was already wiping over the surface of the counter, making quick work of putting things back in order, and for some reason, it still doesn't wipe away the pit of awkwardness you're feeling. You wonder if he feels the same too.
"So," Minghao starts, still continuing to clean without batting a glance at you. "You're taking over my shop, it seems."
You let out a haughty scoff. "I just wanted to try wrapping some flowers for someone. Don't let it get to your head."
Minghao only chuckles lightly, though he keeps his focus on the counter, yet you could only focus on him. You can't help but admire the way his hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, the slight endearing tilt of his head as he works, and how his movements are so meticulously unique to only him. There's a certain aura he exudes that makes you feel strangely at peace, a magic that only seems to reside within the walls of the shop.
"Why didn't you say no?" You suddenly ask, the question slipping out before you could shut your mouth.
Minghao pauses mid-swipe, looking back up at you. "Say no to what?"
"To, uh... the lady back there," You stammer, feeling the heat creep back at your neck. "About us, you know... being a couple."
Minghao remains silent as he tosses the dirty wipe away. For a moment, he seems to be contemplating something𑁋whether the question, the idea, or something more.
Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"
Your mind goes completely blank at his question. Does it bother you? The simple truth is that you didn't expect him to answer so casually. You were expecting him to probably correct her humbly, in all honesty. After all, it was just a passing comment from a lady who didn't mean any harm behind it.
But... does it bother you?
"No, it... it doesn't bother me. Really," You respond after a pause, voice coming out a bit forced. Your heart is beating super fast right now. "I guess I just didn't expect you to go along with it since we're not𑁋"
"𑁋not a couple," Minghao finishes for you. "I know."
You feel like you're melting into a pile of goo, your thoughts scattering like ants running out of their pile.
"I'm sorry, I'm overthinking," You mumble out, trying to brush everything off with an airy laugh.
Minghao shakes his head. "I should be sorry. I made you uncomfortable."
"You-You didn't, trust me!" You wave your hands dismissively, albeit a bit dramatic. "I was just caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond."
This seems to relax Minghao's shoulders a bit, but not entirely.
"Okay," he says, and his voice is as light as a wisp getting caught in the wind. "But you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?"
You give him an easy nod, maybe even confident. "I would. I promise. And you'd... tell me too?"
Minghao meets your eyes with a steady gaze, his expression soft but thoughtful. For a moment, there's a subtle shift in the air, and you can feel the weight of his words before he speaks again.
"Yeah," he answers firmly, sincerely. "I would."
When you open your mouth to speak again, your phone dings in your pocket. You squint your eyes to read over the message in your notifications, before closing up your phone.
"My meeting got cancelled." Then you blink up towards Minghao, as if trying to convey an unspoken question to him.
As if the answer wasn't already obvious, Minghao gives you a small, almost teasing smile.
"I don't mind the company," he tells you, then quirks up a brow. "Unless you do."
"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."
Flowers bloom when the time is right. And you don't mind waiting for it.
When a flower dies, there's a certain routine that comes after it. Trim away the wilted petals, dispose of the stems, recycle them as compost, and plant the next set of blooms.
Minghao hates seeing flowers die.
The sound of crumbling petals tie a knot in his chest, the stillness that follows afterwards is almost deafening. But he knows it's an inevitable part of life. Every flower has its chance to bloom and thrive, and eventually, it will fade.
The flowers don't belong to him, after all𑁋they are simply passing through his care briefly before going to someone else or withering away, like everything else in life. Minghao knows it's unnecessary to hold onto these flowers so tightly, but after being surrounded by them his entire life, it's merely impossible to let go.
The bell chimes as he's composting a few camellias that had sadly wilted, and he gazes up to find a gust of snow following your footsteps as you step inside. A large, black fluffy coat hugs your body and a scarf is wrapped snugly around your neck. However this time, Minghao doesn't notice any ounce of a smile to your face.
He sets the compost bin down and wipes his hands on his apron.
"Y/N?"
There's a very subtle twitch to your expression when he calls out your name.
"Hey," You croak out, voice a bit strained. "Um... is it fine if I buy some flowers?"
Minghao feels something in his chest clench at your tone, but he pushes the feeling away with his usual calm composure, masking away any concern simmering on the surface.
"Sure," he replies, focusing on the shadows that plague over your features. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"
Your eyes drift away from to look around the flower shop, taking note of the bright, usual blooms that surround you, yet none of them appear are what you're looking for.
"Do you have, um..." You feel like you're already going to regret this. "...anything for a funeral?"
The words float in the air between you both. Minghao's expression falters for just a moment, the calmness that he usually carries slipping as his eyes soften toward you.
"Of course," he says softly. "I have a few options."
With that, he leads you to a particular spot in the shop, where it houses all sorts of flowers with muted colours𑁋white roses and lilies, pale chrysanthemums, and pink and purple orchids all arranged neatly. Minghao watches as you gaze over each flower, but he doesn't speak yet, simply allowing you the moment to breathe.
"These are the traditional flowers for a funeral," he explains finally. "White roses for remembrance, lilies for peace, chrysanthemums for mourning, and orchids for everlasting love."
Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.
It's bit a different when it's you though, and he doesn't exactly know how to explain it.
You plod slowly throughout the display, picking up a stem here and there, but each time, you set it back down as if it didn't feel right. But when you come across the orchids, you linger a little longer on them, tenderly caressing the petals as if you were scared to break them.
"I think I'll choose these ones. The orchids," You murmur, picking up a few stems and showing it to him.
Minghao just nods, taking the ones from your hands and grabbing a few more to finish the rest of the bouquet, moving with careful precision.
"I'll handle the rest, don't worry," he assures you as he gracefully works to arrange the orchids.
None of you choose to say anything more, only letting the diffident silence stretch. For some reason, the shop feels a little more cooler, the air heavier than usual. The only sound is the rustling of Minghao's hands moving carefully over the flowers, the quiet snap of a stem as he trims it with his shears. Outside, the snow continues to fall.
Minghao doesn't press for any details, yet even in the quiet, you have a feeling that he knows. Maybe that's why he's just letting his hands speak for him.
"Here you go." He offers you a neat bouquet of pale lavender orchids.
You step up to him to retrieve it from his grasp, bringing it close to your chest. "Thank you."
Minghao knows he shouldn't let his feelings get in the way, but as he takes note of the slight glassiness to your eyes and small tremble of your hands holding the bouquet, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it in. He feels guilty when he lets his eyes drift down to your lips for a second, before averting it back up quickly.
The smile you give him is nothing short of fragile, faint, but it's there. And then, with a sudden leap, you find yourself leaning into Minghao's embrace without thinking, wrapping your arms around his body as if he was the only thing in the world that was preventing you from falling down. And in a way, he is.
His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.
You don't cry𑁋not entirely. A single tear slips past your lashes, landing silently against his shoulder. He feels it, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and just lets you... be.
"I'm sorry," You mumble into his shoulder. "I didn't mean to𑁋"
You pull away for a moment to look up at him. He's still holding you. His hands have fallen down to your sides, resting there as if he's held you like this before. The way you're looking at him has Minghao nearly forgetting how to breathe; it nearly urges to him to lean down and close the distance between the two of you.
His gaze lingers on your lips, and for a split second, Minghao almost allows himself to follow the instinct to lean in.
But then he stops himself.
He's not sure what this is, what the right thing to do is. His thoughts are tangled mess of roots𑁋he's always been careful with holding himself back, with promising to wait, yet something about the way you look at him makes it feel like the only right thing to do is to give in.
But he can't. Not yet. Not when you're so fragile and baring yourself raw to him.
Yet he sees the way your eyes flutter at him, the way a crease of question forms in between your brows as if you're also unsure of what this moment is, but there's a longing there too. It's almost pleading. And you lean in a little more towards him.
"Y/N," he breathes out your name, and it's the first time you ever heard his voice shake like that. "We... We shouldn't."
You don't say anything at first, your eyes searching his face like you're trying to read something. You open your mouth, close it, and then, with a slight exhale, you step back, only a little, but enough to let the cool air seep in between you.
"I'm sorry, I..." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, letting out a sniffle. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."
Minghao feels his chest tighten. "It's okay𑁋"
"I-I just wanted to feel something for a moment, you know? Everything is such a mess right now and the first person I thought of was you, because I like... the way you make me feel. I like it way more than I should. And that... that it's okay if you don't feel that way too."
Minghao's heart stutters at that, and perhaps the world even pauses too. All words that want to leave him become stuck in his throat, because he knows deep down𑁋from as far back as the moment you walked into the flower shop𑁋that he's felt the same way for far too long.
So, he settles with taking one hand from your side and slowly reaching up to trace your warm cheek with his thumb, his touch delicate as if he's afraid he might cause your petals to fall down. He brushes away a lingering tear that had been drying up on your skin and lets his hand stay there.
"You... deserve way more than just comfort in a moment like this," Minghao starts quietly. "But you're grieving right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want to just be someone who's here for a moment, because... you mean so much to me more than that."
Your lips form into a tight, thin line, and you flicker your gaze towards the floor, the heaviness in the air still weighing down on your shoulders.
"Minghao..."
"And if I act on what I feel, it wouldn't be fair to you," Minghao continues, voice trembling slightly as he speaks. "I want it to be because you know what you want. And if you ever give me that chance, I promise I'll be here for you. Not just now, not just in this moment, but... for everything. When you're ready; when you're healed; when it feels right, I'll be here𑁋I always have been."
There's a lump in your throat that you swallow down. For a while, you could only simply stand there, feeling as if you're teetering on the edge of something you can't quite reach. But even as you stand in this stillness, there's something in his words that echoes off the walls of your mind𑁋it's understanding, and it's care, and it feels like a promise.
"I... I know. I just... I'm sorry for putting all this on you. I think I need space to... heal and think." Then you look back up at him, wonder tainting your features. "Will you wait for me?"
The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning.
"I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."
The chuckle that leaves you isn't forced; in fact, it's quite relieving. It feels like the start of something, and Minghao feels a flicker of hope at the sound.
You reluctantly separate yourself away from him, cradling the bouquet of orchids to your chest, and let out an exhale you hardly realise you were holding in.
"I'll be okay, you know," You tell him, even if it's a bit of lie, or half the truth. You can't tell which.
Minghao glances down to your hands, as if you're holding a piece of your heart wrapped up within the petals, before back up to your eyes.
"I know," is all he says.
The world doesn't stop for grief, but it's okay to pause for a little while.
Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.
You haven't stepped foot in the flower shop in a while. At least, not as often as you used to come.
The absence is especially daunting, and Minghao can't help but feel it every time the bell chimes and it isn't you that walks through the door. On rare occasion you'd swing by to say hello during your breaks at work and sometimes, a pretty, shy smile from you before you disappear back into the world outside.
It's strange how easily your presence had come to be a part of the rhythm of his days. He used to wonder how someone like you would be drawn to the boring stillness of a flower shop. But now the place feels more emptier than before you came into his life, the petals around him somehow less vibrant, the air colder, even when the sun streams through the windows.
He tries not to dwell on it, but he can't help the nagging feeling that maybe you've drifted away, maybe things have changed. Maybe he was just a moment for you. And now, that moment has passed.
So he simply spends his days in the shop, moving between shelves of blossoms and arranging bouquets, but his thoughts always return to you. To the quiet moments when your voice would fill the space between the flowers, to the way you cared and tended the blooms even when you had no reason to.
It makes him think that if flowers could speak for us, then what might they say about you? Would they say you were someone who saw beauty in the smallest things? Minghao often found himself wishing that flowers could speak just so he can hear what they would say about you.
But flowers don't speak, of course. They just bloom and stretch toward the light, growing in places where they are tended to, and even in those that have been forgotten.
Maybe that's what Minghao was𑁋a forgotten flower of his own waiting to be seen, to be noticed.
Luckily, he was able to distract himself a bit today with a few deliveries for a couple of upcoming weddings and a new arrangement for the store he was preparing to do in the next few days, along with piles of orders for days. But it still wasn't enough.
As he flips the sign on the window to display Closed, he fumbles for his keys to lock the door. However, the sound of the bell rings through the shop, stopping him mid-motion. Minghao lifts a brow up, not expecting for anyone to show up right as he's about to close up.
And when he looks up, he freezes.
"I'm not late, aren't I?"
It's you.
The way your voice comes out all shaky like you're out of breath, yet soft has Minghao feeling as if he's sinking into quicksand. The sight of you standing at the doorway is a dream he never dares to wake up from.
"You're not," Minghao manages to say, somehow. "You're just in time."
Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click. You take in the familiar, fresh scent of all the blooms and greenery around you, and it hits you in the heart just how much you've missed this place.
"I had, uh… a late shift at work," You explain unsurely. "so I thought about stopping by, but I wasn't sure if you'd still be here."
Minghao just shakes his head, watching as you brush your fingertips over some lilies and baby's breaths that were displayed on a small table near the window. Gosh, he'd do anything to flat out say how much he missed you, how much he'd been thinking about you, but he doesn't.
"Have you been busy?" You ask him.
"A little," he responds. "but manageable, I would say."
"Ah… that's good," You mumble, voice trailing off as you start to make your way in his direction, catching eye on a particular bouquet sitting on the counter behind him. "No-show again?"
Minghao lets out a sigh, and he feels you following behind as he walks towards the counter. He picks up the bouquet in his hand, letting his gaze fall over it.
"Mhm," he hums. "But it's alright, really. Happens more often than you think."
You quirk a brow as your eyes roam over the bouquet, and a particular, almost knowing look stretches across your lips.
"That's funny," You huff, taking the bouquet from his grasp. It held a colourful variety of hydrangeas. "It looks a lot like an order I placed a few days ago."
Minghao's heart skips a beat as he watches you carefully examine the bouquet, his breath caught in his throat.
"This… was yours?" he questions in surprise.
"Yeah, I…" You bite your lips sheepishly. "It was sort of an impulsive thing, I guess."
Minghao only continues to watch as you admire the bouquet, caressing over the delicate wrapping paper and the all-too familiar bow that he would tie all of his other arrangements.
"Impulsive, huh?" Minghao teases lightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Well, you certainly picked a good one."
You look up at him, a small, tentative smile forming on your face. "I guess I just wanted to get something special. For someone."
Minghao feels his heart sink at that, a flutter of hope and uncertainty colliding in his chest. Someone.
He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure if it's his place to ask, or if he even wants to hear the answer.
"I see," he says instead, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though there's a hint of sadness to his voice that he silently hopes you don't notice.
You take note of his unreadable expression, over the way his eyes appear downcast and a subtle tension to his posture.
However, this doesn't make you stop from gripping the bouquet tighter in your grasp, and then in the next moment, you're stepping closer and offering it over to him.
"I hope you like them," You state, holding out the bouquet as if was the most natural thing in the world.
Minghao glances at the bouquet quizzically, the same one he had just been holding, then back at you. His face shifts between a million different expressions𑁋confusion, surprise, hope, and everything in between𑁋before the tension in his chest eases just slightly as he finally registers what you're doing.
He's a florist, for crying out loud. He's usually the one to be giving flowers to people. Never in his years of practically living in the shop has anyone offered flowers to him. The gesture is practically foreign, yet in this moment, it feels so right.
His fingers graze against yours as he hesitantly takes it from your hands, but you don’t fully let go. Instead, you cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading between you as you gently press your palm against his. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, everywhere in his body, and he wonders if you can feel it too.
"I missed you," You declare softly, yet a pinch of urgency behind your words. "I missed you so fucking much."
His chest tightens, and it's as if the weight of everything crushes him in the best possible way. All the time he had spent wondering if you had forgotten about him, if maybe you had moved on, it all melts away in an instant. Because you're here. And you're saying everything he's been craving to hear.
And gosh, does he want to kiss you right now.
This time, Minghao doesn't waste a second. He brings a hand up to cradle the side of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. It's perhaps a bit desperate first, making him swallow down a faint sigh you let out but it quickly settles into something softer, deeper, like two people who've been waiting for this moment for far too long.
He can feel the slight tremble in your breath as your lips move against his, and he pulls back slightly, just to make sure you were still with him.
Minghao lets his thumb lightly caress over your cheek as if trying to memorise the feeling of your skin under his touch, as if he'd been starved for this closeness.
"I missed you too," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. "The flowers did too."
A light, airy chuckle escapes from you. "Oh, did they?"
"Of course," Minghao murmurs, his lips curling upwards against your skin. "They've been waiting for you to come back."
"Well, I better not keep them waiting anymore then, right?" You jest playfully, leaning in back once again.
Minghao doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. "Nope," he says firmly against your mouth. "I think they've waited long enough."
