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Even if my love only amounts to this
I'll be your spring to whatever winter it may be
This is all my heart can say
—"All My Love" by Seventeen
♡ pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader
♡ theme: fluff, smut [18+ mdni], hurt/comfort, 90s au
♡ wc: 14.3k
♡ warnings: alcohol/food consumption, light angst, mention of minor character death, unprotected piv sex (please do not do this irl), dry humping, bigdick!jihoon bc duh, creampie, praise kink if u squint, the lee jihoon cat dad agenda is alive and well!!!
♡ a/n: written as part of Carats Ridge: A Small Town Collab put on by @imnotshua, @100vern, and @starlightkyeom! be sure to check out the masterlist for all the other amazing fics!! i loved every moment of writing this because i am tragically in love with lee jihoon i fear, i hope yall love it too <3
♡ a/n 2: no beta we die like men
SYNOPSIS: Carats Ridge, 1991 — In a small town deep in the heart of the Pacific Northwest, a new resident in town causes a stir when he moves into the long-vacant house up on Hemlock Hill. The old superstitions surrounding the house and history begin to resurface, leaving a town full of people who already don't trust outsiders uneager to give the newcomer a warm welcome. To you, the stories are nothing more than a far-fetched local legend, and Jihoon seems nice — so you decide to befriend your new neighbor. The more time you spend with him, though, you start to realize that you've gained something much more than just friendship: you've gained a new perspective on what love can mean, and — for the first time in your life — you learn what it means to be loved.
1
pshhhhhhhh
A fine shower of droplets sprinkles coldly into your face as the vegetable misters suddenly spring to life overhead.
"Dammit!" you grumble to yourself as you quickly retreat from the heads of broccoli you were restocking onto the refrigerator shelves. You pat your face with your sleeve, ridding it of the unwelcomed moisture. You'd think that with the many years you've been working at the Carats Ridge Food Mart you would have learned how to dodge the misters by now, but apparently not.
You step back, waiting for them to shut off again before you finish stacking the last few broccoli heads neatly on top of each other. You reach for the stocking cart handle and push it, moving on to the next display; you get about two feet before the cart stops abruptly as it bumps into something — knocking the topmost of the precariously-stacked boxes of veggies off. You catch it before it falls completely, but not before several root vegetables go tumbling to the red-and-white checkered tile floor. Looking up, you see that you've just ran into a customer's cart with yours.
"I'm SO sorry!" you blurt out as you scramble to retrieve the turnips and rutabagas before they roll away. The man bends down, picking up a stray rutabaga that had bounced over to him and handing it to you as you place the rest of the runaway vegetables back onto the cart. As you turn toward him you are greeted with an unfamiliar face — a rare occurrence when you've lived in a town of 1,200 people for your entire life. It takes you a moment before you register who it is: it's Jihoon Lee, the man who moved into the formerly-abandoned house on Hemlock Hill a couple weeks ago.
"That was an accident, I didn't see you there," you tell him as you accept the rutabaga from him, mildly embarrassed at your blunder. "I should have been looking where I was going, I'm sorry," you apologize again.
"It's alright," the man responds with a small polite smile on his face. He's soft-spoken and seemingly a bit shy, judging by his eyes flickering in and out of your gaze. "No big deal."
"You must be Jihoon," you say to him warmly. "I'm y/n. I heard you were the one who just moved into the house up on Hemlock Hill."
Hemlock Hill. The name feels strange coming off your lips for the first time in a long while. It used to be the talk of the town, due to its former resident: an old woman, known only as Agatha, whom nearly the whole town suspected was a witch. Rumors abounded — according to some she practiced black magic or worshipped the devil, which was scandalous enough in and of itself; but there was also a terrifying rumor amongst schoolchildren that if any child wandered too close on her property, she would cook them and eat them. There was never any proof of the far-fetched tales — but that didn't stop the town from making wild speculations and shunning her from society. One frigid winter's day about 10 years ago she was spotted walking into the woods — dazed and incoherent, barefoot and coatless in the snow — and was never seen again. The police searched for days, but never found her. It was presumed she died from exposure, and that her remains were carried off by a bear or mountain lion. The house sat vacant for the next decade, whispers of rumors of its cursed nature still floating around from time to time — but for the most part, no one likes to talk about it anymore.
"Yeah, that's me," he replies, looking sheepish. "Seems like the whole town knows my name already."
"That's Carol Milford's fault," you say quietly, leaning in so no one happens to overhear you. "She's the resident town gossip — if anyone does anything, she'll find out about it and tell everybody and their grandmother."
Jihoon smiles. "I'd always heard that about small towns, but I didn't know how true it was until I got here. This is all very new to me."
"Where did you move here from?" you ask, returning to stocking the shelves. "If you don't mind me asking."
"Seattle," he answers. "Lived practically in the heart of downtown."
"Oh wow! That's so cool," you tell him earnestly. "I went down to Seattle once as a child. I was only six, so I don't remember all that much, but it felt like a different world."
"It definitely is," Jihoon agrees. The misters suddenly spring to life again right as you're leaning into the shelves.
"Oh, not again!" you mumble, quickly wiping the mist off your face. A grin pokes at the corners of Jihoon's mouth, but he shoves it back down. He was amused by your reaction, not laughing at you — but he met you one minute ago, and he doesn't want to make a bad first impression.
"Anyway, I live just down the road from you," you continue. "About a five minute drive. So I suppose that makes us sort-of neighbors!"
"Oh!" Jihoon remarks interestedly. "That's good to know."
"This is the first time I've ever actually had a new neighbor, so it's pretty exciting for me! If that tells you how eventful it usually is around here," you laugh. "But I'll stop bothering you now and let you get back to your shopping. It was nice to meet you!" you tell him cheerfully.
"You're not bothering me," he smiles calmly. "But it was nice to meet you too."
2
"Here you go, hon."
You look up from your newspaper as the waitress slides a plate of fresh, warm apple pie before you.
"Thanks, Janice," you smile at her.
"Of course," she beams back before scurrying off back behind the counter to tend to the other customers.
You had a longer shift at the Food Mart today and you weren't in the mood to cook, so you stopped by the C.R. Diner on your way home for a hearty meal — which wasn't complete without a slice of their famous pie. As you finish up the delicious apple pastry you reach into your purse and retrieve your wallet, leaving the cash payment on the table behind you as you exit the diner. On your way out, you pass a group of older ladies in the booth behind yours; it's none other than Carol Milford, speaking to her good friends and fellow gossipmongers Matilda Brown and Donna Smith in a hushed tone.
"I heard that's why he moved here — the house is perfect for devil worship, given its history…" she whispers to the other ladies. As you pass, she catches your eye.
"Y/n!" she says to you, waving you over. "Good to see you, darling, how are you?"
"I'm alright, thank you," you reply politely. You don't particularly like the woman, but you know well enough that it's best to stay on her good side.
"We're talking about the new resident," she tells you, lowering her voice slightly. "The one who moved into Agatha's house."
"Yeah, that's Jihoon," you answer casually. "I ran into him at the Food Mart a few days ago, he seemed really nice."
"Be careful with him," Matilda warns. "He's too quiet. And we heard he's practicing black magic just like she was."
You know this is a load of bullshit — a classic case of the elder residents being unwelcoming to a new, young face in town. You don't even believe the old rumors about Agatha, so you certainly don't believe the polite man you met the other day is anything close to a devil worshipper.
"Oh, that's interesting," you say nonchalantly. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Don't speak to him again," Donna tells you insistently. "If you get too close there's a good chance he'll lure you in and use you as a sacrifice."
It takes everything in you not to blatantly roll your eyes at her.
"Right," you reply, desperately trying to get out of the conversation. "Well, thanks for the advice, but I have to head home now. It was nice to see you all."
"Stay safe out there, honey," Carol insists. You nod, giving them a wave as you quickly make your exit.
On your drive home you pass the gravel road leading up to Hemlock Hill, and Jihoon pops into your mind again. You wonder if he even knows about the house's history; you know Carol and company aren't the only ones in town with the same attitude toward it — and you're certain Carol has already told everyone she's seen about the newcomer and his alleged devil worshipping. Most in town know not to fully trust anything she says, but Carats Ridge's superstition around Hemlock Hill runs deep. Jihoon seems like a nice guy — and you just hope others in town meet him with a warm welcome instead of a cold shoulder.
3
"How many entries do we have for the chili cook-off?"
You look up to see Carrie, one of your fellow committee members, looking mildly frazzled. The Yuletide Fest is next weekend, and there's still much to be done in the meantime.
"Um," you reply, picking up one of many clipboards strewn upon the table and counting the names on the list. "Looks like fifteen."
"I thought Tommy Higgins dropped out?"
"He did, but Bill & Susan Alton signed up last minute yesterday before the deadline."
"Okay, great," she replies. "I'll be sure to get that extra table after all so we have enough room."
Yuletide Fest is Carats Ridge's beloved annual tradition — each year on the Winter Solstice nearly the whole town comes out to the makeshift fairgrounds on the town square to celebrate the coming holiday season. There's food, drink, music, and merriment for all — and all of it is put on by you and the other seven members of the Fest committee. A big responsibility, but you've loved the Fest since you were a kid, and despite the stress of it all you love putting the many hours in that it takes to run the whole show. Besides, it's a good way to stay busy this time of year — having a thousand different tasks to juggle all at once is still better than sitting at home, depressed and alone.
You're fortunately at a point where you rarely think about Max anymore, but every once in a while he will find a way to pop into your mind. As you work to untangle the long strand of icicle lights that had been sitting jumbled in a bin since last year, you flash back to Christmas three years ago — the last Christmas you spent with your now-ex-boyfriend. You spent the day together putting up the decorations in your yard, finishing it all up by hanging the lights across the eaves of your house. You very nearly fell off the ladder trying to reach a bit too far; luckily, he caught you before you hit the ground, and you were fine — but that didn't stop him from lovingly teasing you about it for the rest of the season. But Christmas came and went, and soon after so did your relationship. He suddenly decided he'd had enough of small town life and of cold weather, and so practically on a whim he packed his things and headed off for California, leaving Carats Ridge — and you — in the rear view mirror.
Your eyes begin to water, but you quickly brush the tears away before they can fall. In retrospect, your relationship with Max wasn't anything particularly special. You were friends in high school but never dated until a few years after graduation; your only other former boyfriend had also moved away by that point, and you liked Max enough to agree to go on a date with him. Your relationship was fine — happy enough, but even though he was nice you always felt like you weren't getting enough out of it. But, being lonely sounded worse, so you stuck it out. By the time he left, you had gotten so used to being in a relationship that you forgot how to be on your own. You had your friends, sure — and they were there to support and comfort you. But, they couldn't offer you romantic love — and honestly, you came to realize that was something Max didn't even really fulfill for you. You fell into a deep depression; for months you barely left your house, pretty much only going to work and back. It wasn't until Maria suggested the idea of joining the Yuletide Fest committee that you found a reason to go out again.
"C'mon, you've always loved the Fest!" your best friend had reminded you. "And the committee could really use an extra pair of hands."
So you joined the committee. Quickly you acquired about a dozen different responsibilities, leaving you no time to even think about Max anymore. You rekindled your relationship with your community and now you have them to lean on, and for that you are beyond grateful. But still, you often feel alone; there's always that dream of being loved — truly loved — lingering in the back of your mind. You tell yourself it will happen when the moment is right — that you're not doomed to be alone forever. And while you know it's probably true, that there is somebody out there for you, you can't help but wonder when your time will finally come.
4
"If you like piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain…"
The music plays tinnily overhead from Food Mart's old speaker system. You find this song in particular to be bothersome, especially when the store seems to cycle through the same 20 songs over and over again, but you've worked here long enough that you're pretty good at tuning it out. It's been a slow day today — most people aren't grocery shopping mid-afternoon on a rainy Tuesday. You zone out from behind the empty register, staring blankly at the tabloid covers in the checkout line to see if there's anything interesting on them, but no such luck. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a customer heading toward your register. Looking over, you're surprised to see it's Jihoon again, carrying a number of small cans in his hands.
"Hi Jihoon!" you greet him cheerily. "Good to see you again, how are you?"
"Hi, y/n," he smiles timidly as he sets his items on the conveyor belt. "I'm alright, how are you?"
"A bit bored," you admit. "Slow day today." Reaching for the products as they drift toward the scanner, you notice he's buying a handful of cans of Fancy Feast.
"Oh, do you have a cat?" you inquire interestedly as you scan them and place them into a small brown bag.
"No, I don't," he replies, shaking his head. "But there's a stray that's been coming around the house ever since I moved in. I made the mistake of tossing it scraps of chicken and now it won't leave."
"Sounds like it's your cat now," you say with a grin.
"No, no, it's staying outside," he insists. "But it seemed hungry, so I don't mind feeding it."
You ring up the total and Jihoon hands you a couple one dollar bills; you take the cash and give him a quarter in change, your fingertips bumping into his palm lightly as you drop the coin into his hand.
"Thank you," he says politely. As you hand him the paper bag, a thought pops into your head.
"Are you going to the Yuletide Fest?" you ask him. He looks up at you, curious.
"What's that?"
"Only the best day of the year," you grin. "It's a festival that happens on the Winter Solstice every year. This year it's on the 21st — so, this Saturday. I'm on the committee that helps put it together. There's a chili cook-off, all sorts of food and drink, ice skating, live music, carnival games… but the best part is the huge bonfire where you can roast marshmallows," you inform him enthusiastically.
"Wow, that sounds like a huge production. And you put it all together?"
"Myself and a few others, yes," you say proudly. "It's been happening for decades. I loved going as a kid, but even as an adult it's a lot of fun! Nearly the whole town turns out. You should come!"
"Oh, yeah, maybe," he replies. "I'll try and stop by."
"I'll be running the hot cocoa stand this year, come find me and say hi if you do!"
He nods, smiling at you softly.
"I will."
5
"There you go, honey!"
You beam at the small child standing before you as she takes the small styrofoam cup of hot cocoa from you — you made sure to add extra marshmallows, just as she had requested.
"Fank you!" she squeals at the sight of the heaping marshmallows.
"You're welcome!" you tell her, waving goodbye as she excitedly walks back to her parents with her beverage.
As you stash the quarter the child had handed you in the money jar, Kirsten, your fellow hot cocoa stand employee, returns from grabbing another box of cups. As she starts stacking them on the table behind the booth, she notices something, looking out to the fairgrounds with a grimace on her face.
"Look, it's the new guy," she says condescendingly. You follow her gaze to spot none other than Jihoon, slowly wandering around the Fest, seemingly looking for something.
"His name is Jihoon," you inform her casually. She rolls her eyes.
"Whatever, he's a fucking weirdo."
"How so?" you ask, frowning at her. "Have you even met him?"
"No," she scoffs. "And I don't plan too."
"Why not? He's very nice — I've run into him at work a few times now."
"Maybe he seems nice, but you have to be some kind of freak to want to live in that horrible house."
"Do you really believe all those stories about Agatha?" you raise your brow at her.
"She was a batty old witch," Kirsten insists. "God knows what kind of evil magic she was doing up there, the house has to be cursed."
"I think it's much more likely that she was just a lonely, senile old woman," you counter. "There was never any proof of witchcraft found in the house."
"Whatever. That house still gives me the creeps. I don't know why anybody would ever move there."
You purse your lips together, realizing there's probably nothing you can say to change her mind on the matter.
"Would you mind running the stand for a few minutes? I'm going to go say hi."
"Suit yourself," she shrugs. "Your shift is almost over anyway, I'll go find Kelly to take over for you."
"Thanks!" you smile at her, ignoring her negativity. "I'll see you later."
You exit the hot cocoa stand and make a beeline for Jihoon, who is standing in the center of the square looking very lost.
"Hey neighbor!" you call out to him as you approach. He turns, relief washing over his face when he sees it's you.
"Hi," he smiles. "I was trying to find you, but I didn't know where to go."
"You were close," you tell him, pointing to the cocoa stand behind you. "I was right over there." As he looks over to it, Kirsten notices the two of you, glaring at him from across the way. You roll your eyes at her.
"Anyway, I'm so glad you came out!" you say, smiling again as you turn back to Jihoon.
"You sold it so well, I had to come check it out," he smiles back. "This is incredible, you did an amazing job."
"Well, I certainly can't take all the credit, but thank you!" you beam. "Do you want any hot cocoa? I know a guy, you can have it for free," you nudge his arm with your elbow playfully.
"That's alright, I don't think your friend over there likes me very much."
"Oh, ignore her," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "I'll go get it. You want marshmallows?"
Jihoon grins. "Sure."
You quickly go fetch him the promised cocoa — extra marshmallows, of course — not bothering to speak to Kirsten as you do so. You exit the booth and walk back over to him, handing him the steaming cup of cocoa.
"Here you go! On the house."
"Thank you," he says warmly as he accepts the cup. "I appreciate it."
"Anytime," you smile.
You walk Jihoon around the grounds, showing him all there is to see at the Fest, as well as pointing out various townspeople you feel he should know about.
"Ooh! There's the mayor and his wife," you whisper to him, nudging your head in the direction of the gray-haired, bearded man standing at the darts booth.
"Which one?" he asks as he sips the cocoa, downing the delicious beverage.
"The one who looks like an off-duty Santa Claus," you state. Jihoon nearly spits out his drink.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" you ask as he coughs.
"I'm okay," he replies, wiping a dribble of chocolate from his chin, a wide grin spreading across his face. "That was really funny, I just wasn't expecting you to say that."
"Sorry to make you nearly choke," you tell him with a laugh. "Anyway, yeah, Mayor Santa is really nice. Want me to introduce you?"
"Oh, that's alright," he shakes his head. "I don't want to be a bother."
"Well you're certainly not a bother."
"I think most of the people I've met so far would disagree," he shrugs. "But it's okay."
"That's absolutely not okay," you frown. "Have people been rude to your face??"
"I wouldn't say rude," he replies hesitantly. "But definitely a bit… less than welcoming."
"Ugh, I'm really sorry about that," you reply, giving him an apologetic look. A deluge of teenagers suddenly fills the area, hollering and throwing wads of popcorn at each other. You both start moving again, continuing to stroll through the Fest together. "I promise most people here are much nicer than they might seem at first."
"It's okay, I understand why people here wouldn't necessarily trust newcomers. I'm sure I seem like an outsider to them."
"Well, that's definitely part of it…" you start, wondering how much you should say on the matter. But it's his house now — he deserves to know.
"How much do you know about the history of Hemlock Hill?" you ask.
"I know that the lady who lived there before died, if that's what you mean."
"Well yes, that's true," you reply. "But that's just the tip of the iceberg."
Jihoon tilts his head slightly, his eyebrows perking up in curiosity. With a slight sigh, you continue.
"To make a long story short, nearly the whole town was convinced Agatha — the woman who lived there — was a witch who practiced black magic and that the house and the whole hill are cursed now."
Jihoon's eyes widen. "Oh," he remarks. "Well I certainly didn't hear about that part of it."
"Don't worry though — once she died and her house was cleared out they didn't find anything that suggested she was worshipping the devil or anything like that at all," you assure him. "Not that that did much to quell the rumors, though," you admit. "She died ten years ago now, but people still believe that nonsense to this day."
"Wow," Jihoon responds, trying to process this new information. "If you don't mind my asking, do you know how she died?"
"Well, she kind of just wandered off into the woods one day and was never seen again," you tell him. "Some people think she was possessed, but honestly, I think she was just a lonely old recluse who sadly lost her mind."
"That is sad," he agrees, nodding solemnly. "Thank you for telling me though."
"I should probably also tell you that Carol Milford thinks you moved here to worship the devil," you add.
"Oh!" he exclaims. "Well, I can assure you that's not true."
"That's what I tried to tell her, but I'm sure she's told at least half the town about it anyway by now," you say with an eye roll. "I'm really sorry this is the welcome you've received so far. Folks around here can be stubborn, but for the most part they're kindhearted, good people. Hopefully once they get to know you more they'll come to realize that all a bunch of baloney."
Jihoon smiles. "Thanks, I really appreciate you telling me all this, I'm feeling better about everything already."
"Of course! It's your house now, after all. You deserve to know the full story."
By now, you've walked through the entire Fest; as you reach the field at the edge of the fairgrounds, an enormous bonfire pit comes into view, causing Jihoon to stop in his tracks.
"Whoa," he gasps at the majestic sight before him.
"See? I told you — this is the best part," you say, grinning excitedly. "Say, how do you feel about s'mores?"
You and Jihoon make your way over to the bonfire, each taking a long metal skewer and some big, fluffy marshmallows. There's plenty of room around the pit; you find a good spot on the other side of the fire — the rest of the festival providing a gorgeous backdrop as the setting sun begins to fade. Night takes over as you sit together roasting your marshmallows, a massive scattering of stars becoming visible against the darkened sky.
"Wow, I've never seen so many stars before," Jihoon tells you, staring up in amazement at the stunning array of constellations above. "It's beautiful."
You glance over at him, watching as he takes it all in. The dancing flames of the bonfire cast a warm glow upon his lifted face, the light glimmering in the reflection of his dark eyes as he gazes up at the stars. It strikes you how handsome he is — not that you found him unattractive before by any means, but seeing his features up close for the first time, your stomach begins to flutter with excitement.
"Isn't it just lovely?" you remark. Jihoon nods, glancing back over to you; you quickly fix your gaze back on your marshmallow, finding it to be perfectly roasted now.
"S'mores time!" you announce with a grin. You and Jihoon reach for the bar of chocolate sitting between you at the same time, your hands colliding.
"Oops, sorry," you apologize, reaching instead for the graham crackers on the other side of the plate.
"You're alright — here, I got it."
He breaks off a row of chocolate rectangles and hands it to you. You assemble your s'mores, the milk chocolate melting nearly right away as it greets the hot marshmallow. You quickly take a big bite before it can ooze out all over your hands. Jihoon assembles his own s'mores, joining you in taking a bite of the sugary goodness.
"Hits the spot every time," you mumble to him, your mouth still slightly filled with sticky marshmallow.
"I haven't had s'mores in so long," he replies delightedly, finishing off the last bite of his own treat. "That was delicious."
Jihoon's easygoing nature combined with your chatterbox tendencies makes conversation feel effortless; you float naturally from one topic to the next as you sit there together, basking in the tall roaring flames of the bonfire. Your s'mores are long gone, but you have no desire to leave just yet. Without your realizing, nearly an entire hour passes — and the closing hour of the Fest soon arrives.
"Thanks again for coming out," you say to Jihoon as you stroll back through the fairgrounds, the festival staff having kicked everyone out of the fire pit a couple minutes ago. "This was really fun. I'm usually so busy running this whole show that I don't get to experience it like this anymore."
"Thank you for inviting me," Jihoon replies. "I had a really nice time. And I'm feeling a little bit less like a stranger here now," he chuckles.
"Good," you nod. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Away from the massive bonfire now, and with the crowd dissipating as everyone heads home, the cold December wind is starting to chill you to your bones. You shiver, rubbing your palms together to try and warm up your frozen fingers.
"Where are you parked?" Jihoon asks. "I can walk you to your car."
"Oh, thank you — but unfortunately I have to tear down the hot cocoa stand still. Shouldn't take too long though, at least."
"Here," he says to you, retrieving something from his coat pocket. He extends his hand to you, and you see he is offering you a pair of leather gloves. "Take these so you can warm up."
"Oh! That's okay," you tell him, waving your hand to decline. "I'll be fine—"
He places the gloves in your hand anyway. "I insist."
"Okay," you smile at him. "Thank you."
"No problem at all," he nods.
"You better get going before they drag you out of here," you joke as you see a few staff members heading in your direction. Jihoon laughs.
"Alrighty then — goodnight, y/n," he bids you warmly.
"Goodnight! Get home safe."
"I will," he nods. "You do the same."
6
The next morning, you wake up earlier than expected — a bit annoying, since it's Sunday and you were planning to sleep in, but you decide to get up and get a head start on laundry. As you carry the basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room, you spot your jacket hanging on the coat rack by the front door. Walking over to it, the strong residual scent of bonfire smoke hits you; memories of last night immediately flood your mind — memories of sitting by the fire with Jihoon, eating s'mores together, talking and laughing and having a genuinely wonderful time. Smiling absentmindedly, you grab the jacket to toss it in the wash, but something falls from its pocket. You bend down to pick it up, discovering the pair of gloves Jihoon lent you. You set them onto the coffee table, so you can remember to return them to him.
A couple loads of laundry later, you plop down on the couch, ready to laze around and read your new book. As you reach for the novel sitting on the coffee table you notice the gloves again, sitting there beside the paperback, as if waiting for you to do something with them. You flip through the pages to locate your bookmark, starting the next chapter where you left off. The protagonist has just met the love interest, and the story is beginning to heat up — something that normally keeps your undivided attention, but your mind seems to be wandering today. You've only gotten a few pages into the chapter before your eyes flicker back to Jihoon's gloves. You think for a moment. Then, tucking the bookmark between the pages, you toss the book back on the table, grabbing the gloves and your keys as you make your way out the door.
The drive from your house to Jihoon's is a straight shot. There's a couple other houses along Douglas Fir Road, but for the most part it's forested, lined with tall conifer trees — growing denser as you drive deeper into the woods. As you approach a large bend in the road you slow, looking carefully for the entrance to Hemlock Hill Drive. It's a bit hard to see, but a singular rusty mailbox on a wooden post gives it away. You turn onto the gravel road, driving slowly up its steep incline. You're starting to wonder if you're in the wrong place when you finally spot a clearing in the trees up ahead. A charming cabin-style home comes into view; it's clearly old, but much of it looks recently-renovated — a far cry from the cursed, dilapidated house spoken of in the local legends.
You've only been up here one other time in your life — it was sixth grade, and a few of the boys in your class dared you and your friends to sneak onto the property with them. You didn't particularly care for that sort of thing, but then they started calling you chicken, and that was something you were not about to let slide. So you agreed. It was a chilly night — you remember how much you were shivering as you and your friends climbed up the hill. It was dark, nearly pitch black except for the one flashlight you had amongst yourselves. Fear creeped into your bones as you approached the house, all the horrible tales you'd heard of Agatha whirring through your mind as your heart pounded in your ears. The house was unlit as you approached, sitting ominously in the shadows; you felt like it was taunting you, egging you to just come a little closer. The boys were in the middle of bickering about who was brave enough to go knock on the door first when a sudden rustling in the nearby bushes sent all of you running back down the hill, screaming at the top of your lungs as you made your escape.
Seeing it now, years later and in the daylight, you can hardly believe it's the same house. You pull in behind the old blue-and-white pickup truck parked at the end of the drive. The fog is slightly denser up here — lingering in the air like a cold, misty blanket. You climb the steps leading up to the house and knock on the front door. You don't see any lights on inside, but you assume if Jihoon's truck is here then he must be around somewhere. You wait, but no response. You knock again, but something moving in your periphery catches your eye. You turn to spot a large cat walking along the side of the house, headed in your direction. It's a tomcat with a big round head — his long black-and-white fur slightly dusty but still easily spottable against the rich browns and greens of the surrounding foliage.
"Here, kitty kitty," you say as the cat approaches, bending down and reaching out to pet him. You wonder if he's going to run away, but instead he eagerly nuzzles his head against your palm.
Mrrrrow, the cat chirps as you scratch behind his ears.
"Well, aren't you friendly?" you say to the cat. Suddenly noticing the sound of footsteps approaching you from behind, you whip your head around, but it's just Jihoon, sauntering toward you from behind the house with a big stack of chopped firewood in his arms.
"He's getting a little too friendly," he comments as he sets the pile of wood down on the porch. "Guess that's what I get for feeding him." He turns back to face you, his expression warm and welcoming.
"So what brings you up here?"
"I just wanted to return these to you," you reply, pulling his gloves from your pocket and reaching out to hand them to him.
"Oh! You didn't have to drive all the way here just for that," he tells you sheepishly as he takes the gloves from you.
"I told you, I'm only about five minutes down the road," you remind him with a smile. "It's no big deal, really."
"Well, thank you," Jihoon smiles back, his soft cheeks tinged pink from the frigid winter air. "I appreciate it."
"Oh, and here—"
You motion for him to wait as you flutter down the steps, reaching into your car and retrieving something from your glovebox. You return with a miniature spiral notebook in hand, scribbling something on a clean sheet with a ballpoint pen.
"Let me give you my address and phone number. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
You tear the pale yellow sheet from its binding and hand it to Jihoon. He takes it, folding it carefully and tucking it into his shirt pocket.
"You're too nice to me," he chuckles. "But thank you — I will."
"Here," you say, extending the pen and paper to him. "You should give me yours as well."
Phone numbers now exchanged, you've accomplished what you came up here for; as much as you'd like to stay and chat, you did show up to his home unannounced, so you know it's time for you to go.
"Well, I'll let you get back to your firewood now," you tell Jihoon. A hint of sadness seems to flash across his face, but as soon as you blink, it's gone. "It was nice to see you!"
"Good to see you too," he smiles, giving you a wave as you head back down to your car. He watches as you drive away, eyes fixed on you until your car disappears down the hill.
As he steps through the front door to head inside he pulls the small piece of paper from his pocket, staring at your name handwritten neatly in cursive. He searches around the house for where he put his address book — he hasn't needed it once since he moved here, because you are the only person who has actually talked to him so far. He finally locates the small bound booklet in a drawer; he flips to the correct letter and writes down your contact information, contently humming to himself as he does so. He carries on with the renovations he had planned to get done around the house today, catching himself humming again as he paints the window frames, and even singing out loud as he removes gross, wet clumps of leaves from the gutters. As he lays in bed that night, his mind drifts back to you. He decides he needs to find a way to thank you for your kindness, but before he can think of anything he is blissfully drifting off to sleep.
7
Jihoon is driving home from yet another trip to the hardware store when he decides to take a slight detour.
His house is shortly after the intersection of Douglas Fir and Juniper, but instead of going straight he turns left. Juniper Road takes him past Hemlock Hill Drive — but it's also the street you live on. Just like you said, it's about a five minute drive until he reaches a small but cozy-looking red house. Your driveway is vacant, so he assumes you're not home, but he doesn't mind that for this errand. He pulls into the drive and parks; reaching into the breast pocket of his thick, flannel-lined jacket, he locates the small yellow piece of paper he's kept on his person ever since you gave it to him about a week ago. Unfolding it, he double checks your handwriting — he is indeed at the correct house. He retrieves a small, brown envelope from his glovebox and hops out of the truck.
Walking up to your front door, he suddenly becomes a bit nervous. He reminds himself that you showed up to his house unannounced, which he didn't mind, and that you're not even home right now. As climbs the steps up to your porch he sees a small tin letterbox next to your front door — perfect. He drops the card inside and heads back to his truck.
"Leaving already? But you just got here!"
He spins back around, seeing your head poking out from the now-slightly-open front door.
"I didn't think you were home," he replies, taking a few steps back toward the porch. He looks a bit embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning rosy red. "I didn't see your car."
"It's in the shop," you explain. "It was making a weird clunking noise, turns out I had bad motor mounts. If all goes well I'll have it back late tomorrow."
"Oh, wow. How are you getting around then?"
"I'm not," you shrug. "I was just planning to call off work."
"I can give you a ride, if you want," Jihoon offers right away.
"Oh, that's alright, you don't have to do that—"
"It's no problem, really," he insists. He gazes at you warmly. "I don't mind. Besides, you're just down the road — it's not even out of the way."
"Alright, then," you smile softly. "If you insist. I open tomorrow though, so I have to be at Food Mart by 7:30 in the morning."
"Not a problem at all — I can be here at 7:00, if that works."
"Sounds perfect," you grin. "Thank you so much, Jihoon."
"Of course, I'm happy to help."
"So, what did you bring me?" you ask, reaching into the letterbox and pulling out the envelope Jihoon dropped off.
"Oh, just a holiday card," he answers sheepishly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Figured I'd save on postage."
"Well, next time you drop by be sure to say hi," you tease. "I don't bite. Wanna come in and warm up some?"
He's tempted to say yes, but he shakes his head.
"Thank you, but I have to get back home." He nudges his head toward the wooden planks in his truck bed. "Gotta finish up some repairs on the house before it gets dark."
A flicker of disappointment flashes across your face, but you smile at him.
"Next time, then," you tell him with a nod. "Good luck on the repairs!"
"Thanks, y/n," he replies fondly. "See you in the morning."
You head back inside, carefully tearing the sealed envelope open and pulling out Jihoon's card. On the front is a quaint illustration of a snow-coated forest, a deer standing elegantly between the tall pines. You open it to see a surprisingly lengthy message, written in ink, the lettering slightly messy but still perfectly legible. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you read what he wrote you:
Dear Y/n,
I am writing because I want to thank you for your kindness. When I moved to Carats Ridge a few weeks ago, I knew nobody here. Quite frankly, I still don't know anybody — except you. You were the first (and only) person to strike up a real conversation with me, and after a couple weeks of receiving nothing but disdainful glares and muttered whispers as I passed by, the warmth you showed me was like a breath of fresh air. I almost didn't come out to the Yuletide Fest that night — as much as I appreciated the invitation, I didn't want to have to walk into a crowd of strangers whom I knew would not be welcoming toward me. But after much deliberation, I convinced myself to go. I told myself I would just stop by for a few minutes to check things out, that I'd say hi to you and then leave. But then you left your post at the hot cocoa stand, all so you could show me around — and I forgot all about leaving. I had a wonderful night, and it made me feel like I have a place in this town after all. So again, thank you, for being a friend (I hope it's okay that I call you that) when I needed it the most.
—Jihoon Lee
It's not until you finish reading that you realize you're crying. You wipe the tears from your face, but they continue to trickle down your cheeks as you read the touching message a second time. Closing the card before you keep crying in the middle of your kitchen, you walk over to your fridge and post it to front of the door with a magnet — right at eye level, so you can see it every time you pass by.
—
You're finishing your second cup of coffee when you hear the soft rumble of Jihoon's truck as he pulls into your driveway again. You peep at the clock — 7:00am on the dot. Quickly donning your coat and boots, you grab your purse and head out to greet him.
"Morning!" you call as you scurry down the steps and over to his car. You see it's already started to snow — a light dusting of flakes starting to cover your yard in a frosty white blanket. Jihoon gets out and walks around the truck, meeting you at the passenger side door.
"Good morning," he says warmly, opening the door for you.
"Thanks!" you say as you hop inside the vehicle, relieved to find it comfortably toasty. Jihoon shuts the door and returns to the driver's seat, shifting the truck into reverse and backing out of your driveway.
"How'd your repairs go yesterday?" you ask as he reaches the main road, shifting into gear and beginning the drive to Food Mart.
"Much better than expected, honestly," he answers cheerily. "Finished up fixing the side of the house. Some of the old wood was rotting — it nearly crumbled in my hands as I stripped it down. But now it's good as new."
"You must be very handy to be fixing all that yourself," you commend him. "Do you work in construction at all?"
Jihoon shakes his head. "Nope, I learned it all from my dad. He was always having me help around the house when I was a kid. I didn't mind it then, but it's definitely been very useful these days."
"That's nice! What do you do for work then, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I'm a writer," he answers. "When I'm not fixing up the house, I'm working on my book."
"Whoa, that's so cool! What's it about?"
"It's um, kind of a science fiction novel. I know that's pretty dorky," he chuckles shyly. "But there's also romance involved."
"Oh, romance is my favorite genre! But I don't think that's dorky at all," you assure him. "It sounds impressive. What made you want to write science fiction?"
"It's always been my favorite genre. Do you know Dune?"
You shake your head. "Sorry, never heard of it."
"That's okay," he smiles. "It's iconic in the world of sci-fi literature, but it's not exactly mainstream. It was my favorite book when I was younger."
"Tell me about it!" you respond. "I'm curious."
"Um," he laughs nervously. "Well, it's quite long and complicated, but basically it's about a boy who moves to a desert planet called Arrakis — there's this highly coveted substance called spice that's basically a magic drug and Arrakis is the only place in the universe where it exists. They mine it from the desert, but there's these massive worms that live in the sand that interfere, and there's also this group of people who live in the desert called the Fremen—"
He glances over at you, seeing the stark confusion on your face.
"Sorry, you lost me at the big sand worm," you giggle.
"Fair enough," he laughs. "But yeah, I love the worldbuilding and the intergalactic politics of it all. My novel is nowhere near as complex, though. I've kind of ended up focusing on the romance aspect of it more than I expected."
"Well I'll definitely have to read it when it's published, then," you smile.
The green roof of Food Mart comes into view as you near your destination. Jihoon turns into the parking lot, pulling into the spot closest to the grocery store's front door.
"Well, here you are," he says as he shifts the car into park. "What time do you get off? I'll come pick you up."
"I get off at 4:00pm, but I'll have to go pick up my car."
"No problem, I can take you to the auto shop."
"Amazing — you're the best!" you beam at him, making him turn slightly pink. "See you later!"
"See you later," he smiles back at you as you exit the truck. He waits to make sure you can get in — it's far too cold to be stranded outside — but luckily the door is already unlocked. You look back as you step inside, giving him a cheerful wave goodbye. He reciprocates, gazing at you softly through the window as you disappear into the store.
—
True to his word, Jihoon returns to Food Mart at 4 o'clock to pick you up. He drives you to the auto shop, where you're relieved to find your car is just about fixed.
"You sure you're fine waiting here by yourself?" he asks when you tell him the good news.
"Yeah! It'll only be about 30 minutes. Please — go home, you don't need to wait around for me."
"Okay," he agrees. "But call me if something comes up, okay?"
"I will. Thanks again for the rides!"
"Of course. See you later, y/n."
Driving home, Jihoon approaches the intersection of Douglas Fir and Juniper. He hesitates at the stop sign, thinking for a moment, before deciding to turn left.
You pull up to your house about 45 minutes later to see Jihoon's truck once again parked outside, and its owner halfway through shoveling the snow from your driveway.
He turns as you slowly pull into the shoveled end of the drive, giving you a polite wave.
"What on earth are you doing??" you inquire as you step out of the car.
"Shoveling your driveway."
"I see that, but why?"
Jihoon shrugs. "It snowed a couple inches. How else were you going to be able to park?"
The way he says it is so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant — as if he didn't go out completely of his way to do a massive chore for you without you ever even asking.
You're not entirely sure why, but you nearly burst into tears right then and there. Instead you hold it in, blinking away the excess saline, hoping it appears as though your eyes are watering simply due to the cold.
"You didn't have to do that," you say softly.
"I know," he replies with a warm smile. "But I wanted to."
"Here, I have an extra shovel," you tell him as you march past him to go grab the tool propped up against the side of the house. "I'll help you finish — we'll be done in no time."
Indeed, with the two of you shoveling — and Jihoon having already done the brunt of the workload — the driveway is clear within fifteen minutes.
"Please, come inside and warm up," you say to him as you put the shovels away. "I insist."
He pauses for a moment, about to politely decline — but he is quite cold.
"Okay," he nods in agreement.
He follows you through the front door, removing his shoes right away as not to track snow into your home and quickly discarding his several layers of outerwear now that he is in the warmth of inside.
"It's very cozy in here," he compliments you as he takes a look around. "I like it."
"Thank you!" you chime. "I do too."
You don your nearby slippers and head into the kitchen. "I'm going to heat up some leftover soup from the fridge — minestrone that I made the other night. Would you like some?"
"That sounds delightful," he replies. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until right this moment.
You reheat the minestrone and dish up you and Jihoon each a big, steaming bowl.
"Wine?" you offer after you serve him, picking a bottle of cabernet up off the counter. You had been saving it for something special, and this seems like just the occasion.
"I'm okay, thank you," he declines, waving his hand. Without thinking, he adds "Maybe another time."
"Okay, but I'm holding you to that," you wink as you fetch the corkscrew from the drawer, opening the bottle and pouring yourself a glass.
"This is delicious," Jihoon says between slurping down spoonfuls of the thick, hearty soup. "You are an excellent cook."
"Thank you, I try my best," you reply humbly.
"Well you're doing a great job."
The room falls quiet as you both inhale your meals, but the lull in conversation feels perfectly comfortable. You each have seconds, polishing off the remainder of your big batch of soup; you also decide to pour yourself a second glass of wine as well — just a small one, you think to yourself.
"Tell me about Seattle," you say as you take the empty dishes and place them in the sink. You look over to Jihoon as you start scrubbing the bowls and spoons with a soapy sponge. "I barely remember it since I was so young when I went, all I remember it feeling huge and magical."
"I don't know about magical," he smiles. "But it's definitely huge and busy and filled with people. Basically, the complete opposite of here."
"I want to go back sometime — and see it not through the eyes of a child," you chuckle. "I've seen photos, the skyline is just so beautiful."
"I suppose it is," he says wistfully. "But not as beautiful as it is up here, if you ask me."
"I think beauty can come in all shapes and forms," you remark, rinsing the bowls and drying them with a towel. You rejoin Jihoon at the kitchen table. "They're both beautiful in their own ways, if you ask me."
He smiles softly. "I suppose that's true."
The question that has been lingering at the back of your mind since you first met him pops into your head again. You weren't sure if you should ask before, since you barely knew the guy — but he did call you his friend, after all.
"What made you leave the hustle and bustle of the big city to move out here — practically the middle of nowhere?" you ask gently. He seems to tense up, a somber expression washing over his face.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want," you quickly backpedal, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he shakes his head.
"No, it's alright," he responds with a sigh, staring down at his folded hands atop the table. "It's just… a lot. But to make a long story short, I was engaged. I had proposed to my girlfriend — we had been dating since high school, and it was the only relationship I've ever been in. I didn't know anything else, and I thought I was happy. But as we started to plan for the wedding, I came to realize I just… wasn't happy."
He shifts his gaze out your window, staring off into the distance pensively.
"I think I was too young and naïve to know it before that point," he continues. "But it was almost like a revelation: one day I woke up and realized I was putting a lot more into the relationship than she was. I think she did love me, to a degree. But I knew then that if I went through with the marriage, I would end up regretting it. So as scared as I was to do it, I ended things. It went just about as poorly as it possibly could have," he laughs somberly. "She was furious. I don't think it even was about the relationship ending, really — she ended up moving on almost immediately, it seemed. But I think it was about the fact that things were no longer going her way. She told everyone — her family, all of our friends — that I ruined her life. And to be fair, I suppose I kind of did. But in retrospect, I know it wouldn't have lasted long anyway, so I'm glad I saved myself that grief. But when nearly everybody walks out of your life in the blink of an eye… I just didn't know what to do. I had no friends left. My family is still around, but they've made it loud and clear that they think I made a huge mistake. I was sick to my stomach to even go outside and walk around the city that I loved anymore, because everything reminded me of her. So I left. I searched around for the most remote location I could possibly find — and that's how I ended up here. I never had even heard of Carats Ridge, but that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to get away and forget any of this ever happened. And I do love it here, really — I don't regret moving here at all. But although I left all the physical reminders of my ex behind, I guess I still couldn't escape the emotional damage that was done. "
The room sits still and silent for a moment as he finishes, the heaviness lingering in the air. You take a deep breath, stopping yourself before you start tearing up again.
"I'm so sorry, Jihoon," you finally speak softly. "That's all so awful."
"Yeah," he sighs, shaking his head wistfully. "That all happened almost a year ago now. It's embarrassing that it's still affecting me this much, but truth be told I'm not completely over it yet. But I try my best not to let myself dwell on it anymore."
"That's a huge, life-changing thing that happened to you," you reassure him. "It's okay to not be completely over it. You know what they say — healing isn't linear."
"You're certainly right about that," he replies, a soft smile appearing on face. "Anyway, I'm sorry to dump all that on you, but thank you for listening to me."
The way he says it is so gentle, so grateful — it seems as if you're the first person to properly listen to him in a very long time. And given everything he just told you, you suspect that very well might be true. It nearly breaks your heart.
"Hey, I'm always here if you need someone to talk to," you respond, smiling at him warmly. "Seriously — I mean it."
"Thanks, y/n," he glows warmly back at you. "I really appreciate that."
Glancing out the window again, Jihoon realizes just how dark it is.
"Wow, it's gotten late," he remarks as he peeks at his watch. "I should get out of your hair now."
Stay, you want to tell him. Stay as long as you want.
"Thanks again for shoveling my driveway. And being my taxi today," you say instead. And for keeping me company, you think as well.
"Anytime — I'm happy to help," he nods.
You walk him to the front door, opening it for him after he's bundled himself back up his coat and boots.
"Goodnight," you say warmly as he brushes past you. He turns to look at you, and for just a split second his face lingers before yours — so incredibly close it makes your stomach turn to jelly.
"Goodnight," he speaks softly, his dark eyes fixed intimately on yours for just a moment — then he goes.
You shut the door, but peek out the front window to watch as he strolls back to his truck. As he starts backing out the driveway, he catches your eye. You're a bit embarrassed that he saw you watching him, but he gives you a friendly wave. You wave back, and he drives off into the night.
8
You're zoned out stocking soup cans on the Food Mart shelves when you register somebody walking toward you out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head, coming back to Earth, ready to assist the customer — but you smile when you realize who it is.
"Well, hey there!" you say brightly.
"Hi, y/n," Jihoon replies with a warm grin. He's pushing an empty cart, seemingly just arriving at the store. "I was hoping you were working today."
"Yep, here I am," you say, trying not to turn completely flustered. "It's been a busy day today — everyone's trying to get their groceries early before the big snowstorm rolls in tomorrow night."
"Yeah, I heard about that," he replies. "Do you really think we're going to get ten inches of snow?"
"We might," you shrug. "It's pretty rare that we get that much all at once, but it does happen every once in a blue moon."
"Wow," he muses. "Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see, then. Anyway, speaking of tomorrow night, I had a question for you."
"Oh! Sure, what is it?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner. We can do it early — so you can get home before the storm starts."
A big grin creeps across your face. "I'd love that," you gush excitedly.
"Excellent," he grins back. "How do you feel about steak?"
"Steak sounds wonderful!"
"Perfect, I'll pick all the ingredients up while I'm here. Let's say, 4:00pm tomorrow?"
"I'll be there at 4 o'clock sharp," you beam.
"I'll see you tomorrow then, y/n."
—
Tiny flecks of snow begin to hit your windshield as you turn onto the steep incline of Hemlock Hill Drive.
"Guess the snow's coming in early," you mumble to yourself as you pull up to Jihoon's house. You park and make your way to his front door. You're about to knock when it swings open before you.
"Welcome," Jihoon says with a smile as he beckons you in. He's wearing a plain, black apron, slightly messied with stray splatters of sauce. "Come in, it's cold out."
"Looks like the storm might be coming in sooner than expected," you say, brushing the dusting of white flakes off your coat before you step inside.
"Sure looks like it."
As you remove your outerwear, you take in the interior of Jihoon's house for the first time. It looks like the inside of a cabin, with perfectly cozy decor arranged neatly in the tidy space. A large stereo system with a turntable sits in the living room, playing upbeat old-timey swing music at a moderate volume from its speakers.
"It's lovely in here!" you tell him cheerfully.
"Thank you, but I can't take all the credit. Most of the furniture came with the house," he explains. "It was all rather dusty, but with a bit of effort I got everything cleaned up and good as new, if I do say so myself."
"Wow. So much for the past occupant being an evil witch," you say with a laugh. "Not that I ever really believed any of that. But I'm sure most people in town would be expecting a big cauldron or pentagrams or whatever."
"Can confirm — not a single pentagram found in this house," he grins. "Please, have a seat — dinner is almost ready." As you walk through the house you are hit with the enticing aroma of steak; he leads you to a small table in the dining room, pulling a chair out for you before zipping back into the kitchen to check on the meat. The table is set, covered in a delicate linen tablecloth intricately embroidered with farmhouse scenery.
A couple minutes later he returns, now apron-free, carrying two fine porcelain plates — each bearing hearty roasted potatoes, tender-looking asparagus, and a thick, sizzling filet mignon.
"Wow, this looks amazing!" you tell him as he sets the first plate before you.
"One more thing…"
He returns to the kitchen, emerging again moments later with a bottle of expensive-looking cabernet sauvignon and two crystal wine glasses.
"I wasn't sure what else you liked, but I saw you were drinking a cabernet the other night, so I figured this would be a safe bet," he tells you as he opens the bottle with a corkscrew and pours you a glass.
"No, this is perfect," you glow at him.
He sits across from you, the humble size of the table making his closeness feel even more intimate.
"I'd say bon appétit, but that feels way too fancy for me to be saying," he chuckles lightheartedly.
"Are you kidding? This could be a Michelin star meal as far as I'm concerned," you praise.
You cut into the filet mignon, the tender, juicy meat slicing with ease. Your eyes widen as you take the first bite.
"Pardon my French, but holy shit," you mumble through a mouthful of steak, eyes widening with delight as the delicious flavor floods your mouth. "This is the best steak I've ever had."
"I'm glad you like it," he replies warmly. "My grandmother taught me how to cook from a young age. All this stuff is hers, actually — the dishes, the tablecloth. I've pretty much never used it," he laughs. "Only on special occasions."
"And I'm a special occasion?" you ask playfully as you take a sip of the wine. It's deliciously dry — full-bodied with rich flavor.
"Of course," he answers matter-of-factly, smiling softly as he looks you in the eyes. Between that and the wine, you feel a rush of heat starting to fill your cheeks.
The delicious meal is quickly devoured — but you remain at the table together long after, conversation and laughter filling the room as the both of you continue to sip at the wine. You don't know how long you and Jihoon have been sitting here talking — it's surely been well over an hour now, but it doesn't feel like it in the slightest.
"More wine?" he asks, cheeks pink and glowing from the alcohol as he picks up the bottle. "Bottle's just about empty, we can finish it up."
"Yes please," you smile at him, the wine also making you a bit giddy.
"Would you like to sit on the couch?" Jihoon asks. "I can start up the fireplace."
"That sounds perfect."
Migrating to the living room, he stops by the stereo system, quickly replacing the finished record with a new vinyl. Softer jazz music begins to play from its speakers as he grabs a couple logs of firewood and sets them in the fireplace, igniting the hearth with a lighter. A soft orange glow fills the room as the fire comes to life, immediately warming up the room.
You're about to sit down on the couch when you notice the seat is already occupied with a large round, black-and-white ball of fur.
"I told you!!" you exclaim. Jihoon — still kneeling before the fireplace — pokes his head up.
"Hm?"
You reach down to pet the fluffy creature; he wakes up, lifting his big round head and making a brrrrrrp sound.
"I told you you had a cat now!" you grin, patting the animal softly.
"Oh god, he's not supposed to be on the couch," Jihoon grumbles. "No, still not my cat. I only let him in because of the snowstorm tonight — he's going right back outside as soon as the snow clears."
He walks over to the couch, making a shooing motion to the cat, but the cat just looks at him.
"C'mon, get off."
"Oh, leave him be. Look how comfy he is!" you say, scratching his furry ears. "He's made himself right at home. Besides, the couch is big enough for all of us."
"Alright, fine," Jihoon concedes. He points his finger at the cat. "But don't get used to this."
With the cat taking up one end of the couch, you and Jihoon take a seat on the other side. There's plenty of room on the couch — it's wide enough for you to each have your own cushion and sit comfortably, but as he takes the end seat you scoot in a little closer to him. He doesn't seem to mind, taking a sip of his wine as he gazes over at you, the flickering flames of the fire illuminated in his eyes. You flash back to that night at the Yuletide fest, sitting by the bonfire, Jihoon at your side. He's even closer now — making your heart beat excitedly in your chest.
"Thanks again for the delicious meal," you say, taking a sip of your wine. "You really went all out."
"You're welcome," he smiles. "I haven't had anyone to cook for in a long time, so this was a real treat."
Silence follows for a few moments. Basking in the warmth of the fire together, you finish your wine; you delicately twirl the stem between your fingers as you stare at the crystalline design of the cup, watching it sparkle in the flames' light. Jihoon also finishes his drink, extending his hand and offering to take your now-empty glass.
"Here," he says, taking the glasses and setting them atop the coffee table. Leaning back into the couch, he turns to look at you again, unknown words sitting upon his lips, waiting to be spoken. You wait, eyes locked with his, suspended in an intimate moment of time; he licks his lips, taking a deep breath.
"I—" he starts, the flicker of his eyes to your lips not going unnoticed. You shift your weight, leaning slightly into him, the side of your thigh pressing gently into his.
"I just wanted to say, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," he tells you, his face tinged with a flushed shade of pink.
"Me too," you reply softly, leaning in closer still. The romantic sounds of the jazz album fill the air around you, embellished by the pleasant crackling of the firelogs from the hearth. Jihoon seems anxious — but he decides he can't wait a moment longer.
"Can I kiss you?"
It comes out as barely more than a whisper. His eyes stare into yours expectantly, waiting nervously for a response. You answer with a smile, shining brightly from ear to ear as you nod eagerly. His pupils dilate with excitement, a huge grin spreading across his cheeks. Slowly he leans in, his lips colliding with yours — an eruption of flutters rippling through your body as he kisses you. He tugs at your lips, slow and gentle and loving, savoring every moment of kissing you for the very first time. Your hand slides onto his lap, gripping his thigh as you kiss him back fervently, the darkly sweet flavor of the wine lingering on his mouth as you taste him. His hand brushes against your cheek as he cradles your face in his palm, rubbing your cheekbone tenderly with his thumb. You drag your fingers up his thigh, making him squirm slightly in his seat; you rest your hand upon his waist, grasping at his body through the thick knitting of his sweater. His hand gradually slips to the back of your neck, holding you tightly against him as he kisses you with a passion desperate and urgent. You cling to him as he pulls you into his arms, feverously running your hands over his body as his hands wander — committing every curve of your body to memory. Finally, your lips part, breaking for air; he kisses down your jaw to your neck, pressing his lips softly into the delicate skin, making you gasp with pleasure.
"You're even more perfect than I imagined," he mutters between kisses. He begins to suck at the skin lightly, causing you to let out a soft moan. His hands on your waist suddenly grasp tightly at your flesh, pulling you up and over onto his lap. You hold his face in your hands as you straddle him, kissing him on the lips again. He wraps his arms around your torso, pressing your body into his as he kisses you and kisses you — never wanting to leave this moment.
The strain in his pants grows increasingly obvious as you make out; you grind your hips against his as you bite at his lower lip, causing him to groan into your mouth in desperation as your core presses into his burgeoning erection.
"Oh my god," he murmurs, grabbing your ass as he presses you into him further. You feel his clothed cock throb beneath his jeans, the thick mass pulsing against your equally aching clit. You've never been so certain of anything as much as you are certain that you need him — and you need him now.
Reaching down, you tug at the button of his pants, looking at him to make sure this is okay — but his pleading eyes staring up at you tell you he wants this just as much as you do. You tug the button open, slowly pulling the zipper down; a simple pair of white underwear comes into view, doing nothing to hide the massive bulge of his stiff cock beneath the fabric. You look down at it as you run your fingertips over it lightly; Jihoon inhales sharply at the sensation, his body tensing up beneath you. You lift your eyes to his face again, finding him staring at you as if he's never desired anything more. You go to stand up; Jihoon grasps at your hands, not wanting you to leave for even a moment — but when he sees you reaching to unfasten your pants he gives you a lazy grin, drunk off wine and lust. You slip your pants off, letting them fall to the floor and stepping free of them. Jihoon reaches for your hips with both hands, slipping his fingers under the delicate fabric of your panties and pulling them down in one swift motion. Discarding those to the ground as well, you sit back onto your knees, straddling his lap as he reaches for his own underwear. He tugs the waistband down, revealing a cock so thick it makes your clit pulse excitedly. You wrap your hand around its width, giving him a few slow strokes. His eyes start to roll back — his pleasure only exacerbated when you drag his tip through your drenched folds.
"Ohhh," he moans as he stares at your cunt. "Fuck you're so wet."
"I want you so bad," you whisper, stroking your clit with the head a few more times as you stare down at him desperately.
"I want you too," he mutters in a low voice, grasping at your hips. You position his tip at your entrance, slowly lowering your cunt onto his cock. Jihoon's mouth drops open, letting out another moan as your walls squeeze tight around his size. You whimper as you bottom out — the entirety of his cock now inside you. You kiss him with urgent need, his hands slipping under your sweater, tantalizingly cold against your warm skin. Slowly, you lift yourself up, dragging your pussy up his length til it's almost all the way off — then dropping again, his cock sliding back into you and making you feel deliciously full.
"Oh my god," you groan, slumping over onto him as your body relaxes with pleasure. He wraps his arms around your torso, squeezing you tight against him as you begin to ride him. The room fills with a symphony of moans as he fucks his cock into you, thrusting up into you slowly but with the perfect amount of intensity.
“Fuck,” you cry as his pace starts to quicken. “That feels so good…”
“You feel amazing, baby,” he mutters into your ear. You lift your head slightly, laying your forehead against his, gazing into his dark eyes as he stares up at you — both of you enamored and infatuated and very nearly on the brink of orgasm.
“Jihoon,” you whine, your moans growing louder and longer.
“You sound so pretty like this,” he mumbles, his voice low and grovelly as the breaths of his words hit your lips. “Gonna cum soon, baby.”
“Me too,” your voice quivers. You press another long kiss into his lips; his hips begin to jerk into you as his body tenses, the overstimulation and the pressure against your clit sending you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm rushes through you, powerful surges of ecstasy rolling through your body as your core burns white-hot with pleasure. Your walls constrict around his painfully-hard cock as you cum, driving him straight into climax too — you feel him release into you, hot bursts of cum shooting deliciously into your cunt. He fills you up, trickles of white leaking from your pussy all over his cock as he gives you a few final thrusts. Finally, aside from the deep heaving breaths of your chests, both of your bodies still. You collapse onto him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.
“Wow,” you sigh, laying atop Jihoon as he gently rubs his hands over your back.
“Yeah,” he replies breathily. “I agree.”
Gathering the energy to sit back up, you lift your head; a huge, giddy grin is plastered across Jihoon’s reddened cheeks. You giggle, pressing your nose into his, staring fondly into his eyes.
“Stay here,” he murmurs softly, giving you a peck on the lips. He fetches a towel and gets you all cleaned up, even lending you a pair of oversized sweatpants so you can be comfortable. You cuddle up on the couch again, entangled in each others’ arms underneath a thick, cozy blanket.
“Do you think we’re snowed in yet?” you ask softly as you rest your head upon his chest.
“Oh, yeah. We are absolutely snowed in,” he replies with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry, I know you were supposed to be out of here before then — but I must admit you are very distracting.”
“Don’t apologize,” you grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me for the night, then.”
“Guess so,” he smiles, kissing the top of your head tenderly. “But I don’t mind that one bit.”
9
You wake the next morning to the bright glare of the rising sun reflecting off the deluge of snow piled high outside the house.
Sitting up and peering around the room, you realize you’re still in Jihoon’s house — his side of the bed empty beside you. You get up, locating one of his sweatshirts and tossing it on as you walk out into his living room. Out the front window, you can see the top of his beanie-clad head as he is busy shoveling your car out of possibly the most snow you’ve ever seen in your life.
Donning your coat and boots, you traipse out the front door. The sidewalk from the door to the driveway has a narrow pathway shoveled through the solid twelve inches of snow resting peacefully upon the ground.
“You’ve gotta stop doing this,” you call to him as you saunter over toward him. He looks up, giving you a wave as he grins at you.
“Why?” he inquires.
“Because I’m gonna have to start paying you for doing all this manual labor for me,” you grin back.
“Nope,” he replies, shaking his head. “My services are free.”
“Because you like me?” you tease.
“Yes,” he smiles at you softly. “Because I like you a lot.”
“Let me help you at least—”
“No need,” he says with a dismissive wave. “I’m almost done. You should go back inside, it’s too cold out here. I’ll be right in.”
“Okay, fine,” you pretend to complain, but you smile back at him. As he turns to finish the last bit of shoveling, you reach down and collect a handful of snow. It’s frigid against your bare palms, but you pack it into a solid sphere anyway and chuck it at Jihoon. It hits him square in the back; he turns, giving you a quizzical look.
“Did you just throw a snowball at me?”
You respond by throwing another snowball, this time hitting him in the arm. He chuckles, rolling his eyes and returning to shoveling. You lob another one — hitting him in the butt this time.
“Oops, sorry!” you shout. “That’s not where I was aiming, I swear.”
“Sure it wasn’t,” he laughs.
“C’mon, throw one back!”
He ignores you, removing the last bit of snow from around your car’s back tire. You throw another one, hitting him right in the butt again.
“Okay, that one was on purpose.”
“It sure was,” you reply proudly. “Come onnnn, you’re just gonna stand there and take this?”
He turns, giving you a shrug.
“Fine,” he says as he gathers a small handful of snow off the trunk of your car, barely packing it and tossing it at you. It falls apart midair, showering you in a light dusting of snow.
“That’s it?” you taunt. “Haven’t you ever been in a snowball fight?”
“Sure, when I was a kid.”
You throw another ball at his chest. “Throw one back or I’m gonna stuff snow down your coat,” you grin mischievously, grabbing a handful and walking toward him.
“Hey!” he shouts, backing away. He grabs a big chunk of snow and lobs it at you, hitting you in the arm. “There! I did it. Happy now?”
“Yes,” you say, chucking more snow in his direction as you continue toward him. His eyes widen as he tries to run, but you’re quicker; you fling your arms around him, planting a big kiss on his cold cheek.
“See, that wasn’t so bad—” you start, but you stumble and fall, pulling Jihoon to the ground with you.
“I’m sorry!!” you shout apologetically as you both fall into the deep pile of snow. “I didn’t mean to do that!”
You lift your head to see Jihoon laying beside you, laughing heartily.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” he teases, pulling you off the ground with him as he stands back up.
Back inside again, Jihoon makes a fresh pot of coffee. You cuddle up together on the couch once more, steaming mugs in hand as you warm yourselves up underneath the blanket. The cat, still inside, is curled up in a ball on the floor, napping peacefully before the blazing fireplace.
“Gotta be honest,” Jihoon tells you as you snuggle in close. “This was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Which part?” you ask cheekily.
“All of it,” he answers matter-of-factly. Smiling shyly, he adds, “Though, the sex was pretty mind-blowing, I must admit.”
“Yeah, it was,” you giggle, laying your head on his shoulder. “Honestly, me too, though. I really like hanging out with you, we should keep doing it.”
Jihoon doesn’t reply. Lifting your head up, you see his eyes starting to water. He quickly blinks the tears away.
“I just… really appreciate you spending so much time with me. So thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for spending time with you, silly,” you say to him softly. “That’s what friends are for.”
The tears return to his eyes, this time escaping and trickling down his cheeks.
"I was starting to wonder if coming to this town was a mistake,” he tells you, patting his damp face with his sleeve. “After everything that happened, all I wanted was to be alone — but I had no idea how lonely I’d get. But then one day, this beautiful girl hit me with a cart of vegetables in the Food Mart,” he laughs. “And it was one of the best things that ever happened to me."
It’s your turn to start crying.
“Oh god, what did I say?” he asks with genuine concern.
“No no, you’re fine,” you reply, chuckling through your tears. “That’s just the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.” You sit up, turning to look at Jihoon. “I’ve never met anyone like you, you know. I’ve only been in a few relationships, but every guy I’ve ever dated barely gave me the time of day. And I thought that was normal — I thought I was just a silly romantic whose expectations were way too high. But then one day you shoveled my entire driveway. I didn’t even ask you to do that, you just did. That was the first time in my life I’ve ever felt truly loved.”
Jihoon wraps his arm around you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“I don’t have much to offer,” he tells you, gazing at you softly. “But if you’ll allow me, I’d love to keep loving you.”
You smile, staring back at him fondly.
“That’s all I could ever need and more.”
EPILOGUE
“Cat! Dinner!”
Jihoon wanders into the living room, carrying a bowl of Fancy Feast. The fluffy critter appears, tail perked up in the air as he trots excitedly to his food spot.
“There you are,” Jihoon says as he sets the food down, petting the cat as he brushes past and starts eating right away.
You look up from your book, staring at him from across the room.
“You’ve gotta name that damn cat.”
Jihoon turns his head to you.
“What?”
“You need to name him. You can’t just keep calling him ‘cat’.”
“Why not?” he asks plainly, coming to join you on the couch.
“What do you mean ‘why not’??” you ask incredulously.
“He’s a stray. If I name him that makes him my cat.”
“Jihoon. Look at him.” You gesture across the room to the cat, finished eating already, as he curls up on the fleece blanket Jihoon laid out for him. “He already is your cat.”
“Alright, fine,” he replies, waving his hand at you. “You can name him if you want.”
“Yay!” you say excitedly, taking it as a win. “Okay, how about… Hm, what do you think of Sylvester?”
Jihoon makes a face. “Why ‘Sylvester’?”
“Like from Looney Tunes! You know, the black and white cartoon cat?”
“That sounds like an old man name,” he frowns.
“Okay, fine. What about Oreo?”
He shakes his head. “Too basic.”
“Checkers, then.”
“That’s too silly for him,” he declines.
“For it ‘not being your cat’ you sure have some opinions on his name,” you tease. “You have any ideas, then?”
Jihoon looks at the cat for a moment, then looks back to you.
“Rutabaga.”
“What? That’s not black and white!”
“No,” Jihoon smiles. “But the first time I met you you dropped rutabagas all over the floor.”
“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes. “And why exactly do you want to name your cat after my embarrassing blunder?”
He shrugs, leaning over to give you a kiss on the check.
♡ pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader
♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor, coffee shop au
♡ wc: 4.5k
♡ warnings: oral (m. & f. receiving), dry humping, lots of whining (you already know!), dacryphilia, cum swallowing, face sitting, squirting, nipple play
♡ a/n: happy happy birthday @gyuswhore!!!! thank you for making studioSVT such a wonderful little community to be a part of. i hope you enjoy this silly goofy fic about your silly goofy guy <3
SYNOPSIS: The new barista at your favorite local coffee shop is tall, handsome, funny, and definitely into you. Mingyu always gives you his employee discount, and he's even taken it upon himself to invent custom drinks, made special just for you. He really is the nicest guy around, and you genuinely might have a shot with him — which is why you don't have the heart to tell him that his made-up beverages taste utterly terrible.
A light jingling sound rings out from overhead as you swing the door open, your senses stimulated by the rich scent of freshly-roasted coffee beans hitting you as you step through the threshold. You scan the faces behind the counter, hopeful that Mingyu is working today, but your heart sinks a little when you don't see him. Your shoes tap pleasantly on the vintage black-and-white tile flooring as you head toward the register; there's only one person ahead of you in line — an elderly man who seems to be in the process of digging through his pockets so he can pay in exact change. You stare lazily at the chalkboard menu on the wall — a pointless endeavor, for you already know what you want, but you peruse the familiar beverage list anyway while you wait. The man ahead of you finally located the last couple pennies he needed and shuffles off to find a seat; as you step up you recognize the cashier — it's Marlene, the owner.
"I'll be right back, hon," she tells you with a warm smile as she zips off into the kitchen. You glance down at your phone, aimlessly scrolling through your notifications while you wait for her to return; a figure reappears in your periphery a few moments later, but its stature is far too large to be Marlene.
"I was wondering if you'd stop by today," Mingyu grins at you as you look up at him.
"Well, it's Tuesday afternoon after all," you smile back at him, trying to act casual. But it's hard to act casual around Mingyu, the world's most beautiful human. It's no secret that all the patrons who walk through the door are constantly swooning at him; you can tell he's used to it, but he handles it professionally — maintaining that charming smile and laid-back demeanor while he takes down everyone's orders. You know he's friendly with everybody, and you try so very hard not to delude yourself that the way he looks at you is something special — but you swear this man is always flirting with you. Today is no exception — his dark eyes fixed on you attentively, his grin a little extra toothier than it usually is.
"I know, I know," he chuckles. "But you're later than usual. I was starting to worry you'd run off with some other coffee shop."
"Oh, please," you roll your eyes playfully. "As if I'd ever cheat on The Human Bean. You guys have the best cold brew in the city," you tell him matter-of-factly.
"Don't worry, I know you're my most loyal customer," he replies with a wink, making your stomach do a flip. "Let me guess," he carries on as he quizzically narrows his eyes at you, pretending to read your mind. "A medium cold brew with oat milk and one pump of liquid sugar cane?"
"Wow, you're amazing," you reply with feigned surprise. "Yes, please."
"Perfect, that'll be $4.22."
You cock your head slightly as you tap your credit card on the screen. "Did the price go down?" you ask. Mingyu peers around, making sure no one is in earshot before he replies.
"I'm giving you my employee discount," he whispers as he leans in slightly.
"Oh! Well that's very kind of you," you reply as you try your hardest not to blush like an idiot.
"But you can't tell my boss," he adds with widened eyes. "Or I'll be in big trouble."
You nod understandingly. "It'll be our little secret," you grin at him.
"Perfect," he grins back.
"I was wondering if you'd stop by today."
You raise your brow at Mingyu as you fiddle with closing your uncooperative umbrella. "It's Thursday morning, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah," he nods. "But I thought you might stay home with the storm."
You were thinking about me?? you want to ask, but instead you settle for a shrug.
"You know I can't work without my cold brew."
"That's what I like to hear," he beams proudly at you. "Actually, um, I was wondering if you'd like something a little… different today."
"What, are you out of cold brew?"
"Well, no," he replies. He looks around, but the coffee shop is completely empty except for a headphone-wearing woman in the corner table, typing away furiously at her laptop. "I was just wondering if you'd like something off the, uh, secret menu."
"Oh," you reply, surprised. "I didn't know there was a secret menu."
"Well, technically there's not," he admits sheepishly. "But I'm trying to change that. I've been practicing making new drinks, and I think if I can come up with a few solid ones Marlene might let me make one. Unofficially, of course."
"Ah, so it's the Mingyu Menu," you remark.
"Yeah, I guess so," he chuckles, slightly embarrassed.
"Well, alright then," you say with a shrug. "What's on the Mingyu Menu for today?"
"Oh," he pauses, thinking for a moment. "Well, I didn't actually get that far. I didn't think you'd actually say yes."
You let out a giggle. "So you're just making it up on the fly, then."
"Umm, yeah, kinda," he answers with a shrug.
"Well, surprise me then."
His face lights up. "Okie dokie! One… uh, special drink, coming right up."
Mingyu starts fluttering around the kitchen, preparing the espresso and collecting various sauces and toppings. You watch him while he works; it's not until he notices you watching him, turning over his shoulder to glance back at you, that you realize you're practically making heart eyes at him. Your face grows hot as you turn flustered, but he simply smiles, dark eyes sparkling back at you.
"Here you go," he tells you as he finishes, placing the plastic lid on the cup and handing you the beverage. "For my favorite customer."
You smile, slightly embarrassed, but you take the drink from him. As you grab it, you notice he wrote your name on the cup — neat lettering, written in black sharpie: your name, followed by a heart.
"For what it's worth, you're also my favorite barista," you tell him. The tips of his ears quickly turn crimson.
"So, what in this?" you ask as you grab a straw, unwrapping it and sticking it in the drink.
"It's a cherry pistachio white chocolate mocha," he says proudly. "With oat milk, of course."
You take a sip. The flavors hit your taste buds all at once, making your eyes widen, but not with delight. The drink tastes terrible. You look at it, the sickly greenish-brown beverage now appearing as unappetizing at it tastes. Looking back up at Mingyu, he's staring at you eagerly, waiting for you to say something.
"It's good," you lie. It doesn't come out very convincingly, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Very interesting."
"Awesome! This one's on the house," he says with a satisfied nod.
"Thank you so much," you respond, feigning a smile — grateful you didn't actually have to pay for this abomination of a latte. "Well, I'd better get to work," you say, excusing yourself politely. "Got a lot to do today."
"Good luck with your studies!" he tells you cheerfully.
You take your favorite corner spot, opening up your laptop and pulling up your thesis. You notice Mingyu watching you, trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes keep flashing over to you as he washes dishes and cleans up the counter. You don't really want to finish the awful drink, but you don't want him to feel bad, so you sip it reluctantly as you type away at the keys.
About an hour later, Mingyu saunters over to your table. You're locked into your work, so you don't notice until he's hovering over you, making you jump in your seat slightly.
"Sorry," he says timidly as you pull your earbuds out. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"It's okay," you say with a laugh. "I just didn't see you there."
"Can I get you a refill?" he asks, nodding his head to the nearly-empty cup that you somehow managed to drink most of.
"Oh, no, that's alright," you say, waving your hand. "I'm actually probably going to head out soon, I think this storm is only going to get worse."
Mingyu looks slightly sulky, but he nods understandingly. "Yeah, it's getting pretty crazy out there." As if on cue, a blinding bolt of lightning flashes through the window, followed by a booming thunder crack. "Please get home safe," he tells you sincerely.
"I will," you assure him as you start to pack up your things. You don't really want to leave yet, but truthfully you'd much rather be cozied up in your own home in this dreadful weather.
"See you later," Mingyu smiles at you softly. He slowly turns, reluctant to go back to work, but he doesn't want to be a bother.
"Mingyu—" you call out before he walks off. He turns back, looking at you with hopeful eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Would you wanna hang out sometime?" you ask, blurting it out before you lose the courage to say anything.
"I'd love to!" he responds right away with far too much enthusiasm. Reeling it in a bit, he adds, "I'm off Saturday, if you're free."
"Yeah, that sounds great," you beam at him. You rummage in your bag for a pen, scribbling your phone number on a napkin and handing it to him.
"Awesome," he says with a big cheesy grin. "I'm looking forward to it already."
"How many monkeys do you think you could take in a fight?"
You turn away from the two lemurs you were watching swing through the trees to give Mingyu a strange look.
"What?"
"Like if a bunch of monkeys were attacking you how many do you think you could fend off by yourself?" he elaborates, completely earnestly.
"Um, I don't know. I've never thought about it."
Mingyu had texted you right away after you left The Human Bean on Thursday, asking if you'd want to go to the zoo with him. It had been a while since you'd been, and you were just thrilled to be hanging out with him outside of his work, so you excitedly agreed.
"What kind of monkeys?" you inquire. "Because there's a big difference between a lemur and like, a gorilla or something."
"Any kind," he replies. "I think I could probably take 100."
"Any" you repeat as you raise your brow at him. "You mean to tell me you think you could fight off 100 angry chimpanzees by yourself?"
"I mean, if I had to, probably," he shrugs.
"Mingyu, chimps have literally killed people before. I highly recommend you do not try to fight one, never mind 100."
"Oh," he says blankly. "I didn't know that.
"Yeah, they can get like, really violent sometimes."
"Okay, okay, I promise I won't fight any monkeys," he concedes with a laugh.
You continue through the primates exhibit together, sticking close to Mingyu's side as you amble through the crowd. He gently places his hand upon your back as you both tread carefully through a swarm of rambunctious children, trying not to step on any of them — the sensation of his hand on your body making you feel giddy. When you finally escape the exhibit he lets go, making you just a little bit sad.
"Where to next?" you ask him, pulling out the paper zoo map and opening it up. He leans in to look at it too, the pleasant scent of his cologne washing over you.
"Let's go to the Africa exhibit," he answers, pointing to the large area at the center of the map. "I wanna see the giraffes, they're my favorite."
"Is it because you can see eye-to-eye with them?"
"Hey!" he objects, but he giggles anyway.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm just teasing," you grin at him.
"No it's okay," he laughs. "You can tease me as much as you want. I like it."
"Oh, you're into that?" you ask, shooting him a smirk.
"No!! Well, actually— Um, nevermind…" he stammers, eyes growing wide in embarrassment as he registers the words that are coming out of his mouth.
"Come on, dummy," you laugh, wrapping your arm around his elbow. "Let's go see the giraffes."
"I was hoping you'd stop by today."
You smile, trying not to gush at the way Mingyu stares at you from behind the register. The cafe is busy today, so you know you don't have much time to stand here and chat, but you're just happy to see him — and excited that he's also happy to see you.
"Well of course, I'm always here Tuesday afternoons."
"I know, but I was still looking forward to it," he smiles. "The usual today? Or can I interest you in—" he leans in, lowering his voice. "Something special off the Mingyu Menu?"
You hesitate, remembering how awful the custom drink he made you last time was — but maybe he was just having an off day, you tell yourself.
"Something special, please," you answer, hoping you don't regret it.
"One something special, coming right up," he winks at you.
You see your favorite spot is taken, so you settle for one of the tall stools along the window. A few moments later you hear Mingyu's voice calling out your name from behind the counter.
"Today's special: a hazelnut matcha cold brew," he tells you cheerily as you pick up your drink. You smile nervously, because that sounds even worse than the one he made before, but you thank him and hurry back to your seat before he can ask you what you think of it. One sip, and your suspicions are confirmed: it is not good.
Who the hell combines matcha with cold brew?? you think to yourself. But he didn't charge you again, so you reluctantly sip at the bad drink as you edit your thesis.
After a couple hours of work, you're starting to burn out, so decide to head home. The terrible drink is still half full; you peek over to the bar to see if Mingyu is watching, but he's occupied at the espresso machine with his back to you — so you take your chance and toss it in the trash before he sees. You gather your things, hoping you can at least tell him goodbye, but the line is nearly out the door and he appears to be swamped with orders. You manage to catch his eye though as you head out the door; he waves, smiling at you brightly as ever, mouthing I'll text you across the room. You beam at him as you wave back, excited already at the prospect of talking to him later.
True to his word, Mingyu texts you as soon as his shift ends.
Mingyu Kim: Hey! I'm off work now :) I don't know what you're up to tomorrow, but I'm off so I was gonna head down to the beach and catch some waves if you wanted to join!
you: I don't know literally anything about surfing haha, but I'd love to come watch! I'm free anytime after noon tomorrow.
Mingyu Kim: Perfect! Text me your address, I can pick you up at 12:30 if that works!
you: Sounds good!!
"Oh man, the waves look awesome today," he tells you as you arrive at the beach. One hand is occupied carrying his board; the other — holding your hand.
"How long have you been surfing?" you inquire as you stroll across the hot sand.
"Well, I only started learning last year," he admits sheepishly. "So I'm not very good at it. But it's so much fun."
"And that's what matters," you assure him.
"But you can't make fun of me when I inevitably wipe out like an idiot!"
"I won't!" you laugh. "Not too much, anyway."
"Alright, I can live with that."
You sit in the camping chair Mingyu brought for you and watch as he heads into the water. The waves are abundant today, and soon enough a sizeable wall of water comes rushing toward the shore. He paddles into position, hoisting his feet up on the board as the wave reaches him — he squats low, maintaining his balance as he begins to coast across the rolling tide. His tan skin looks incredible in the bright summer sun, his long dark hair flowing in the wind as he rides the wave out successfully. He looks over to you, waving his arm excitedly. You give him a thumbs up; as soon as you do, a second wave suddenly breaks, sending him crashing into the water.
"I'm okay!!" he shouts to you as he resurfaces, clinging to his board as he scrambles to get back onto it — but he moves too fast, and he falls into the water again. You burst out laughing, but as his head pops back up you see he's laughing too, grinning ear to ear as if he's having the time of his life.
"You killed that," you tell Mingyu as he returns to you on the beach about 20 minutes later. He plops down on the striped towel you laid out for him, breathing heavily as large droplets of salt water trickle down his skin.
"Oh, thanks," he chuckles. "I only wiped out four times, honestly not bad for me."
"But you looked really good while doing it," you assure him.
"You're too nice to me," he laughs, running his fingers through his drenched hair to push it back off his forehead.
"It's because I like you."
He looks up at you, face flushed from adrenaline, a big smile creeping onto his face.
"Well that's good news, because I like you too."
Mingyu's lips crash into yours as you stumble into your bedroom together, hands frantically dancing across each others' bodies as you try to make out and walk at the same time. You pull him toward your bed, but he hesitates, stopping in his tracks.
"I don't wanna get any sand in your bed or anything—"
"Who cares, I'm gonna have to change my sheets anyway," you respond, tugging at forearm.
"Oh," he says, grinning excitedly. You plop on the bed, pulling him on top of you; he rolls to your other side, not wanting to squish you, but you immediately roll over on top of him. Straddling his lap, you lean in and kiss him, holding his face in your hands as you make out with him. His fingers snake through your hair, grasping onto your head as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his other hand wrapping around your back and gripping your waist. You grind your hips gently over his lap, feeling the hardening bulge in his swim trunks against your cunt — causing him to whimper softly into your lips.
"You like that?" you breathe into his mouth between kisses.
"Yeah," he exhales, his warm eyes gazing up into yours. You do it again, rubbing against him back and forth — his eyelids flutter shut as his eyes roll back slightly.
"Wow," he whispers, returning to kissing you, tightening his grip on your body as you grind against his cock. Eventually his hands slide to your hips, stilling your movement.
"That's— I'm gonna cum too fast if you keep doing that," he mutters sheepishly. You smirk at him, scooting yourself down to position yourself between his legs. You peel his still slightly damp shorts off of him, his cock springing free as the waistband slips over his hips. You toss the garment to the floor, wrapping your hand around his girth and stroking him slowly as you drag your tongue over his tip.
"Ohhh wow," he groans, petting your head lovingly as you lick up and down his length. You then spit on it, spreading the wetness over his cock — now fully hard, standing tall and thick in your grasp. You slide your fist to his hilt, jerking the base of his cock as you take the head between your lips, sucking as you slide it into your throat.
"Oh fuck," he gasps. You start bobbing your head as you suck him off, making him whine again. "Fuck that feels so good."
You swallow him as far as you can go, squeezing his balls gently as you gag on him, grotesque noises emanating from your throat as you make a show of it. Your lips up slide up and down his length, making him start to squirm beneath you. His hips begin to buck slightly; he tries to contain himself, as not to overwhelm you — but you still your head, gazing up at him, your eyes beg him to fuck your mouth. Your desperation does him in; he begins to thrust his cock into your throat, slowly at first, but his pace soon quickens. He once again grasps onto your hair, firmly holding your head in place as he fucks your face — saliva pooling and dribbling from your lips onto his length and stomach. Tears flood your eyes as he pleasures himself with your mouth, soft pathetic moans escaping him as he grows dangerously close to cumming already.
"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon," he groans, tightening his grip on your hair as his hips jerk into your face. "Can I cum in your mouth, baby?" he begs. You nod eagerly as streams of tears begin to flow down your cheeks — the sight of you enough to send him over the edge.
"Ohhhhmygod," he moans, eyes rolling back into his head as his orgasm overtakes him. Thick ropes of cum hit the back of your throat, the salty taste filling your mouth as he releases — moaning and whining and whimpering incoherently at the overwhelming surge of pleasure coursing through his entire body. He gives you a few final bursts of cum, his body stilling as his chest rises with deep, heavy breaths.
"Holy shit, that was incredible," he murmurs as he lets go of your hair, his arm plopping onto the mattress. You slowly pull your mouth off of him, releasing his cock from the sweet confines of your throat — making sure to swallow every last drop of his cum.
"Oh my god, wow," he groans as he lifts his head, staring at you adoringly as you grin back at him. "I wanna taste you baby, please." You nod, and his eyes darken lustfully. You hurriedly stand up to remove your shorts and swim bottoms, but he reaches for your top and tugs at it.
"Get rid of this too," he pleads. You oblige, stripping the t-shirt off and the bikini top underneath with it, your breasts falling free. You swear his eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"C'mere," he reaches for your hand, pulling you toward him. "Sit on my face."
You swing your leg over him, positioning yourself over his face; you lower your cunt to his lips, their warmth colliding with your wet core as he immediately gets to work slurping up your juices. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you into his face as he holds you tight.
"Hey, I don't wanna suffocate you—ahhhh." Your concerns fade away as his tongue begins to work against your clit, swirling tenderly around the bud, making your mind go blank.
"Don't care," he mumbles muffledly into your pussy. His nose bumps into your clit deliciously as his tongue slips into your drenched hole, making a soft moan escape you. The sound is enough to egg him on — he works his tongue in and out of you, fucking you as you gently grind your hips. You squeeze your breasts, holding them in your hands as your thumbs graze over your hardened nipples.
"Fuck that's so hot," he moans, his mouth departing your pussy just long enough to speak. "Keep doing that."
You oblige, and his lips return to your clit, latching on and suckling on it delicately.
"Fuck, ohmygod," you whine. He continues with light pulses, the gentle stimulation quickly driving you crazy. As your moans grow louder he increases the pressure, giving the sensitive bud long, intense bouts of suction. Soon, you're nearly over the edge.
"I'm gonna cum—" you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as the burning heat in your core bursts suddenly through your whole body. The waves of your orgasm make your thighs quiver, your entire being shaking as Mingyu holds you tightly against his face. You grip onto the headboard with all your might, riding out your high as he suckles your clit, making your juices splash all over him as you release. Should have probably warned him about that, but you were a bit too occupied to think of that. He doesn't mind one bit, though — his spent cock twitching against his belly at the delightful surprise.
"Fuckfuckfuck," you stammer as the overstimulation hits you. He slows down, releasing your clit and running his tongue through your folds as he laps up all your delicious cum. You collapse onto the bed beside him, utterly defeated, but in the best way possible. He wraps his large arms around you, pulling you into his torso; you nuzzle your head into the crevice of his shoulder, resting your palm upon his chest.
"That was amazing," he sighs, giving you a tender kiss upon your forehead.
"Yeah, we should do that again sometime," you mumble in a sleepy daze.
"Yes, please," he replies with a huge grin.
"I have to tell you something though," you tell him. His smile drops, suddenly nervous at the seriousness of your tone.
"Oh god, what did I do wrong," he asks anxiously.
"Nothing like that!" you reply quickly. "The sex was great." He lets out a sigh of relief.
"Okay, thank god."
"This is about the special drinks you've been making me."
"What?" he blurts out, genuinely surprised. "What about them?"
"Mingyu, I'm sorry, but they've all been so bad."
He stares at you, confusion spreading across his face.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks sulkily.
"Because you were being really nice to me and I didn't want to make you feel bad," you reply apologetically. He starts to giggle, squishing you against him in his arms.
"Damn, there goes my dreams of being the best barista in town," he says lightheartedly.
"Sorry," you repeat sheepishly.
"I'm just kidding," he smiles. "Making coffee is definitely not my passion. I'm just doing this to save some extra money for traveling, after all."
"Oh, nice. Where are you traveling to?"
"Well, I'm not sure. Got any suggestions?"
"I haven't traveled internationally much, if I'm being honest," you admit. "But I've always wanted to go to Iceland."
"Oh! I've never even thought about going to Iceland. What's there?"
"The Northern Lights," you answer. "The geothermal springs, lots of beautiful nature. I've always wanted to go."
"Maybe I'll go to Iceland, then," he replies.
"You should! Then you can tell me all about it."
"Maybe you can just come with me."
You lift your head, meeting his gaze. He worries for a moment that he might be being a little too forward, but his anxiety dissipates when he sees a big grin start to spread across your cheeks.
"Maybe I will," you beam at him. He smiles, leaning in and kissing you softly.
💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader
💡What: Best friends to ???. Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (Check warnings). Suggestive content (18+).
💡Word count: 11.6k
💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. Kissing. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.
💡Summary:
Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better.
Right?
Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio. I also block blank blogs.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I’ve decided to private a lot of stuff on that account and just move it over to here after some editing, where I can actually track it all properly.
- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia, so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.
“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.
“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.
“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”
“A-asshole is too kind.”
Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.
Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”. Which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.
At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.
It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.
“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.
“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.
It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago, and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store yet easily move on past without looking back.
Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.
“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”
“I hate it when you say that,” you remind, and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.
“I know, why do you think I say it?” he cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”
“Yeah,” you answer with a nod, after taking his body in once more and turning away.
“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” he murmurs from suddenly behind you, with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise, having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” he sings loudly, just to annoy you.
“Why are we best friends again?”
“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.
Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.
You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.
It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.
Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.
You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.
Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree, but he was always well rested and tidy. But now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days, with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.
“What are you doing here?” you hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; not attempting to touch you or get in your personal space.
Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.
“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”
Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic. You’re still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.
“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.
“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”
“Right, how is he?”
“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So, uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”
“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” you question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.
It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.
You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were. Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.
“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago.
You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again. Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.
“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”
“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”
“You live alone and don’t share your car.”
“I know!” he exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.
“Then only you could’ve put them there.”
“No, no, I didn’t though.” He steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”
The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.
Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.
“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.
“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I had you?” he asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.
“There were photos of me too,” you answer.
“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”
“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”
“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean; there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear. So, if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”
You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.
He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.
At least, you thought he was.
Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big, puppy dog eyes.
“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”
“Right.” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh yet nods resignedly, and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place, but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”
“What?” you whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”
“You were?”
“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”
“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”
“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already, thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually, you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.
“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically that it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”
“No, no, I meant the lobby, and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”
“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating. He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.
But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”
“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.
“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”
“He said he didn’t do it-”
Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off. “Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”
“Because…he looked honest.”
Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”
You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open: big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.
You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.
“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”
“My TV?” you sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.
Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.
“No! Stop it!” you giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”
“Just tell me what you’re doing!” he replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.
“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”
“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”
“No!” you gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.
“Shit, are you okay?” he worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”
“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Dr. Channie see.”
“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.
“What? I’d be great!” he defends, pouting at you offendedly.
“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”
“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”
“Urethra.”
“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”
“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle.
He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.
“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” you tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.
“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”
“And what treatment is that?”
“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”
“I’m not a baby.”
“Yes, you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”
“You’re seriously ridiculous.”
“Mm, so, are you consenting to Dr. Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”
“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”
“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” you whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.
“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” he whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.
“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise, and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”
“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.
When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.
You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and she can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him. Even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.
Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”
“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.
“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”
Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.
When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road. It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.
And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.
So, you wait.
“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”
“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.
He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half-decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.
“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”
“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store-bought cake ever could.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”
“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”
“Do I smell?” you mumble against his shoulder.
“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”
“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.
“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”
“You do it to me all the time.”
“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.
Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.
What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.
“Chan?” you call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.
“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning for you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.
“What’s going on, Channie?” you ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand, while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.
“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol, and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.
“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” you ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.
The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago, and the windows were blacked out, so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.
“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”
“Sexual crimes?” you whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”
“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”
“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly; you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”
“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”
“He’s in a hospital bed!” you baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”
“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”
“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”
“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”
“Photos?” you repeat disbelievingly.
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”
“My bedroom?”
“Yes, ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”
“My bedroom…” you can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.
“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.
“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.
Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths: big inhale, hold, slow exhale.
You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count over the past year.
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod, so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”
There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa. He turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their words spoken in their low, murmuring voices.
Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.
You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything, or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.
Or maybe not.
If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.
You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never genuinely know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You really had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.
But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.
“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.
You turn your head and watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.
“Was it my room?” you ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.
Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated, and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too, and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”
“Should-should I have reported him then?” you wonder, suddenly worried that you’ve potentially endangered women by not stepping up when you initially found them.
“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you. You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you. Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”
The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.
The news comes only a few days later.
It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.
If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.
When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up. At least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations that a part of you still can’t believe are true.
What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.
“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers, which are almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.
“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.
It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”
“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.
It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you, he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.
Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan. He always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent, but for the meaning. One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.
Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.
But sometimes, there are other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.
And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.
You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude, and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together, the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning, and it throws you for a loop.
“Did they put in the wrong flower?” you ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.
Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and fingers of his right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.
“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”
Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another, and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”
“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.
“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.
“Joy of life?” you offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.
“No.”
“Well, it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”
“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”
“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”
“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”
“What?”
He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” he murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”
It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.
Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it. He kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.
You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.
The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter, his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.
Of course, a kiss this passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his. Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.
“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”
“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”
“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended by the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”
“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso, and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”
“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.
After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.
Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.
What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.
You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.
There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over. You’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.
As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.
You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend, and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.
Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.
You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.
Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.
“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door, having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner. I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”
“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.
“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say, and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.
“Oh, I guess I misread this.” He smiles, embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”
“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”
“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”
“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”
“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.
“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”
“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”
“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”
“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me, and I’ll be here for you all the same.”
“Won’t that hurt you?”
“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you. I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“It will.” A flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”
At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold, and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.
After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened, and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.
Maybe that’s why one day, when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks that Chan supplied for the stargazing session contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.
“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”
“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.
“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie-” You start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything, it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”
“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”
“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.
Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”
You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.
“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.
It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.
“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high-pitched sound is all you can hear.
You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.
It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company, until suddenly, it leaves.
There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.
Everything comes back to you all at once.
Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes, and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.
Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way. Even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.
“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”
After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are. The walls look wooden, and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.
He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.
There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall that the right side of the bed is pushed against. The window is cracked open, letting in fresh air, but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft, orange glow. And nothing else.
Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back, and forth, back, and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.
For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This isn’t the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This isn’t the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.
Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.
This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting. Something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.
For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.
“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” you stammer.
“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married.” He huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.
He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.
“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you.” He points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.
Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.
“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that; but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”
“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.
“Oh, angel!” he exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”
For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again. The Chan you fell in love with. The Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.
“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you; I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.
It’s only now that you realise that he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his dark hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this. He looks older this way, less playful.
It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.
“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” he comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then, you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.
It scares the shit out of you.
“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”
“What did you do?” you whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships had failed.
Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.
“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me.” He laughs darkly and then pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile abruptly drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record, and respect, and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road!” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.
“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.
Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again; his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole, and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”
You feel sick to your stomach.
It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far. I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”
Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.
“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that, or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”
He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment, as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.
“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore, because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.” He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.
Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.
You’re stuck here.
Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.
You’re stuck here. For good.
Forever.
Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.
The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky, and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying. Out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.
You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.
But you know that you don’t have a choice. You’re his now to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life plays out.
The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face. “Hi, baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”
As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
One day you were together, and the next thing you knew he was no longer coming home to your apartment you shared.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): exes to lovers, smut, romance
𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k
𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: they’re two idiots in love who never moved on from each other.
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, sex against a window, exhibitionism (no one can really see into their window), passion rough sex, multiple positions, creampie, cum eating, big dick wonwoo, no foreplay, crying because of emotions during sex. nicknames: baby, sweetheart (hers) nonu (his)
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+
𝐚𝐧: this is a part of kvanity’s 101.22 kvn radio collab, the song that inspired this one is take me by miso. thank you @seokgyuu for beta reading this one.
🎧: take me - miso | I don’t understand but I luv u - seventeen | daylight - taylor swift
Jeon Wonwoo was your everything for years. The sun rose and set in his eyes. You told yourself you would do anything and everything for him. You never thought distance would drive you apart.
You met him the cliche way most people do these days, tinder. A terrible hook up left you feeling burned and undesirable. Your roommate Nara convinces you to download the app. You never expected to match with a six foot, hot gamer nerd.
You were hesitant to meet up with Wonwoo. For a while you were quite self conscious about your body, and you were terrified Wonwoo would think you didn’t look like your pictures. After a literal and figurative push you walked out the door and met Wonwoo downtown for lunch and coffee.
Your first date was perfect and soon led to so much more. You built the perfect life, and even moved in together for the last two years of your relationship. You were together four years before his job moved him to a different country. You tried your hardest to make long distance work, but soon things fell apart. One day you were a couple and next you knew he was no longer coming home to the apartment you shared. Originally, you were going to find a new place to live, but instead you found comfort staying in the same two bedroom apartment.
-
Sitting in the same cafe you had your first date in seven years ago, feels strange. Wonwoo is sitting across from you, looking even more handsome than the last time you saw him.
His hair is a little longer and shaggier. He’s dressed in a blue coat, with a cream button up. He pushes his signature glasses up, that he’s still wearing after all these years.
“I'm surprised you reached out to me.” You say. It’s been years since your breakup and you assumed he would just move on.
“I haven’t stopped thinking of you.” He’s nervously playing with the condensation on his cup.
“When did you move back?”
“A couple months ago. I wanted to get situated before I reached out to you.” It’s clear he’s been planning to reach out to you. “My job wants me back in the office in the city.”
“Wonwoo, this feels strange.” You never thought you would see him again.
“I know. I just really wanted to see you. I selfishly reached out to you, without thinking.”
“I’m glad you reached out to me.” That’s not a lie - you’ve missed him and you’re glad he messaged you.
“Are you single?” He’s clearly nervous asking this question.
“Yeah, I am.” You’ve tried dating a couple of times since the break up but it always ends the same. “Are you single?”
“I literally never moved on from you.” Wonwoo always said you were his true love, but you never thought he was serious. You are quite shocked he’s single. Considering you’ve been apart for so many years, on literal different continents, you just assumed he’d try and move on.
Wonwoo had truly been your first love. You thought you loved your boyfriend back in college, but what you felt for Wonwoo was so incredibly different. You loved Wonwoo with every part of your heart and soul. To be honest you still love him. A love like that doesn’t just disappear. Even after years apart you still longed for him.
He picks up his coffee and looks at it mindlessly for a moment. “How have things been?”
“They’ve been good. I got promoted at the bank. I’m finally making really good money.”
He gives you a soft genuine smile before taking a drink of his coffee. “I’m proud of you. I know how hard you’ve worked.”
“What about you, how are you?”
“I moved to the head of my department. That’s how I was able to move back home.”
“How was living in New York?” You will always hold resentment when it comes to New York, that city is what tore you apart.
“It was nice, but it really never felt like home.” He picks up his coffee and takes a sip.
The waitress comes over and places the pastries you ordered. You smile seeing him light up at the sight of his favorite almond croissant. Many days after work you would swing by this cafe and grab Wonwoo a croissant as a surprise.
“The first day I was back in the city I stopped by here to get one of these croissants and a Vienna latte.”
“You got a Vienna latte? You don’t like Vienna lattes. You always said it’s too sweet for you.”
“It’s your favorite drink, and I wanted to be reminded of you.” He pulls apart his croissant and holds a piece out for you. “I didn’t know if you would even respond to my text.”
“Wonwoo, why wouldn’t I have responded to you?”
“Because we’ve been broken up for three years. I wasn’t sure if you had aboyfriend, or maybe just wanted nothing to do with me.” His worst nightmare would be finding out you wanted nothing to do with him.
“I’m glad you reached out to me.”
You take a drink of your latte. He takes a bite of his croissant. That day all those years ago you both ordered the exact same things. This reminds him of the first time he met you. He knew that day he was going to fall in love with you sooner rather than later.
The check comes and Wonwoo hands off his card before you can even blink. Walking outside into the crisp autumn air, you aren’t ready to go your separate ways. Wonwoo definitely isn’t ready to say goodbye.
“Can I walk you home?”
“Yes, you can.”
The cool autumn breeze blows his hair away from his face. He walks so close to you he gently bumps into you every few steps. He misses the days when he could just hold your hand on walks home.
He immediately knows the path you’re walking. You’re heading back toward the apartment you used to share. He gets caught off guard when you enter the same building. This all feels too familiar. Walking towards the elevator you press the button to the fourteenth floor. The same floor he used to call home. Leaning against the wall, Wonwoo stands close to you. He glances at you, and finds you staring straight ahead. The door open and he follows you. You walk down the hall to the same door. His chest tightens when the thought finally sinks in: you never moved. You stayed in the place that you shared with him. You open the door and signal for him to come inside, stepping out of your shoes and taking off your coat. He stands there speechless for a moment before he follows suit.
“You never moved out of our old place?” He looks around the living room. This place holds so many memories you shared.
“I thought about it, but this place is perfect. I couldn’t bring myself to move out.”
He walks over to the couch you both picked out together. He fondly remembers the three hour trip you took to Ikea together. You both couldn’t decide between three different couches. You were hell bent on wanting this navy colored couch. Wonwoo remembers every detail of the way you looked as you christened the couch that night. You rode him with your fingers tangled in his hair. If he closes his eyes he can still picture you.
It’s been years and things about this apartment have changed, and so many things are still the same. The print he got you for Christmas the first year you lived here still hangs above the couch.
He wasn’t sure what happened after you took his name off the lease. But he’s happy you’re still in the place you used to share.
Turning around he finds you watching him. “I like that you stayed here.”
“I didn’t want to let go of us. This was one thing I could have that reminded me of us.”
“I never stopped missing us.” He walks towards you. “I still miss you.”
“Wonwoo, I never stopped missing you, either.” You truly never thought you would get the chance to be with him again. “I was never able to move on from you.”
He walks over towards the huge window that overlooks the city. You spent many nights here looking up at the bright stars. You walk up next to him. He glances over at you.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” You can’t help but blush. He’s always had a way with words with you.
You look over at him. He’s staring at you almost as if he’s studying you. “God, I want to kiss you so badly.”
“Then kiss me.”
He takes your face in both of his hands. He ever so slowly leans in. The anticipation of your lips touching for the first time in years is almost too much to handle. His nose rests against yours and you close your eyes waiting for your lips to finally touch.
“Wonwoo—”
“Yes, my sweet girl?”
“I have waited for years for this. Please just kiss me already.”
“As you wish.” He gives you a cat-like smile.
His lips brush against yours first with a slow peck on the lips. He pulls away slightly, before you lean in chasing his lips. You kiss him as if you need him to breathe. He’s the air for your oxygen deprived lungs. He turns your body, pressing your back against the window.
He pulls away smiling. “How could I ever kiss another woman when I know what it’s like to feel your lips on mine?”
Leaning in, you press your lips to his jaw, leaving a wet trail of kisses as you make your way down his neck. He groans as your fingers cling to his shirt.
“Baby, are you needy for me?”
“I just want you so badly.” You moan against his neck.
“How badly?”
“I want you to fuck me.” You haven't had sex in ages and you desperately want to know what it’s like to fully be with the man you consider to be the love of your life again.
His fingers reach for the hem of your dress. He slides it up your thighs, lifting it over the curve of your ass.
“We should move to the bedroom.” He says with his lips near yours.
“We can later. Fuck me against the window like you used to.” Back in the day Wonwoo loved pressing you up against the window and taking you from behind. He said there was something thrilling about the fact someone could see you. Your window was very high up, and your window didn’t face another window. It would be quite difficult for someone to actually see you, but that didn’t make it any less thrilling.
Grabbing your hips he spins you around. Pressed up against the window you gasp. He fumbles pushing down your panties. Your mind can only think about how turned on you are. Next think, you find your panties on the floor and your dress pushed up over your ass. He steps back just enough to unbuckle his belt.
You push yourself off the window to fully pull off your dress. Wonwoo is on you seconds later. His fingers make quick work of removing your bra. You’re left completely naked pressed up against the cold window, while Wonwoo pulls his shirt off and finds his pants and boxers pooledaround his ankles.
He’s leaving a trail of hot kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck.
“I don’t have a condom with me.” He sighs.
“Wonwoo, I’m still on birth control. I trust you if you tell me you're clean.”
“Baby, I’ve never done anything foolish with anyone. I’ve never had sex with anyone without a condom other than you.”
“Please fuck me.” You plead. You’ve craved him for years. If you have to beg for him, you absolutely will. You’ll do anything if it means you get to be with him again.
“Do I need to prep you?” He’s asking because he’s definitely the biggest man you’ve ever been with. You don’t care that he’s massive and you’re definitely going to be sore after this. Right now the only thing you want is for him fuck you so good, you forget about your years spent apart.
“Wonwoo please just fuck me. Make me forget we ever broke up.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade before slowly pushing into you from behind.
“Ohh—” You cry out as he fills you to the brim. He's so thick, he feels as if he’s splitting you in half.
Your body presses against the glass as your pert nipples rub the glass with each thrust of Wonwoo’s hips.
Your hand is pressed to the glass and Wonwoo grabs the top of it holding on. His thrust are frantic and desperate. He’s practically drunk on lust, having craved you for years. This whole situation feels like a dream, one he never wants to wake up from.
“Nonu—” You moan, arching your back, pushing your butt towards him to meet his thrust.
“So tight.” He groans against your ear.
Your chest smashes against the glass with each thrust. “Fuck.” You can’t even form proper thoughts at this point.
One of his hands grips your waist, helping slam his hips into yours. In the many years you had been together you had all types of sex. You had nights of sweet slow lovemaking, and there were many times Wonwoo would be rough while you’re both drunk on each other. Those were the times when you were both too horny to take it slow. Right now is one of those times. You don’t want it slow and gentle right now, you want it rough just like this. You want him to fuck away the years of missing him. You want to wipe away the years of longing.
Grabbing your arm he pins it behind your back, using it for leverage. Your cheek is squished against the glass.
“Ugh—“ You whimper.
“Your pussy is perfect.” He moans.
The knot in your stomach tightens with each thrust.
He releases your arm and you place it on the window holding yourself up. He wraps his arm around your body, his hand moving towards your puffy clit. He can tell by the way you squeeze his cock with each thrust, you’re getting close to the edge. He sloppily rubs your clit, earning whiny moans.
“I’m- I’m -I’m clo-“ you can’t even properly form words. Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head.
“Baby can you come for me?” He says against your ear.
“Yes.” You cry as your walls flutter around his length and he follows you off the cliff. He slams his hips against yours finding his high. Painting your walls white with his milky release.
Leaning your body against the window, you let your white hot orgasm wash over you. He wraps his arms around your soft body, plastering his body against yours.
You could stay like this forever. He pushes your hair away and leans wet kisses on the side of your neck.
“It’s like we never miss a moment.” He slowly pulls away from you. He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his release slowly leaks out. He swipes it up with his fingers. You push yourself off the wall and turn around. You look at his cum on his fingers and without a second thought you take his two fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
“Are you going to leave now?” You aren’t exactly sure what is unfolding between the two of you. You don’t want this to be a one time thing - you never want him to leave again.
“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” Taking your face in both of his hands he leans in close. “I want us to be together again, if that’s what you want.” Leaning forward he crashes his lips into yours, not caring that he can taste his release on your tongue.
“I want us to be together again.” You pull away resting your nose against his.
“I’m all yours sweetheart.”
He pulls you down to the floor. He grabs a pillow off the couch, resting it under your hips for some cushion.
Everything fades around you. The only thing that matters is Wonwoo hovering over you. Pushing his hair away from his face you stare into his warm eyes. He’s giving you the sweetest smile.
“I still love you.” He says leaning forward.
Your eyes brim with tears. You’ve never stopped loving him and you’ll love him until your last breath.
You rest your foot on his butt, pulling him closer to you. His lips brush yours for a kiss. “I'll always love you.”
He rolls his hips into yours at a slow pace. Your hands cling to his back desperately wanting to be close to him. This is the polar opposite of what just unfolded a few feet away pressed up against the window.
“Don’t ever leave me again.” You cry. All the emotions have filled your cup to the brim and suddenly everything is overflowing. You can’t stop crying.
Wonwoo stops moving and stares at you terrified. “Baby what is wrong?” God you missed him calling you baby.
“I don’t want to ever lose you again.”
He pushes himself up on his knees. He leans forward resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your tear stained cheek. “Baby I’m not going anywhere. I’m home for good.”
You can’t stop the tears from falling. “I don’t want anyone other than you.”
“My sweet girl, I’m all yours, forever and always.” He leans back down, practically pressed against you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you cling to him. His nose rests against yours.
He rolls his hips into yours at a slow but deep pace. Your legs are wrapped around him, holding him close.
Leaning down, he crashes his lips into yours. You moan into his mouth as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
Your second orgasm hits you harder than the first. Wonwoo moans your name like a prayer as he finds his release.
Laying in your living room carpet drunk off of love, and curled up against Wonwoo you finally feel whole again. The hole in your heart is finally filled. You know you’ll never love anyone like you love him, and he’ll never love anyone like he loves you.
Synopsis: It's Junhui's birthday, and when he confronts your lackluster attitude on the balcony, you leave him a moon ring with a foreign scripture engraved inside its band. It keeps him intrigued and scratching his head in confusion as he struggles to find its true meaning.
Note: Oblivious x I'm-not-spelling-it-out-for-you kinda dynamic lol. And ay, here comes some Arab representation! Divider by @firefly-graphics
The building bustles with cheers and clicking of glasses—celebrating Junhui's birthday.
Junhui finds himself engaged with his dad in a conversation about a trivial matter, trying his best to drown out the guests' layered discussions, whispered gossip exchanged behind their hands and obnoxiously loud cackles that mechanically roll out of their stomachs. Your figure leans against the railing of the balcony as the wind dances with your wavy strands, fluttering your elegant dress with a rhythm. Your presence pulls his gaze like a magnet, glitching his train of thought. He excuses himself from the conversation with his father after a drag of plentiful minutes and threads towards you, who's sitting on a bench now.
Junhui's steps fall silently, as if balancing himself on a delicate thread; his tall figure looms a long shadow over you. Before you, he stands with a rigid face. He clears his throat, sitting beside you on the bench, his eyes fixed on the dripping sun. "It's my birthday," he utters timidly.
You offer no congratulations nor wishes.
"The guests are inside having fun, drinking and laughing. And here you are… alone on the balcony," he attempts to drag a conversation, fiddling with his hands.
You remain still like a tall tree standing for decades, making him more jittery. He wets his dry lips, avoiding your gaze like the plague. "I should be inside enjoying my birthday, but I'm out here because it's quiet, and I saw you sitting alone." He explains himself unwarrantably, his shoulders slumping as you remain unbudged as a standing iron nail.
You're still distant, like this marriage's frosty beginning.
"You never celebrate birthdays with me either," he sheepishly muster out a complaint.
"That looks like quite a celebration," you crook your chin towards the mingling guests.
His gaze follows yours, watching the guests. He nods slowly as his mouth forms a thin line. "Yes, quite a celebration. Alcohol flowing, music blaring…" he trails off, swirling his head to look at you properly for the first time tonight.
He examines your face for a moment, noticing the lack of emotion in your expression. His eyes track back towards the guests, arms tightening around his chest. "You don't care about my birthday, do you?" He lets out a muffled mutter, almost as if he's talking to himself rather than asking you a question.
"What do you want?" You huff, fishing out a cigarette and blowing off smoke as you find his constancy on this topic rather childish; he's stuck to it like a fly to a spider web.
The smoke from your cigarette curls up around your face; the red glow of the ember blends with the sunset, flickering in his expectant eyes. He watches you take a drag, his own lips thinning into a straight line once more before he answers your question. "What do I want?" He repeats slowly as he ponders harder.
A blow of silence accompanies the evening wind; the sun had dipped beyond the horizon and the sky begins to cover itself with an inky blanket.
"I want… nothing," he says firmly, his voice void of any feeling—a glacial contrast to his expectant eyes before. "I don't expect anything from you. We're just two people who happen to be married. We don't even share a bed." He pauses, his eyes flickering back to the guests again; his expectations had blown out like a speck of dust from the chilly start of this doomed marriage.
You cast him a blank stare, noticing his furrowed brows and a frown tugging at his lips.
Junhui abruptly springs up, his tall frame towering over you once more. His exasperation hands him a flare of confidence as he reaches out and filches the cigarette from your hand, bringing it to his own lips; he takes a long drag from it before he stomps on it. You arch your eyebrow—enthralled by the rough edges of his soft personality. "I'll go inside now. Enjoy your quiet night alone." He attempts to storm off but gets pulled back as you place something frigid on his hand.
Junhui freezes as he finds a ring resting on his palm, his eyebrow furrowing as he gawps down at it. He watches you trudge off without another word, his fingers closing around the cold metal. He stares at the intricate engraving of a moon, his mind racing with questions and confusion, yet a blush blooms onto his cheeks.
He stands still like a statue, not concerning himself with going back to entertain guests. Rather, he leans on the balcony's railing, examining the ring you gave him. It's not a wedding ring—it's something else entirely, something personal and more meaningful—a birthday gift? He turns it over and over in his hands, his feigned bitter expression slowly cracking enough to leak out his festered feelings, which are pounding in his chest.
Junhui looks at the ring again, his thumb drifting over the foreign words engraved on the inside of its band: انت قمري. He can’t read the language, but the flowing script is unmistakably beautiful. Something strange tugs at his heart—a warm and alien sentiment drenches his chest cavity. He slips the ring onto his finger, astounded by how perfectly it fits.
He stands there for a long time, the ring on his finger a constant reminder of something he can't quite grasp. Eventually, he goes back in; the ring tucked firmly on his finger. He rejoins the party, wearing a smile and offering laughter, but his thoughts drift far from the room.
Later that night, the house lies empty, washed in pale moonlight, and he climbs into bed alone. His gaze settles on the ring, its metal glowing faintly in the moonlight. He slips it off and sets it on the nightstand, sliding under the covers. He tosses from side to side, but sleep eludes him, and at last he gives up.
Junhui rips off his blanket, springing up in his silk pajamas. His feet wander out onto the balcony (after shoving the ring in his pocket) in hurried steps to gaze at the moonlit garden. He runs a hand through his dark hair, sighing heavily. A burdensome boulder weighs down on his chest, leaving him restless. "What the hell was that…"
He leans against the balcony railing, staring out at the night, letting the wind caress his troubled mind. He takes a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm the churn inside him. "It's just a damn ring," he mutters.
"Can't sleep?" A familiar voice asks behind him.
He looks over his shoulder to find you; his heart flutters in his chest. Your hair tumbles around your shoulders accompanied by your soft eyes as you stand under moonlight. He swallows hard, his eyes fixed on the night beyond the railing. “No,” he mutters gruffly.
Junhui can feel you walking towards him, listening to the soft rustle of your nightgown. He tenses as you stop beside him, your arm brushing against him. He looks down at you with a guarded expression. "What are you doing up?" he asks quietly.
"Breathing."
He lets out a small snicker at your simple response, shaking his head. He rested his elbows on the balcony rail, letting the moon-washed garden pull his gaze back into its quiet glow, with your presence serving as a soothing balm. "Can't sleep either?" He asks softly.
"Mhm."
He nods slowly while his eyes remain on the darkness. A peaceful hush stretches between them—two strangers linked by a signature on a marriage certificate. He shatters the silence with a question that has been sitting in his mind all night. "Why did you give me that ring?"
"Why do you think?" You counter back insouciantly.
Junhui pauses at your blasé attitude, but his heart still hops a few beats against his will. He isn't ignorant, but he craves your quiet words that could shift the frozen edges of their marriage. "Because it's pretty?" He asks, feigning confusion to make you spell it out.
"So, you do think it's pretty, huh?" You let out a quiet snicker; a smug smirk curves up your lips.
He feels his lips twitching into a smile; his stony expression slightly cracks. "I didn't say that," he complains gruffly, the words more puffed air than irritation. His gaze settles on you—your tousled hair and drowsy look you wear—and something in his expression softens like a cloud's fur.
"You did," you goad him.
Junhui rolls his eyes playfully, knowing you've got him there. He feels a quiet smile bloom—unbidden and impossible to hide. For a moment, the glacier between them tears up, revealing each other almost… approachable. Tonight, you’d somehow smoothed away his earlier frustration and coaxed him out of the shy shell he usually hides behind. "Fine, yeah. It's pretty. Happy now?"
"Nah uh."
He arches an eyebrow, his smile fading into a curious expression. He leans against the balcony railing more firmly, mirroring your posture. "Why are you so interested in whether I think it's pretty or not?" He interrogates with a quiet interest.
"Because I engraved it," you casually drop the bomb.
His heart stutters as the weight of your words sinks in. He draws the ring from his pocket and turns it over slowly as if memorizing its every curve. The engraving, written in a language foreign to him, suddenly feels heavier than anything he’s ever known—every symbol vibrating with a meaning he can’t quite name, yet feels deep in his chest. "What does it say?"
"Figure it out yourself."
Junhui scowls, his eyes narrowing down on you, but there's a spark of something else in his gaze—something akin to almost... respect for your mysterious air. "Typical. Give a man a puzzle without the answer key. Real charming," he mutters sarcastically.
"I know," you agree shamelessly.
He lets out an exasperated breath, but there's a puff of mirth in his voice. "I'm supposed to figure out what you engraved on my ring? In a language I don't even know?" A subtle shake of his head accompanies a tone that’s more playful than reproachful.
"It's an era of technology. There are many ways to get an answer," you egg him on just for your own entertainment.
His lips twitch into a smirk at your practical response. He fishes out his phone, already searching for translation apps. He snaps a picture of the ring's inscription and hits the translate button. The results pop up on his screen, and he freezes. "What the..." He trails off, bewilderment castes onto his face.
Junhui gazes at you with astonishment. The phone screen lights up his face, casting eerie shadows in contrast to his disbelief. He swipes to enlarge the translation, reading it again and again to make sure he's not mistaken. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, "It says..."
"'You're my moon.'" He repeats the words slowly, each one reverberating through his chest with his racing heartbeat. When he looks up at you, his expression wavers between disbelief and something else—softer, warmer, fleeting—and he shoves it away before it can fully surface."You engraved that on my ring?"
He watches you closely, searching for any sign of emotion. Your expression is calm—serene even. Your poise only frustrates him further in his frantic state, and he remains blind to the flicker of unease in your gaze. He slips the ring on his finger; the metal sits cold against his skin. "Why a moon?" Junhui peppers.
"I like it," you opine with a sloppy shrug.
He bites back a frustrated sigh, realizing he's not getting any proper answers from you. Instead, he focuses on the one word response. 'I like it.' Simple, straightforward, and incredibly annoying. He taps his fingers against the balcony railing, pondering your lackluster explanation. "You like the moon," he repeats your preference.
He glances at you from his peripheral vision, seeing you leaning against the railing, looking out at the night. He shifts his gaze to where yours lingers, finding the full moon resting low and serene above the garden like a silver coin, bathing the world in calm—your kind of calm. “Fine,” he says suddenly, squaring his shoulders as he turns fully toward you.
"You're so slow," you point out with a resigned sigh and begin plodding off.
He goes still at the sound of your sigh, his eyes widening just a fraction. His gaze drops to the ring on his finger, then lifts back to your leaving figure. The truth slams into him—she likes the moon… she gave me a ring with the moon with a confession carved inside its band.
"Wait..."
Junhui turns to the moon again, letting its silver glow wash over him. It’s stunning—calm and luminous—just like the woman whom he has married. And the truth settles over him with a warmth that makes his breath catch. The ring, her lingering stares at the night sky… and him woven quietly into it all. His face burns.
He remembers the night he woke to a blanket draped over his shoulders after falling asleep at his desk, determined to trade rest for work. He remembers the way his cup always seemed to refill itself, and how his keys—constantly misplaced—somehow ended up tucked neatly into his suit pocket every morning. It all fits together now. You’d been there for him all along, quietly, gently—like the moonlight. And tonight, you placed a moon in his hands because… you like him.
"Wait!" he shouts after your retracting figure, but you don't heed his words, this time letting him acknowledge the moon on his finger.
💭Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x gender neutral reader
💭What: Fluff. Established relationship.
💭Word count: 1.7k
💭Warnings: Reader’s gender is not specified. Soft kisses! Mingyu is clingy and endlessly in love with reader.
💭Summary:
If there’s one thing you can rely on, it’s that your boyfriend will always take the chance for morning cuddles.
I block any blank blog that interacts.
Masterlist
A/N- This was originally on my old account @/whipped-for-kpop-fics, but I decided to entirely rewrite it move it over to here.
If it was down to Mingyu, he’d hold you in his arms 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He loves knowing that you’re safe and protected in his arms, plus, he just loves the way you feel pressed all cosy against him. It’s pretty much his safe space.
Unfortunately for Mingyu, you get very hot very easily during the night, so you can’t cuddle while sleeping or your quality of sleep will suffer, even as he would obliviously keep snoring away softly, tucked up against you with his arms wrapped snug around you.
Mingyu wishes that he could cuddle you all through the night, but he can’t. The last thing he’d want is to push your buttons and be the cause of your ire, so he respectfully stays on his side of bed and keeps his hands to himself once your eyes have closed for the night.
However, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get as many opportunities to hold you in his arms as physically possible.
Somehow, despite being one of the worst morning people and heaviest sleepers you know, Mingyu has trained himself to wake before your alarm, just so that he can scoot over and wrap his big, strong arms around you every morning as he tucks you carefully against his always bare chest, your favourite pillow.
He’s never explicitly said why he developed this habit over the past months since moving in together, but you know. It’s obvious in the way he slowly moves against you, starting with running his hands gently over your arms and placing tender little kisses against your head. Gradually, his hands start to squeeze ever so slightly, gently rousing you from sleep with his loving kisses peppering you wherever he can reach.
It's very obvious to you that Mingyu knows you hate being violently jarred from sleep by your alarm, so he’s using this chance to wake you gently, while taking the chance to hold you for as long as you allow.
Some point during the second week of this morning habit, your body attached to the new routine and now, you often wake before he even starts to knead at your arms to prompt you into the conscious world. You don’t always wake before he intends you to, but on the times that you do, you pretend to still be blissfully asleep, just so that he’ll keep spoiling you with the adoring affection.
Though, Mingyu pays too much attention to you to not realise. Every time you wake yet remain against him, pretending to still be in dream land, he knows. But he never calls you out, just smiles to himself and carries on like normal, until you lift your head and smile sleepily at him with eyes so full of love. It’s always his favourite part of the day.
If it was up to Mingyu, the two of you would stay in bed all day, tucked up together and just enjoying being together.
But he knows it’s not his choice, and unfortunately, you have work. He also has work, but he would honestly quit to stay at home with you all day if he could, so he really doesn’t care about his job, only yours. You’ve worked too hard to get your career where it is and truly enjoy your job now that it’s stable and you’re where you want to be.
So, for the sake of you keeping your job, Mingyu never lets the cuddle session go on for long. As soon as your alarm goes off, he prompts you to turn it off. While you remove yourself from him to reach for your phone with a sigh, he rolls out of bed and scampers off, knowing he won’t move if you return to his side after silencing your alarm. Which he knows you would.
Although he always ducks into the bathroom first to use the toilet, brush his teeth, and wash his face, he always stands in the hallway outside while you take care of your own morning needs. Just so that when you step outside, he can press the first kiss of the day to your lips with a “good morning, baby,” in his still sleep-low voice.
“Morning, Gyu,” you return, reflecting his own content smile back at him. “What’s on the menu for breakfast today?” you ask every single day, despite always getting the same answer as he plasters himself to your back and penguin walks the both of you to the kitchen.
“Are you on the menu?” he asks and playfully bites at your neck, making you giggle. Though as soon as you’re both in the kitchen and he’s made you sit at the table with a “sit there and look pretty for me, okay, angel?” and a wink, he goes to the fridge and gets started on cooking you a delicious breakfast.
You used to try to help, but since the first day you started dating, over a year before you moved in together, Mingyu has adamantly refused to let you lift a single finger in the mornings to help with breakfast. He even often refuses to let you help him with dinner most of the time too. However, he does enjoy making lunch with you or letting you take over and make something for you both without his input if you want to.
Honestly, you often think that Mingyu was made purely with the purpose of doting on you and dedicating his life to loving you. You think forever with Mingyu would be the perfect life.
After breakfast, Mingyu insists on dealing with the clean-up, no matter how much you try to argue and say it should be your job seeing as he cooked. But he always uses the fact you have to get ready for work against you and send you off with a sweet smile and a cheeky pat on your ass.
So, you go to the bathroom and shower. And if there’s time to spare, you wait in there until Mingyu joins you and takes this chance to wrap his arms around you all over again. Shower sex is never on the agenda, not with how clumsy your boyfriend is, but you both love standing in one another’s embrace under the warm spray of water until one of you remembers that this both, isn’t smart time wise, and also a waste of water.
While you get ready for the day, Mingyu routinely glances over at you with a dopey little smile, always so in awe that he gets you all to himself. He thinks he’s the luckiest person to have ever existed to be granted the privilege of knowing and loving you for as long as you want him. He hopes it will be for the rest of your lives. He thinks forever with you would be the perfect life.
Even though Mingyu should really focus on getting ready to go to work himself, he always makes sure to walk you all the way down to your car, even if he’s only partially in his work clothes and has just thrown on his dressing gown on top so that he’s not stepping outside in all his topless glory. Though you’re very certain that there are plenty of adults who live in the building that will never complain about seeing Mingyu topless every morning. They’d probably count it as a blessing. You know you certainly do.
Once you’re strapped safely in your seat with the window down for Mingyu to lean into to watch you, you lean over to press what’s supposed to be the last kiss for hours on his lips. But it so rarely ends that way when Mingyu hovers and acts so precious that you can’t help but kiss him multiple more times before leaving.
“I love you,” he blurts out, kiss barely over to the extent that his lips brush yours as he talks, just so that he can say it first.
“I know,” you joke, making him pout until you giggle and kiss the pout away. “I love you, Mingyu. Have a good day at work, baby.”
“Mm, I’ll be thinking of you all day, so I will. Even if that will also make me want to run home to you all day.” You can’t help but laugh. “But I can’t because you won’t be there. I definitely would do it if I knew you were home though,” he informs seriously.
“I know, sweetheart, you always call in sick when I’m ill, even if you’re not.”
“I have to look after you!” he reminds you. “We look after each other!”
“We do,” you agree and cup his jaw to pull in for a second final kiss.
“Have a good day at work,” he says as he reluctantly backs away a few steps, straightening slightly but still remaining hunched enough that he can continue to peer at you through your window until you start the car and pull away. Only then does he straighten, though his shoulders remain slouched sadly at having to part from you.
He watches you drive off with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other raised in a wave, looking like an old-fashioned housewife with nothing better to do than wave her husband off to a long shift; not like a man knowing he’ll see his partner in a handful of hours after you’ve both returned home from work. It always makes you laugh to yourself as you catch sight of him in the rearview mirror.
No matter what your day throws at you, no matter how rude clients are or what files get misplaced, you take it all in stride and let it slide off your back with nothing more than a quick, frustrated groan. Because you know that no matter what today brings you, Mingyu will be waiting for you when you get home with arms open and a cosy little spot in his chest reserved just for you.
And you know that tomorrow morning, he will wake you with tender touches and eyes so full of love that nothing else truly matters. You’re pretty sure that you can handle any bad days; they mean nothing in comparison to morning cuddles with your loving Mingyu.
Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖
hi yuki! could you maybe write something soft with chan and him teaching reader how to dance because she has two left feet, and they slowly fall in love? :) - @sluttyminghao
《 Danza Perfecta 》
Summary // In the quiet of a practice room, stolen moments turn choreography into passion, and falling in love becomes inevitable once more.
Genre : idol au
Pairing : SVT Dino x female reader
Warnings : fluff, secret relationship
W/C : 2 375
Rating : [ 13+ SFW ]
Now playing : Shape of You - Ed Sheeran
↻ Main Masterlist Seventeen Masterlist Taglist ↺
Before, you had lost count of how many times you'd told your manager the same thing.
"I'm not suitable for this," you insisted for what felt like the thousandth time, palms pressed nervously against your knees. "I'm a vocalist. He's a part of Seventeen's performance unit. How am I supposed to match Dino-sshi?"
Across from you, your manager only smiled brightly, patiently, and endlessly unfazed, as if your panic was a cute little habit rather than a genuine meltdown forming in your lungs.
"It's alright," they said cheerfully, waving away your concern like a stray dust particle. "The company decided it, and we think it'll be great exposure for you. Besides,'' the grin widened. "both of you are the youngest in your groups, same age, and the only '99 liners. Fans already ship you two!"
You almost choked when your manager added, "Even though you two never really interact, there are so many similarities…" your heartbeat tripped. Your gaze drifted away for a split second, before you reeled yourself back in.
If only your manager knew how untrue that was.
You and Chan did interact, more than anyone could guess, and enough to break every dating-ban rule the company ever wrote.
You hummed lightly to cover the tightness in your throat, forcing your expression into something neutral. Anything you said now could slip. One wrong word and you'd be sending your manager into cardiac arrest.
Now, the practice room is quiet when you step inside, door clicking shut behind you. Seventeen's dance studio smells faintly of fabric softener and the familiar wood-polish of overused floors. You're alone, just like you expected.
Your boyfriend is still somewhere in the sky, flying back from his overseas schedule. The two of you had exchanged itineraries like you always do, a subtle code only the two of you understand. His message from earlier still sits on your lock screen: "I'll be a little late. Wait for me?"
Of course you would.
You settle on the floor, leaning back against the mirrored wall. The silence wraps around you, but not unpleasantly. It's the kind of silence you've grown used to while waiting for him.
Opening your phone, you start scrolling through playlists, searching for something that could bridge your worlds. A song that fits a dancer and a vocalist. Something that feels like him and you.
You press play.
The opening notes of "Shape of You" pulse through the empty practice room, echoing softly against the mirrors. It's not like you don't know the song. You've heard it a thousand times, but this time you listen differently, for the tempo, rhythm, and the natural push and pull of the beat, the kind of foundation Chan always builds his choreography on. If you could break everything down first, then maybe he'd have a little less work to shoulder later. If you could study it now, your boyfriend could rest, instead of diving straight into another layer of responsibility the moment he returns from the airport.
You sigh, gently swaying a little to the beat as you count in your head. One, two, three, step, turn, and pause. You're not a dancer, but you want to at least meet him halfway.
Fortunately, today is one of your rare free days. Just a few recording sessions earlier, then nothing else until much later, you only need to go live tonight. And because you wanted every possible extra minute with him, you arrived early. Too early, maybe.
But how could you not?
You haven't seen him in nearly three months, if you're being honest. That's the curse of dating each other as idols: loving someone you can barely touch. Sometimes the months apart ache so deeply you don't know whether to laugh or cry.
And so you love him in other ways.
By watching his fancams at 3 a.m, by replaying his lines in variety shows, by smiling at his stupid inside jokes that only make sense to Carats but somehow feel like they're written for you alone, by falling in love with him a little more every time you see him on screen, because that's all you have.
And when you finally get to stand in front of him again, when his arms slip around your waist and he kisses your cheek like he's been starving for you, it feels like falling for him for the first time all over again.
Maybe that's the real reason you haven't broken up. Not because it's easy, but because every reunion rewrites the whole love story from the beginning.
You close your eyes, letting the beat of the song guide your breathing.
Come home soon, Channie, you think silently.
You're still swaying when the practice room door clicks open. Chan appears at the doorway with the soft thud of his duffle bag hitting the floor before he steps fully inside. His hair is messy from travel, and his oversized black hoodie clings loosely to his frame.
"Baby."
Just one warm and familiar word, and every part of you softens. You turn, instantly smiling, feet moving before you even tell them to. You practically run into his arms, wrapping yourself around him and inhaling the scent you missed far more than you'd ever admit publicly: fabric softener, a hint of his cologne, and something that simply screams him.
He giggles, arms sliding around your waist with that boyish excitement he saves only for you. He peppers a quick kiss on your cheek.
You pull back just enough to look at him. "Welcome back safely."
He laughs again, he always laughs more when he's with you, and leans forward to peck your lips this time, gentle but so full of affection that your stomach flips.
"Well," he says, grinning, "I can't wait to meet my Cinderella after all."
You blink, surprised, then laugh. "Cinderella? Why her?"
He shrugs lightly, tugging you just a little closer. "Because you sing so beautifully?"
Your heart squeezes at the earnestness behind his playful tone. You let out a soft and pleased noise, taking his hand and dragging him deeper into the practice room where your phone rests on the floor. He closes the door behind him before following you with that smile that makes everything feel right.
"I've selected the song we should perform for the MAMA collaboration stage," you announce proudly.
He leans over your shoulder to peek at the screen. "Shape of You?"
You hum in confirmation and tap play again. The familiar beat fills the room, and while it plays, you launch straight into your explanation: tempo, rhythm, the flow you imagined, how each section could transition smoothly, and what would highlight both your vocals and his dance.
Dino doesn't interrupt once, he just watches you, and soaks in every word in him like it's precious. When you finally stop talking, a little breathless, he beams at you with eyes warm, soft, and full of unspoken pride.
He doesn't pat your head (he knows you don't like that because that will mean you are younger than him) and said gently with sincerity: "You did amazing. Seriously, thank you. You planned all this just for us?"
You nod shyly.
His smile deepens. "Then you did a perfect job choosing the song."
He reaches for your hand, squeezing it, and in that quiet moment.
Now that your explanation is done, the weight shifts naturally onto him.
It's Dino's turn.
You feel a pinch of guilt. You wish you could help more, wish you could contribute something beyond counting beats and humming melodies. But choreography? Creating movement that feels effortless yet powerful? Matching body lines and transitions?
That was his world, not yours.
The company had told both of you, "Explore creativity. Build the stage together."
Easy for them to say.
You can sing, blend harmonies, control breaths, but shaping an entire dance? No way.
So you quietly step aside.
Dino sets his duffle bag down properly, ties his hair back, and begins stretching. There's a shift in him, like a switch flipping. Your playful boyfriend dissolves, replaced by Dino, Seventeen's dancer, the man who breathes choreography like oxygen.
He restarts the music. Once. Twice. A dozen times.
Each replay is him chiseling away at ideas: testing steps, turning, rewinding, scrapping, and rebuilding. His brows furrow, jaw tightening a little as he studies his reflection in the mirror, adjusting angles, aligning his shoulders, and refining footwork.
He's not choreographing a solo, either. Everything he does, he does while glancing toward the space you'll fill. He turns his body to include a partner. He measures distance with his hands. He tests lifts, interactions, moments where your movements need to connect.
It's a couple dance, not two separate performers.
You sit behind him, back resting against the cool wall, knees hugged to your chest. You shouldn't stare too much, but you can't help it. Watching him move is like watching someone paint air.
And he's beautiful like this. Focused, serious and completely immersed.
He doesn't realize how handsome he gets when he's working. How the intensity in his eyes pulls you in, how every precise shift of his body makes you fall just a little harder.
Your heart flutters against your ribs as you watch him, mesmerized. And at some point, without even noticing, a smile grows on your lips. You watch him dance, and every second reminds you why waiting months for him is worth it.
He's fixing the angles of his arms in the mirror when he catches sight of you, your chin propped on your knees, eyes soft, completely lost in thought as you watch him. And the smile on your lips… it's the kind of smile you give only when you forget the world is watching.
Chan chuckles under his breath. He turns around slowly, pretending like he's just checking his footing, waiting for you to snap out of your daze. It only takes a heartbeat for your gaze to meet his. Your eyes widen, and you immediately look away, flustered heat rushing to your face.
He smirks.
"Take a video," he teases, voice light, "lasts longer that way."
You roll your eyes hard enough to hide your embarrassment before pushing yourself up and walking toward him.
"So, what can I do?" you ask, trying to regain composure.
Chan steps behind you, hands gentle yet sure as he positions you. He nudges your foot slightly to the left, shifts your shoulders, aligns you with his planned formation. Then, without warning, he leans in and presses a feather-light kiss to your nape.
Your entire spine jolts. Your breath catches, and your heart drops, then soars.
His eyes meet yours in the mirror, his smirk deepening as he firmly settles his hands on your waist.
"You're beautiful, by the way."
You nearly combust on the spot.
He doesn't give you time to react. He simply intertwines himself into the teaching process. Close, warm, completely unbothered by how flustered he's making you. He starts demonstrating the steps, guiding your hips, your hands, and your posture.
But, of course… you're you. Vocals were your entire life as a trainee. Dancing? Secondary, and it shows. You mess up the timing on the second step. You nearly twist your foot on the third. At one point, your body moves left while he goes right.
Chan laughs gently, steadying you with a hand on your arm.
"It's okay," he assures softly, "not the first time I've seen this."
You giggle, leaning back just enough to nudge him with your shoulder.
"Really? Dissing Seungkwan?"
"I didn't say that," he replies immediately, looking away in fake innocence.
You raise a brow.
He clears his throat dramatically. And then, like nothing happened, he continues teaching you from behind, closeness making your pulse jump with every touch, every corrected angle, every whispered count.
You manage to nail the first few steps finally, and you're panting hard, sweat lining your forehead and trickling down your neck. You wobble off to the side to grab your water bottle, nearly collapsing beside your bag.
Chan, of course, doesn't stop. He restarts the song, continues piecing together the next movements, steps sliding with precision only he can achieve. You watch him for a moment before he finally pauses, hands removing his hoodie to reveal his tank top, breath steady but a bit heavier than before.
You toss him his bottle. He catches it effortlessly, twists the cap off with one hand, and starts drinking. And that's when your eyes betray you.
You stare at his Adam's apple. The way it bobs with every swallow. The way the muscles in his throat flex. And the sheen of sweat trailing down his neck. Then your eyes move down to his biceps. The way it flexes.
Your mouth goes dry. You gulp at nothing, annoyed at yourself, annoyed at him for looking like… that.
He finishes drinking, wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and moves to close the cap.
That's your chance.
You step forward, grab the front of his tank top, and tug him closer than necessary. He stumbles half a step, eyes widening before he can process what you're doing.
You lean in and place a quick kiss right on his Adam's apple.
When you pull back, he's frozen. You're staring at him, and he's staring right back.
"Your fault, by the way." You pout.
He snaps out of his shock, immediately grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him.
His voice drops playfully. "Let's make this a part of the choreo."
You blink. Hard. "What? How about no?"
"It's a couple dance, baby."
"And risk fans speculating we're dating for real?"
He shrugs. "We'll call it fan service. For the ones who ship us."
You poke his chest. "You're impossible."
He grins. "Can't help it. I think I fall in love deeper for you."
You scoff in disbelief. "That's my line."
He doesn't back down. "I love you."
Your expression softens instantly. You rise on your toes and peck his nose.
"Love you too, my prince charming."
He laughs, forehead gently bumping yours. "Your prince charming?"
You shrug, smirking. "Well, you called me Cinderella just now, sooo…"
And with that, he pulls you into a warm, sweaty, and breathless hug.
girl stop spreading rumors im not cheating on my husband 😤
can i get a drabble where she is an influencer and wants to try some trend on cheol
《 Let's Pretend ;) 》
Summary // What was supposed to be a harmless TikTok couple challenge turned unexpectedly romantic that leaves you flustered.
Genre : non-idol influencer au
Pairing : SVT scoups x female reader
Warning(s) : fluff
W/C : 2 929
Rating : [ 13+ SFW ]
Now playing : Good Guy - SF9
Note //
"and this one where he has to show how he'll act if a random girl approaches him" - rae
Cheol photos by rae
here you go XD
↻ Main Masterlist Seventeen Masterlist Taglist ↺
"Come on, baby, pleaseee," you whined, tugging on Seungcheol's sleeve as he sat on the couch, arms folded tightly across his chest. You'd been at it for the past ten minutes, and he still hadn't budged.
He tilted his head, lips pursed in resistance, the slightest pout forming. "But, baby…" he sighed, sounding halfway between amused and exasperated.
"Just this once! Never again! I promise!" you said quickly, clasping your hands together as though praying. "I swear, I'll never ask you to do this again."
Seungcheol arched a brow, still skeptical and not moved. He'd always been camera-shy. To him, having you on social media was enough. People already knew your face, your energy. He never felt the need to add his into the mix.
But then, after a moment of silence, his shoulders relaxed. He pressed his lips into a thin line, unfolding his arms before reaching for your hand. "Can I at least know what challenge we're doing?"
You froze, then your eyes lit up. That's a yes! practically screamed through your head.
"Oh, you're gonna love it," you grinned, immediately grabbing your phone and unlocking it with a flourish. "It's this trend. Look, look!"
You showed him the video, your voice filled with excitement as you explained, "So, the girlfriend pretends to be a stranger at a club, right? And the boyfriend doesn't know her. The whole point is to see how he reacts when this random girl flirts with him, who has a partner."
Seungcheol blinked at the screen, his expression unreadable. "...Pretend?" he muttered. "At a club?"
"Yeah!" you chirped. "It's harmless. Just acting!"
He sighed again, this time a deep and resigned one, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't get why you wanted to do something so silly, why there was a need to pretend at all, but the sparkle in your eyes was reason enough.
"Fine," he mumbled. "Just this once."
You beamed, already switching your camera app on. "You're the best boyfriend ever."
The moment he agreed, you practically sprang up from the couch, the excitement bubbling in you too strong to contain. Seungcheol leaned back, watching in quiet amusement as you immediately started preparing for the shoot like you were on a mission.
First came the outfit. He watched you disappear into the bedroom and re-emerge a few minutes later in a sleek, club-ready look that made him blink twice. The outfit hugged your figure just right, your hair brushed out and styled with casual perfection. You looked like you were actually heading out for a night in the city instead of setting up a phone on your kitchen counter.
He stayed silent, just observing as you fiddled with your phone stand, trying to make it balance against the blender and a stack of cookbooks. You crouched down, squinting at the screen, adjusting the angle again and again until the frame caught just the right amount of background.
"Okay…" you murmured to yourself, stepping back, checking the lighting, then stepping forward again. "Almost perfect…"
Seungcheol was still standing where you'd left him, hair a little messy, in nothing but a white T-shirt and his favorite boxers.
You finally turned to him, frowning. "Are you not going to change?"
He tilted his head down, pretending to inspect his outfit, then looked up with a mock smile. "Should I?"
You stared at him like he'd just asked the world's most ridiculous question. "Duh~ Baby, we have to pretend that we're clubbing."
He raised an eyebrow. "Pretend we're clubbing in our own house?"
"Exactly!" you said, as if it was obvious. "That's the point of pretend! And if you want a better environment, we can even close the lights and buy some dark red and blue LED lights."
Seungcheol blinked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching in disbelief. "Woah," he muttered, finally throwing his hands up in surrender. He jabbed a finger toward the master bedroom, shaking his head with a reluctant grin. "Fine, fine… I'll go change, okay?"
You exhaled dramatically, arms crossed but a fond smile slipping through. "Thank you, finally."
He chuckled under his breath as he disappeared into the room, mumbling something about how he didn't remember signing up to be an actor.
When Seungcheol finally stepped out of the bedroom, you looked up from your phone and blinked.
He stood there in a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar open just enough to hint at his chest, paired with dark jeans that framed him way too well. His hair was styled back lazily, still damp from running his fingers through it.
You gave him a slow once-over, head tilting in approval. "Hmm," you murmured, pretending to think hard before a grin broke through. "Perfect."
He chuckled, half proud and half embarrassed. "You're unbelievable."
Grabbing his wrist, you dragged him toward the marked spot on the floor you'd set up earlier. "Stand here," you instructed, adjusting him like a director setting up a scene. "Right here is where you'll be standing, like you're just chilling at the club, got it?"
"So I just have to pretend you're a stranger," he said, brows furrowing slightly, "and that I already have a partner who's not next to me right now?"
"Yeap," you chirped, too focused on checking your phone screen to notice the way his tone dipped.
Seungcheol nearly shivered. The scenario didn't sit right with him, not one bit. He would never leave you alone in a club. Even if you went to the washroom, he'd be the one waiting right outside, keeping watch. The thought of you walking around on your own, wearing that mini dress that hugged every curve like it was made for you, it was enough to make his jaw tighten.
You were still fussing with the phone stand when he moved closer. Before you could even react, his hands slid to your hips, firm and possessive, pulling you back into his chest. His chin brushed against your shoulder as he breathed you in, the familiar and sweet trace of the perfume he loved most on you.
You froze for a second, blinking in confusion. "Cheol baby?"
His lips brushed against your neck when he muttered, "I hate it."
You smiled softly, assuming he meant the filming. You reached down and patted his hand reassuringly. "It's going to be fine, Cheol… it's just a short while. Bear with me, okay?"
But he only shook his head, his grip tightening slightly as he pressed a light kiss to your nape. "I don't like you going away from me," he murmured, so quietly that you almost missed it.
You blinked, turning your head a little. "Wait, what?"
He sighed, this time speaking louder, his voice firm but tender. "I don't like you walking alone in a club, especially not wearing this."
For a moment, you just stared at him. His slight pout, the faint frown lines at his brows, and the way his eyes softened with worry instead of jealousy, then a small laugh escaped you.
You turned around in his arms, cupping his cheeks gently, your thumb brushing over his skin. "Pretend, baby," you whispered, leaning in to peck his lips. "Don't take it seriously. You know I'd stay by your side if it were real."
Seungcheol sighed, the pout still there but easing. "You better."
You grinned, booping his nose playfully. "Now, Mr. Overprotective, let's film this before you change your mind again."
He groaned, but the tiny smile tugging at his lips gave him away.
You hit record, checked the framing one last time, and scurried into place. Seungcheol stood exactly where you'd positioned him. Arms crossed, expression unreadable, the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes betraying his internal reluctance.
"Okay," you whispered, mostly to yourself, adjusting your hair and shaking off your nerves. "Let's do this."
The phone's red recording light blinked. You gave yourself a silent countdown in your head, and then switched roles.
Your posture straightened, your walk changed. Gone was the familiar girlfriend. In her place was the confident, flirty stranger making her approach. You walked toward him with measured steps, the click of your heels echoing faintly against the floor.
Seungcheol's eyes followed your every move, his head slightly tilted. He wasn't even trying to act, his gaze just locked onto you, curious yet wary.
"Hey," you said softly, smiling up at him like you didn't know him at all. "You alone tonight?"
He blinked slowly. "Uh… I guess?" His voice was low, uncertain.
You took another step closer, keeping your tone teasing. "You guess?"
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to stay in character and trying not to look too serious, but the possessive glint in his eyes was already seeping through.
You leaned closer, resting a hand lightly on his arm, tilting your head. "You look like you could use some company."
That was all it took.
In a split second, Seungcheol's jaw tightened. He didn't move away, but his hands twitched like he was fighting the urge to pull you against him. Then, slowly, he reached out and slid his hand to your waist, holding you in place.
"Company, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping lower, the edge of real emotion bleeding into the act. "I think I've already got all the company I need."
You froze for half a second, your character slipping as your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't expected him to say it like that.
You managed a laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear, trying to stay in the bit. "You sure? She's not even here."
Seungcheol smirked, leaning in just enough that only the camera could tell how close he was. "She doesn't have to be. I know she's mine."
Your brain went blank for a moment. That wasn't acting anymore.
The camera was still rolling, but you could barely focus. His breath was warm against your skin, his words calm yet possessive, and for a second, the scene became something entirely unscripted.
You blinked, trying to regain your composure. "Cheol…" you whispered.
He only smiled, eyes flicking toward the camera briefly. "Challenge done, right?"
You let out a breathless laugh, phone in hand, replaying the video you just shot.
The screen lit up with the two of you. The soft lighting, the faint shimmer from your perfume bottle reflecting on the counter, Seungcheol's low voice rumbling through the speakers.
You watched the way he looked at you, not as an actor in a skit, but as someone who could barely separate the pretend from the real. The way his hand slid to your waist so naturally, the seriousness in his eyes, that unguarded moment where he whispered, "I know she's mine."
It wasn't staged, it wasn't meant for anyone else.
You stand for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen, and quietly decided: This one stays with me.
Lifting your head, you called out, "Cheol?"
He appeared from the kitchen, already loosening his shirt collar. "Yeah?"
You smiled faintly, locking your phone before he could see the playback. "Let's redo it. The first one wasn't good enough."
He frowned a little. "Wasn't good enough? You're the one who said 'perfect' ten times before we started."
You waved your hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Lighting was off. Acting too stiff. Let's just make a new one."
He sighed but nodded, obedient as always when it came to you. "Fine. What do you need?"
"Grab me a wine glass," you said, standing up to fix your hair again. "Fill it with water, it'll look like I'm holding a drink."
Seungcheol gave you a look that said he didn't understand but wasn't going to argue. He grabbed one of the glasses from the cabinet, filled it halfway, and brought it over carefully.
You accepted it with a bright smile, tapping the rim with your nail. "Perfect. Now, same spot as before."
He went to stand where he had before, glancing around with that same uncertain expression. "So this is take two?"
"Yup," you confirmed, setting the phone back on the counter and checking the framing. "But this time, no stealing lines or ending early. Got it?"
He smirked faintly. "No promises."
You shot him a warning look, and he raised both hands in mock surrender.
The red light blinked again.
You took a sip of the water, then rolled your shoulders, slipping back into character. The playful stranger. The curious girl.
And as the scene began again, you caught the faintest trace of a smile tugging at Seungcheol's lips, the kind that said he already knew this version would end up being shared online.
You hit record again, the little red light blinking to life on your phone screen. This time, Seungcheol straightened his posture, clearly trying harder to play along. He took a slow breath, squared his shoulders, and gave you a mock-serious look.
You hid a grin behind your wine glass of water. He's actually taking this seriously now, you thought.
The scene began just like before. You, walking up to him like a stranger in a club, pretending not to know him.
"Hey," you said lightly, swirling the glass in your hand. "You alone tonight?"
Seungcheol turned toward you, his expression instantly morphing into mock disbelief. "Alone?" he repeated, brows lifting dramatically. "Do I look like the kind of guy who'd come here alone?"
You blinked, almost breaking character. He was improvising.
He leaned a little closer, crossing his arms, voice dropping just slightly. "Besides, even if I were-" his eyes flicked down at you, "-I think my girlfriend might kill me if I entertained a stranger that looks like you."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to smile. "Oh? Is she that scary?" you teased, playing along.
"Scary?" He tilted his head, pretending to think. "No. Just… dangerously pretty."
Your hand nearly slipped on the glass. You glared playfully. "That's not how the challenge works, Cheol. You're supposed to reject me, not flirt back."
He chuckled, a deep sound that made it hard to stay in character. "I am rejecting you," he said, grinning. "I'm just doing it politely. Wouldn't want to hurt the feelings of someone so beautiful."
You groaned, half-laughing, half-defeated. "You're hopeless."
He shrugged casually, staying in his "club" persona. "What can I say? Even pretending, I can't not compliment you. It feels wrong."
The words slipped out so naturally you almost forgot the camera was still rolling.
You took a step closer, narrowing your eyes as if to challenge him. "So, if I really were a stranger, you'd still say that?"
He didn't hesitate. "If you really were a stranger," he said softly, gaze steady, "I'd probably fall for you all over again."
Your throat went dry for a second. The line wasn't scripted, but it hit deeper than it should've.
You quickly turned away, face warm, muttering, "Okay- cut! That's enough. You're not supposed to sound like a drama lead."
Seungcheol laughed, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to the camera. "You're the one who asked me to act," he teased. "Don't blame me if I'm too good at it."
You swatted his arm, cheeks still burning. "You were supposed to deny me, not write a love confession!"
He grinned wide, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I did deny you," he murmured, eyes glinting. "I just did it my way."
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop smiling.
Later that night, you sat cross-legged on the couch, both videos queued up on your phone. One was the first take: too intimate and real, filled with that possessive tenderness that made your heart flutter every time you replayed it. The other was the second take: playful and flirty, but still overflowing with his natural charm.
You stared at them for a long time.
You wanted to post. Your followers had been waiting all week for this TikTok challenge. They were already asking in the comments, "Where's the couple video? We're ready for your boyfriend's debut!"
But every time you hovered over the upload button, your thumb froze.
"Baby?" Seungcheol called from the kitchen, rinsing a mug. "You posting it?"
You looked up at him, smiling faintly. "...No. Not this one."
He raised a brow, drying his hands on a towel. "Why not?"
You turned your phone off, tucking it under a pillow. "Because," you said simply, "you're too romantic."
He blinked, then a low, genuine laugh came out of his mouth. "That's a first. I thought I was bad at being romantic."
"Yeah, well," you said, grinning, "try watching yourself flirt and tell me that again."
He shook his head, walking over to press a quick kiss to your temple. "Keep it private then. Just for us."
You smiled against his shoulder. "Already decided that."
The next day, you opened TikTok and recorded a short update for your followers.
"Hi everyone," you said sheepishly, waving at the camera. "About the couple challenge I promised… um… yeah. I'm not allowed to post it." You paused dramatically before breaking into a laugh.
The truth is, you didn't allow yourself to post it.
You winked, ending the video there. And even though the comments immediately flooded with curiosity and teasing, you didn't regret it one bit.
Because some things like Seungcheol's soft voice calling you his, or that unguarded smile meant only for you, to be kept safe, right where they belonged.
˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected p in v, creampie, big dick minghao, minghao practically has a tentacle for a dick, alien sex, handjob, fingering, oral (m rec), cum eating, squirting, body worship, pussy stretching, deep throating, hair pulling, minghao’s antennas are sensitive, overstimulation, Nicknames: nova, good girl (hers) baby, hao (his).
˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw
˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this is connected to my wonwoo alien story called “Dreaming of Saturn”. im gonna make a little connecting universe with some of the to other boys called stardust. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me figure out my little alien universe. Thank you @haologram for being my 8star and helping me figure out this one. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading this.
🎧: saturn - sza | kiss of fire - woodz | sour candy - woodz
Wonwoo’s arrival back on Saturn caused quite the uproar. His refusal to go through with his arranged marriage sparked controversy. He came back threatening to leave the moment he got a chance. He swore off his future place as king saying the only thing he wanted was his starlight.
Minghao has been Wonwoo’s close friend and adviser for as long as he can remember. Upon his return Wonwoo begged Minghao to go to earth and watch after his love.
Minghao left in the middle of the night, the only person who knew about his departure being Wonwoo.
The stars were bright as Minghao traveled for a long time. He felt a calling to the city where Wonwoo said his love was.
GROWING INTOXICATED BY THE SILENCE
It’s another late night you’re spending laying on a blanket looking up at the stars. Your attempt at a fresh start, led you to move to a new city completely alone. You've spent most nights like this since moving here.
It’s almost two in the morning. You’ve lost track of time laying here. Looking up at the night sky there was a light falling towards you. You’ve spent your whole life studying the stars and you’ve never seen anything look like this before.
It looks like it’s crashed down on the other side of the trees off in the distance. Pushing yourself off the ground you stare into the distance for a moment. Without thinking you took off running through the grass.
The spring air has a chill to it as you run as fast as you can. Pushing past low hanging trees you find a dent in the ground that’s glowing. Walking towards the edge you find the source of the light. Lying there is a very beautiful man with skin that has a lavender hue to it. Your eyes are wide as they wander his body. It’s clear he’s very naked lying in front of you.
He groans as he sits up. He looks over at you and smiles. His eyes focus on nothing but you.
You’re at a complete loss for words. You’ve always had an idea there were other things out there in space. There is no way earth is the only planet with life on it.
“Who are you?” He finally speaks.
“Where did you come from?” You don’t even bother answering his question.
“Saturn. Is this earth?” He stands up slowly.
“Yes.”
“What is your name?” You step a little closer to him. For some reason you feel safe being near him.
“Minghao. You may call me Hao if you would like. What is your name?”
“It’s ___.”
“You remind me of a beautiful super nova.” You weren’t expecting an alien to start flirting with you. A hot wave of blush creeps over you.
“Why are you here?” You’re very confused on why he decided to crash land here.
“I have been sent to check on my prince’s soulmate.”
“Soulmate?”
“Yes, his soulmate.” He starts to brush off the dirt from his body. He looks up back at you again. “Prince Wonwoo, ran away to earth and found his soulmate here. He refers to her as starlight.”
Without thinking you hold out your hand. The moment your fingers touch you feel a spark. He feels it touch, but doesn’t say anything. He just laces his fingers with yours.
“Do you all have soulmates?”
“I believe so.”
You lead him out through the trees back to the blanket you left in the distance. You’re extremely happy you’re extremely far away from where anyone would see you and your new very naked alien friend. The fact that it’s also dark and the dead of night, also is helping.
You stop right at the pink fuzzy blanket. He looks down at it for a second before looking back at you.
He stands before you studying you. He reaches out resting his hand under your chin. “You’re beautiful. The prettiest creature I have ever seen.”
“I didn’t know aliens know how to flirt.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “My kind is very similar to your people.” He tilted your head up towards him. “Our bodies seem to be similar as well.”
“Men from here don’t have—“ you pause. “Um, cocks that big.” Your statement earns a smile from him.
“That’s a shame for anyone who chooses to mate with men from here.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.
“Are you always naked on saturn?”
“No, my clothes burned off entering your atmosphere.”
“How do you know my body is similar to the women on your planet?” You could easily drop this conversation or play with fire. You decide maybe playing with fire could be fun.
He leans in close to you, his nose brushes against yours. “I’m just assuming from what I can see with your clothes on.”
You aren’t sure what possessed you to do this, but you step back and pull off your hoodie and baggy shirt. Thank god you decided not to wear a bra tonight. You’re completely bare from the waist up standing in front of your new alien friend.
“Do your women have breasts?”
“Yes they do, their breasts are extremely sensitive. Most women find ecstasy from playing with their nipples. Do humans do the same?”
“Some women can.” You push your chest out hoping he’ll take the sign to touch you.
“Can you?” He steps closer.
“Yes.”
“It feels as if I’m being drawn to you.”
You take his hand, resting it on one of your breasts. “I feel it too.”
“Would you like for me to touch you, like my kind does when they mate?”
“Please.”
His hand massages your breasts. His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers toy with your pebbled nipple. A soft gasp passes your lips as he applies more pressure.
“Can I taste you?” He asked leaning in so his lips are practically touching yours.
“Please.”
The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark. Your body feels alive. He feels like oxygen in your lungs. Your lips move together for a searing kiss. You wrap yours around his neck pulling his tall frame close to yours.
Kissing him is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. You could do this every day for the rest of your life. His hands rest on your hips holding you close to him. One hand slides down to your sweat pants cover butt. He squeezes your butt, causing you to moan into his mouth.
“I would like to taste more of you.”
“You can have any part of me, you would like.” He steps back and drops to his knees. His finger hooks into the band of your sweatpants. He drags them down your thighs, leaving you in only your boyshort panties.
“May I remove these?” He hooks his finger into the elastic of your panties and snaps it, earning a gasp from you.
“Yes.”
He slides them down your thighs leaving you bare except for your socks. Leaning in he leaves a trail of wet kisses from your navel down to your pussy. Your eyes stay locked on him, watching his every movement.
“Can you lay down for me?” Silently you follow his request.
Laying in your back with your legs spread he takes his time exploring your wet core. His finger prod at your entrance as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. He slowly slides one finger in your. He runs it along your gummy walls. It doesn’t take him long to find that spot inside of you, that has you seeing stars.
He slides in a second finger. Based on the size of his dick, you know you’re going to need to come at least once, to be wet enough to take him, without him splitting you open.
He pulls away from your clit and says, “you sound so pretty.”
Closing your eyes you roll your head back. A loud moan passes your lips. This man had never met a human woman before, and he already had you on the verge of falling apart.
Your fingers grip the blanket before below you, you desperately need something to cling to. Your eyes pop open and you’re greeted to the site of millions of bright stars above you.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave. It knocks the air of your lungs as it pulls you away. “Hao—“ his name is nothing more than a desperate plea.
He does stop, he continues sucking on your clit, and rubbing the spot inside of you, as your walls contract around his fingers.
He pulls away slowly, his eyes staying locked on you. He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking your release off of them.
“My sweet beautiful super nova.”
Your chest rises and falls as your high slowly starts to dissipate. No man has ever made him come that hard before.
He moves so he’s sitting on his knees between your spread legs. “That was insane.” You sigh.
“Thank you for letting me explore your body.” You almost laugh at his thank you. If he wants to take the time to explore your body again, you would let him in a heartbeat.
“Would you like to learn about my body?”
“God yes.” You practically scream, pushing yourself up on your hands.
Minghao moves so he’s laying on the fuzzy blanket. With your practically jello legs you move yourself on top of him. Sitting on his thighs you take your time exploring his body. His anatomy is very similar to humans outside of his antennas sticking out of his hair, and cock that you would basically consider a tentacle. It’s probably around ten inches with ridges in the the side. It sways as if it’s moving on its own.
“You can touch me however you would like.”
Reaching out your hand along his length.
“You’re massive.” You decide the best course of action is to give him a hand job like you would a normal man. You keep pumping his length. You start to focus on the base and watch as the tip moves side to side, almost as if its reaction to your movements.
“Can I taste you?” Now it’s your turn to ask for a taste.
“Women on my planet don’t normally do that, unless they’re bonded.”
“If you don’t want me to, I won’t. If it’s something you only do with someone you’re bonded to.”
He shakes his head rapidly. “I would like you to do it.”
Laying on your stomach you focus on licking the mushroom shaped head. You stare at him trying to gauge his reaction to everything you do. You take him into your mouth until he brushes the back of your throat. There is no way all of his length can fit in your mouth, but you’re willing to try and fit as much as you possibly can. His fingers grip the fuzzy blanket below him. His stomach muscles tense as your fingers circle the base of his tentacle. You twist your hand applying pressure. Your hand moves up and down taking his length over and over to the back of your throat.
“Nova—” He moans.
You pull off of him, a string of what looks like a mixture of lube, and saliva is connected to his tentacle cock and your lip. It’s clear his length produces a lubricant as he gets aroused.
“Don’t like this?” You start pining his length as you stare at him.
“Yes—“
Leaning down you take his length in your mouth again. You swallow him until part of his length slides into your throat. His fingers tangle in your hair. He’s lost his patience as he helps guide you up and down his length.
A series of moans leaves his lips. Looking up at him through your lashes you can tell he’s close to the edge. I’m pulling off his length, you pump the top part with your hand. You apply pressure to the bulbous tip.
“You sound so pretty.” You sound dazed, and drunk on lust.
His stomach muscles tense and a loud moan passes his lip. His release spills all over your hand. He comes just like a normal man, but there is definitely way more. You’ve never been interested intasting a man’s cum, but you’re instantly intrigued by his. His eyes focus on you as you bring it up to your lips. It feels like normal cum, it just has a blue tint to it. The closer your hand gets to your nose, you can smell how sweet it is. Without thinking to lick the side of your hand. It’s the texture of regular cum, but it’s sweet like juicy green muscat grapes. You lick it fully off your hand.
“How do you want me?”
Looking down, his cock is still very much aroused and swaying side to side. It’s coated in what looks like lube.
“On your back.”
You crawl off of him and lay down on the blanket beside him. He leans over and presses his lips to yours for a heated kiss. Pulling away he tugs on your bottom lip.
He moves so he’s hovering over you. Leaning down he rubs his nose against yours. “My sweet super nova.”
“Minghao please.” You’re desperate for something you can’t quite explain.
He lets his tentacle-like cock move on its own. The mushroom tip, taps your clit earning a moan from you. “Hao—“
“My name sounds so pretty falling from your lips.” He smiles.
He taps your clit again, earning a louder moan. Your fingers grip the sheet below you.
“You’re people’s mating is the same as ours.”
“Are you going to mate with me?” You reach up, tangling your fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer to you.
“Do you want me to mate with you?”
“God yes.”
On its own accord his length moves until it brushes your wet entrance. “You’re so pretty, laying here below me.”
You stare up at him in awe. The night sky looks so bright above him. There is this feeling in your chest, it’s not just lust. You feel something strong for this man you’ve just met.
“Minghao?”
“Yes my sweet nova?”
“Do you feel something in your chest?”
He pushes into you slowly. His eyes stay locked on yours. Your lips part as a gasp falls past your lips. He’s by far the largest man you’ve ever taken before. The stretch is kind of painful, but more than anything it’s intoxicating.
“I believe we’re feeling the connection Wonwoo felt with his starlight.”
He pulls his hips back, leaving just the mushroom tip inside of you, before pushing back into you at a slow pace.
Thank god his cock became self lubricating, it’s helping ease the pain with each thrust. Each passing moment the discomfort starts turning into pleasure.
“You’re so big.” You whine.
“You’re just tight.” He pushes into you a little quicker.
Your fingers claw at his back pulling him closer to you. One hand tangles in his long hair without thinking you toy with his antenna. A low moan passes his lips. You instantly realize his antennas must be sensitive.
“Is that okay?” You run your fingers up the antenna.
“Yes.” He moans.
He rolls his hips into yours over and over again. With each thrust the coil in your stomach tightens. Your whole body feels like a live wire. Each thrust sends a tingly feeling across your body.
“I’m close—“ You moan.
Your walls contract around his length as your high hits. Your finger grip the blanket below. Squeezing your eyes shut, you moan his name like a prayer. He's awestruck at the sight of you unraveling below him. He’s never seen anything in his life as beautiful as you.
He never stops moving. Each thrust is helping you ride out your high. Your fingers roam his back wanting to touch every part of him. You don’t think you can ever be with another man after this. You should be exhausted and worn out, but you aren’t. Being with him is making you feel feral and incredibly horny for more. You want anything and everything he’ll possibly give you.
Pushing on his chest he pauses for a moment. “Lay on your back. I want to ride you.”
He rolls you both effortlessly. You're sitting on his length with him snugly inside of you. Your hands rest on his chest for leverage. Lifting your hips you leave only the tip inside. You drop down quickly. You try to set a quicker pace. The feeling of the ridges along his length rubbing against your gummy walls is insane. His cock is like an expensive sex toy. The stretch feels incredible now.
You grab his hand and move it towards your wet core. You release it and point to your puffy clit. “Play with this spot. If you play with my clit I’ll come immediately again.”
He instantly does as instructed. It’s very clear that Minghao is a quick learner. He listens to the noises you make, and focuses on your reaction as he tests out different motions and pressures.
“Like that.” You cry.
“So good for me.”
Your second orgasm hits you like a white hot tidal wave. Your eyes squeeze shut as you roll your head back. The flood gates open as a pressure like you never experienced releases from you. Minghao can’t help but smile as you squirt all over him. This is like nothing he’s ever experienced before.
The intoxicating sounds that keep making are pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He pushes himself up. His hands grab the flesh of your ass and he helps keep you moving up and down his length.
“Minghao—“
Your eyes slowly open and you see the night sky above you. “My perfect mate.” He moans.
One of his hands gropes your breast. His fingers toy with your pebbles nipple.
Your orgasm slowly starts to dissipate. You roll your hips forward, earning a moan from him.
His own orgasm is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. His whole body feels tingly as he fills you to the brim with his sticky sweet blue release. His eyes practically roll back in his head. He’s never cum this much in his entire life. He’s never experienced sex like this before, neither have you.
Without saying a word you fall forward, laying on top of him. “If I weigh too much I can move.” You whisper with your lips against his neck.
“You weigh nothing to me.” He sighs as he gently rubs your back.
“I can’t believe I just fucked an alien I just middle in the middle of a field.” This is something that doesn’t feel real.
“We just mated. I wouldn’t call that something crude like that.” He seems offended by your statement.
“I mated with someone I didn’t know before now.”
He presses his lips to your bare shoulder. “Does your chest still feel strange?”
“It feels warm.”
“It’s your bond you feel for me. I think my kind, and humans from here are supposed to be connected.”
“Your prince Wonwoo felt this for a human girl?”
“Yes.”
“Nova, would you come back to Saturn with me?”
“You just met me tonight.” You just met him, but you feel like you’ve known him forever. You should tell him he’s crazy, but can’t. You can’t lie, you want to go with him.
“We could easily love each other.” That simple sentence lingers in your mind.
“We should probably go up to my place. The sun is starting to rise, and I don’t need people finding us naked out here.”
You give Minghao your hoodie to help cover most of his face, or to make it a little difficult for people to see his lavender skin. You give him the blanket to wrap around his body as you get dressed. The walk to your apartment building isn’t too far. You just hope you don’t run into anyone.
Walking into your small one bedroom apartment Minghao clings to your hand. You lead him off to your bedroom. You release his hand and you search for some sweatpants and clothes your ex left behind.
Minghao gets dressed and sits down on the edge of the bed.
“I must find and check on Wonwoo’s starlight. May I return to you?”
“Yes. Minghao, can you disguise yourself?”
“Yes I can.” He closes his eyes and focuses for a moment, and suddenly the lavender disappears, and his antennas are tucked away in his hair. Standing in front of you, he just looks like a normal human man.
MY HEAD IS FILLED WITH THE IMAGINE OF YOU
Wonwoo told Minghao where to find his love. He wasted no time going there and checking on her. The whole time Minghao was gone, you couldn’t help but think about him.
You went about your day working on your research project for the astrological center. You spent your whole life studying the stars and now it suddenly feels as if you have your own.
Minghao arrives back at nightfall. Opening your apartment door you find him standing there. There was a part of you that was worried he wouldn’t return.
“Wonwoo’s starlight is safe. She looked as if she could be happy.” You’ve just met Minghao and you’re now fully understanding how this girl he refers to as starlight fell in love with the prince of Saturn. You barely know Minghao and you feel like you’re falling in love with him.
“May I stay the night here?”
You bring Minghao into the kitchen and make him something to eat. You aren’t sure if aliens eat human food. You watch as he devours the ramen you made him. There is something so enduring watching him discover little things.
You go about your nightly routine and practically have Minghao as your shadow. He sits in the bathroom watching you wash your face, and brush your teeth.
Walking into your room he stands there watching you remove your clothes for the day. You contemplate putting on pajamas but realize he’s probably going to sleep naked.
“Should I just stay naked?” You ask looking over your shoulder.
“If you’re more comfortable that way. I would prefer to sleep that way.” He moves so he’s sitting on the edge of your bed.
Stripping away your clothes, you feel Minghao’s eyes on you. Turning around you face him completely naked. He stands and starts to remove the clothes you’ve lent him.
Crawling into bed you watch as Minghao makes his way around your room. He lets his disguise fade away, and he’s now back to his lavender tinted skin, and his antennas are sticking out of his hair.
He lays down next to you. He gives you a soft smile. Reaching out he pushes hair away from your face. “You truly are the most beautiful creature I have ever met.”
Move so you’re laying closer to him. You want to cuddle with him, but you aren’t sure if he’s comfortable with that.
“May I hold you?”
“Yes.” You turn around so he’s pressed up against your back.
“Minghao, have you ever had a girlfriend?” This question was eating away you, all day while he was gone.
“On Saturn we don’t exactly court before marriage. Our emotions are interesting. You’re married very early on, and if you find your soulmate, you feel this instant connection. You love them instantly and fiercely.” He holds you close to him. His hand is resting in your stomach.
“Am I your soulmate?” You didn’t believe in soulmates until you met him today. You can’t explain the feeling you have of being pulled to him.
“I believe so.” He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Did you want to be my soulmate?”
You pause taking in his words. “I do.”
His hand kneads the soft flesh of your stomach. Normally if another man did this you would feel self conscious, but you don’t feel that way with Minghao.
Silence takes over the room as you enjoy each other's company. His hand slowly moves down resting on your mound. His fingers are so close to your clit, you can almost feel them. He presses another kiss to your shoulder.
“Minghao, please touch me.”
“As you wish.” His fingers slide between your already wet folds. Before Minghao you never thought you had a high sex drive, but with him you can’t seem to get enough of him. His long index finger rubs your clit earning a soft moan from you.
“Is this where you are most sensitive?”
“Yes.” You moan louder as he applies more pressure.
“Your sweet moans are music to my ears.” You push your hips back against his. You can feel him start to harden against your butt.
“Hao- please- inside—“ You plead for some type of penetration.
His fingers slide through your folds. The palm of his hand rubs against your clit. He dips two fingers into your wet core. You wince a little at the feeling. You’re a little sore from your rendezvous under the stars. Your body will have to get used to taking his massive tentacle.
His fingers slowly pump in and out of you, he’s running his fingers along that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars.
“Hao—” his name is just a broken moan.
“You feel so good.” He moans against your ear.
The hill of his palm is rubbing your clit giving you a dual sensation of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your echoing pants and moans.
“I’m close.”
“Let go, my super nova.”
Your orgasm it’s your with a white wave. All your muscles tense and then slowly release. Your walls flutter around his fingers. He pulls them away from your pulsing core. He brings fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.
You pull away from him slowly. You move so you’re laying on your side next to him. He’s laying on his back watching you carefully. Pulling the blanket away, you find him fully hard. His tentacle sways side to side on its own.
You don’t have it in you to blow him, or try to deep throat him. Wrapping your fingers around his thick length you start to pump it. With each pass of your hand, it grows more and more wet as he starts to self lubricate himself. The ridges against your hand feel a little funny. You can’t believe you managed to basically take his whole monstrous size. No wonder you’re sore today.
You start to focus on the bulbus head, noticing Minghao stomach muscles tense more and more each time you touch there.
“Is this good?” You say with faux innocence.
“So good, I’m so close—”
You pick up the pace, hoping he’ll find his release soon. Leaning down you lick the mushroom tip like it’s a lollipop. You keep pumping lower on his length.
“Fuck— I’m gonna—“ he can barely moan out a warning.
Before you can even think about pulling away, he paints your tongue with his sweet blue release. You decide to save yourself from cleaning up a mess by sucking on the tip as he comes in your mouth. His fingers grip the sheets below him as he fights with himself to not tangle his fingers in your hair.
He comes more than any man you have ever been with before. You pull away and give him a smile after swallowing all his cum. You crawl off the bed long enough to clean the little bit that landed on you hand.
He lays on your bed absolutely dazed as you wipe away his release from his tentacle.
Crawling back in bed you curl up against him. Laying with your head on his chest you feel him start to slowly come down from his high. You smile as his cock slowly stops moving and starts to rest on his stomach. His anatomy is fascinating to you. He pulls you closer to him, so you’re basically laying on top of him. Your leg is thrown over his stomach. His hand starts running up and down your thigh.
“I’m so glad I met you.”
“I’m glad I came here for Prince Wonwoo.”
“You’ll have to thank him for me.”
“Will you come back to Saturn with me?” You both know this is an insane asks. You literally met him less than twenty-four hours ago. Minghao doesn’t really think, he just asks.
“Do we even breathe the same air?”
“Yes. My ship is just outside your atmosphere. I can safely take you back.”
“Hao, you barely know me.” You pull away slightly, before you pull away fully.
Minghao grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. He moves so he’s sitting you facing him.
He shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. “I may barely know you, but I feel a connection to you. We could come back here one day to visit. I’m sure Wonwoo will come back for his love. I could bring you with us.”
He takes your face in both hands. “Hao. What if you grow tired of me? What if you get to know me and realize we just have a sexual connection?”
He shakes his head. “The connection I feel for you already lets me know I’ll never grow tired of you.”
“This is crazy. I didn’t know aliens were real yesterday, and now you’re asking me to come to your planet with you.”
“If you don’t like it, I can bring you back. I want to give us a real shot. I can’t stay here for almost a year like Wonwoo did.”
You should tell him you can’t, but there is this crazy part of you that wants to go. It’s insane to walk away from everything. Luckily for you, your apartment is paid for, for a year. You could disappear for a while and still come back and be okay.
“Can we visit here?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Minghao, promise me you won’t grow tired of me.”
He gives you a smile before leaning forward. He rested his nose against yours. “I’ll never grow tired of you.”
“I’ll go back with you.”
The smile that forms on his face is like nothing you’ll ever forget. He leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair holding him close to you.
This whole situation is unexpected, but maybe the reason you’ve never felt satisfied with a relationship is because your soulmate was out there in the universe waiting for you.
Summary: This is a collection of stories inspired by text messages. Each member's story is its own separate universe, with a different reader, genre, and set of warnings.
A/N: Last year I had the idea to write an svt series and turned to flirty texts for prompts. I have texts picked out for each member, but I’m always open to suggestions 👀 These stories are mainly unbeta’d as usual and will be posted as they're finished.
lmk your thoughts 💕
SVT Masterlist 🔔 Main Masterlist
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two am - one-shot; smut (18+); angst; porn with the barest of plot; exes to lovers; non-idol!AU
It’s two am and your ex is texting you again.
three am - one-shot; smut (18+); angst; porn with the barest of plot; non-idol!AU (also starring Seungcheol and Joshua)
It’s three am and your ex is nowhere to be found. But his two roommates are there for you.
half past three - one-shot; smut (18+); angst; porn with the barest of plot; non-idol!AU (also starring Seungcheol and Joshua)
When you're fucking your toxic ex's roommates, things are bound to get messy. Especially when your ex insists on being included.
The Purrfect Crime - one-shot; fluff; friends to lovers, angst (tiny bit?), crack , non-idol!AU
Fed up with the way your neighbor is keeping your friend/his ex’s cat just to spite him, you hatch a plan to rescue the poor creature. Naturally, your best friend (and crush) Joshua is in for the mission.
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I Know - one-shot; fluff; established relationship; dancer!AU
Even when he’s passed-out drunk, Hoshi still manages to amaze you with his love.
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Cross My Heart - one-shot; smut (18+); porn with the barest of plot; friends to lovers; non-idol!AU
Upcoming Fanfics: Synopsis, Progress Status and Release Dates!
The Thread That Knots Our Hearts
Pairing: Joshua x reader
Synopsis: Joshua walks in his lover wearing his shirt for the first time and he can't help but tease you if you would be stealing his last name next.
Genre: Romance [Suggestive]
Progress Status: First draft is completed. The work is currently in progress of being polished and edited.
Note: This one is going places lol
Release Date: Excepted to be released in December!
Bleeding Catharsis
Pairing: Jeonghan x OC
Synopsis: Jeonghan is still mourning his late wife and frequents a bar down the street. One night, when he's all boozed up, the bottle girl, who's also a broke college student, offers him a deal: he pays her to vent his heart. Surprisingly, his sober self the next day takes up the offer, and their sessions begin in his place, morphing into something more as they bleed out their hearts.
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Slice of life, Comfort [Slow Burn]
Progress Status: Currently being written!
Note: This one is basically live trauma podcast lmaoo. It's still being written so my guess is it will be ready around January or February, :(sorry guys, uni is kicking my ass):
Release Date: Not decided yet!
Who's In Your Closet?
Pairing: Seokmin x OC
Synopsis: Seokmin is the sweetest boyfriend in the world until OC starts questioning why he possesses an ancient closet wrapped in talisman of a dead language.
Genre: Mystery, Horror
Progress Status: Currently being outlined and the first draft is being worked on.
Note: Horrors of horror lol. This one leans more towards unknown (kinda cosmic) type of horror than gore and graphic one. I wrote OC in synopsis because I still haven't decided on the name. I was also planning doing a glimmerfic version of this but I'll see how it goes~
Release Date: Not decided yet!
If you want to be tagged in any of these works when they're released comment down below!
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On behalf of The Diamond Life Network, we wish you the best and a wonderful birthday filled with love and joy! Let there be applause and cheers, for it is our beloved carat @eclipsaria's birthday! Thank you for letting us be with you on your special day!
We look forward to celebrating many more birthdays with you!
