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bella-feed · 7 days ago

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Start A War (Joshua Hong)

Pairing: Joshua Hong x Female!Reader

Synopsis: Getting stuck in a town with no way to escape was not a part of your plan—getting trapped in a town where monsters come out at night to hunt and rip you apart was not your plan either. It was as if living in a nightmare where you were not able to escape but despite all of that you managed to find a small place of comfort in a person who helped you throughout your chaos filled thoughts and anxious queries with his sweet and gentle eyes which always held warmth in them.

Genre/Warnings: A From AU, angst, fluff if you squint, strangers to lovers, kissing, apocalyptic kind of au since it revolves around monsters, major character death, graphic description of a dead body, cursing, sheriff!Seungcheol, Chan and Woozi appearance, a bit of a description of torture, supernatural things happen but none of it is explained how,

Tagging: @kstrucknet @kflixnet @tokitosun @metaphorandmoonlight

Sana: So happy to finally put out my from au fic hehe. This is also my submission for @eclipsaria 100+ followers event <33 (congratulations yu baby). A huge thanks to @shinysobi @supi-wupi and @nerdycheol for beta reading this! Thank you @bella-feed for listening to me yap yap and also beta reading it. Banner made by @eclipsaria

Word count: 10,628

Teaser

Opening my eyes, I looked around the area in confusion. All I could see were trees and nothing else. As far as I can remember, there should not be any forest to reach my destination. “Excuse me, are we going in the right direction?” I asked the bus driver once I stood up from my seat.

“This is another route I had to take, dear. There was a tree blocking our way earlier but don’t worry, we will reach the highway soon.” I nodded at her words and diverted my attention to my phone only to furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I saw that there was no service or network.

“Well that’s just great.” I said to myself in frustration and looked outside the window only to see a town, it had this eerie feeling to it which made me shudder. There was no one outside, which just made it worse.

“Didn’t we just pass through here?” I turned around when I heard a girl say that to herself in wonder. “What do you mean?” I questioned to which she shrugged. “I swear, we just passed through this same town a few minutes back, it’s as if we’re going in circles.” I opened my mouth to say something but decided not to.

Are we just lost? But that is not possible, right? How can one get stuck in a town out of nowhere? I stood up from my seat once the driver stopped the car and told us to stretch our legs and to relax while she inquired for the road which would lead us to the highway.

I got down from the bus and looked around the place, it felt as if we were waiting for something bad to happen. “Hi…” I looked to my side to look at the guy who just greeted me. I smiled softly before muttering out a small ‘Hey’.

I turn around, when I heard some commotion only to find our bus driver arguing with a lady. “I cannot let you go on that bus again! What is there to not understand when I say that it is fucking dangerous to go out alone!” I tilted my head in confusion as I looked behind at the guy. “What is she talking about?”

He sucked in a deep breath when I asked that question, he opened his mouth to answer but pulled me back when that woman shot one of the bus tires. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The bus driver yelled in anger and panic. “It is my responsibility to keep you all safe believe it or not–and god forbid if you guys get killed by those fucking creatures at night.” The woman said calmly as she motioned for everyone to enter the diner.

I looked at the guy for a moment as he nodded his head and motioned for me to enter the diner behind others. Once settled down, the woman from before stood in front of us with a serious expression painted across her face, “This place…is not what it looks like. To put it in simpler words, you all are stuck here–and if you want to survive, you better listen to me.” I scoffed in disbelief when she said that.

“Why can we not go out at night?” I questioned when I realised that none of the people present were asking the most obvious question.

The woman heaved out a sigh as she sat on one of the chairs. “There are monsters who roam around at night. We keep the windows, doors–and almost–everything closed at night to ensure safety.” I felt my throat go dry at her words.

Monsters? Is this really where I am stuck now? I slumped back in my seat, stuck in my own thoughts when I felt a presence taking a seat beside me. Turning my head, I tried to smile when I saw the guy from earlier but just couldn’t bring myself to give a real smile.

“You don’t have to force yourself to smile, I know it’s a lot to take in and definitely not what you were expecting.” I nodded my head grimly and brought my legs closer to my chest.

“You never introduced yourself.” I mumbled softly as I tried to make conversation with the guy. He chuckled in return and nodded his head. “I am joshua.” I couldn’t help it when a small smile took over my face when I heard his name. Nice name. I thought to myself and introduced myself to him as well.

“So…where were you heading?” I looked at Joshua when he asked that. I puffed my cheeks with air, tears brimming my eyes when the reality about my situation sunk in. I was stuck in this godforsaken place with no way out.

“I was going to surprise my family…I had a few days off from my job.” I nodded my head, mostly to myself. Joshua let out a small ah in acknowledgement.

“It’s starting to get dark out…” I said the most obvious thing, my gaze looking out of the diner window. “Do those…things come out every night?” I questioned to which he gave me a small nod.

“Every single day…it is as if they enjoy tormenting us. No matter what you do, they would always have this smile on their face–as if taunting us.” I gulped in fear when Joshua said that.

“Is there something to eat?” I asked when I felt my stomach growling. Joshua gave a small nod and stood up from his seat to grab something for me.

I took this as a chance to look around the diner, the people present all looked stressed, anxious and of course scared. Scared about the situation they were caught in unknowingly. I looked outside the window again and realised that the sun was already down and it was nighttime.

“What the fuck was that?” I heard one of the guys from the bus demand when we heard a loud growl from outside. I knew him as Jihoon, we were heading to the same destination. “Lady, are you sure we are safe here?” I turned my attention to the lady to hear her response when Jihoon asked that.

“That talisman hanging by the door would keep the monsters out. We are safe but that is if you don’t open the door or windows.”

“Hey you, wanna come out and play?” I flinched and turned my gaze towards the window when I heard a creepy yet sickenly sweet voice knock on the window. All I saw was a woman, in a nurse outfit standing before me with a wide smile across her face.

“Y/N!” I looked behind and saw Joshua approaching me in panic as he immediately closed the curtains before I could even reply to that woman…or a monster.

“Aww, don’t be like that Joshua. Come outside, let’s play. I don't bite.” The woman said from outside as she knocked on the window again. After a while, we heard her leave and only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.

“First nights are always the hardest.” I turned my attention to Joshua as I heard him say that. Taking a seat beside me he placed a bowl of cereal in front of me,

“We’re out of milk and this was all I could find.” I let out a small chuckle and nodded at him muttering a small ‘It’s okay’ as I started eating the cereal out of the bowl.

“How do you get used to something like…this.” Joshua looked up from his lap when I asked him that. He sighed again and rubbed his face with his hands as he opened his mouth to answer my question.

“You don’t…you just accept the reality as time goes by and if you don’t this place will drive you crazy. Trust me when I say this that these monsters aren’t the worst part you would find in this fucked up place.” I stared out of the window as Joshua said that. “Hey, how about I show you around this town tomorrow?” I smiled at his suggestion and agreed.

A small tour would be nice I guess. “You should sleep for some time, it would help you keep your mind off these things.” Saying that, Joshua stood up and left the place beside me but soon came back with a blanket in his hand.

Stirring in my sleep, I looked outside the window as soon as I peered my eyes open. Rubbing them with the back of my hand, I slowly sat up straight, the blanket Joshua gave me yesterday still clinging onto me.

“Good, you’re awake!” I looked up when I heard Joshua’s voice. Giving a small wave, he approached me and placed a warm cup of tea in front of me, “I was just about to wake you up. You can freshen up in the colony house and then we can walk around the house.” I furrowed my eyebrows at the word colony house.

“Colony house? What’s that?” I questioned once I took a sip of the warm tea. Heaving out a satisfied sigh, I looked at Joshua again.

“Colony house is where everyone lives together. People get to choose between the colony house or in the town in one of the houses.” I nodded in understanding, “I live in the colony house.” Joshua said with a smile.

–x–

Walking down the stairs, I looked around the colony house. It was like a mansion, filled with people who chose to live together. It had a warm feeling to it which made me feel welcomed in a way.

Entering the kitchen, I saw Joshua helping a few people with bringing the boxes inside. Upon noticing my presence, he waved at me and approached me once he was done placing the box inside the storage room.

“Are you ready to leave?” I nodded with slight enthusiasm at Joshua’s question. Seeing my enthusiasm, Joshua chuckled and walked ahead of me towards the main door. Upon reaching, he opened it and gestured for me to leave first with his hand forward, acting like a gentleman.

I chuckled at his behaviour and gave a curt nod, playing along with his act. “So as you already know, this is the colony house on top of the hill and a bit ahead we have a barn.” I nodded in acknowledgement at his words and looked around the place, observing it silently.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked with slight hesitation which made Joshua look at me with a gentle look in his eyes. “Before you found those talismans or stones, how did you survive?” I asked curiously as we both continued walking down the road to reach the town.

“We would hide. There are hiding spots all around the town, some underground, some in the houses itself. Our town sheriff, Seungcheol, managed to find the talismans when he was busy exploring the forest at night.” I let out a small ‘oh’ at his words, “And we reached the lake.” I snapped out of my thoughts at his words and looked around the place.

It had this magical feeling to it, a small pond with a few tires in it for fun activities, “This is the only fun place we have here. Something which doesn’t remind us about the nightmare we’re living in currently.” I nodded in understanding of his words.

“What else do you do here?” I stared at Joshua as he jumped inside the lake to take a swim. After taking a short lap, he swam back and stopped in front of me.

“There isn’t much you can do here? We are hoping to find a way out of here. That is also one of the reasons why Seungcheol went out in the forest again with Chan. Apparently Chan can hear voices or something. We’re hoping that they come back with the answers which are helpful.” I hummed in acknowledgement again and stared at the lake for a moment.

“Are they safe in the forest?” Joshua nodded at my question. “Well they have a talisman with them so they should be safe at night. Come on, I will show you the rest of the town.” I stood up from the ground and stared at Joshua as he came out of the lake, drenched in water.

“Do you not want to get changed?” I questioned when he started walking in the direction of the town instead of the colony house.

Joshua looked back at me and shook his head, “It will dry soon enough plus we are surviving on a limited amount of clothes sweetheart, cannot change them twice a day.” He said with a chuckle.

It must have been over a week since I was stuck in this town which was possibly the worst nightmare for anyone.

Standing beside Joshua, I stared at him as he used the stove when I suddenly realised something, “Where does the electricity come from?” I asked which made Joshua stop whatever he was cooking as he pondered over the question.

“I honestly don’t know…it’s just always been there I guess.” I looked at the stove for a moment and turned around soon after to see if there were any cables or wires connected.

“Joshua…why is there no cable to this wire?” I asked hesitantly, my hand gripping the bulb which was stuck on the ceiling a minute ago. He looked at me for a moment and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“That’s odd.” He trailed off, his gaze still on the bulb and the wire.

RING! RING! RING!

I looked at Joshua with wide eyes when the telephone suddenly started ringing. “It’s never done that before.” Joshua mumbled, his breathing uneven. Taking staggering steps towards it, I looked at Joshua once again and picked up the call when he gave me a small nod.

“Hello?” I stuttered out and waited for someone to speak from the other side but gulped when I heard nothing but just shallow breaths. I pulled it away from my ear and was about to hang up when someone from the other side finally decided to speak up.

“Is this Y/N?” I gasped in surprise and shock when I heard that person say my name, it felt like a man's voice, hoarse and breathy. “Who is this?” I questioned, my hands shaking with fear.

Noticing my shaken form, Joshua stepped forward and gently took the telephone from my hand, “Who is this?” He questioned angrily meanwhile I took a step back and tried to steady myself.

“Joshua…you better tell your girl to stop whatever she is thinking of doing and while at it, you might as well check up on your little sheriff. He’s been through quite a couple of rough nights. Gotta tell you though…he really fucked up by not shutting off the music box.” Saying that, the man laughed and hung up before Joshua could reply.

The telephone immediately slipped out of his hands when he heard the threatening words from the man who was at the other side of the call. Turning around, his gaze became more gentle when he saw my shaking fear.

Approaching me, he pulled me in a tight hug, my hands wrapping around his waist as if it was a natural instinct, “That person knew my name.” I said with a sob. Joshua nodded, his chin on top of my head as he gently patted my head. “I am scared. He knows our name!” I yelled in panic, my body trembling with every sob I let out.

“Hey, hey calm down. You are okay, okay? I am there for you.” I shook my head at Joshua's words and slowly pulled away from the hug.

“You don’t fucking get it, Joshua! That man knows our name! He knows us but we don’t know anything about him!” I yelled at him, panic setting in as I suddenly felt as if I could not breathe.

Noticing my panicked reaction, Joshua held my arms and made me look at him, “Hey, take deep breaths. Look at me.” I looked up at Joshua, my eyes glossy because of tears. Following his lead, I started taking small deep breaths in, slowly feeling like my chest was opening up and as if I could breathe again. “There you go.” He said softly before pulling me in for a hug. “Good girl.” He mumbled as we stayed in that position.

His embrace feeling oddly safe and familiar, as if that was the only thing I needed. I sniffled and tightened my grip around his waist when he was about to pull away. He let out a small chuckle and relaxed in my arms again, his chin placed on top of my head. “What did that person say to you?” I asked, my face still pressed against his chest.

Joshua’s grip tensed around me when I asked that question, “Hmm…nothing important. I will tell you later.” I didn’t press him any further and just nodded at his words.

It had been a few days since Joshua and I got that weird call. Currently, I was sitting beside Joshua as he talked with Seungcheol about what he encountered in the forest with Chan,

“So you are saying that you ended up in some kind of dungeon when you jumped into the tree trunk? Do you realise how insane that sounds right now?” Joshua said to Seungcheol with a silent hiss at the end of his sentence. Seungcheol simply nodded at him and opened his mouth to speak again.

“Look I know that whatever I am saying makes me look insane but there are answers out there in the forest! I just need some more time to figure this out.” Seungcheol tried to reason with Joshua. Hearing his words, Joshua shook his head in disbelief and stood up from the couch to pace around the room.

“Seungcheol you barely made it out alive from that forest! Your arm is injured and honestly speaking you look like shit right now. You cannot go out there again…it is messing you up.” Joshua said as he looked at Seungcheol with a concerned gaze all over his features.

“You don’t get it, Shua. I even found this musical box at the dungeon although the man who was tied up there told me to shut it off.” Joshua and I turned to look at Seungcheol sharply when he mentioned the music box and the man.

“Man? What man? And what do you mean by the music box?” Joshua asked in panic as he approached Seungcheol and stood in front of him but before he could even answer Chan stormed inside the room, his hair disheveled as if he just ran across the town to get here.

“Sheriff, come with me right now.” Was all he said before turning around to leave with us following behind him.

Sharing a look, we followed Chan and soon stood outside the residence of one of the townspeople. People were already gathered around, whispers coming from one place to another.

Without saying anything, Seungcheol walked inside the house and went upstairs when he heard someone sobbing. Upon entering the room, I couldn’t help the soft gasp which escaped from my throat.

On the bed–laid a woman with her mouth open but her insides were ripped apart and blood was everywhere. Her eyes were almost popping out of her sockets as her mouth hung open. I averted my gaze towards her son who was sobbing and shaking while looking at his mother.

Chan soon entered the room and went towards the son to comfort him. Taking in a deep breath, I looked away, feeling uneasy.

Feeling my insides churning, I turned around and stormed out of the room with Joshua calling out my name from behind.

Entering the bathroom, I slid down the wall and started sobbing hysterically when I realised just how fucked up that looked. I couldn’t stand to be in this place for another second but no matter how hard I tried there was no way out.

“Y/N!” Joshua exclaimed as soon as he opened the bathroom door and entered the small cramped area. Seeing the state I was in, he heaved out a small sigh and kneeled down beside and pulled me in his embrace without me having to verbally say it to him.

“Joshua, I don't think I can do this. I think I am going to go crazy, I am starting to see things, I hear voices in my head and I don’t like it.” I mumbled in his chest, my fingers curling into a fist as I held on his shirt as if my life depended on it and in a way it did.

Once I had calmed down, Joshua pulled away from the hug slowly and sat on the floor in front of me, “Well Seungcheol said that we cannot sleep tonight. Whatever happened to that woman happened in her sleep so he said it is better if we stay awake as a precaution.” I stared at Joshua when he said that, a hint of disbelief evident in my eyes.

“For how long do you even think we can stay awake for? We are all going to die in this fucked up place in one way or another.” Joshua didn’t deny when those words left my mouth because nothing was guaranteed here.

Everyday was like a new challenge and another What if? About our chances of survival.

“Let’s just see what happens for now, yeah?” I stared down at our hands when Joshua slowly reached out for them to hold them in his grip. It was firm but not overbearing. I entangled our fingers tighter and looked into his eyes.

It held this warmth in them, saying ‘You don’t have to worry, we are in this together’ which just made it all the more better. Although no words were engaged, I knew that the one person I could trust in this place with my life on it would be none other than the man right in front of me.

“This noise is so annoying.” I said to Joshua while munching on the apple he had bought for me.

“What noise?” He questioned, his eyes focused on the knife in front of him as he continued sharpening it. Hearing no response from me, he looked up and raised his eyebrow in confusion. “Is everything okay?” I shook my head, my face a bit drained out due to lack of sleep.

“Do you not hear the noise of those insects?” I questioned again, my hands trembling as I tried to be calm despite the growing unease. The more I forced myself to keep my eyes open, the more I felt the noise of those insects growing louder and closer. I felt my throat becoming dry when Joshua shook his head. I looked around the room–my eyes widening when I saw a bunch of cicadas on the window.

Following my gaze, Joshua became more confused. “What are you looking at?” He asked and stood up from the chair to look outside the window. “There is nothing here.” I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing.

After a while, I opened my eyes again and breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw no cicadas on the window anymore, “I must be seeing things–lack of sleep I guess.” I said with a small chuckle, Joshua still looked concerned.

Walking towards me, he placed his hand on my forehead to check my temperature, “You don’t seem to be down with fever, that’s good. I will get you some water then.” I opened my mouth to stop him but stopped myself.

I watched Joshua exit the room and close the door behind him. Once he left, I felt as if the temperature had suddenly dropped. The noises of the cicadas started ringing in my ear again, making me place my hand on my ear tightly, hoping to drown out the voice– but it felt as if the insects were closer to me by each passing second.

I opened my eyes when I felt something crawling on my leg. Looking down I let out a gut wrenching scream when I saw the cicadas entering the room through the window which was somehow open.

Standing up from the bed, I tried to get the cicadas off of me but they just kept on climbing on me. In no time they were all over my body, I could feel them entering my mouth and that was what I remembered before I lost my consciousness.

Entering the room, my eyes widened when I saw Y/N lying on the ground. Rushing towards her limp body, I placed her head on my lap and tried to wake her up by tapping on her cheek lightly, “Y/N, Y/N, wake up, hey…” I felt the tears brim in my eyes when she did not respond.

“Seungcheol!” I yelled for him, I didn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing from my ears as I continued tapping Y/N’s cheek, hoping she would open her eyes.

Sitting in Seungcheol’s office, I stared at him pace around the room while biting onto his nails nervously, “Do you remember that guy on the bus?” I nodded at his question, “Jihoon…” He whispered that boy's name under his breath and messed up his hair in frustration.

“I heard Jihoon was unconscious as well, just like Y/N.” I mumbled at which Seungcheol gave me a small nod and heaved out a sigh and took a seat on the chair in front of me.

“Fuck,” He cursed and placed his head in his hands, “This is all my fault!” I furrowed my eyebrows when Seungcheol said that but before I could even ask him he continued, “I should have destroyed that music box when that man told me. You know what? I am going back to that dungeon.” I stared at Seungcheol as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you crazy? No way in hell are you going back in that forest!” I yelled and stood up from the chair to follow Seungcheol.

Turning around, he stared at me for a moment and stood in front of me, “Shua, trust me on this, we don’t have much time and we will have to act soon. I either go in the forest and destroy that music box or we watch Y/N and well Jihoon lose their lives.” I inhaled a shaky breath when Seungcheol said those words, “I am leaving the town in your care, make sure no incidents take place.” I gave a small nod and stared at Seungcheol leaving the room.

It had been a day since Seungcheol went into the forest to destroy the music box. Y/N and Jihoon were still unconscious and the town doctor said their pulses were getting weaker with every passing second.

Sitting in front of Y/N’s bed, I washed her face and hands with a wet cloth. I could feel my heart aching at the sight of Y/N laying like a lifeless doll on the bed with no movements. Her eyes were fully white, and she would get a seizure every other minute.

“Y/N!” I exclaimed when her eyes opened out of nowhere. Circling around her bed, I handed her a glass of water and tried to calm her down when she started taking deep breaths as if she was having trouble breathing.

“Joshua!” Seeing me standing in front of her, she instantly engulfed me in a hug and started sobbing, “It was so fucking scary–I was in that dungeon, tied to the wall and…” I wrapped my arms around her tighter when she stopped speaking, unable to contain her cries.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now. I am here.” I said with a small, gentle voice and placed a kiss on her temple while moving my hands through her in a slow, comforting manner.

“Wait, where is Jihoon?” She asked once she calmed down. Her breathing was back to normal and her eyes were not plagued with that white colour anymore which made her look as if she was in a trance.

“What about him?” Instead of answering me, she stood up from the bed and walked out of the room with me following behind her.

“He’s not on the bus, he was unconscious just like you so we moved him in one of the rooms upstairs.” Hearing my words Y/N turned around and took hurried steps up the stairs. “Hey, slow down!” I yelled after her.

Standing outside the door, I watched her sit beside Jihoon as she waited for him to wake who was still unconscious, “Why is he not awake yet?” I shrugged at her question when I couldn’t think of the right answer.

“The town doctor should be here any minute, she can take a look at Jihoon. Meanwhile, you should go and get some rest in your room. I will bring some food for you.” I chuckled when Y/N refused to stand up from her seat.

Approaching her, I made her stand up from her seat beside Jihoon and guided her towards the door, “You can come and check up on Jihoon as soon as you get some food in your system, hmm?” Knowing she had no way out of this, Y/N gave a small nod and left the room with me.

It had been a few days since I woke up from the coma I was in. Although instead of being in a coma, it felt like I was in some kind of nightmare where no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to wake up.

I still hear the screams of agony I let out when I was tied to the wall in the dungeon. It felt all to real–as if I was actually going through that torture instead of just experiencing it in a nightmare.

The bloody walls, that skinny man tied to the wall across me who looked like he had been starved to death and those torches which were hung on the wall and also the only source of light.

I stopped walking when I saw the bus I came in this town with and which was also the place where Jihoon had been staying ever since we were stuck in this town since he could not get along with the others.

I took a deep breath in and started walking towards the bus so that I could talk with Jihoon about what we went through. I was going to talk with the instant he woke up from the coma but never got the opportunity to do so because he had left the colony house the moment he woke up.

“Hey, can we talk?” I asked while standing outside the bus, hearing my voice, Jihoon looked up from whatever he was doing as his eyebrows shot up in mild surprise at my sight.

“I believe we don’t have anything to talk about.” He said and stood up from his chair to look through his back. Instead of answering him, I entered the bus and took a seat on one of the chairs.

“Don’t act as if you don’t know why I came here. Jihoon, we both went through the same thing and believe it or not, it was terrible.” Hearing my words, Jihoon’s hands stopped midway and sucked in a deep breath to steady himself before he opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/N, look, you’re nice and all but honestly speaking, I really don’t want to think about those days again. I still hear those damn insects and it feels like they’re coming after me.” I stared at Jihoon as he stood up from his seat and paced around the bus,

“I can hear my screams and that bloody room where we were tied to the wall. You have Joshua with you who can look after you but I don’t have anyone to turn to, okay?” He turned around and stared at me, his eyes red as he stopped his tears from escaping his eyes. “It gets so lonely here at night and those fucking creatures keep on mocking me every chance they get and I know that if I open that damn door at night…I am done for and I am fucking scared of myself at time cause what if, what if I lose myself in the moment and open the door?” By the time Jihoon was done speaking, his shoulders were shaking as he sobbed into his hands.

Seeing the state he was in, I took slow and cautious steps towards him and knelt down beside him. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug, hoping it would give him some kind of comfort. “Hey, it’s okay. You can talk with me anytime, we came here together on this bus either way so we’re not total strangers, yeah?” I said in a lighthearted manner and patted his back.

After a while, Jihoon calmed down and pulled away from the hug. Moving away, he leaned against one of the chairs and brought his legs closer towards his chest, sucking in a deep breath, he stared at me for a minute and offered me a small smile, “Sorry you had to deal with that–I normally don’t breakdown like this, especially in front of strangers.” I smiled softly at his words and sat opposite of him as I gave his hand a small pat.

“Hey, I told you that we’re not strangers right?” I replied in a playful voice at which Jihoon laughed softly and shook his head, “Yeah? We’re not strangers? What are we then because I don’t think you know anything about me.” I looked outside the window for a moment when he said that, thinking about what to answer him.

“I know that we were on the same bus so our destination was perhaps the same and we don’t have to total strangers you know? We could be something…” I replied at which Jihoon raised his eyebrow and looked at me as if gesturing for me to continue, “We could be bus buddies!” I exclaimed in excitement and clapped my hands as if I just discovered the best thing in the world.

“Bus buddies you say?” He nodded and shook his head in amusement. “Let’s call ourselves bus buddies then.” I smiled and nodded when he said that.

Standing up from the floor, I offered my hand to Jihoon so that he could get up. “What?” He questioned and just stared at my hand instead of grabbing it.

“Let’s go to the diner to get some food.” I said casually, my hand still reached out to him. “And what makes you think I will agree to come with you?” I gave him a small smile, my hand still stretched out, “I know you’re hungry. Let’s just go.” Mumbling something under his breath; Jihoon nodded his head and got up without the help.

Scoffing at his behaviour, I threw a playful glare in his direction and started walking ahead of him.

“You should try these scrambled eggs, they’re good.” I said while placing some scrambled eggs on Jihoon’s plate.

“Can I ask you something?” I questioned, poking at the piece of broccoli I had on my plate with slight disgust. Giving me a look once, Jihoon took the broccoli and motioned for me to continue. “Why do you not live in the colony house like most others? I mean don’t get me wrong but everyone who came here on the bus is living in the colony house with the others.” Jihoon chuckled at my question and placed his fork down to give me his full attention.

“Ah well..I am not someone who gets comfortable with people easily and that place was just not it for me. Honestly speaking, I never really liked anyone and they weren’t that fond of me either. I was a bit aggressive at first so I understand why they did not like me.” I nodded at his words, understanding his point of view.

“But you were just as scared as the others, this place is a nightmare.” I stopped speaking for a minute and stared ahead of me, “What do you think about going into the forest tomorrow?” I asked and looked into Jihoon’s eyes to make eye contact, hoping he’d agree to this.

“Are you crazy? We’re not going into the forest no matter what. It’s dangerous.” I scowled at his answer.

“We will leave in the morning and come before the sun sets! Come on–you must be wanting some answers as well.” I mumbled and played with the leftover food on my plate, hoping he would agree.

“I will think abo–” Before Jihoon could finish his sentence, we turned around at the sound of the bell ringing.

“Joshua?” I mumbled under my breath and stood up from my seat to walk towards him but he beat me to it by approaching our table as soon as he saw me. “Hey, what brings you here?” I asked and sat down again.

“I should be asking you that, what are you doing here with him of all people?” I looked at Joshua in confusion and slight offense when he spoke so harshly about Jihoon.

“Y/N, I will get going and thank you for inviting me to eat.” I raised my hand to stop Jihoon from leaving but hesitated when I realised how uncomfortable he looked the moment Joshua came here.

“What did you talk about with him?” I stared at Joshua as he took a seat in front of me. Instead of telling Joshua about what we talked about, I just shrugged and decided to keep the conversation we had just between the two of us.

Standing by the window, I stared outside and grimaced when I saw those monster-human looking creatures walking around the streets, although occasionally they would glance up and would wave at me mockingly with a smile on their face.

I just wish I could put an end to this but at the same time, I knew it was impossible. Gosh, the things I’d do to escape from this place which makes every passing day harder than the previous.

Closing the curtains, I turned around and sat on my bed again, still deep in my thoughts. I am not going to miss this opportunity, no matter what I am going to make Jihoon come with me into the forest. I know we would find something there.

“Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.” I said while poking Jihoon’s cheek with my finger who was still fast asleep. It was only 7:30 in the morning and everyone else was half asleep–including Joshua.

This was the perfect time to leave and explore the forest, “What the, what are you doing here?” Jihoon murmured as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. “How did you even enter?” He asked once he sat up straight.

“Through the door.” I said as if it was the most obvious thing and even pointed at the door. Hearing what I said, Jihoon scoffed and rolled his eyes and stood up from the seat to stretch.

“What do you want?” I smiled sheepishly at his question. “Well, as I said we’re going in the forest to explore!” Saying that, I walked out of the bus before Jihoon could decline. I chuckled quietly when I heard Jihoon groan in annoyance but told me to wait for him nonetheless. “Come on! Hurry up! We don’t have all day!” Saying that I turned around but froze when I saw Joshua at a distance, approaching us, his hair still messy.

“Come on, let’s go…” Jihoon trailed off once he spotted Joshua standing in front of, “What is your little lover boy doing here?” Jihoon said snarkily which resulted in me nudging his side to shut him up.

“Joshua, what are you doing here?” I asked carefully. Joshua stared at me for a moment and opened his mouth to speak but closed it immediately as if decided against and shook his head.

“I am going wherever the two of you are going.” Saying that, Joshua leaned closer towards me to whisper in my ear, “And I don’t trust Jihoon.” Jihoon cleared his throat behind us.

“I heard that you know?” Jihoon said and glared at Joshua too which Joshua simply shrugged.

“Well good, I don’t trust you, one bit.” Saying that Joshua grabbed my hand and started walking ahead off Jihoon on purpose.

“Why did you want to come to the forest?” Joshua asked as the three of us walked. I pondered on his question for a minute, not really knowing what to answer.

“To find answers, of course. Do you even know what your girlfriend went through?” Jihoon said from beside me as he scowled at Joshua.

Unknowingly. I felt my cheeks flare up at the word ‘girlfriend’, I mean, it’s not like we’re together or anything but it still feels nice, to be called something and I felt my cheeks deepen in colour more when Joshua didn’t try to correct Jihoon.

“Could you just mind your own business?” Joshua said to Jihoon. Looking around the place, I stopped walking when I saw a dome looking thing which was no longer in shape.

Walking towards it, I stared at it for a moment as Joshua and Jihoon soon followed me and looked at it. “What is this?” Joshua questioned to which I just shrugged and took a step forward to stand inside it only for Jihoon to grab ahold of my hand to stop me. “I am not getting a good feeling from this.” He said hesitantly, “How about we head back for now?”

I shook my head, ready to protest when Joshua spoke up, “Y/N, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Let’s just go back and it is going to be dark soon.”

I heaved out a sigh and started walking side by side with Joshua and Jihoon only to turn back around and sprint in the direction of the dome. I could hear Joshua and Jihoon calling out my name in panic but I drowned out their voices and entered the dome.

I gasped as I looked around, I was no longer in the forest–instead I was in the dungeon where I was trapped with Jihoon. I placed my hand over my ears when I heard screaming.

“What the actual fuck..” I mumbled under my breath in disbelief when I saw myself and Jihoon tied to the wall, except our eyes were pure white and they were constantly screaming. Crouching down, I ducked my head between my knees and closed my eyes–hoping the screaming would stop.

I slowly opened my eyes when the screaming stopped and soon noticed the old man tied to the wall, just like us but I could no longer see Jihoon nor my body on the wall. “Hey kid..” I took a step back as an instinct when the old man started speaking.

“Could you do me a favour and throw that rope down the hole?” I blinked in confusion and turned around to the place the old man was pointing at.

“Seungcheol?” I mumbled to myself when I saw Seungcheol down that hole–calling out for help. “That man has been calling out for help for who knows how long. I would have helped him myself but well..” The old man stopped talking and started coughing violently.

Was this the dungeon Seungcheol told us about? Was Jihoon and I supposed to die like that man who is tied to the wall? I looked around the place once again and felt goosebumps all over my body. “You can go back to where you came from but just help that poor man.” I stared at the old man with slight hesitation and then at the rope.

Sighing softly, I grabbed the rope and threw it down the hole. Once I did that, I turned around to ask the old man a few questions but he was no longer there and I was alone in the bloody dungeon.

“Y/N!” I opened my eyes and slowly took the surroundings in–I was not in the dungeon anymore and was laying on the ground in the forest.

“Are you okay?” I looked at Joshua when he asked me that question and gave him a small nod–still trying to grasp the whole situation I was in.

“What happened?” I asked and slowly sat up straight. Jihoon came and sat in front of me silently, a serious expression on his face. “I told you not to enter that dome, didn’t I?” Jihoon said in a firm voice. I didn’t open my mouth to answer him and decided to just stay quiet. “Well, once you entered that dome–you suddenly passed out. Joshua and I decided to take you out of the dome and lay you on the ground. You soon woke up once we settled you down on the ground.” I nodded quietly and looked at Joshua when he opened his mouth to speak.

“I think it’s best if we stay in one of those huts we saw on our way here. It’s going to be dark soon and we won’t reach the town before the sun sets.” I looked around the forest when Joshua said that. He was right, the sun was starting to set and the town was way too far for us to reach before those monsters came out.

“But we don’t have the talisman stone with us.” Joshua chuckled when Jihoon said that and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, taking out the talisman stone he had.

“How do you have this here?” Joshua shrugged his shoulders casually at my question and helped me stand up. “I figured I should carry it with me just in case, you know?” I nodded at his words.

Jihoon started walking ahead of us, Joshua and I followed in his footsteps soon enough. “I don’t know how sturdy these huts can be but we should be safe with this talisman hanging by the door.” Jihoon said while entering the hut–closing the door once Joshua and I entered the hut.

“I should start some fire.” I mumbled.

–x–

Sitting beside Joshua, I leaned against his shoulder as he talked with Jihoon about when we should leave in the morning, “I think it’d be best if we both took turns sleeping. Just in case.” Jihoon nodded at his words and immediately laid down on the floor to sleep.”What do you think you’re doing?” Joshua asked, his voice firm as he stared at Jihoon’s sleeping figure.

“What does it look like genius? I am obviously trying to sleep.” Joshua scoffed when Jihoon said that and stood up to wake Jihoon up.

“Who says that you can sleep?” I stared at Joshua and Jihoon as they both argued. Joshua kept on trying to wake Jihoon up, saying he should be the one sleeping first since he recommended this plan while Jihoon continued ignoring–occasionally shoving his hands away.

KNOCK KNOCK

Jihoon and Joshua stopped their banter when they heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. Jihoon sat up straight and took slow and hesitant steps towards the door to keep the talisman in place and to ensure that it does not fall.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I flinched when the knocking grew aggressive, distant screaming in the forest could be heard as well. Turning around, Joshua looked at me and stepped away from the door to approach me. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.” Joshua said as he sat down beside me and pulled me in a hug,rubbing small circles on my back to help me calm down.

Once the knocking stopped, Jihoon quietly came and sat in front of us, “I think…those things are something different than those monsters that come out at night.” He mumbled, his voice distant, as if he was trying to comfort himself.

Sighing softly, I grabbed Jihoon’s hand and pulled him in a hug. His shoulders instantly relaxed as he let out quiet sobs in my embrace. I shared a look with Joshua as he soon joined the hug, “We will leave the forest thing tomorrow morning.” I nodded at his words and continued hugging Jihoon till he calmed down.

After a beat of silence, I looked at Joshua and decided to speak up, “You remember the time when Seungcheol went to the forest to find answers?” I asked quietly as Jihoon and Joshua both turned their attention to me.

Nodding at my words, I continued, “Right now when I passed out, once I entered that dome…I saw Seungcheol. I somehow teleported to the dungeon but…” I stopped talking for a moment, thinking of the right words, “I was in the past…like I time traveled or something…and I even saw the time when Jihoon and I were in a coma. It was as if I was living it all over again but instead of experiencing it…I was seeing it happen to the two of us right in front of my eyes.” Joshua carefully entangled his fingers with mine and tightened his grip.

“How is that even possible..?” Jihoon finally said, his voice coming barely above a whisper. Joshua shook his head and heaved out a sigh.

“This place is just…weird and no matter how hard we try we won’t find the answers. Let’s just go to sleep.” Saying that Joshua motioned Jihoon to sleep first, saying he’d look out for now.

Walking in silence, I stared at our surroundings–it had been almost over three months since I was trapped in this godforsaken town with no way to escape. Time just flew by like a whirlwind and it seemed as if I was still stuck in the past–I still had that small bit of hope that I would be able to leave this place.

Turning my head slightly, I stared at Joshua quietly who was walking beside me. He might just be the only good thing which happened this whole time. Heaving out a deep sigh, “How do you think this place came into existence?” I asked while staring at Joshua.

Hearing my question, Jihoon who was walking ahead of us turned around and scoffed slightly, “I think this is all just some fucked up shit made by someone to mess with peoples minds. This is entertainment for those people.” Joshua furrowed his eyebrows when Jihoon said that and stopped walking–his arms crossed across his chest as if he was in a deep thought.

“That still doesn’t answer the question about people ending up in this place from different parts of the world.” Jihoon opened his mouth to revert back but closed it again when he realised that Joshua was right.

“How did you end up here then?” I asked Joshua as we started walking again–our steps slower than before as if we had all the time in the world to reach the town before sunset.

“Well, I was going on this trip with Seungcheol when we came across this tree fallen in the middle of the road–we stepped out to check the road, hoping someone would drive by but no luck and then soon there was this herd of crows in the sky. When we turned around for a reroute, we ended up in this town.” I looked at Jihoon once Joshua finished speaking. He had the same look of surprise and shock itched all over his face.

“The same thing happened to us– we came across a fallen tree as well.” Silence fell over us once I said that, too shocked to even say anything ahead.

“This is fucked up man…” Jihoon mumbled as he ruffled his hair in frustration.

It had been a few days since I came back from the forest with Joshua and Jihoon. Our answers were all still left unanswered– instead they just seemed to increase. I tried to figure out what this place was but it all just went down the drain when I realised that I was just caught in a loop with no definite answers.

I tried to be positive and helped the town people in their daily chores but at the end of the day when I am all alone with my thoughts–I ask the same question ‘Will this ever come to an end? Will I ever escape from this place?’ Which were of course all left unanswered.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my doorbell ringing, “Coming!” I exclaimed and went downstairs to open the door. “Joshua…what brings you here?” I asked in surprise when I saw him standing before me.

“Well…it had been over a hundred days since you arrived here and although I know this place is not the best..I thought about celebrating your hundred days here with you–kind of like a change of mood.” I stared at Joshua as he rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness.

Giggling, I walked out of my room and closed the door behind me, “Let’s go then.” I said a bit cheerfully, forgetting all the thoughts which were occupying my mind before. It was as if there was a switch in me, I felt more relaxed and less nervous now that Joshua was here.

“Wait really? You’re not weirded out or anything right?” He asked hesitantly and started following me. I laughed slightly at him and shook my head because I was rather more touched about the fact that Joshua even thought about something like this in the midst of this chaos we were trapped in.

“I think I’d rather say that I am more touched by you thinking about something so little and taking the effort to organise all of this.” Joshua laughed softly, his eyes becoming in the shape of a half moon as his nose scrunched up a bit.

–x–

“And we’re here.” I looked around the place in awe, “Thought we could come here since this was the first place you visited when you got stuck in the stuck.” I looked at Joshua when he said that. Averting my gaze away from him, I looked around the lake again which was now beautifully decorated with flower garlands and a banner which said ‘Happy 100 days of survival!’

“Happy hundred days of survival indeed.” I said with a giggle while taking a seat on the floor, “Come, sit.” I said with a small smile, patting the space beside me.

Joshua nodded and turned around to grab the basket of sandwiches and fruits which he had prepared for our little celebration. “Here, your favourite sandwich.” I gently grabbed the basket from his hands, our fingers momentarily brushing against each other which sent a small jolt of spark through my body.

Opening the basket, I handed one sandwich to Joshua and took one for myself as well, “Where did you get cherries from? I thought we were short on them…” I asked in surprise when I saw that there was a bowl of cherries in the basket along with the sandwiches.

“I had my ways…pulled a few strings here and there.” I squinted my eyes at him playfully when he said that.

“By strings you mean you begged Seungcheol, no?” I said with a small smile, flicking his forehead lightly which made Joshua move his head while letting out a small laugh.

–x–

Sitting in silence, I stared ahead at the river, my knees brought to my chest as I rested my chin on my arms. Weirdly enough, this small moment felt peaceful and calm–as if we were in our own little world with nothing to worry about.

Moving my head, I looked at Joshua who was looking at the lake as well, his body looking visibly relaxed, “Can I ask you something?” I asked after pondering that thought for a while.

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Joshua let out a small hum as if motioning for me to speak, “Do you ever feel scared? Like always being on your toes, waiting for something bad to happen.” Joshua heaved out a long sigh at my question and slowly sat up straight, as if preparing himself before saying the next words.

“Before when I had no idea what kind of place this town was then yeah..in a way I was always on my toes but I slowly started getting used to it but there were always these small moments of doubt where I think I won’t survive this place. It was all before though, I don’t think about it that much anymore.” He looked at me and slowly smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes fully, it felt forced in a way.

“What changed your perception then? Why do you not think about it anymore?” Joshua chuckled quietly at my question and told me to come closer, as if whispering a secret.

“You want the truth?” I nodded my head eagerly at his question, “You changed my perception.” I blinked my eyes in surprise–not accepting such an answer from him.

Gulping, I tried to stop my heart from beating so fast but it was of no use when I realised just how close our faces were to each. I could feel his hot breath fanning against my cheeks, his breathing uneven like mine, “When you’re with me…those monsters are the last thing on my mind…it feels peaceful when I am with you and it doesn’t even feel like I am living in a nightmare because you somehow manage to cure it all with your presence itself.” I could feel my breath hitch when Joshua said those words–not expecting him to say this. “It might be a bit too soon for this but I like you Y/N…believe it or not.” I chuckled softly when Joshua said that, suddenly feeling giddy all over.

“I think I like you too but I need some time to be sure about my feelings..” Joshua nodded slowly, agreeing with me as his gaze slowly travelled down to my lips. Nodding my head, I leaned in slowly as his hand went to the back of my head to bring my face closer to his.

The kiss was slow and gentle, as if we had all the time in the world. At this moment the only thing which mattered was us and nothing else in our surroundings. I slowly brought my hand up and tangled it in his hair to pull him closer which made Joshua smile in between the kiss.

Pulling away, he stared at me, “I will be courting you from today then.” I nodded and pressed my forehead against his, a content smile taking over my features, “And you know what? Fuck those damn monsters, they cannot control me.” Joshua said playfully which made me giggle.

Pulling away, I looked around the lake, “I think we should head back, it’s getting dark.” I said softly as Joshua nodded and stood while offering his hand to me.

I signed out of nervousness, it was already starting to get dark outside and the screaming and howling of those creatures could be heard everywhere–echoing every step we took. “Hey, don’t worry, the sun didn’t set yet.” I nodded at Joshua’s words and held his hand in my grip tightly, increasing my pace hoping we would reach my house on time.

“Going somewhere, Joshua?” We stopped dead in our tracks when we heard that eerily creepy voice coming from behind us.

Turning my head around, I visibly gulped in fear when I saw a woman in the nurse uniform standing in front of us with a knife in her hand, a huge smile adorning her face as she tilted her head mockingly.

“Don’t look back and run.” Joshua whispered silently in my ear, his grip around my hand tightening as he turned around and started sprinting towards the direction of my house.

“Aww come on you both, let’s play. Joshua I thought you said you didn’t care about us.” A man's voice said from behind us, his voice dripping with mockery and sarcasm as if he was enjoying this little thrill.

I sucked in a deep breath when I saw more of those monsters walking in our direction from front, their steps calm as if they knew that they had the upper hand.

“We won’t make it to my house in time!” I exclaimed in fear and sheer horror, knowing the odds were against us.

“Y/N! Joshua! Come here!” We both turned our heads in sync at the sound of someone calling out our name.

At the corner, we saw Jihoon standing by the bus door, waiting for us, “Come on, let’s go.” Joshua said as he pulled me in the direction of the bus.

Stumbling in my steps, I tried to increase my pace when I felt the monsters starting to come closer towards us.

Reaching the bus, Jihoon helped me get inside first as Joshua soon closed the door and locked it from behind.

“Fuck…” Joshua mumbled as he rubbed his face in frustration.

“Open the door kids, don’t behave like kids.” I stopped breathing when I heard that voice again right outside the bus.

I exclaimed in surprise when those monsters outside started shaking the bus violently. Joshua immediately approached me and held me in place—his hands wrapped around my waist.

“Fuck!” Jihoon suddenly exclaimed in panic. Looking at him, I stopped breathing when I realised that the talisman stone had fallen down due to the violent shaking.

Jihoon ran and tried to hang the talisman again but it was too late, the door was already jerked open with inhuman force.

Those monsters started entering the bus with slow and menacing steps, a mocking smile on their faces as they all laughed. “What did you say Joshua? That we weren’t in control? Guess what?” The nurse said sweetly as she motioned towards the others behind her with her eyes.

In an instant, the others held Joshua and Jihoon in place and pulled them back violently, “Just wait and watch.” The nurse said as she stalked towards me, her face suddenly changing into something inhuman.

I stopped breathing when she stopped in front of me, her teeth sharper as if she were an animal and her nails long and sharp like demons. “This is your punishment for underestimating us, Joshua.” She said with a smile, her sharp nails digging into my skin with brutal force.

I let out an agonising scream, my body thrashing around with force as I tried to pry her hands off my face. “Stop! Please, don’t hurt her.” I could hear Joshua scream in between his harsh sobs.

I choked out a sob when another one of the creatures approached us, his nails digging into my arms as he scratched it—drawing blood.

I felt myself slipping away, my gaze becoming blurry as I tried to hold onto something but there was no strength left in my body, “This is what you deserve.” My eyes were closed as I heard someone say that.

Soon I felt myself being pulled into someone’s embrace, “Y/N, please please don’t close your eyes.” He sobbed while cradling me in his arms.

I smiled weakly and tried to form some kind of words but felt my throat closing up as I spit out some blood.

“Y/N no please…” was the last thing I heard before my body went limp in the arms of the only person I could ever truly get myself to like.

#milestone: 100 collab #svt100collab

82 notes · View notes

bella-feed · 7 days ago

Text

delicious 😋

Search My Body

Synopsis: What's better than 1 hot DILF? 2 hot DILFs.

Pairing: dilf!officer!Seungcheol (SVT) x afab!reader x dilf!officer!Jeonghan (SVT)

Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap, threesome, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), daddy kink, manhandling, creampie, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dom!Seungcheol, dom!Jeonghan, sub!brat!reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: We're so back.

Thank you papa @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping me with the title! Thank you twin @tomodachiii for helping me with the banner! Thank you @bella-feed and @supi-wupi for betaing! @sanaxo-o I promised you dilf!Jeonghan, so here you go, I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Click here to join my taglist!

Read part 1 here!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Sunlight peeks through the blinds, illuminating the room in a soft glow. A soft groan comes from behind you, and the arm resting on you pulls you closer. You turn around and snuggle your face into the firm chest that you've come to love so much.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Seungcheol mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

"G'morning, daddy," you murmur, voice muffled against his chest.

Seungcheol groans, nipping at the shell of your ear in warning—you giggle, fully aware of what that nickname does to him.

"Such a brat," he rasps out before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Can't help it when it comes to you," you tease.

"I really need to put you in your place," he huffs playfully.

"Who says that's not exactly what I want?" you grin.

"How did I get so lucky with you?" he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Well, I did blatantly flirt with you and basically begged you to fuck me," you reply matter-of-factly.

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head at the fond memory of your unhinged antics. It's been several months since then, and while neither of you has put a label on it, the relationship between you two is unmistakably real, filled with care, affection, and something that feels a lot like love.

Seungcheol spoils you endlessly, even encouraging you to quit your stressful job, assuring you he'd take care of everything. And at this point, you've practically moved into his penthouse.

"I'm going to be late," Seungcheol mumbles as he shifts to get out of bed.

"No~" you whine, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close.

"Sweetheart, I have to go to work," he chuckles, gently rubbing your back.

You look up at him with puppy eyes and a pout, silently pleading for him to stay a little longer—and, as always, he gives in, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you for just a bit more. You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer, soaking in his warmth for as long as you can.

"There's a surprise coming later," he murmurs.

"A surprise?"

"Mhm. Just something I think you'll look gorgeous in," he says with a soft smile.

"Cheol, another gift? You're seriously spoiling me," you whine.

"Can't help it when it comes to you," he grins, throwing your own words back at you.

"You're seriously acting like a sugar daddy," you tease with a chuckle.

"As long as I get to be your daddy," he shoots back, earning a playful slap from you.

The two of you laugh before settling into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence in the quiet morning.

Your ears perk up at the sound of the front door opening. You furrow your brows in confusion—Seungcheol usually isn't off work until way later. Thinking he probably got out of work early to surprise you, you quickly head to the living room, excited giggles escaping your lips.

You stop dead in your tracks when you see that the man who entered was, in fact, not Seungcheol. A tall, slender man stood in the middle of the living room. His chocolate eyes raked over you, a subtle smirk on his lips.

Eyes widening in alarm, you quickly look around to see if there's anything nearby to protect yourself from the intruder.

"Ah, you must be the girl that Cheol has been fawning over," he muses, his honey-laced voice breaking the silence.

Your eyes dart back to him, confusion and alarm etched onto your face.

"Calm down, Dollface," he chuckles, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a friend of Cheol's."

"A friend?" you ask, guard still up.

"His best friend, actually," he states. "I'm hurt he hasn't told you about me."

"Oh," you mumble, still not trusting the stranger.

He steps closer to you, his long legs easily reducing the distance between you two. Your mouth slightly goes agape when your brain registers just how tall he is—he easily towers over you, making you feel small next to him.

"I'm Jeonghan," he smirks, stretching forward his hand to shake.

Hesitantly, you place your hand in his—his fingers are long and slender, but rough with calluses, much like Seungcheol's.

"Y/N," you mumble.

"Pretty name for a pretty face," he murmured with a subtle smirk. "Pleasure meeting you, Y/N." He then leans down and places a kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering a moment too long.

Heat rushes to your face at his actions—you quickly withdraw your hand away, mumbling a stuttered response, earning a chuckle from Jeonghan.

"Shame Cheol isn't here, I would've loved to spend more time with you," he said, voice low and laced with something unreadable. You shift in place, feeling a weird warmth spread throughout your body.

"I shall take my leave then, see you soon, Dollface." He smirks before turning around and leaving. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as he steps away from you.

He pauses just before leaving, turns back around, and says, "Cheol's a lucky man to enjoy this view every day." With a wink, he steps out.

Your eyes widen, and a wave of heat rushes through you as you realise you'd been standing there the entire time wearing nothing but Seungcheol's shirt—one that barely covered anything.

Grabbing a pillow from the nearby couch, you scream into it, mortified and praying for the ground to swallow you whole. God, you really didn't want to ever see Jeonghan again.

Opening the car door, Jeonghan slips into the passenger seat right before Seungcheol takes off.

"What the—get out!" Seungcheol screeches when he spots him.

"Nope. I'm carpooling with you," Jeonghan says with a cheeky grin.

"No, you're not. Now get out!" Seungcheol hisses.

"Wow, that hurts, Cheollie," Jeonghan says, clutching his chest dramatically.

"Don't call me that," Seungcheol grumbles."Now, get out, I'm gonna be late."

"For what? A date with Y/N?" Jeonghan teases, and Seungcheol freezes.

"How did you—"

"I have my ways," Jeonghan smirks. "So, when are you introducing her to me?"

"Never," Seungcheol mutters.

"Ah, my heart. It aches," Jeonghan gasps, earning an eye roll from Seungcheol.

"I want to meet her," Jeonghan says plainly.

"No."

"I'm going to annoy you until you let me," Jeonghan grins.

Seungcheol lets out a long sigh, already knowing Jeonghan won't stop once he sets his mind to something. It actually reminds him a bit of you.

"Fine," he grumbles.

"Great!" Jeonghan beams. "Dinner this Sunday at my favourite restaurant."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but mumbles an agreement. Satisfied, Jeonghan fastens his seatbelt and settles in, while Seungcheol shoots him a look of pure disbelief.

"Uh, get out?"

"Nope. Still carpooling," Jeonghan replies, unbothered.

Muttering curses under his breath, Seungcheol starts the car anyway, knowing full well that arguing with Jeonghan is a battle he's never going to win.

"Cheol, stop we're in public," you giggle, trying to remove his hand that's groping your ass.

"But your ass looks so good in that dress, sweetheart," Seungcheol purrs, hand still kneading your ass. "I knew you'd look gorgeous in this."

You squeal and giggle, trying to swat Seungcheol's hands away. He's brought you out for dinner, saying he wants to introduce you to a friend of his. You're doing your best to stay composed and make a good first impression, but it's hard to focus when Seungcheol seems very fixated on your behind.

You finally manage to pry his hands off as the two of you step into the private room he reserved. But the second you walk in, you freeze, eyes widening at the person already seated.

"J-Jeonghan?" you gasp, jaw dropping.

Jeonghan, who had been scrolling through his phone, glances up and smirks. "Y/N," he says smoothly, "I did say I'd see you soon."

Seungcheol looks between the two of you, clearly confused. "Wait…you guys know each other?"

"Told you I have my ways," Jeonghan winks, then gestures for you both to sit.

You take in Jeonghan's appearance as you settle into the seat beside Seungcheol. He's wearing a silky black blouse with a deep V-neckline, offering teasing glimpses of his chest. His slightly long black hair is styled in a half-up, half-down look, perfectly framing his angelic features. You can't help but marvel at how he manages to look both effortlessly masculine and delicately feminine at the same time.

"So, how do you two know each other?" Seungcheol asks, still visibly thrown off.

"I already told you—I have my ways," Jeonghan replies with a cheeky grin.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol warns, tone sharp.

Jeonghan laughs. "Alright, alright. I ran into her when I stopped by your place the other day. You weren't home, but lucky for me, Dollface was."

Your cheeks heat up instantly at the memory of that unexpected and very awkward encounter.

"Dollface?" Seungcheol mutters, raising an eyebrow.

"Mhm. Suits her, don't you think?" Jeonghan smirks.

Seungcheol grumbles something under his breath while you shift in your seat, your body growing warm under the weight of the situation.

"God, Dollface, you look absolutely delicious in that dress," Jeonghan purrs, his eyes shamelessly raking down your figure.

"O-Oh, thank you, Jeonghan," you mumble, quickly taking a sip of water to hide your burning face.

"Please, call me Hannie," he adds with a wink, and your heart skips a beat.

Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eyes at Jeonghan’s antics, prompting a snicker from the latter.

"What's wrong, Cheollie?" Jeonghan teases, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing at the nickname.

"Stop doing that," Seungcheol grumbles.

"Doing what?" Jeonghan asks innocently, raising a brow.

"You know what," Seungcheol hisses.

"I'm just making conversation with Y/N," Jeonghan grins, all faux innocence.

Sensing an opportunity to tease Seungcheol, you chime in, "Yeah, Cheollie, Hannie's just trying to talk to me."

"Y/N," Seungcheol groans, already regretting bringing the two of you together.

"See? Let me chat with the beautiful lady," Jeonghan beams. "Cheol's always such a party pooper. At the precinct, everyone calls him the lame boss."

"Wait—you guys work together?" you blink in surprise.

"Unfortunately," Seungcheol mutters, while Jeonghan chuckles.

You bite your lip, your curiosity piqued. Something about Jeonghan being an officer just made him even more attractive.

"I didn't expect you to be a police officer," you mumble shyly.

"Looks can be deceiving, Dollface," Jeonghan says with a wink—and once again, your face burns red.

"Oh, and I'm single, by the way," Jeonghan adds with a smirk, making your heart skip a beat.

"She doesn't need to know that," Seungcheol scoffs.

"Just thought she might want to," Jeonghan grins, completely unbothered.

"Are you a DILF too?" you tease, making Jeonghan burst into laughter while Seungcheol groans in disbelief.

"Oh, I've definitely got plenty of experience," Jeonghan purrs, voice low and smooth, making your body flush with heat. "How about I show you just how experienced I am?"

Seungcheol's hand suddenly lands on your thigh, squeezing it in warning; you simply shoot him a cheeky grin in response.

"I think I'd love that," you smirk, deliberately provoking him.

"Brat," Seungcheol mutters under his breath.

"You know you love it, Cheollie," Jeonghan says with a teasing grin, and you can't help but giggle.

Seungcheol abruptly stands, and your smile falters, unsure if you've taken things too far.

"Cheol, I'm sorry, I—"

"Let's go," he says, grabbing your arm firmly.

"You too," he adds to Jeonghan, who rises with a lazy grin.

"But we haven't even ordered yet," you mumble as Seungcheol leads you toward the car, Jeonghan trailing close behind.

"I have a feeling he's more in the mood for dessert right now," Jeonghan snickers.

Seungcheol swings open the back door of the car. "Sit," he orders, and you obey without protest, suddenly feeling the shift in atmosphere. Jeonghan slips in beside you, and Seungcheol gets behind the wheel, heading straight for his penthouse.

The air inside the car is thick with tension, every breath you take laced with anticipation. You shift uncomfortably, goosebumps trailing along your skin.

You gasp softly when Jeonghan places a hand on your thigh. It doesn't move—doesn't slide up or down—but the weight of it alone has your pulse racing. You glance toward the rearview mirror, only to meet Seungcheol's sharp, unreadable gaze locked directly on you.

You're playing a dangerous game…but god, do you love it.

Jeonghan's hand stays still, yet it's enough to have you squirming in place, heat pooling under your skin.

The drive to the apartment felt longer than usual—your mouth dry like it was stuffed with cotton, and your body tense beneath the weight of Jeonghan’s hand. The air was thick with anticipation, and not a word was spoken; only the low hum of the engine and the occasional click of the turn signal filled the silence.

When you finally arrive at the penthouse, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Seungcheol steps out first, opens your door, and without a word, pulls you close by the waist. His grip is firm, possessive, and grounding. With Jeonghan following just behind, the three of you make your way into the building and toward the elevator, the tension crackling like static in the air.

"Cheol I—" you start once you enter the living room.

"Did I allow you to speak, brat?" Seungcheol hisses, grabbing your face.

You let out a squeak, shaking your head in protest. Seungcheol hums in response, fingers squeezing your cheeks until your lips purse into a pout.

"Since you're both determined to be brats," he muses, a smirk playing on his lips, "why don't you fuck each other right in front of me?" Your eyes widen, heart stuttering at his words.

Before you can react, he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. A whimper escapes you as you melt into it, kissing him back.

"You can stop whenever you want, sweetheart," he murmurs against your mouth, breath warm. "Just say your safeword, and everything ends. No questions."

The reassurance sends warmth blooming in your chest. You can't help but smile as you nod, heart fluttering.

You kiss him back, the heat between you electric, and Seungcheol growls as his hands roam your body. A breathy moan escapes you when he grips your ass, his touch possessive.

Then, lips press against the back of your neck, and you gasp. Seungcheol's gaze snaps over your shoulder, a low warning rumbling in his chest.

"Did I say you could do that?" he growls.

Jeonghan's voice drips with mischief. "I was getting impatient."

You giggle, twisting around to loop your arms over Jeonghan's shoulders—only for Seungcheol to let out another possessive growl. Jeonghan smirks before sealing his lips over yours.

His kiss is nothing like Seungcheol's. He teases, pulling away just as you lean in, leaving fleeting nips along your lips. A frustrated whine slips out, and Jeonghan laughs against your mouth.

"So adorable," he purrs, "No wonder you kept her, Cheollie." Your cheeks flush at his words, and behind you, Seungcheol chuckles, dark and pleased.

Jeonghan's lips trail slow, teasing kisses down your neck, his fingers toying with the buttons of your blouse. A gasp slips out when his hands slide beneath the fabric, sending goosebumps skittering across your skin.

"I wanna see you," he murmurs against your throat, breath hot, "all of you."

With deft, playful fingers, he undresses you, and you shiver as cool air kisses your heated skin.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Jeonghan breathes, his gaze raking over you as his fingertips trace delicate paths along your bare waist.

You flush under his heavy stare, suddenly hyperaware that you're the only one exposed. Your hands lift to his shirt, eager to even the playing field—but he catches your wrists with a smirk.

"Ah, ah, not yet," he purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips.

Heart pounding, you bite your lip as Jeonghan slowly sinks to his knees in front of you, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

A whine rips through your throat as he leaves teasing bites on your inner thighs, so close to where you need him most.

"Barely touched you, and you're already dripping," he hums.

"Jeonghan, please," you beg, growing impatient.

With a smirk, Jeonghan dives into your core, lapping up your juices. You moan and throw your head back as his tongue circles your sensitive nub. His movements are playful, teasing—giving you what you want but taking it away just as quickly.

Your legs tremble from the pleasure, and you can barely hold yourself up—you grab hold of the couch behind you, not trusting your legs to keep steady. A tight coil of pleasure winds low in your stomach, throbbing with need—you're so close, but not close enough. Desperate, you rock your hips harder against Jeonghan's mouth, chasing your release as you ride his face. A deep, approving moan vibrates against you, spurring you on—he loves how frantic you've become.

"Don't you dare cum." Seungcheol's command cuts through the air. You whine as you look at him.

"I-I can't—"Your voice breaks into a whimper as the tension coils tighter, teetering on the edge of release. "I can't hold back anymore—"

"No—!" The broken cry escapes as Jeonghan withdraws, stealing your climax at the last possible second. Your body arches uselessly, chasing what's already gone, frustration burning through every nerve.

Jeonghan straightens up, clicking his tongue as he wipes his mouth. "Ah-ah. No rushing." His thumb swipes over your lower lip, silencing your whimpers. "I want to watch you fall apart for me, Dollface."

Jeonghan whirls you around, bending you over the couch in one swift motion. Your core is completely exposed now, vulnerable to their hungry gaze—a rush of embarrassment floods your cheeks before you can even protest. But all thoughts of modesty vanish when his palm cracks sharply against your bare ass.

The sudden impact makes you yelp, the sharp sting blooming into a delicious throb that shoots straight to your core, and you squirm instinctively. Jeonghan's low chuckle behind you tells him he knows exactly what it's doing to you.

The sound of Jeonghan's zipper cuts through the air, and you start to turn—but before you can even look, he's already sheathed inside you in one brutal thrust, your slickness making it easy. A choked gasp tears from your throat as he sets a punishing pace, each snap of his hips stealing your breath.

His fingers dig into your waist, holding you in place as he fucks into you relentlessly. Your vision whites out when he bottoms out, the sharp pleasure-pain of his tip hitting your cervix drawing a wanton moan from your lips.

"I'm—I'm close!" you sob, teetering on the edge.

"You're not allowed to," Seungcheol snarls—but it's too late. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body clenching around Jeonghan as you fall apart. He follows with a few more ragged thrusts, spilling inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine.

When he pulls out, you whimper at the trickle of his cum down your thighs. Seungcheol strides forward, yanking Jeonghan's hair back hard enough to make him whine.

"Did I say you could fill her up?" he sneers.

Jeonghan flashes a Cheshire grin. "Whoops."

With a growl, Seungcheol shoves him away—then turns his burning gaze on you, a mess of oversensitivity and Jeonghan's claim.

Seungcheol strips in seconds, his clothes discarded in a heap before his powerful hands are on you again. In one effortless motion, he spins you to face him, those beefy arms lifting your trembling body like you weigh nothing. Your legs, weak and useless now, dangle as he holds you flush against him, the heat of his bare skin burning into yours.

His lips press against yours in a searing kiss, hungry lips desperate to reclaim what's his. You moan as you open your mouth, fully submitting to him.

"I'm going to fuck his cum out of you," Seungcheol growls against your lips, his hands tightening possessively on your hips. "Until there's nothing left but me. Until you remember who you belong to." A shiver wracks your body at his words, equal parts threat and promise, as his breath burns hot against your mouth.

A choked moan escapes your lips as Seungcheol sheathes inside your spent hole, the oversensitivity making your toes curl. He wastes no time and starts to thrust into you with an animalistic pace.

"D-Daddy!" you choke out, eyes rolling back as every nerve in your body lights up.

The pleasure builds too fast—Seungcheol’s ruthless pace turning you into nothing more than a writhing, overstimulated mess beneath him. Your hazy gaze drifts past his shoulder to where Jeonghan lounges naked in an armchair, lazily stroking himself as he watches with a smirk that makes your stomach flutter.

"Eyes on me," Seungcheol snarls, and you obey instantly, his dark stare pinning you in place.

Then it hits—your orgasm shatters through you with a broken cry, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. But he doesn't stop. His thrusts stay brutal, dragging you through the aftershocks until tears streak your cheeks from the sheer too much of it all.

He finishes with a feral growl, spilling into you so deep you feel it leaking out almost immediately, warm and sticky between your thighs. Across the room, Jeonghan arches with a quiet groan, painting his stomach in streaks of white—his eyes never leaving your ruined, trembling form.

The three of you take a moment to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling as Seungcheol gently lowers you back down. His hand stays firm on your hips, not trusting your legs to hold you up just yet.

Jeonghan watches the two of you with an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

"Round two in the shower?" he offers with a grin.

"No," Seungcheol says flatly.

"Yes," you chime in at the same time.

You and Seungcheol exchange a look before you break into a giggle.

"Daddy, c'mon~" you pout, eyes wide and pleading.

Seungcheol groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Insatiable little brat," he mutters before pulling you into a kiss that has you giggling all over again.

Without another word, he scoops you up into his arms bridal-style, making you squeal and laugh as he heads toward the bathroom. Jeonghan trails behind with a lazy smirk, clearly enjoying every second of the chaos.

After all, when it comes to you, Seungcheol just can't help but spoil you.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @scoupshawty @shuas-winnie30 @amaranthar @cherriecsc @shadowkoo @winterisnt @combinatoright-blog @my-neurodivergent-world @okiedokrie @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee @adiknyamingyu @smiileflower @yeo6ju @cherrybb96

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bella-feed · 7 days ago

Text

Seventeen Masterlist

for 100+ Followers Celebration Event

FLUFF = ❃

SMUT = ♟

ANGST = ✥

¶ author: @kissbyoon

↪ April Showers ❃

Ω Member: Jeonghan

¶ author: @cheers-to-you-th

↪ Stupid Idiot ♟

Ω Member: Woozi and Hoshi

¶ author: @mymoodwriting

↪ Beam ✥

Ω Member: Hoshi and Woozi

¶ author: @nerdycheol

↪ Track Record ❃ ♟

Ω Member: Seungcheol

20 notes · View notes

bella-feed · 7 days ago

Text

@nerdycheol's submission for my 100+ Followers Celebration Event

Track Record || C.S.C

🏎️pairing: f1 racer!choi seungcheol x motorsport journalist! reader

🏎️genre: enemies-to-lovers, fluff, smut (protected sex, too much kissing) MDNI

🏎️wc: 12k

(a/n): glad to be part of @bella-feed 's and @sanaxo-o 's 100 follower event thankyouuu calli ( @hhaechansmoless), daisy (@flowerwonu ) and cel (@mylovesstuffs ) for beta-ing <33. im really sorry for delay in posting this:( this fic was inspired by anyone mv and and way to many carlos edits on my feed. even though this was beta read by 3 wonderful people, i still apologize if there are any mistakes in here:(( ive just started getting into f1 thanks to calli ;) so im just getting used to everything haha so people familiar with f1, overlook any inaccuracies <33 also quite poorly written smut jskjdsks

Let me know what you think—comments and reblogs mean the world! 💗

IF YOU AREN'T TAGGED IT'S BECAUSE THERE'S NO AGE INDICATOR IN YOUR PROFILE OR ARE UNDERAGE ____

The engines roared like a war cry, low and guttural and impossible to ignore.

You stood just beyond the garage’s shadow, notebook in hand, watching the blur of red and black cut through the curve of the track like a blade. The pit crew moved around you in practiced choreography—headsets, tools, nerves strung tight like violin strings. The summer heat pressed into your skin, clinging, relentless, and the scent of hot rubber and fuel settled in your lungs like memory.

You hadn’t been trackside in nearly a year.

Not since that article.

Your fingers tapped the edge of your notebook as you watched the car scream down the straightaway and finally slow into the pit lane. The tires hissed as they met concrete. Seungcheol’s car rolled to a stop just in front of the garage, perfectly aligned. Within seconds, the crew rushed in. The car was wheeled back smoothly, swallowed into the organized chaos of the team’s station.

Then the driver stepped out.

You didn’t need to see his face to know it was Choi Seungcheol.

He moved like someone who was always one second away from sprinting, every motion lean and charged with purpose. His helmet came off slowly, and he ran a gloved hand through his hair, the kind of move that would look cocky on anyone else—but on him, it seemed natural. Like arrogance was something he’d been born with. Worn into his skin.

He didn’t see you yet. Thank God.

You exhaled, forcing your shoulders to relax.

“Journalist from Velocity Weekly, right?” a voice beside you asked.

You turned. A crew assistant, barely older than a rookie, offered you a bottle of water and a tight-lipped smile. You nodded.

“Yeah. Just here to observe.”

“For now,” he muttered. “They didn’t tell him.”

You blinked. “Tell him what?”

“That you’re embedding for the season. He thinks he’s just getting a fluff piece.”

Your stomach dipped slightly. Of course they hadn’t told him. Of course the team thought it was better to deal with the fallout after.

Your article had shaken half the circuit and nearly ended his season. It hadn’t been personal—it was rather brutal. Honest.

You could still remember the headline: Golden Boy or Time Bomb? The Truth Behind Choi Seungcheol’s Fall From Grace.

You hadn’t seen him since.

Not in person.

But now, here you were—assigned to shadow his team for the next three months. For better. Or for much, much worse.

A nearby cheer pulled your eyes back to the pit, just in time to see Seungcheol peel off his gloves and hand them to a technician. He was laughing, relaxed. A flash of that famous smile.

Until his gaze swept the garage.

And stopped. On you.

His smile faded.

The air between you crackled—not explosive, not yet. But heavy. Dense with unsaid things.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And then, as if it meant nothing at all, Seungcheol turned away.

But his jaw was clenched and his hands balled up into fists.

You stood still, your pulse thrumming in your neck as Seungcheol walked away, not sparing you another glance. The weight of his dismissal pressed against your chest like an invisible hand, but you forced yourself to breathe through it.

The pit crew had gone quiet, some of them catching the tension between the two of you. You heard a quiet murmur—probably a few people betting on when he’d finally explode at you.

Your eyes didn't follow him, but you couldn't help the way your gaze flickered in his direction every few seconds. His broad shoulders moved through the crowd with an ease that only someone used to commanding attention could possess. There was no denying the kind of presence he had—one that filled up a room, even when he wasn't not speaking.

He disappeared into the building, heading for the changing rooms, and your stomach tightened.

The silence that followed in the garage felt too loud. You busied yourself by scribbling something that wasn't really a note just to have something to do with your hands. Something that made you feel in control, even if you weren't. Not here.

Not with him.

You didn't follow. You didn't need to.

Because five minutes later, you were being ushered down a narrow hallway by Seungkwan, the PR manager, who had been buzzing with nervous energy since you arrived.

He kept glancing at his phone and muttering about timing and contracts,” God! he's going to kill me.”

You assumed he meant Seungcheol. You were right.

You rounded the corner near the back exit just as Choi Seungcheol pushed open the locker room door. He was freshly changed— black joggers, white team tee, towel slung around his neck, water bottle in hand. His hair was still damp.

He stops when he sees the two of you.

Stops like his day just got infinitely worse.

And when his eyes flick to you, there it is again–barely restrained irritation. His lips press into a flat line. His jaw tightens. You almost felt bad for whoever’s about to speak to him.

Almost.

“Cheol!” Seungkwan chirps, voice way too bright for the tension coiling in the air. “Hey, I was just coming to find you.”

He nods toward you like it’s no big deal. Like he’s not standing between two people who share history sharp enough to draw blood.

“I figured it’d be better to rip the Band-Aid off.”

“You remember Y/N, right?” Seungkwan continues, gesturing to you like this is a reunion instead of a landmine. “She’s going to be shadowing the team for the next three months. Full-access feature for the Velocity Weekly docuseries.”

“Part of our image rehab strategy, you know—Transparency. Redemption arc. All that jazz.” Seungkwan kept flailing his arms even though both of his hands are full—one holds a notepad, the other holding his usual iced americano

There’s a beat of silence. Then Seungcheol exhaled through his nose, sharp and slow.

“Right,” he says, voice flat. “A redemption arc.”

He finally turns to you fully, eyes cold, calculating.

You give him a polite smile. Not out of kindness. Out of pride. Control. Survival.

“I’m not here to stir up old drama,” you say quietly.

“Good,” he replies. “Because there’s nothing left to stir.”

He looks at Seungkwan. “Is that all?”

The manager stammers something about schedule sync-ups, but Seungcheol’s already walking past. Not a glance back. Just the soft crunch of his sneakers against the tile floor as he disappears around the corner.

You don’t breathe again until he’s gone.

“Great,” the poor guy mutters beside you. “That could’ve gone worse.”

You don’t correct him.

Because you know—it will.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

The room is too bright.

One of those generic media rooms with foldable chairs, beige walls, and nothing on the table but a bottle of water and a stack of branded cue cards you won’t use.

You sit with your back straight, microphone clipped to your collar, and your notes in your lap— clean, annotated, rehearsed. A thin layer of sweat beads at the nape of your neck, but you don’t lift a hand to wipe it. You can’t. The camera’s already rolling—they wanted to film Seungcheol's ‘candid entry’.

Seungkwan stands just off to the side, behind the lights. His arms are crossed over his clipboard, eyebrows furrowed like he’s praying for divine intervention.

You don’t blame him.

Because Choi Seungcheol is late.

By twenty-seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

He finally walks in on the thirtieth.

No apology. No hurry.

He moves like he’s strolling into a locker room, not a filmed, pre-scheduled interview. Freshly showered, in a black team tee and dark joggers, with a silver chain around his neck that flashes under the lights. Hair damp and pushed back. Jaw tight.

He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t have to.

The tension snaps into place the second he enters, taut and quiet like a wire stretched between you.

He drops into the chair across from you and spreads his legs slightly, elbows resting on the arms of the seat. A casual posture, but there's nothing relaxed about him. He leans back like this is a waste of his time. Like you are.

A staff member leans in to clip the mic to his collar. There’s no need for instructions—he lifts his chin just slightly, giving them easy access, his posture relaxed but deliberate.

“Rolling,” the cam op calls.

The little red light on the camera starts blinking. You shift your expression to something neutral, polite. Not fake — just professional. Safe. It’s the one you wear when you’re working. When you’re speaking to men who want to dismiss you before you say your first word.

“We’re here with Choi Seungcheol, lead driver for Team SVT,” you say clearly. “Thanks for joining us today.”

His eyes cut to you, finally. Slow, sharp.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” he says smoothly.

You don’t let your smile falter. “Still, we’re glad you’re here.”

“Speak for yourself,” he mutters, but it’s low enough that the mic doesn’t catch it..

You glance down at your notes, fingers clenching slightly around them.

“I’m told you’ve had an impressive off-season.”

He shrugs, eyes flicking toward the camera. “Trained. Drove. Same as every year.”

You make a soft, acknowledging hum and tap your pen against the margin of your page. “Do you feel like you’re coming into this season with something to prove?”

That does it.

His head tilts just slightly. The corner of his mouth lifts— not into a smile. Into something cooler. Controlled. “To who?”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “The media. The fans. Yourself.”

The air in the room shifts. It tightens.

For a second, he doesn’t respond. Just sits there, staring at you like he’s trying to read a headline written behind your eyes.

Then he leans forward, elbows braced on his thighs, voice low. “If I was driving to prove something, I’d be the wrong guy for this team.”

You blink. “Some would say last season proved that anyway.”

The silence that follows is immediate. And thick.

Seungkwan makes a small sound from behind the camera— a tiny gasp, smothered by the clipboard.

You don’t backpedal. You don’t soften.

It’s not a jab. It’s a fact. One he’s heard before. Seungcheol lets the moment breathe. Lets it sit between you.

Then he laughs–short, sharp. No humor in it.

“I forgot how fun you are to talk to.”

You tilt your head. “It’s not personal.”

“Isn’t it?” he says, and his voice is so quiet, it lands like a threat.

You inhale through your nose and glance at your page. Redirect.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you’re on the starting grid?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Nothing.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He smirks. “That’s the point. Thinking gets you killed.”

You write that down, even though you don’t need to. It’s getting recorded anyways.

He leans back again, eyes still locked on yours. Not angry. Not smug. Just… watching. When the camera cuts, the silence remains. You unclip your mic slowly. He’s already standing.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

He leaves before you can decide whether you want him to.

What the hell is his deal?

────⋆˚꩜｡────

The sun is brutal at this hour— high, relentless, glinting off the tarmac like it’s daring anyone to blink first. You don’t. Not yet.

You’re standing just behind the safety rail, far enough to be invisible to the engineers but close enough to see everything that matters. Helmeted figures blur past in streaks of color, but your eyes are locked on only one: car number seventeen—the one that belongs to Choi Seungcheol.

Your notebook is open, balanced on your forearm, pages flapping faintly in the breeze that smells like burnt rubber and hot fuel. The top line reads in neat block letters: “Voiceover Segment – Driver Profiles: Racecraft.”

Underneath, bullet points:

Brake timing: early on corners 6 and 9.

Lap 2: oversteer correction, razor-sharp.

Turn-in commitment : aggressive, clean.

Line discipline: tight, zero margin wasted.

Unsettled entry into Turn 13: intentional???

You scribble as he exits the far chicane, eyes narrowing slightly at the way he recovers with that barely-there flick of the wrist. It’s art, in a way most people will never understand. Not just velocity— it’s violence in control.

You look over to the small screen placed near the railings, then you notice something. Not technical. Not really. You glance down and, without meaning to, write:

Turn-in is sharp. Overcorrects slightly on exits. Quick hands. Always. Habit?

Still as stone under braking—almost eerie.

You stare at the words.

Your pen hovers. Pauses. Then moves again.

Drives like he’s punishing something. Himself?

“You planning to psychoanalyze his split times next?”

You startle.

Seungkwan is behind you, half in shadow, holding an iced coffee that’s already starting to drip down his fingers. His eyebrows are raised and his smile is dry.

You slam the notebook shut. The pages snap together like a secret being hidden.

“It’s for the voiceover,” you say, a little too quickly. “Atmosphere.”

“Mm. Sure.” He sips. “Very... moody atmosphere. Like a tragic Greek chorus monologue. I can practically hear the cello in the background.”

You glare. He grins wider.

Then he steps beside you, following your gaze to the track. Seungcheol passes again, fast and clean, leaving a scream of engine noise in his wake. He doesn’t look toward the wall. Doesn’t acknowledge anyone.

Especially not you.

Seungkwan exhales, quieter now, “He hasn’t said a word to me since your name came up this morning.”

You look away. “He doesn’t have to.”

“No. But it’s weird. Even for him.”

The notebook feels heavy in your hands now, the weight of your own words still pressed between the pages.

Seungkwan gives you a long, considering look.

“Just... be careful with him,” he says finally. “He doesn’t forget much. Or forgive easily.”

The memory creeps in before you can stop it.

It was supposed to be just another race-day wrap-up.

The kind you could write in your sleep: thirty-second soundbites, recycled talking points, a handful of overused metaphors about speed and pressure. Seungcheol hadn’t finished the race— DNF, something about engine failure or a pit stop gone wrong— and when he finally stepped into the press pen, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

You didn’t take it personally. Drivers got like that sometimes. Adrenaline was cruel like that— hot and fast and feral.

“Walk us through what happened out there today?” you asked, calm, polite, voice barely rising above the whir of cameras and clicking shutters.

He scoffed. Actually scoffed. “There’s nothing to walk through. We didn’t finish.” Short. Clipped. Dismissive.

You tried again. “Some people think the restart might’ve been too aggressive–”

His visor lifted just enough to meet your eyes. Dark. Unreadable.

“Some people should actually watch the footage before asking dumb questions.”

And then he turned. Didn’t say thank you. Didn’t look back. Just walked off, gloves still crumpled in one fist, jaw locked like stone.

You hadn’t planned to write anything critical.

But when you sat down in your hotel room later that night, fingers still cold from holding the mic, you couldn’t shake the look on his face—or the sharp twist in your gut that hadn’t been there before.

So you wrote what you saw.

“It’s easy to admire Choi Seungcheol when he’s winning. But when the race isn’t in his favor, his temper shows through the cracks in his professionalism. Today’s interview proved that even the most polished racers have fragile egos.”

Clean. Factual. Not personal.

But it lit a fuse.

Overnight, your inbox flooded–some praise, some hate. Your piece got quoted on TV. Spliced into fan compilations. Sponsors asked questions. PR scrambled. Someone from the team issued a soft rebuttal saying, “There may have been a misunderstanding during the post-race media exchange. Choi’s focus was still on the technical debrief, and emotions were running high. He holds great respect for journalists and values the work they do in bringing the sport to its global audience.”

It wasn’t an apology per se. Seungcheol never said a word.

But from that point on, he never gave you another quote. Never met your gaze in the press room. Never lingered for post-race comments if your mic was anywhere in sight.

And now?

Now, he looks at you like you’re the one who ruined everything.

Seungkwan murmurs, “He’s overdriving.”

You don’t reply.

You are familiar with this version of him. The one that drives too hard when he’s trying to shake something off. You’ve seen it before— in stats, in footage, in post-race silences.

Finally, the radio crackles. His engineer says something about cooling the engine down. And just like that, the car pulls in, growling to a stop. The door lifts.

He steps out—undershirt clinging to him, face shiny with sweat, curls plastered to his forehead. His jaw is locked, like the session didn’t clear his head the way he wanted it to.

You glance at the water bottle on the nearby table. Someone had left it behind. It’s not even cold anymore, but still—it’s something.

You pick it up without thinking and cross the short distance toward him.

He doesn’t notice you at first, towel already half-draped over his shoulder, bent slightly as a tech says something about brake temps. But then he looks up. Sees you.

You don’t say a word. Just extend the bottle in your hand.

He stares at it. Then at you. Long enough that it becomes a choice. Long enough that it means something.

Then he says, flat and easy, “I’m good.”

And walks past.

You nod, even though he’s not looking anymore.

No one says anything. But your hand stays closed around the bottle until the plastic crumples slightly in your grip. And then you walk back toward the trailers before anyone can see the look on your face.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

The edit bay is quiet.

Too quiet, almost. The kind of hush only machines make — low humming from drives, the soft crackle of the audio monitor when it switches between clips. The rest of the crew’s long gone, lights out in the pit lane, doors locked on the media center.

You should be gone too. But you’re not.

Instead, you’re here, headphones on, fingers pausing and dragging the timeline back five seconds. Again. Again. Again.

Seungcheol’s onboard camera footage is pulled up. A clean lap. Camera mounted on his halo bar—his hands, the wheel, the track flying toward him in perfect resolution. You’ve been trying to write the segment opener for over an hour, and all you have is: Choi Seungcheol is a driver of precision. Control. Ruthless rhythm

You hate it. It sounds like something anyone could say. Something he’d hate hearing.

You rewind again.

Pause.

There’s a freeze-frame of his hands— gloved, sure, absolutely still as he flies down a straight. No micro-adjustments. No nerves. He drives like the car isn’t moving at all.

But then— frame by frame, you notice his left thumb tap twice against the wheel. Barely a movement. Like a tick. Like a habit. You rewind again. Slower.

The tap happens before the DRS opens. Before the straight clears. Like he knows he’ll need the calm, the open stretch–and the tap is permission.

Or reassurance.

You lean in.

“He always taps before the straight,” you murmur to yourself, writing it in the margin of your notes. “Ritual. Or— something else.”

You scroll back to earlier footage from a different practice day. Different circuit. Different weather.

The tap is there again.

Tap tap. Just before full throttle.

It’s nothing. Probably nothing. But it’s there. And now you can’t unsee it.

You rub at your temples, trying to steer your thoughts back to the script. To objectivity. To professionalism. You’re here to document him, not… understand him. Not unravel him.

Still, you click to the footage from earlier— trackside cameras. Wider shot. Less clinical. He’s walking back toward the garage, helmet off, hair sweat-damp, and jaw clenched.

He doesn’t look at the camera.

But just before he steps out of frame, his eyes flick sideways.

For half a second less, he looks at the lens.

No. Not the lens.

You.

Your pulse thuds unexpectedly, stupidly. You sit back in the chair. The note page is still open on your screen. Your last bullet point reads: Drives like he’s punishing something. Himself?

You highlight it.

Then delete it.

You shut the laptop before you can change your mind.

But the weight of it stays, humming behind your ribs—like something alive and unspoken.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You’re seated at the long conference table inside the paddock media suite, flanked by the production crew, comms specialists, a documentary director, and three too-many cups of bad coffee. The air-conditioning hums above, just loud enough to compete with the voices droning through the day’s agenda. The room smells faintly of rubber, sweat, and those branded granola bars the crew keeps handing out.

Seungcheol hasn’t spoken once.

He’s in his racing suit still, half-zipped and tied at the waist, black compression tee clinging to his chest. He leans back in his chair, arms folded, cap pulled low. Watching. Listening. Disconnected in that deliberate way he always is—like none of this is worth his time but he’s here because he has to be.

Across from you, Seungkwan flips to the next slide of the media presentation. “Okay, so – docuseries production. We’ve finished with most of the behind-the-scenes material for the pit crew and team engineers, but the big gap right now is still driver profiles.”

You nod along. This part is yours. You’ve spent the last two nights combing through the racers old race tapes, trying to piece together something coherent. Something that looks like a person, not a machine.

“We’ve been thinking,” you say, voice calm, measured, “to balance out the high-speed footage, we could shoot some off-track material. Nothing invasive. Just quieter stuff—daily routines, maybe their time at the simulator, or a few minutes of downtime. To show contrast.”

There are a few hums in approval.

And then– “No.”

His voice isn’t raised, but it’s firm. Final.

You glance at him.

Seungcheol hasn’t moved, but his eyes are locked on yours now— dark, unreadable, flint-sharp under the brim of his cap.

Someone at the end of the table clears their throat awkwardly. You wait for him to explain, or for Seungkwan to interject.

But Seungcheol does not budge.

“You want ‘real’?” he says, tone quiet but cutting. “Maybe start with getting your facts right the first time.”

Your pulse spikes. You stare.

A few heads swivel your way. You force your face to stay still, neutral. The worst thing you could do is show how hard that hit.

“I didn’t–” you start, but he cuts in again.

“You don’t get to decide what parts of me are useful just because your cameras are running.” His jaw clenches. “You’ve already taken enough.”

No one speaks.

Not Seungkwan. Not the director. Not the wide-eyed intern with the color-coded clipboard. Just this stretched-out, sticky silence where you’re suddenly aware of every inch of your body and how very visible you feel inside it.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. You look down at your notes— like they might offer some way out of this. But it’s already happened.

Then he moves.

Not abruptly, not with dramatics. But the chair legs scrape the floor, deliberate and loud, as he pushes up to his feet.

Seungcheol shrugs on his jacket, grabs the nearest bottle of water from the table, and without another word, walks straight out of the meeting room. No one breathes for a second.

Then Seungkwan, like clockwork, lets out a weak laugh. “He’s just… not really a media guy.”

No one tries to correct him. And you?

You press your pen against the paper until the tip snaps clean off. Not because he humiliated you.But because for the first time, you think you understand why.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You arrive at the paddock earlier than needed.

Your meeting with the docuseries team isn’t until later in the afternoon, but you came two hours early and now you’re standing awkwardly in a place you’re technically allowed to be, but feel like you shouldn’t.

From the corner, you watch him finish his final practice lap. Seungcheol’s car rolls into the garage, engine ticking hot, his visor still down. Someone opens the cockpit. He climbs out like a machine disengaging—fluid, precise, all quiet intensity.

Then he sees you.

Or maybe just registers your presence. His head turns, eyes landing on you for a fraction of a second. His expression doesn’t shift. No surprise, no annoyance. Nothing.

He doesn’t ask why you’re here.

He just pulls off his gloves, helmet tucked under his arm, and walks straight past you toward the changing room at the back of the garage. Like you’re furniture. Background. Static.

You exhale deeply. Fair enough.

You wait.

It takes several minutes. You hear the sound of a locker door slamming shut, muffled movement, the faint hiss of a water bottle being opened.

Then— footsteps. He emerges.

Fresh shirt, hair damp and curling at his temple, towel slung around his neck as he rakes it over the back of his head. He doesn’t see you at first— his focus is on drying off, his stride already pulling him toward the far side of the hallway.

Then he spots you.

Leaning against the wall opposite the changing room, arms crossed, posture casual but heart pounding a little too loud for your own liking.

His steps falter. Briefly. Just for a beat.

Then resumes, unfazed, like he’s made a silent decision to walk past you entirely.

You let him.

Until he’s two steps ahead of you.

“Seungcheol.”

Your voice isn’t loud, but it stops him.

He turns, slowly. That same unreadable look in his eyes, sharp and distant like he’s looking through you instead of at you.

You step forward.

No grand gestures. No long speeches. Just a small can of cherry soda in your hand— cool, slightly dewed from sitting in the media fridge.

You extend it toward him. “You did well today.”

He blinks once. Then again, slower.

His gaze drops to the can, then lifts to your face.

“…Have you poisoned this?”

You let out a sigh. You deserve that.

“No,” you murmur. “Though I probably deserve that kind of suspicion.”

His brow lifts a little at that–surprised by your honesty, maybe. But still guarded.

“I just–” you start, voice low, unsure. You shift the can in your hands like it’s something fragile. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For the article. For…everything it cost you.”

His expression doesn’t change.

You push forward anyway.

“I didn’t know it would spiral like that. I didn’t know you at all, and that’s the worst part, right?” You glance away, swallow. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not now. Maybe not ever. But… I hope someday you’ll hate me a little less.”

It hangs there for a moment.

Not silence exactly— there’s still the hum of equipment in the background, distant voices from the other end of the paddock— but it feels like silence.

You take one careful step forward and press the cherry soda into his hand. You don’t wait to see if he accepts it fully.

Just a small, tired smile. Tight-lipped. Not hopeful. Just… human.

And then you leave. You don’t look back. But if you did, you’d see him standing in place, eyes on the can in his hand like it’s a message he hasn’t quite decided how to read yet.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You almost skip dinner.

You tell yourself it’s because you have notes to revise, footage to sort through, emails to send. Some twelve-year-old-girl excuse.

But really, it’s the risk of being in the same room as him — the same cramped circle of laughter and clinking glasses and easy camaraderie you still feel slightly removed from.

Seungkwan doesn’t let you off the hook. “They won’t bite,” he says, tugging you toward the restaurant entrance. “Well. Maybe Seungcheol will. But I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave teeth marks.”

You shoot him a look. He grins. It helps. A little.

Inside, the team is already gathered around a long, narrow table. A place is cleared for you just as you arrive. By some twist of fate— or more likely, Seungkwan's passive-aggressive seating plan— your spot is right beside him.

Choi Seungcheol. Black hoodie sleeves pushed up to the elbows. Arms crossed. Jaw set. Gaze locked on the menu like it’s about to pick a fight.

He doesn’t look at you when you sit. Doesn’t greet you either. His attention stays locked on his plate, one elbow propped on the table, his fingers absentmindedly circling the neck of his water bottle.

Conversation flows around him — light, messy, animated. Someone makes a joke about the docuseries. Something about how dramatic it's going to make all of them look. A few heads turn toward you.

You brace yourself, already reaching for your glass.

But before anyone can say more, Seungcheol cuts in. Voice flat, but not cold, “At least they’re doing their job.”

You glance over, startled. His gaze isn’t on you— it’s fixed somewhere across the table. He doesn’t say anything else.

You don’t either.

After a while, the laughter gets too loud, and the room too warm. You slip away, excusing yourself quietly, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool night air.

The breeze is immediate, tugging strands of hair from your face. You breathe in slowly, eyes closing for a beat. Just one. Long enough to gather your thoughts. Or let them go.

Until you hear footsteps behind you. Soft but deliberate.

You don’t have to turn. Your posture straightens instinctively, some part of you already aware of the heat that trails after him like a second skin.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just comes to a stop a pace behind you. Then, after a beat, “You always disappear like this?”

His voice is quieter than usual. Not teasing. Just… curious.

You glance over your shoulder. “Only when I need air.”

He nods. Looks up at the sky like it’s given him something to think about before he stares down at the ground. Then, without a word, pulls his hoodie over his head.

You blink.

“What are you–?”

Before you can finish, he’s stepping closer— not touching, but near enough that you can feel it — and draping the soft fabric over your shoulders.

“It gets cold at night,” he says simply, scratching the side of his nose like it’ll make him less embarrassed. “Didn’t want you freezing out here and getting blamed for holding up filming tomorrow.”

You’re too stunned to answer right away.

The hoodie is warm. It smells like wind and gasoline and whatever aftershave he uses.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

He nods again. Turns without fanfare and slips back inside, the door closing behind him with a soft thud.

You stand there for another minute, fingers tightening around the fabric, heart doing something stupid against your ribs.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You don’t know when it starts, exactly.

Maybe it’s the day Seungcheol doesn’t just ignore your greeting, but gives a faint nod in return. Or when he asks, without looking up from his gloves, whether the docuseries will be covering the wet tire strategy segment— like your opinion holds weight. He still keeps his distance, still rarely meets your eyes, but his silence has lost its bite. It doesn’t bristle anymore. It lingers.

He doesn’t bolt from shared rooms. Doesn’t brush past you like you’re invisible. One time, he even moves aside to let you through the garage door first— a small thing, but enough that Seungkwan later texts you 10 eyes emojis.

And then there’s the cherry soda. You keep seeing it— half-empty cans in the recycling bin, one tucked beside his gear bag. He never says anything, but he doesn’t not accept them when you leave one near his seat after a long day.

You haven’t earned a smile. Not yet. But you believe the hatred’s softening into something else. Something almost watchful. Like he’s trying to decide if you’re still a threat— or something far more dangerous

It had been pouring for hours.

You were supposed to get off work at five, but the storm had other plans. Rain tapped hard against the windows, a steady, relentless sheet that turned the world outside into a blur of grey. You figured you’d stay back—might as well get some editing done while waiting it out.

But the sky never cleared.

Eventually, you packed your things, tugged your jacket tighter around you, and stepped under the building’s glass overhang, eyes on the road as you waited for your taxi.

You thought almost everyone had left, so you clearly didn’t expect to hear footsteps behind you.

“You’re still here?” a voice said, low and familiar.

You turned, surprised. “You hadn’t left?”

Seungcheol slung a backpack over one shoulder, hair slightly damp, a faint sheen on his skin like he’d been working in the garage. He looked relaxed in a way you rarely saw outside the race track.

“Had a few things to wrap up,” he said. Then he glanced at you. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

You nodded toward the rain. “Thought I’d wait it out. Get some work done while it calmed down. But… I think I misjudged.”

He followed your gaze to the storm. Then, casually “I’ll drop you off at home.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh no, that’s okay. I already booked a taxi.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cancel it. No point wasting your money when I’m offering it myself.”

You stared. “But–”

“No buts,” he said, grinning now, the kind that made his dimple flash. “I’ll be in the parking garage.” And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you stunned under the glass awning.

And, that's how you ended up in the front seat of his BMW, waiting for the signal to turn green. The hum of the engine barely audible over the drumming rain. The windshield wipers moved in steady rhythm, clearing arcs through the downpour. The A/C was on low, keeping the windows from fogging up. But what catches your eye is the small picture tucked neatly beside the central console.

“Is that you?” you ask, pointing to the picture of a small boy in a red toy car. Seungcheol let out a short laugh. “Yeah. My first ride.”

You smiled. “You’ve been driving your whole life.”

He leaned back slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the steering wheel. His voice dropped, softer now. “My dad used to race. Nothing big. Amateur circuits. But he talked about it like it was sacred. Even after he gave it up.”

You stay quiet, letting him go on.

“He had this old kart. Kept it in the shed behind our house. I think I was…four? When he let me drive it. Couldn’t even reach the pedals properly.”

You smile a little. “Did you crash it?”

He huffs. “Into a fence. And a bush. And almost my mom.”

You both laugh— soft, genuine.

He shakes his head, lips twitching. “But I didn’t stop. Every weekend after that, I was out there. Practicing. Pushing. Getting yelled at for tearing up the yard.”

You note how relaxed his posture’s become, the way his voice has settled into something low and fond.

“Got serious around fifteen. Left school early. Trained wherever I could, worked side jobs, picked up sponsors. Didn’t care about anything else. Just… getting fast enough. Good enough.”

There’s a pause.

And then, quieter “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t make it.”

You glance up from your notepad.

He’s not looking at you— his gaze is somewhere else, far away. But you can feel the weight of that question hanging between you.

“You did make it,” you say softly.

That brings his eyes back to you.

And for the first time, you see it — the person beneath the helmet, beneath the legacy and the wins and the walls. A boy who raced because he loved it. A man who never stopped.

He doesn’t say anything. The signal turns green.

But he holds your gaze a little longer than usual, before looking straight and driving.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

Your room looked like a tornado had hit it. Clothes were scattered everywhere, your suitcase bulging so much it would take brute force to zip it shut.

“Yah! What’s all this mess?” Mina, your roommate slash bestie appeared in the doorway, a glass of lemonade in hand. She eyed the chaos, stepping over a pair of jeans to place the glass on your cluttered dresser. “Are you going away for ten days or ten years?”

She bent down, scooping up a shirt from the floor. “Is this all for your prince charming?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at you.

“He is not my prince charming,” you shot back, holding up another dress from your wardrobe and checking your reflection to see if it flattered you.

F1 was hosting a race in France, and naturally, Seungcheol and the team were going. So when your boss called you into her office with a mischievous smile and said something like, “We need raw, behind-the-scenes action. The lead-up, the aftermath. You already know them—you’re the only one who can pull this off,” you didn’t really have a choice.

“Well, it didn’t look that professional last week when he dropped you off,” Mina said, her voice lilting. “You two seemed pretty cozy. Didn’t take you to be the PDA type. Hugging and all, huh?”

She folded another shirt before her eyes widened. “Wait—isn’t this my top?”

“Yeah, it looks good on me,” you said with zero guilt. “Also, since you’ve found it, can you please put it in the suitcase? Thanks.”

“I’ll forgive you this time. After all, you’ve got to impress your prince charming.”

“He is not my—ugh! Whatever. Also, I’m going there to work, not to date.”

“I never said anything about dating,” she said, grinning as she walked out.

You flopped onto the bed with a sigh.

Yes. Yes you were nervous. But not because of him— well partially. This trip was a big deal for your career. A chance to show what you could do outside the controlled setting of HQ interviews and edited footage. You were going to capture the team raw— tense, driven, exhausted, and elated. You were excited… and also maybe, spiraling, just a little.

Of course Seungcheol would be there. Lately, the two of you had been… closer. After that conversation in his car, things had shifted. Now you both ate together in the canteen. You’d catch him waiting outside your office so you could walk together. Sometimes, he even dropped you off at home, no explanation needed. Seungkwan, ever the agent of chaos, was definitely having fun being a witness to all this. He texts you in the middle of lunch “OMG!! I give it 2 more lunches before he starts feeding you from his spoon” or “CHIVALRY OR WHAT!?” when Seungcheol opens the soda can for you.

It’s not like you were in love or anything… Obviously not. But you liked having him around. You liked the ease that had started blooming between you. The way he made you laugh without trying. The way you felt seen, in rooms where no one usually looked twice. And this trip… maybe it would change something between you. You weren’t sure what. But you hoped— that it would be something good.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

The hotel in Le Castellet looked like something out of a period film. Ivy-covered walls, tall wooden shutters, cobblestone paths damp from morning drizzle. You pause in the lobby, suitcase handle in one hand, the other clutching your phone with the itinerary pulled up. The air smells faintly of citrus and fresh flowers.

Seungcheol walked a few steps behind you, dragging his duffel bag along the polished floor. His hoodie’s still bunched around his elbows, and his hair is tousled from the flight.

He stopped beside you, glancing around at the old-world chandeliers and exposed stone walls. “Fancy,” he mutters, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You nod, letting out a breath. “Feels too nice to be covered in race fuel by the end of the week.”

That earns you a small laugh from him. It’s easy. Unforced.

As everyone begins collecting their room keys, you hang back to avoid the crowd. Seungkwan’s already texting you: don’t take too long u two… they’re gonna run out of good rooms ;)

You roll your eyes. Just then, Seungcheol appears beside you again, a key card already in his hand. He leans slightly toward you, voice quiet.

“Hey. What room did you get?”

You show him the slip from the front desk. He glances at it, then tilts his head. “Next to mine.”

You blink. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says simply. “I asked the guy if he could put the team close. Just in case, y’know, media stuff or whatever.”

You don’t question it. But there’s a pause. A moment where neither of you move, the buzz of the lobby fading a little.

He eyes your suitcase for a second, then reaches out without a word and takes the handle from your grip.

You blink. “I could’ve managed, you know.”

He shrugs, already steering it toward the elevator. “I know. But I was right there.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it lingers. You trail a few steps behind, watching the way his hand rests casually on the luggage, like he’s done this before. Like he’s just... quietly decided he’ll look out for you now. When the elevator dings open, he holds the door for you without looking, but when you step inside, you catch the faintest smile on his face.

You sit cross-legged in your robe, unpacking your suitcase. Toiletries to the left, clothes (mostly folded, some not) to the right, and an increasing pile of “why did I even bring this?” building at your feet. You're halfway through deciding if you packed too many dresses when a knock sounds at your door.

You frown, glancing at the clock— almost midnight.

Padding over, you open it slowly.

“Seungcheol?” you blink, surprised to see him standing there in a grey hoodie and joggers, hair a little tousled like he’d been rolling around on the bed for the past hour.

“Hey,” he says, voice low. “I couldn’t sleep. Was wondering if you’d be up for a walk.” he says meekly “I would have asked Seungkwan but umm.. He seems to be sleeping, you know, maybe all that jet lag caught up to him. He lets out a little laugh. “I just hoped you wouldn’t be sleeping. Didn’t mean to bother you, though.”

“You’re not,” you say, amused. “Just give me a second to change.”

—

“You walk like you own the place,” you tease, taking a spoonful of the butterscotch gelato he insisted on getting for you from “the best place in town.”

“I kind of do,” he says, mock serious. “This is my fourth year racing here. I know every late-night gelato stand within a three-mile radius.”

“Oh, so you’re a connoisseur,” you grin.

The cobbled street underfoot winds gently along a row of quiet shops. Most are closed at this hour, but some still glow faintly with warm light. A bakery with pastel tiles. A souvenir shop with tiny Eiffel Towers on the window. The breeze is cool, enough to make you hug your arms lightly.

“You ever come here just for fun?” you ask.

“Never had time. Always training. Or recovering.” He shrugs. “It’s weird, though. Walking around with someone. Like this.”

You glance at him. “Good weird or weird weird?”

He smirks. “Still deciding.” You laugh, and in retaliation, give him a light shove on the arm. He stumbles dramatically, clutching his gelato like a wounded soldier.

“You almost killed it,” he gasps, holding it high.

“Oh no, the tragedy,” you mock.

Just then, a gust of wind picks up, catching strands of your hair and blowing them into your face. You brush them away with a frown– and then feel his hand, unexpectedly gentle, brushing the rest back. His fingers pause briefly, tucked behind your ear.

The street noise fades a little. It’s quiet. Just the two of you standing there, his hand still resting lightly against your hair, his eyes on yours. He’s close enough that you can see the tiny mole on the left side of his forehead— just below the hairline, the way his expression softens when he’s not trying to look unreadable. His thumb shifts slightly, like he might say something— but doesn’t.

Then, slowly, he lets his hand fall away. “We should head back,” he says, voice low.

You nod, heart thumping a little faster.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You are supposed to be filming the pit crew rotation this morning.

Nothing fancy— just clean b-roll for the docuseries team. Angles of tire changes, gloved hands passing tools, that low, satisfying whir of drills and radio chatter. The kind of footage that’ll get sliced up and paired with voice-overs later. But your camera drifts.

Just a little. Not enough for anyone to notice, maybe.

You were framing the rear wing of Seungcheol’s car— looking for reflections in the carbon fiber— but your lens catches something else. A flash of motion just outside the frame.

You pan left instinctively. And freeze.

He’s near the edge of the garage, talking to one of the engineers. Laughing at something. Really laughing— head tilted, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes all crinkled at the corners. The sun sneaks in through the open garage door behind him, casting a soft halo along his jaw, catching in his lashes, warming the brown in his eyes.

And for a second, you forget what you’re doing. You just watch.

The way his nose scrunches a little when he smiles too hard. How his hands move when he talks— animated, open. The little dimple that appears even when he’s not doing anything particular.

God. He’s pretty.

He’s beautiful, actually. Not just in the way he looks. In the way he carries himself. In the way he makes people laugh. In the way he made space for you— even when he didn’t have to.

Your chest feels tight. Your grip on the camera slackens.

He glances up, mid-conversation. Catches your gaze across the garage. And smiles. Like he sees you. Just like that.

You inhale softly. Your heart is doing something weird–fluttery and slow all at once.

Oh.

Oh no.

You love him.

It settles in your bones quietly— without panic, without denial. Just this quiet, solid truth. You love him.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

Today was the cocktail event organized by the F1 committee — a chance for teams and media to mingle, but not really work. You were invited, so you decided to treat it like a night off. Get a little buzz from champagne or maybe flirt with some cute French waiters. You were totally not thinking about Seungcheol.

You decide on a black sleeveless dress with subtle ruching along the waist, featuring an asymmetrical hemline trimmed with sheer ruffled fabric— which you also ‘borrowed’ from Mina.

As you walked into the softly lit room, the low murmur of conversations and clinking glasses wrapped around you. The moment you approached Seungkwan and the group of boys, you could see the surprises on their faces. “Whoa… you look amazing,” Seungkwan said, barely able to hide the surprise on his face.

Seungcheol was standing a little further, his mouth slightly open as if caught off guard. He didn’t say anything at first— just stared at you, a quiet awe in his gaze. Then, clearing his throat, he finally spoke, his voice low but sincere.

“You look beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned to meet his eyes, and the warmth in his expression made your cheeks flush. “Thank you,” you whispered, feeling suddenly shy under his quiet attention

You and Seungcheol found your seats at a round table near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by teammates, media personnel, and a few sponsors. The table was decorated simply— white linens, small floral arrangements, and glasses filled with champagne and sparkling water. Despite the elegance, the atmosphere felt a bit stiff and rehearsed.

The announcer’s voice came over the speakers, crisp and polished, welcoming everyone to the event and thanking sponsors and teams. The speeches went on— a few heartfelt words about sportsmanship, the future of the sport, and the importance of media coverage. But you and Seungcheol exchanged glances, both fighting the urge to tune out. The words felt like white noise beneath the clinking glasses and polite laughter.

Around you, conversations buzzed— some lively, some forced. People in sharp suits laughed a little too loudly, posed for photos, or whispered in corners. The cocktail party was starting to feel crowded, the space shrinking as more guests arrived and the music swelled.

You shifted in your seat, glancing around for a breath of fresh air. Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly, and before the moment could become overwhelming, he leaned over to you.

“Come with me,” he said quietly.

Curious, you followed him out through the double doors and onto the balcony. The cool night air was a relief, calm and quiet except for the distant murmur of the party behind you.

He pulled two flutes of champagne from a waiter’s tray as they passed by, handing one to you with a small smirk. “For emergencies,” he joked, the tension in his shoulders easing.

You clinked glasses softly and took a sip, the bubbles tickling your throat. Seungcheol swirled the champagne in his glass, eyes fixed on the bubbles rising. “You know,” he said, voice low, “it’s kind of nice to get away from all that noise. Sometimes I forget how exhausting it all is.”

You smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, the speeches and formalities are... not exactly the highlight of my day.”

He glanced up, a teasing spark in his eyes. “I bet you’d rather be somewhere else.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But here we are. And honestly, I’m glad you dragged me out here. This feels... different. Calmer.”

He shifted a little closer, the warmth from his body suddenly very noticeable. “Different can be good,” he said. “Sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them.”

You looked up at him, heart skipping. “Like what?”

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Like finding yourself standing on a balcony, sharing champagne with someone who’s been in your head more than you’d like to admit.”

Your breath hitched. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Maybe,” he whispered, voice thick. “Or maybe it’s just me.”

You laughed softly, but the tension in the air tightened. Your eyes lingered on his lips, and suddenly the space between you felt charged, electric.

Your conversation slowed without you really noticing, and the space between you got smaller. His eyes flicked to your lips, and yours moved to his. His hand rested on your hip, steady and warm. You could feel the heat between you. Everything else seemed to fade away.

Just as you leaned in, about to close the gap, a sharp clink broke the moment. One of the champagne glasses slipped from the railing and smashed on the ground below.

“Shit! I’m sorry” Then after a moment he removes his hands from your waist. “I– I think we should head back.”

You give a small nod, hard enough to mask your disappointment.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You’d been avoiding Seungcheol like the plague.

Ever since what happened three nights ago— the almost-kiss, the silence that followed— you hadn’t found the courage to face him. Not properly. Not without your heart skipping a beat and your words getting stuck somewhere in your throat.

And Seungcheol? He tried. You could tell. Like the time you were in the garage with the engineers, taking notes on wing configurations. He’d walk over, hands shoved in his pockets, hovering like he wanted to say something. But you didn’t even give him the chance— you mumbled something about needing to check a file and slipped away before he got a word out.

Then there was lunch the next day. You saw him enter the cafeteria, tray in hand, scanning the room. You ducked behind a vending machine until he sat somewhere else.

And earlier this morning— when he held the elevator door open for you— you pretended to be on a call, turning away so fast you nearly bumped into a potted plant.

It wasn’t that you were mad. Or even embarrassed, really. It was worse than that. You were unsure. And that feeling scared you more than anything.

Unfortunately for you, the team is having their free practice session and lap formation today, and you just happen to have to be present to record them.

The paddock was buzzing, the distant roar of engines reverberating through the asphalt. Team members bustled around, heads down, radios crackling. You stayed behind the camera rig, half-hidden behind one of the monitors, using the equipment as a shield — both from the sun, and from Seungcheol.

You could see him in your periphery, suited up in his practice gear, leaning against a stack of tires, talking to one of the mechanics. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was slightly damp– from sweat or water, you couldn’t tell. Every once in a while, he laughed at something someone said, teeth flashing, head thrown back.

And you hated it– how your stomach flipped, how your skin warmed, how your fingers twitched on the camera button. You needed to focus. This was work. Just footage. Just documentation– and it will all go back to normal once you get back to korea and finish the documentary.

“Y/N!” someone called. The assistant director waved you over. “Can you help me get a few close-up shots of the drivers before they head out? Starting with car seventeen.”

You swallowed hard. Car seventeen was Seungcheol’s.

You hesitated. He was already walking toward the car, helmet tucked under one arm, gloves dangling from his fingers. And just your luck— he looked up right then.

This time, you didn’t look away fast enough.

Your eyes locked. Just for a second. But something shifted. His brows pulled together slightly, gaze steady. Like he was done pretending not to notice the space you kept putting between you.

You took a deep breath and walked toward him, camera clutched like a shield. Before you could raise it, he spoke.

“Are you gonna keep doing this?”

You blinked. “Doing what?”

“This,” he said, voice low. “Avoiding me. Ducking out of elevators. Hiding behind vending machines like we’re in high school.”

You winced. “I wasn’t hiding–”

“You skipped lunch three days in a row,” he continued, stepping closer, the words gentle but firm. “You left the garage the second I walked in. And this morning? You couldn’t even meet my eyes.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to deflect—but nothing came out.

So he tried again, softer this time. “Y/N… why?”

You were quiet for a beat too long.

And then it just tumbled out.

“Because I love you,” you said. The words hung in the space between you, raw and sharp. “I avoided you because I love you.” you repeat, your voice softer now.

He froze.

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper now. “And I’m scared. Because maybe you don’t feel the same. And if I keep being around you, if you keep being this version of yourself with me—kind, thoughtful, close— I’ll start hoping. I’ll start thinking maybe there’s something real here. And I can’t afford that. Not when I’m the only one who feels it.”

Silence. Just the faint whir of drills and the distant chatter from the paddock.

Then—his hand reached out. Found your wrist. His touch was warm and grounding.

“You think I don’t feel the same?” he said, eyes locked onto yours. “Y/N, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day you walked into HQ. And after that night on the balcony, do you really think I haven’t been going just as crazy as you?”

Your breath hitched.

He stepped even closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. “Don’t run. Not from this.”

For a moment, everything slowed— the noise of the pit fading into the background, the tension between you easing into something softer, something real. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes warm and steady.

The PA crackled over the loudspeakers, announcing the start of the race lineup. Reality tugged you both back, but neither moved away.

“See you after the race?” he asked, his voice low, hopeful.

You nodded, already knowing you’d be counting down the minutes.

___

The sun was brutal.

The stands were packed, a blur of flags and roars and camera flashes. The smell of rubber, asphalt, and heat hung thick in the air as the teams scrambled for final checks. Mechanics swarmed like ants, tightening bolts, checking tire pressure, calibrating sensors. Overhead, a helicopter circled the track, catching aerial shots for the broadcast.

You were posted near the pit wall, camera hanging from your neck, a comm in your ear buzzing with static and updates.

But your eyes— they were on Car Seventeen.

Seungcheol sat behind the wheel, helmet on, visor down. From this distance, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you didn’t need to. You knew his routine by now— the way he leaned back and rotated his shoulders before a race, the way he tapped the steering wheel twice before the formation lap, how his fingers curled like he was anchoring himself.

The lights went out and Seungcheol launched off the grid like a bullet, tires spinning for half a breath before catching grip. Ahead, three cars jostled for position— he was P6, boxed in, the track narrowing into the first corner like the eye of a needle.

He stayed wide. Braked late. Too late, almost.

The car twitched as he dove into the corner, threading between two rivals. A puff of smoke, a lock-up— someone behind miscalculated— but he was clean through, emerging in P4.

By Lap 7, the front runners were bunched tight. Every straight was a drag race, every corner a standoff. The car ahead swerved left— blocking. Seungcheol feinted right, then cut back with precision, catching the slipstream on the long straight.

He pulled out at the last second. Side by side. Gear shifts slammed. Wheels inches apart. At 310 km/h, he edged forward, took the inside line— and held it.

P3.

The car behind didn’t let up. On Lap 10, it was payback. Seungcheol saw it coming too late–brakes flashing, the other driver dove from the outside. They nearly touched through the apex, Seungcheol forced wide, dust kicking up under his tires.

He dropped to fourth, but not for long.

Next lap, he studied the braking points— waited for the tiniest mistake. It came at Turn 9: a late apex. Seungcheol threw his car down the inside like a blade, tires skimming the curb, just enough grip to stick it. Sweat clung to his neck. His gloves were soaked, hands still steady on the wheel. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Eyes locked on the two cars ahead.

Lap 17. The second-place driver ran deep into the hairpin— barely a car length ahead.

Seungcheol didn’t hesitate.

He switched the diff, went full attack. The rear twitched under him as he accelerated early. The grip held. His nose was inside by the next turn. The two cars touched wheels lightly, metal brushing metal— but he didn’t lift.

By the time they hit the main straight, Seungcheol was in second.

Now it was just one left. And he wasn’t giving it up easy.

The last five laps were hell. DRS opened. They swapped places twice. Once, they went three corners side by side— wheels locked, tires screeching. Seungcheol braked into the final chicane from too far back, but he held it— just barely. The rear of the car squirmed, traction dancing on the edge of disaster.

Final lap. Final sector.

He was ahead. Just a few tenths.

The last turn came up fast — he didn't brake early, didn’t lift. He trusted the car.

The tires screamed, the G-forces crushed his ribs — and then, he was out of the turn, full throttle, crossing the finish line.

First.

His hands shook as he unclipped the wheel. The car slowed, the crowd a blur, but none of it landed. All he could think about was one thing—

He’d won, and you were there.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

The room is buzzing— reporters crammed into every row, microphones armed, flashes going off like fireworks. Seungcheol has just won the race. He sits at the center of the table, sweat still glistening at his temples, race suit half-unzipped and collar tugged loose.

He should be talking about tires. About strategy. About the last-minute overtake that made the crowd lose their minds.

But his eyes flicker to you every other second.

You’re standing off to the side of the room, barely visible to the press, heart pounding from more than just the win.

A reporter asks him about the final lap.

Seungcheol answers smoothly. “It was tight, but I knew what I had to do. I’ve never wanted something more in a race.”

Another reporter chimes in, “You seemed... different out there today. Sharper. More emotional. Was something motivating you?”

He pauses.

And then, right there, with a thousand eyes watching him and the world on record—

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, voice steady. “There was.”

A small smile pulls at his lips as he glances toward you.

“There’s someone,” he continues. “Someone who’s been behind the scenes since the start of the season. You might not see her in front of the cameras, but she’s there. Always. Working, filming, noticing things no one else does.”

You freeze.

“She’s smart. Sharp. And the most annoying person when she wants to be.” His grin grows, softer now. “She’s also the reason I’ve been driving like I’ve got something to prove.”

A ripple goes through the crowd.

“I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what this feeling was. But I know now. And I don’t care if this is the right place or the wrong one—I just know I want her to hear it.”

He looks directly at you now.

“I love you.”

The room goes still.

You feel your pulse in your ears, the words still ringing "I love her. That’s all."

Seungcheol exhales slowly, nods once, and pushes back his chair. The screech of it against the floor cuts through the stunned quiet.

He rises.

And then—chaos.

“Seungcheol! Are you saying you’re in a relationship?”

“When did this start?”

“Was it before the season began?”

“Is she part of your team? Are you worried about the backlash?”

A dozen voices rise at once, microphones shoved forward, cameras flashing like lightning.

But he doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t stop.

He just gives a tired half-smile, dimples ghosting his cheeks, and lifts a hand in a calm, deliberate gesture. “No further comments.”

That’s all he says.

And then he walks off the stage—unbothered, sure-footed, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of a press room. Like the whole world hadn't just tilted.

And somehow, with your heart still thudding and your throat closing up, all you can think is: he said it. Out loud. To everyone.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

You were waiting for him outside his hotel room, heart pounding a little more than you expected. You’d slipped away from the paddock, too eager not to be the first to congratulate the winner.

The elevator door clicked open, and there he was— still flushed from the race, a slow smile tugging at his lips when he saw you.

“That was some race, sir,” you teased, stepping closer, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You really kept us all on edge.”

“Finally decided to stop playing hide and seek, ma’am?” Seungcheol leans his hand on the wall beside your head.

Your breath caught, heart thudding harder at how close he was. You matched his smirk, teasing, “Had to make sure you didn’t escape after all that you pulled today.”

His eyes darkened, that familiar heat flickering between you both. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

Before you could answer, his hand slid from the wall to your waist, pulling you closer.

He reached for the door handle, his fingers brushing yours ever so lightly. The quiet click of the door felt loud in the charged silence between you. Inside, the dim light softened everything— the subtle scent of leather and cologne wrapping around you. Seungcheol didn’t move away. Instead, he closed the door slowly, turning to lean against it, eyes locked on yours.

His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until the heat of his body pressed gently against yours. His hand slid from your waist up along your ribs, tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers down your spine.

He didn’t break eye contact as he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer without hesitation. When you parted slightly, the kiss deepened.

His hands slid down to your lower back, gripping you firmly. Your fingers found the bottom of his shirt, trembling as you tugged it up and over his head. His bare skin pressed against your palms, warm and solid.

A low groan rumbled from his throat as you kissed down his jaw, then you moved your hands to the buttons of your blouse, undoing them quickly. The fabric slipped off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

You backed toward the bed, dragging him with you by the waistband of his jeans. He followed, lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming everywhere — your waist, your hips, your thighs like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

You gasped as the back of your knees hit the bed. He took the cue, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you just enough to lay you back, following you down with a low groan. You reached between you, undoing the button of his jeans as he kissed your collarbone, the scrape of his teeth making your back arch

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he muttered against your skin, voice rough and low. His hand slid between your legs, cupping you over your underwear. You whimpered, hips rolling into his palm.

Your clothes came off in a tangle— your skirt pushed up, your bra unclasped, his jeans kicked away. It wasn’t graceful.

You could’ve guessed his size from the way it outlined his briefs. You tugged him closer by the waistband of his briefs, but he paused, forehead resting against yours, chest rising and falling fast.

“Wait,” he murmured, reaching into the nightstand. You watched, heart pounding, as he grabbed a small silver packet and tore it open with practiced ease, all while his eyes stayed on yours.

When he finally eased into you, you gasped— fingers tightening on his back as your body adjusted to the stretch.

“God…” you breathed, head falling back against the pillow.

He groaned against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “You’re so tight,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Fuck— you feel like heaven.”

He gave you a moment, just holding still, his hands framing your waist before he began to move— slow at first, deep and deliberate, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs.

Seungcheol had been relentless, his focus locked on the way your back arched beneath him, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him in with every thrust.

“Cheol, faster,” you gasped, the plea tumbling out between moans, your nails digging into his shoulders. He responded with a deep, guttural groan, snapping his hips harder, deliberate, forceful—sending shocks through your entire body.

“Fuck baby,” his sharp eyes flicked down to meet yours, a glint of hunger. “you’re making it hard to hold back.”

“Then don’t,” you shot back, breathless but defiant, your hips rising to meet his with purpose. His lips twitched—not quite a smirk.

His mouth found your neck with a hungry urgency, lips dragging over your pulse point before he began kissing down the column of your throat— open-mouthed, hot, and slow. You gasped when he bit down gently, just enough to make you jolt, and then soothed the sting with a languid, wet kiss that left your skin slick and tingling.

you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he sucked at the sensitive spot just below your jaw, drawing another sound from deep in your throat.

Seungcheol grunted, his grip tightened on the headboard. The force of his movements intensified— each thrust deliberate. His arms wrap around your waist and pulls you in— if it's possible anymore.

He moved lower, his tongue tracing the curve of your shoulder before returning to your neck, switching between soft kisses and firm sucks that left heat blooming across your skin. Each kiss was deliberate, each bite a mark of possession. Your hips rolled up instinctively, chasing friction, needing more.

“Cheol! I– I think I'm—” you moan out barely able to form words.

Seungcheol’s dick once again disappears into you. His thrusts get harder. “Yeah? My baby’s close?”

Every time his dick drives into you, your slick forms a ring around the base of his dick.

“Mghh so go-good,” you sigh out, tossing your head back. Seungcheol pushes his face into the valley of your bouncing tits. Each tap of his tip against your cervix had him dizzy, the overstimulation causing each muscle in his body to tense.

Seungcheol’s grip tightened on your hips as he pounded into you with unrelenting force, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure spiraling through your core. Your nails raked down his back, desperate to anchor yourself to him, to the overwhelming heat building between you.

He dipped his head, breath hitching as he nipped at the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Your back arched instinctively, pressing closer.

“Cheol…” you gasped, voice trembling with need, “I can’t hold– nghh anymore.”

He didn’t slow— if anything, his pace grew more fierce, more demanding, matching your rising desperation. His mouth found yours again, a searing kiss that stole your breath, teeth grazing and tongues tangling in a fierce dance.

Your bodies moved as one— taut, desperate– chasing the impossible thrill of release. And then— with a guttural growl, he tensed inside you, shattering the last restraint as waves of pleasure crashed over you both in a crescendo of raw, unfiltered bliss.

You clung to each other in the aftermath, breathless and trembling, the fierce glow of your shared fire still burning bright in the dim room.

Seungcheol shifted beside you, his hands warm and careful as they brushed away the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His fingers traced slow, soothing patterns along your skin, grounding you after the storm of sensation.

He reached for the soft towel folded nearby and dipped it into the glass of water on the nightstand. With deliberate gentleness, he pressed the cool cloth to your flushed cheeks, wiping away the sheen of sweat and the remnants of kisses along your neck.

“You’ve got marks,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of admiration and protectiveness. His lips brushed over the places where his teeth had left gentle imprints, leaving you breathless all over again.

Without a word, he pressed a tender kiss to each one, as if silently apologizing and claiming you all at once.

Seungcheol’s fingers slid beneath the sheet, tracing the curve of your waist, making sure you were comfortable. Then he helped you adjust your clothes, pulling the fabric back over your shoulders and smoothing it down with care.

His hands lingered just a moment longer as he pulled you close, wrapping you in a warm embrace. The steady beat of his heart against your ear was the only sound in the room, a quiet promise that he was there, that you were safe.

“Rest now,” he whispered, voice low and soothing. “I’ll be right here.”

You sighed, melting into his arms, feeling the last traces of tension ebb away. And as your eyelids drifted closed, the world outside faded until all that remained was this— his touch, his warmth, and the quiet certainty of being loved.

────⋆˚꩜｡────

It was only day three of dating, but somehow every little thing Seungcheol did felt like a scene straight out of a movie— and you weren’t complaining.

You were wandering near the Seine, the spring breeze tousling your hair, when Seungcheol suddenly stopped and looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“Race you to that bench,” he challenged, pointing across the park.

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You’re on.”

In a burst of laughter and clumsy running, you both sprinted— Seungcheol barely beating you and collapsed on the bench, breathless.

He nudged you with his shoulder. “Not bad for someone who claims to hate running.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you huffed. “I’m just letting you win.”

He laughed and then suddenly turned serious, eyes soft. “You know, it’s crazy how fast this feels like more than just three days.”

You blinked, heart thudding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long. “I’m already imagining all the mornings I want to wake up next to you.”

You grinned. “Slow down, Speed Racer.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, quick but sweet. “I’m just getting started.”

______________

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bella-feed · 7 days ago

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🥺🥺🥺

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bella-feed · 9 days ago

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Just the tip

Pairing: Bang Chan × fem! Reader

Genre : smut (drabble)

Synopsis: after purposely making Chan jealous, you’re left to fall apart on just the tip—taunted, overstimulated, and utterly ruined by his slow, punishing control.

Your thighs ache from how long he’s kept you open, how long he’s kept himself just out of reach.

Chan’s barely touched you tonight. Barely kissed you. Barely even looked at you when he first came in ...just a tight jaw and that calm, dangerous silence that made your stomach twist. You thought maybe he’d let it go. Thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything.

But now? Now he’s between your legs, cock in hand, and you're wrecked...from his fingers, his mouth, and his patience that’s clearly not kindness.

“You thought you were being cute, didn’t you?” His voice is low, rough, words dragging like honey over broken ice. “Acting like I wouldn’t notice.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat’s tight, eyes glassy, lips swollen from all the whining. You’re already so sensitive, twitching under his every touch but it’s not enough. Not even close.

And he knows it.

He drags the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds, up over your clit and back down to your entrance. Every pass makes your hips jump, your fingers curl in the sheets.

“You want me to fuck you now?” he asks, smirking as you whimper and nod. “After the little stunt you pulled?”

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, but it sounds more like begging. “I need you, Channie, please.”

“You will get me, sweetheart,” he hums, lining himself up with lazy precision. “I told you I’d fuck you. Didn’t say how much.”

And before you can speak again he pushes in.

Just the tip.

The stretch is immediate—hot, unbearable but it’s barely anything. You clench around him, already needy, but before your body can even adjust, he stops.

Your eyes flutter open. “Wha… why’d you stop?”

Chan leans over you, his smirk lazy, dangerous. “That’s all you get.”

Your lips part in shock, a soft whimper escaping. “N-no, Channie—please—”

He draws back slowly, then pushes in again with the same shallow depth just enough to make your body twitch, your thighs shake.

“You think you get to act like that,” he murmurs, his tone smooth but sharp, “and I’ll still let you feel all of me?”

You don’t respond ...you can’t too consumed by the way he’s moving, maddening and precise, just the tip brushing your walls in those short thrusts.

His voice drops, darker now. “Batting your lashes at someone else. Laughing like I wasn’t there.”

Your face burns. “I didn’t—”

“You did.” His hips press forward, just a little deeper but not enough. Never enough. “And now look at you. Spread out for me. Crying for my cock.”

You whimper as his thumb finds your clit—barely touches it, just grazes it and your whole body jolts.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts. “And I haven’t even given you a real stroke yet.”

His pace stays slow. Shallow. Rhythmic. It’s torture your body clenching desperately, needing more but he gives you nothing. Just that thick, teasing pressure and his words in your ear.

“Is my tip not enough for you now, huh?” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “After the little show you put on?”

You gasp, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please, Channie… I need all of you.”

He chuckles, low and dark, thrusting just deep enough to make your toes curl then pulling back out to the tip again.

“No,” he growls. “This is all you get. For being such a reckless little thing.”

Your back arches. The build-up is unbearable now, that slow grind of frustration and overstimulation coiling deep in your gut. You try to shift your hips to get more but he holds you down.

“Don’t even try,” he warns. “You’re not getting a single inch more.”

He starts moving just a little faster, the wet slide of him inside you obscene, his tip hitting the same sweet spot over and over.

Your thighs tremble. Your breaths turn ragged.

“Gonna cum from just this?” he taunts, low and satisfied. “From barely anything? That desperate for me?”

You’re nodding before you even realize it, vision swimming.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You are. You’re gonna cum like this. Look at you.”

The coil inside you finally snaps—hot, sharp, overwhelming.

You cry out, falling apart on just the tip, your cunt fluttering around him as your orgasm rolls through, too strong to hold back.

Chan doesn’t stop.“Shit—” he grits, his thrusts faltering as your tight walls milk him. “Gonna—fuck—”

He presses forward, still just barely inside, and you feel it...his cock twitching as he cums with a low moan, warm pulses spilling right at your entrance.

But even then, he’s not done.

He pulls out, slow and deliberate, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Then his fingers slide down collecting the mess he left and drag it through your soaked folds, over your swollen clit.

You jolt. “Channie—!”

“Mm,” he hums. “Didn’t think my tip would break you.”

You can barely move, still twitching, but he leans in, voice a whisper against your jaw.

“Next time you want my attention,” he murmurs, rubbing lazy circles through the cum slicked over your clit, “just ask. No more games.”

2K notes · View notes

bella-feed · 9 days ago

Text

wow.

♡ title: signed, sealed, ruined ♡ pairing: CEO!seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ genre: smut ♡ word count: 4.1k ♡ smut warnings: dom!CEO Seungcheol, elevator sex, brat taming, semi-public, dirty talk, possessive behavior, hand over mouth, fingering, skirt play, light choking, overstimulation, risk of getting caught, power imbalance, hair pulling, spit, whispered sexual threats, praise + degradation mix, restraints, talk of breeding, spanking ♡ 2/13 in the Thirteen Temptations Series ♡ a/n: thank you to @supi-wupi and @flowerwonu for beta-ing for me and giving great feedback! i hope you guys enjoy the next installment of the thirteen temptations series!

Your friends had warned you about him before you took the well-paying job in the new law firm downtown.

“Don’t get involved with the boss.” “He’s intense.” “You’ll either get promoted… or ruined.”

But you weren’t scared of their words, or even the picture they’d sent you that portrayed a young and handsome CEO. You were too good at what you did, especially after all the experience you’d had in several other law practices.

For six busy months, you played the role of star employee and assistant perfectly. Buttoned-up blouses, polite smiles, no extra glances. You sat across from the CEO, Choi Seungcheol, in weekly meetings that almost had you falling asleep, you kept eye contact when he praised your work in that deep, velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine and warmth spreading in your abdomen, and tried so hard to ignore the way he looked at you like he wanted to bend you over the conference table.

But this week? This week was when you felt something shift. He started calling you into his office more often over little things, like reports not having a specific stamp on them, and even started watching your lips with great interest when you spoke. He also started brushing past you in tight hallways, close enough to feel the heat of his muscular body.

And tonight… he’s kept you late, going over monthly reports that could have been easily done the following day. You’re in the boardroom, all alone with him. You’re tired and annoyed. You’re also on edge, partially from the hunger and partially from the hungry stares he’s sending your way.

You hand him the report. “Anything else, sir?”

He doesn’t take it from you. Instead, he stands from his chair and walks around the table, and stops right in front of you. Then:

“You wore perfume today.”

Your breath catches, not expecting him to say what he just did. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not the one you usually wear.” His voice is low. “This one is sweeter, more… distracting.”

You stiffen, your heart racing against your ribcage, as you try to keep your shoulders squared, hoping to make yourself appear bigger than you feel. “Did you really keep me here this late just to talk about my perfume?”

He leans down with a smirk; he’s close enough to smell you again. Close enough to make your thighs clench.

“No,” he says. “I kept you here because I’m tired of pretending I don’t think about fucking you in my office.”

Silence.

Your heart pounds. You don’t know whether you should walk away now and risk losing your job or say something professional to hopefully keep the peace.

Instead, you whisper, “Then do it.”

And that’s all it takes. You expect him to kiss you but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses his hand to your lower back and walks you out of the board room and into his private office, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

“You know what this is?” he murmurs, eyes dragging over you hungrily.

“I think so.”

“No,” he says simply. “You don’t.”

He steps behind you, slow and confident, his mouth hovering near your ear.

“I’ve wanted to ruin you since the first day you walked in here,” he says, his voice wraps around you like dark silk, and envelopes you coolly. “All this time, I’ve watched you pretend that you’re not affected by me. You’ve been sitting across from me in those tight skirts, crossing your legs like you didn’t want me to see what was underneath.”

He spins your chair, kneels between your legs, and slides a hand up your calf.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t. Instead, you whisper. Your voice cracking slightly, “I wore the lace ones, all for you.”

That’s when his facade drops, and he simply cracks. He doesn’t rush anything, not yet. He takes his time to unbutton your blouse like it offends him, his dark eyes locked in on every inch of skin that protrudes as he finally rids you of the useless material. He kisses down your sternum slowly and pushes your bra down, exposing your nipples to the cool air of his office.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Already trembling for me, so cute.”

You gasp as he lifts you onto the desk, pulls your thighs apart, and kisses the inside of your knee. “Gonna show me what I’ve earned?”

When he sees the lace hugging your body in all the right places, the black colour immediately draws his eyes in. He notices the delicate trim on the edges, and also the panties being super soaked. He groans loudly, his forehead pressing into your thigh, almost as if he’s trying to hold back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says. “And you’re all mine now.”

~~~~~

His tongue on you is completely relentless.

He holds your thighs open and makes you take every slow, dragging stroke. He moans into you, sloppy and hungry like he’s starved. You cum fast, too fast, and he doesn’t stop, oh no, he just keeps licking and sucking, his fingers pumping into you until your legs shake and your moans are ragged.

“You can give me more,” he grunts, lust taking control of his body. “I know you can.”

He stands up and removes his fingers from you, his pants quickly undone by his deft fingers, before he pushes your body back against the polished desk where you’d sat with him earlier to go through the week’s tasks and how to delegate them to staff.

And when he finally sinks into you, it’s slow, deep, and in a way like he was finally claiming you, you realise that you’ve never felt like this. You feel full, and you feel owned.

“Look at me,” he pants through harsh thrusts, sweat beading on his forehead. “Tell me who’s fucking you.”

“You are,” you breathe, feeling the coil in your abdomen tightening with each thrust. “Sir.”

He smirks darkly. “Damn right.”

He pounds into you hard enough to shake the desk, growling praise between gritted teeth:

“So tight. So fucking good for me.�� “I’ve waited so long to make you mine.” “No one else will ever touch you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

You cum again with his name on your lips, body trembling.

And he follows not long after, pulling out with just enough time to spill his load over your thighs, groaning your name like a confession.

He helps you sit up, his large hands smoothing your hair, kissing your jaw like he didn’t just wreck you.

“You okay?”

You nod, still breathless. “You?”

He smiles. This time, when he smiles at you, it’s real and soft. “I’ve been waiting for that since your second interview.”

He helps you dress again, his hands lingering too long on your body, especially over your chest and waist. And just as you open the door to leave, he grabs your wrist firmly and murmurs:

“You’re not just my assistant anymore. You’re mine.”

~~~~~~~

Your thighs are still trembling.

You thought you were done after the first orgasm, but you’d truly underestimated just how much control Choi Seungcheol had been holding back. He stands in front of you now, his shirt open, jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break his teeth, his toned, muscular chest rising with each breath. His eyes have taken on a dark and ravenous edge; they don’t leave yours even as he brushes his thumb through the slick between your legs and pushes it between his lips.

“I can’t get enough of this, you taste so fucking sweet,” he growls, sucking slow.

Your breath catches, and your pulse quickens. He grins at you again, dark and hungry. “And you think I’m finished with you? Oh no, I’m not anywhere near done with you.”

He lifts you again effortlessly, placing you back on the desk, your heels hanging off the edge. Then he sinks to his knees, his broad shoulders immediately locking your thighs open, his hands gripping your waist tightly.

“You don’t get to walk out of this office until I’ve made a mess of you.”

His tongue is filthy. He doesn’t tease anymore; he utterly devours you. He eats you like a manthat has been starved for weeks, like this is what he’s been dreaming about in late-night meetings and cold boardrooms.

You arch your back as high as it will allow, panting, and your legs kicking against his shoulders, but he simply holds you down harder and flashes a warning glance up at you from between your thighs.

"Stay still," he mutters, eyes up through his lashes. “Or I’ll tie you to the fucking desk.”

You cum again, this time with his name broken and desperate on your lips, and he doesn’t stop at all. He simply laps it all up, his mouth slick and greedy, begging for more.

“Cheol- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he groans harshly, pulling himself back briefly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because I’m not done showing you who you belong to.”

He stands, eyes blazing with greed and lust, and slaps your ass hard enough to leave a red print in the flesh as he turns you over, muttering phrases under his breath as he continues to cover your skin with handprints.

“You think I didn’t notice you parading around the office in this tiny skirt?” Smack. “You think I didn’t see how your eyes drop to my hands in every meeting?” Smack. “You wore this lace shit under your dress-” he yanks your ruined panties halfway down your thighs- “and expected me to behave?”

He lines himself up, grinds himself teasingly against your soaked entrance until you’re whining and trembling, and then leans down to whisper in your ear:

“Say thank you.”

You do. And he gives it to you. It’s hard, deep, and devastating on your insides as he pounds into you. He grips your throat, just tight enough to make your vision blur and your breathing changes as he fucks you through it, his hips snapping into yours with obscene force.

You can feel every inch of him rattling in your teeth. You can hear the desk creak under the pressure and force he’s using to fuck his thick cock into you. You can also vaguely feel his sweat drip onto your back as you claw at the desk, hoping that you can stay grounded in some way.

And through it all, his voice is low, feral, and best of all, possessive.

“You’re mine, all fucking mine.” “I’ll ruin every man who’s ever looked at you.” “You’ll cum when I say, and not before.”

Your body obeys him, even with the slightest touches, and you don’t even fight it. He pulls you up by the hair and makes you look into the dark reflective glass wall.

“Look,” he growls. “Watch yourself take me.”

And when he pulls out after a few moments of watching yourself in the glass, you barely even register what’s happening before he turns you around, drops to his knees yet again, and licks you completely clean.

Your thighs shake, and your hands scramble for purchase on any surface they can reach. He doesn’t stop until you're sobbing. When he does finally let you breathe, he lets you collapse back into his leather chair whilst still trembling; he fixes your skirt and adjusts your shirt, and wipes your smeared lip gloss off your cheek, before he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You’re never working under anyone else again,” he murmurs. “You understand me?”

You nod, dazed. But then he leans down, eyes still full of fire and also something else, more honest; a promise.

“No, I want you to look at me,” he demands. “Say it.”

“…I belong to you.”

That smile. That smirk. That fucking spark of danger behind his eyes that tells you he’s nowhere near done with you.

“Good girl.”

~~~~~

He picks you up in a car that still smells like leather and expensive cologne. You sit beside him in the back, your legs crossed and fingers clenched, still reeling from what he did to you in his office only a few hours ago.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmurs, his large hand settling firmly on your thigh.

You swallow. “I’m processing.”

He smirks. “Good. You’ll need a clear head.”

Because when you walk into his penthouse, you realise something: This is not the space of a calm and collected businessman. It’s sleek, yes. But it’s also dimly lit, furniture all dark velvet, there’s a low jazz tune playing from somewhere you can't quite distinguish, and obsidian glass covering almost all of the place. But something that did grab your attention, there’s a mirrored wall in his bedroom, and a luxurious bar cart stacked with whiskey and other fine liquors. And on the bed, covered with a dark duvet and equally dark satin sheets: a white box with a bright red bow, a stark comparison to the dark room.

You look at him questioningly, and he only nods toward it.

“Open it.”

Inside, a sheer set of black lace lingerie. A pair that, upon inspection, would barely cover anything, as well as a silk ribbon adorning the middle of the bra, accentuating the rest of the lingerie perfectly. Your name is embroidered in the hem, an exquisite touch that only a rich businessman would think of.

“I don’t share,” he says, voice like heat. “And I take my time.”

When you come out wearing it, a few moments later, his eyes darken instantly.

“Turn around.”

You do.

“Now, look in the mirror.”

He stands behind you, his body almost enveloping your own, and wraps a hand around your throat, and speaks into your ear softly.

“This is how I want to see you,” he growls. “Every time you leave my bed. I want you to be messy and marked. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

Then he bends you forward onto the edge of the bed and slides the beautifully embroidered panties down your thighs with agonising slowness.

“Let me see what’s mine.”

You don't get undressed, he peels you open in pieces. Black lace pulled aside. Heels still on, he insisted on your keeping them on. A long piece of black silk is wrapped carefully around your wrists and tied to the headboard securely.

He teases you with his thick fingers first, he’s slow and cruel, circling your clit teasingly until you're whining and thrashing from pure desperation, before finally slipping his fingers inside until you're clenching around them while it feels like the air has disappeared from your lungs.

“Every time I touch you,” he murmurs, “I want you to say thank you.”

And you do. He goes down on you like it’s a fucking ritual, its slow and reverent, even possibly deviant. He sucks your clit every so often just to hear you gasp. He presses two fingers deep into you and curls them until you cry out his name like a prayer.

“You gonna cum for me pretty girl?” he whispers. “Y-Yes-” “Then give it to me. Be a good girl.”

You do. But he doesn’t stop, he can’t stop until he knows you’re a trembling mess who can’t even remember her own name. He undoes the ties on your wrist, rubbing them lightly in an act of adoration that has your heart skipping. He then proceeds to flip you over quickly and takes you face down, his hands holding onto your hair like a lifeline. “You’re so fucking tight after all that?” he groans. “God, I’ll never get enough.”

He unties your wrists and quickly carries you to the mirror, and fucks you standing up, your hand on the glass to stay upright. You can hardly even get yourself to focus, given the power of your previous orgasms, but Seungcheol’s hand wraps around your hair tighter and gives a slight tug, the sting alone helping you refocus.

“I want you to watch yourself take me. Watch how pretty you look falling apart on my fat cock.”

Moments later, he’s laying you back, seemingly slow and gentle for once, and lets you ride him, guiding your hips to hit just the right spot inside of you that has stars dotting your vision and your body lurching forward from pleasure, his fingertips sinking deep into the skin of your thighs as he watches you fall apart for the third time.

“Look at that. My girl’s fucked stupid already.”

You try to catch your breath. Then he murmurs:

“One more.”

He carries you princess style, your limp and trembling form shaking in his arms, into the en suite bathroom. The tub’s already running, you weren't even registering how that would be possible.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, placing you in the warm water. “Took everything like you were made for it.”

He gets in behind you, expensive soap in one hand, the other running down your thigh as you soak in silence. But then he leans in close and whispers:

“Next time, I’m not pulling out.”

You freeze, his words pulling you out of your fucked out trance momentarily.

“…Cheol.”

“I’ll ruin you properly,” he says, tone low and daring, plush lips against your neck. “I’ll brand you from the inside out.”

Then, softer:

“Only if you want it.”

And you do. God, you do.

~~~~~~

You shouldn’t have done it. Not in front of his staff. Not in that skirt that always has heads turning and everyone staring when you wear it. You also definitely should not have done it when you smiled sweetly at the new intern who handed you a coffee. He was just doing his job after all, and you wanted to thank him.

But you did. Now, because of your actions, Seungcheol’s office door is locked behind you.

Click.

“D’you think I’m cute when I’m pissed off?” he murmurs, his suit jacket coming off in one clean motion, being tossed onto the pleather couch behind you.

You swallow.

“No, sir.”

“Liar.”

He unbuttons his cuffs slowly, knowing it drives you insane, whilst watching you over the rim of his glasses like he’s already decided how many ways he’s going to make you cum. Then: “Panties off. I want you up on the desk.”

You slide them down your legs and throw them haphazardly across the room. Somehow, he catches them mid-air and stuffs them quickly into his blazer pocket.

“For later,” he mutters, smirk growing on his already cocky features.

The moment your ass touches the edge of the cool mahogancy desk, he spins your chair behind him, sits down, and pulls you over his lap.

“Count.”

You barely register the first spank until your breath hitches.

Smack.

“One…”

Smack. “Two—”

“You thought I’d let you flirt with someone else?” Smack. “You’ve got my cum still dripping out of you and you want attention?”

Your legs shake with every spank he gives you, and your thighs and cunt are completely soaked. He grabs you by the jaw and forces you to look at the mirror wall, not even realising how dishevelled your appearance had become in just the few moments you and Seungcheol had been in there.

“Tell me what you see.”

You whisper, voice breaking: “Your slut.”

His grin is filthy and dangerous; it simultaneously scares you and turns you on.

“Good girl.”

He flips you again and presses your chest flat against the cool mahogany, goosebumps erupting over your skin from the sudden contact with the desk. Then, with absolutely no warning from him, he slides his fingers in, slow and deep, curling just right.

You gasp, arching your back high as he starts a brutal pace. He shoves you back down onto the table with a firm hand between your shoulder blades.

“You don’t get to look pretty and bratty and then not get fucked within an inch of your life.”

Then he unzips his slacks, his cock already straining against his boxers, pre cum staining the fabric. When he finally maneuvers himself behind you, he drives himself into you so hard that the desk actually moves with each precise and rough thrust. He pulls out just before you cum again, drops to his knees in a split second and spits on your clit before sucking you through it.

You scream. He grabs your hand, sucks your own fingers into his mouth and says:

“Taste yourself. That’s what disobedience gets you.”

When you're shaking, your lips swollen, and your thighs trembling, he dresses you back up himself. He wipes the utter mess that’s situated between your legs like you’re delicate. He smooths your skirt down and fixes your hair as best as he can with his fingers.

Then, he checks that your panties are still tucked away in his blazer, smirks, and then tucks your panties into his breast pocket and says:

“Get back to your desk. You’ll behave until I decide you’ve earned them back.”

And when you walk out, dazed and ruined, the entire floor sees the flush on your face—and the smirk on his. CEO Choi Seungcheol always gets what he wants.

~~~~~

You shouldn’t have smirked at him in front of the boardroom. You shouldn’t have crossed your legs during the meeting, that too-short skirt riding up, knowing exactly where his eyes would land.

But you did. Now, you’re in the elevator, only you and him. The silence pressed like heat, building up to an inevitable explosion. You can feel him behind you, and it’s almost like the air thickens. His voice drops.

“Think I wouldn’t notice you acting up?”

Before you can respond, he hits the emergency stop. The lights immediately dim, almost mood lighting, as the elevator screeches to a halt between the floors of the building.

Click.

Suddenly, his hand is on your throat, your back is roughly pressed to the mirrored wall, and your eyes are wide as he leans in, his chiselled jaw tight with restraint.

“You’ve got sixty seconds to explain yourself,” he growls. His thigh is already between yours. “Or I make good on everything I said in that meeting.”

Instead of answering, you grind your hips against his thigh. It was almost like a challenge, and his eyes flared with something you couldn’t quite place.

Wrong move.

He spins you around and yanks your skirt up. You’d chosen to go with no panties, just on the off chance Seungcheol wanted to have his way with you again. His growl, feral and low, vibrates against your spine.

“You filthy fucking tease.”

You feel his rough fingers tracing between your thighs. He spits on them and rubs it in. Then shoves two fingers inside you so hard you moan, forehead pressed to the mirror.

“Be quiet,” he hisses. “You want the cameras to catch this?”

You nod.

“Brat.”

He pulls his fingers out just as quickly as he’d shoved them in, and proceeds to shove them into your mouth. “Suck.”

You do obediently, moaning around them, your eyes fluttering shut. Your slick coats his fingers, and he grins wickedly, the kind of grin that says he’s losing control on purpose. Then he crouches slightly behind you, one hand gripping your hair, the other pushing back inside of you, your body reacting immediately.

"God, you’re dripping for me. Standing here like you don’t need to be bent in half.”

He pulls you back onto his fingers again, fucking you open with rough precision, and now your moans are louder.

“Tell me how bad you want to come.”

You pant, “So bad, sir.”

“Then ask for it.”

You stammer, “Please, please let me cum on your fingers, please!”

His hand wraps around your throat again, pressing just enough to make your knees shake.

“You get one. Make it count.”

And when you do, you’re grinding and sobbing his name like a mantra, his eyes locked on your reflection, but he doesn’t stop and doesn't intend to.

“I said one, but I changed my mind.”

He lets go of your neck gently, lips brushing your temple, breath hot.

“Next time,” he mutters, zipping his pants, “I won’t use my fingers.”

He restarts the elevator, but not before he fixes your skirt and straightens your blouse, before moving on to smoothing out your hair like nothing happened. The doors open.

You stumble out, legs barely holding. From behind, he murmurs, calm and composed:

“My office. Five minutes. Don’t you dare clean up.”

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bella-feed · 10 days ago

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Enhypen Masterlist

for 100+ Followers Celebration Event

• FLUFF = ❃

• SMUT = ♟

• ANGST = ✥

¶ author: @itsbeeble ❃

↪ The Prettiest Star

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bella-feed · 10 days ago

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@itsbeeble's submission for my 100+ Followers Celebration Event <33

The Prettiest Star

Summary: Jay has been in love with you since he first saw you. You've been in love with him since he stepped foot into your shop. Neither of you have spoken to each other, and some people are getting impatient.

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: nonidol!Jay Park x afab!reader

WC: ~4k

MAIN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @bella-feed @dokyumms @sanaxo-o @from-izzy @winterchimez

WARNINGS: Honestly this is just super fluffy, there's a brief make out scene and it hints at smut but no actual smut (everyone be shocked)

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: First off heyyyyyyyy. Don't consider this a comeback please god I'm trying but I haven't had any motivation. Second- I'm so so so happy to participate in this event from Bella! So proud of you bestie!!!

There were always six boys with him when he came into the bookshop. Seven boys total, but only one who caught your attention. He was…quieter than the others. At least as quiet as you can be, with six rowdy personalities always surrounding you. But he was pretty. The prettiest you had ever seen, and he made you blush. A charming smile, the crinkle around his eyes when he laughed— oh god, his laugh made you weak in the knees. It was the kind of expensive laugh that you hadn’t heard before. One that would be found at galas or movie premieres. It was smooth like red wine, thrumming in your veins every time you heard it and leaving you wishing to hear it one more time.

Too bad you would never get to tell him that to his face. Every time you saw this handsome stranger, your throat seemed to close up, and you were barely able to say the well-rehearsed lines that were practically programmed into you without faltering or stumbling and becoming a blushing mess.

“Would,” your voice cracked, and you grimaced as you cleared your throat. Spoke too soon. “Would you like a copy of your receipt?”

The stranger smiles kindly at you, ignoring the embarrassed look on your face and the little giggles from his friends. The pit in your stomach only grows knowing they were laughing at you. “I’m okay, thank you.”

For a moment, you thought that would be the extent of the interaction. You figured it would be just like always— you would flash him a smile and tell him to have a nice day, and he would say you too with that gorgeous smile of his, and he would leave with his little group.

But not this time.

This time, he opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. You drummed your fingers on the counter, flashed him a tight smile, and went to turn away.

“Wait!” The statement was short, his voice a bit too high-pitched, but it caught your attention all the way.

“Yes?” You turn around, brows furrowed. He’s not looking at you this time. Instead, he has his gaze turned to the ground, and his friends have all scattered, trying not to look obvious as they witness the horrifically awkward interaction.

“I just—” the stranger clears his throat and tries to bring back the confidence he threw out the window just moments before. “I come in here all the time, and I don’t even know your name.”

A chorus of groans, the sound of someone’s head hitting a book, and a quiet ‘oh brother’ distract you for a moment, but your lips curl into an amused smile. Your cheeks are burning, you’re sure he can see it, but he doesn’t comment. He never does. That is, you suppose, part of his charm.

“You’ve never asked me before.” You choose not to point out the big, bright name tag that says ‘Hi! I’m Y/N!’

“Well,” He smiles at you, and it’s a bit more awkward than the one he usually gives you, but he’s trying. “How about I ask now? Properly introduce ourselves.”

“Sure,” you shrug and stick your hand out. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He takes your hand in his— it’s warmer and softer than you thought it would be— and shakes it twice. “I’m Jay. The pleasure is all mine.”

The next time you see him— see Jay, you aren’t at the bookstore. For the first time in a long time, you’ve gotten a day off. It’s the middle of spring, the air just starting to become warm enough to be outside. The sun is shining down on the town, the rays warming your skin and making life just that extra bit more pleasant.

“Well, look who it is!” Your body jolts as someone throws their arm around your shoulder, tugging you in close. At first, you try to pull away, frightened by the strange man you could swear you hadn’t seen before. Then, after a moment of struggle, the fear clears away. Jay is in front of you. His hand on his forehead as he tries to get his friend off you.

“Heeseung,” his voice is stern, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Get off of her.”

“I just wanted to say hi to your little girlfriend.” Heeseung pouts, and your cheeks practically catch fire from how hot they are. Girlfriend? You look at Jay, catching his eye for a moment before he rubs the back of his neck and turns his gaze away.

“You know,” another one of Jay’s friends pops up from around the large figure blocking your view on the left. There’s an accent to his voice, one you can’t quite place yet. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen you outside of the bookstore.”

“I work a lot,” you explain, shrugging away from Heeseung and lacing your hands behind your back. “And I don’t really go out much.”

“No?” You can see now that it’s just the three of them today, not seven like you anticipated after your brief heart attack. “Interesting. Maybe Jay can change—” Jay stomps down on this boy’s foot, and he yells out a few curses loudly.

“You know, Jake, maybe you’re right!” Heeseung eggs on his friend, looking at Jay with a challenge in his eye. “Y/N, how would you feel about spending some time with our good friend Jay?”

“I mean…”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Jay interrupts, placing a hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t even realized he was standing next to you until then, and your skin begins to burn under his hand. It’s barely half way through April, it shouldn’t be this damn hot already. “Seriously, you don’t.”

“Oh.” Your lips draw into a thin line, and you give a quick nod. “I was going to say I wouldn’t mind, but if you insist, then that’s fine.” Jay falls quiet, his head whirling around to look down at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“See, Jay?” Jake smirks and sticks his hands in his pockets. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I seriously, genuinely hate you.” Jay peels his eyes away from you, glaring at his two friends like they killed his dog.

“You can hate us after you two have a nice little date.” Heeseung gives you both a double thumbs up and begins to turn away. “Have fun, be safe, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Definitely don’t do anything he would do either!” Jake chimes in, already backing away from the two of you.

They’re halfway down the block by the time Jay finally turns to look at you again. He’s dumbstruck, cheeks burning red just like yours, and his hands rest awkwardly at his sides. You’re amazed at how you’ve managed to stay relatively composed throughout this interaction. It’s a little odd that they’re so invested in you and Jay, but it’s cute.

“I’m…” Jay speaks up once he seems to find himself again, his eyes squeezing shut briefly. “I’m so…so sorry about those two.”

“Don’t be, it was cute.” Your lips twitch into a smile, your cheeks still flushed red. Jay laughs nervously, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“You really think so?” He lifts an eyebrow, skeptical of your words. It’s understandable— Not many people would stick around after being swarmed like you were. But, truly, you don’t mind.

“I do!”

The two of you stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. The awkwardness of the situation ebbs away, and Jay clears his throat.

“Are you…Do you have work today?” He asks, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Nope,” you smile, “Mrs. Park gave me the day off. Said that she was going to close early today for her grandson’s birthday.” You barely notice the twitch in Jay’s demeanor. The amusement crawling across his face, the short, breathy laugh he releases.

“She sounds really sweet.”

“She really is,” you shift your weight a bit and take a deep breath.

“Would you—”

“Do you—”

The two of you speak at the same time, cutting each other off and laughing a bit as you do. Jay gestures for you to speak first, and your smile grows.

“Would you like to join me for a little bit?”

Jay practically lights up, his own smile growing.

“Absolutely, I would.”

It’s almost shocking how easy it is to slip into a comfortable rhythm with Jay. A few months ago, you never would have guessed that you’d be laughing and joking with him as you walk around the town with no real goal in mind. Truthfully, you never thought that you’d have an actual conversation with him, or make him laugh, or have his hand resting on the small of your back as you examine different vinyl records.

“What do you think of this one?” You hold up a copy of David Bowie’s ‘Aladdin Sane’, your eyebrow quirked up. A test, you think, to see if he has any taste.

Jay hums, his hand slipping from your back— you ignore the sudden cold where his hand was— to take the record from your hands. He flips it over carefully, examining it.

“Didn’t take you for someone who liked Bowie.” He flashes you a smirk, and you scoff playfully.

“Who doesn’t like Bowie?”

“You make a good point.” He hands you the vinyl again, and you beam. “Anything else you want?”

“Nah,” you shake your head and start walking to the register, smiling softly at the teenage girl who, very clearly, would rather be anywhere else but here. She hardly sits up as she rings in the record, and you’re halfway to pulling out your wallet when Jay hands her his card. You freeze, mouth falling open.

“Just use this,” he smiles, his hand finding its way to your back again.

“Jay, you don’t have to pay for me!” You protest, but he just shakes his head.

“This is a date, Y/N, and I’ll be damned if I let a pretty girl like you pay for your things.”

Your face burns, part from embarrassment, and part from the frustration of having him buy the record.

“I don’t need you to buy my stuff, Jay.” You take the vinyl back from the girl, and Jay takes the receipt, hiding it from you before you can spy the price and force him to take some cash.

“I didn’t say you did, babe.” The pet name slips out with practiced ease, as if he’d called that a thousand times before. He’s guiding you to the door, ignoring your protests and the way you reach around him to try to steal the receipt from his hand. Jay holds it just out of your reach, smiling at your attempts.

That smile stays on his face the rest of the day.

“How long have you lived here?” Jay asks. The sun has begun to set, and the two of you are settling into a cozy booth at a restaurant as it does. A warm, golden light is cast over Jay’s face, your heart beating just a little bit faster as his brown eyes become the color of caramel.

“A couple of years,” you tell him, fingers playing with the napkin on your right.

“And…you like it? Not bored at all?” He tilts his head curiously. You fight the smile that threatens to practically split your face in half. He’s so…soft in everything he does. He’s soft in the way he talks, the way he holds his glass of water, and how he looks at you.

“It’s…” you hesitate. “Different. From what I’m used to, at least. I’m used to bustling streets, people yelling in the apartment next door. It’s nice.”

Jay nods his head. “You get used to it. I used to live in Seattle, then I moved to Seoul, and then I moved here. I grew up in such loud environments that I forgot how nice it is to have a little…peace, I guess.”

“You’re a long way from Seattle, aren’t you?” You lean forward a bit, resting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands. He leans forward as well, his eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky.

“Maybe, but I’m right where I want to be.” Your stomach churns, and you fight back a smile.

“Really?” You ask. “You don’t want to be at home, maybe with your friends causing chaos everywhere you go?”

Jay laughs and leans back again. “As much as I love those boys, there’s nothing I’d rather do for my birthday than spend it with the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

Your cheeks flush— you find that they have a habit of doing that around him— and then your jaw drops.

“It’s your birthday?!”

Jay nods, smiling softly. “Yup. 23 years old today.”

“But…Jay, you’ve been with me all day, buying me things. I should be buying you everything!” Your lips form a pout, and Jay kisses his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be doing anything I didn’t want to do, Y/N. Believe me, I’m glad that I bought you the record. The best birthday gift a guy can ask for is the look on your face when you picked that up.”

The conversation comes to a halt as your waiter brings over your meals. For that brief few minutes as you begin to eat your meals, you let the conversation stay where it was. With Jay content with spending his money on you, and you upset that you didn’t get him anything for his birthday (as if you knew that it was today).

However, the silence can only go on for so long, and you can only be so patient.

“There’s no way I’m just gonna let you pay for things on your birthday.”

“For god’s sake,” Jay groans. “I paid for things because I wanted to!”

“But it’s your birthday!” You whine. “I feel bad!”

“Please, don’t feel bad.” He reassures you. “You really don’t have to worry about it.”

“But…” you trail off when he gives you a stern look, pursing your lips and sighing. “Can I at least pay for dinner?”

Jay furrows his eyebrows.

“Absolutely not.”

The streetlights cast a glow over you as the two of you begin the walk back to your apartment. Jay’s hand is laced with yours, something new that you both realized you loved. He’s warmer than you, and his thumb traces figures into the back of your hand. The conversation is quiet between you, comfortable. Any lingering awkwardness has disappeared by now, and it’s almost like you’ve known each other for years. That you’ve been dating for years.

“You’d love Jungwon,” Jay comments. You turn your gaze up to him. “You’re both a bit quiet, but still good to be around. I think you’d both enjoy talking about books together.”

“Which one is Jungwon?”

“He’s the one who kinda looks like Bambi. He convinced me to finally talk to you the other day.” Jay chuckles. “Probably would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

You can see your apartment building from here, and your heart sinks knowing the night is coming to an end.

“Who knows how long we would’ve danced around each other if it weren’t for him,” you joke. Jay laughs, his head tossed back and his hand squeezing yours lightly. You’ve reached the steps of your building. You’re on the first step, bringing yourself to eye level with him. The stars twinkle above you, the moon acting like a spotlight to your very own movie. It’s cliche, you think, so cliche.

“I hope you know that I…I really had a great time with you today.” Jay strokes his thumb along the inside of your wrist, his other hand hovering just over your hip but not quite touching you. You smile. “I couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my birthday.”

“I’m glad,” you catch your lip between your teeth as you smile, trying to keep yourself from smiling too hard and looking like a fool. “Would’ve been better if you let me buy you something on your birthday—”

Jay groans, but you put your hand on his chest to keep his attention on you.

“—but, as long as you’re happy.” Jay kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes. Your heart is pounding.

“I am happy, Y/N. I really am.”

“Good.” You nod. “I guess…there is one thing I can give you for your birthday.”

“Oh?” Jay lifts an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile. “And what would that be?”

“Well…” you hum. “Close your eyes.”

At first, Jay just looks at you curiously, and you give him a light smack on the shoulder.

“I said, close your eyes, idiot.”

“Alright, alright, I will.” He concedes and dramatically sighs as he closes them.

You sit still for just the briefest moment, setting the Bowie record down next to you, admiring his sharp features and the smile that lingers on his lips.

And then you kiss him.

It’s light at first, just the barest of kisses. Featherlight, hesitant, testing the waters. Then his hand tightens on your hip, his other tightening on your wrist. The hand you’ve placed on his chest slides up to cup his neck and pull him closer.

Suddenly, it’s like you’re drowning in him. Jay kisses you hard, his lips moving with yours like you’re the first sip of water after a week in the desert. His tongue brushes along your lip, pushing just lightly before pulling back. Your chest presses against his, your hand holding him hard against you. His tongue brushes against your lip again, and you open your mouth with no hesitation.

The hand that was holding your wrist comes up to hold your cheek, his tongue pushing against yours and tracing every inch of your mouth. The harder he kisses you, the harder he pushes against you, the more you find yourself trying to get even closer. As if you can’t get enough of him, as if he can’t get enough of you. A quiet whine escapes you when he finally pulls back, your lips chasing his unconsciously.

He stays just a hairsbreadth out of reach, watching smugly as you chase after him before he dips his head to place a kiss on your jaw. Then another below your ear, then another on your jaw. Right above your carotid artery, he can feel your pulse beneath his lips. His hand shakes with barely contained restraint. Your breathing becomes airy, chest begin to rise and fall faster as he begins to suck little red marks into your throat. Your hand slips into his hair, tugging at the dark strands and causing him to emit a quiet groan.

But then you remember that you’re in public, and your neighbors could look out their windows at any moment, and you pull him away from you. There’s a dazed look in his eyes, as if he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on or what’s happening.

“We’re right outside my apartment,” you murmur as he comes face to face with you again, just an inch from kissing you one more time.

“And?” he reaches for you, but you pull back with a giggle.

“Jay, my neighbors could see!”

“Let them!” He shrugs, holding your head still so he can kiss you again, filled with passion and, dare you admit it, love. “Everyone loves a show.”

You laugh and smack his chest. “C’mon, I personally don’t want to give old Mr. Son a show, if I’m being honest.”

Jay sighs, letting his forehead rest against yours before you tug him toward you. You take another step back, rising up to the next step. He watches you, brows furrowed as you continue to tug him with you.

“What are you…” He trails off, the gears in his head churning.

“I said, come on!” You smirk. “Just because I don’t want to give my neighbors a show, doesn’t mean you don’t get one.”

The realization clicks in his mind a moment later, his eyes darkening, and his grip on your hand becoming iron tight as he follows you up the stairs.

The shop is quiet again, the sunlight streaming in through the windows around you and bringing in a warmth that you longed for. Mrs. Park hums from the bookshelves nearby, sliding new arrivals onto the shelves and shuffling around the older copies that have collected dust.

The bell to your right chimes, and what sounds like a stampede comes tumbling into the little shop. Jake first, followed by Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, Niki, and, finally, Jay.

“Good morning, guys!” You chirp with a bright smile, leaning against the checkout counter. They each give you a loud greeting, talking over each other and yelling and trying to tell you things that you can’t quite here. Jungwon slides a book across the counter with a small smile. A trade. A book for a book, something you started a month ago when you finally got to know each other. You slide one over to him, and he gives you a quiet ‘thanks’.

Jay finds his place at your side, his hand on the small of your back, and his lips pressing against the side of your head.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” His voice is a bit raspy, and you smile as you reach your hand back to lace your finger through his hair.

“Hi, my love.”

“Any chance my grandmother will let you leave early today?” He pulls back just a bit to look at you fully.

Another thing you’d learned recently. Mrs. Park’s grandson and Jay were the same person. You didn’t know how you didn’t know this before— they were practically the same person. Same mannerisms, same laugh, same crinkle around the eyes as they smiled.

“Mmmh,” you hummed and shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“But she’ll say no to me!” He complained. “She always says yes to you!”

“Maybe,” you turn in his grasp and smile. “You should try being nice to her.”

“I—” Jay stares at you, appalled as you laugh at him. “I am so nice to her! I can’t believe you would say that to me.”

“Well then,” you click your tongue. “I guess she just loves me more than you.”

Mrs. Park rounds the corner as you say this, her eyebrow quirking up at the sight of you. “Jongseong,” she warns, “you better not be here to ask if she can leave early. We have work to do.”

“But I wanted to take her out on a date,” Jay pleads.

“She has work, Park Jongseong.” Mrs. Park scolds. “Work is important, not that you’d know.”

You burst into giggles as Jay stumbles over his words, failing miserably to defend himself. Mrs. Park looks at you, examining you with a thoughtfulness that always makes you squirm. Then, to your shock, she smiles.

“Go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow together.

“Go on that date.” She sighs. “Go have fun, but be back by 5 o’clock to close up the shop.”

Jay breaks into a grin, and your jaw drops. “I told you she’d let you go!”

“I didn’t— thank you! Thanks, Mrs. Park!” You beam, and she waves you off.

“Go before I change my mind.”

Jay is already dragging you to the door, the other six boys watching, gobsmacked, as he does.

“Did he just…abandon us?” Jake asks dumbly.

“For…For a date? With a girl? A real girl?” Niki’s shoulders slump.

“Well, boys,” Heeseung sighs. “We’ve lost one.”

“I don’t know why you guys are complaining,” Jungwon mutters. “You’re the ones who set them up.”

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