belladaises - Tumblr blog

belladaises · 4 months ago

Text

in a thousand lifetimes

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

hurt / comfort , angst , mafia leader!scoups au

warnings : language , descriptions of blood , mafia themes

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : there's just something about the domestic side of mafia au's that i just love so dearly . secretly soft and fragile mafia leader crying in the arms of their loved one >>>>>>> ruthless and cold mafia leaders .

The day you stood by Seungcheol at the altar, you promised a myriad of unconditional vows, as did he. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health— until death do you part. To love him without doubt and cherish the heart he had so willingly placed in your care. You swore to cradle it with gentle hands; to keep it safe from shattering until the very last beat.

You were prepared for that. Excited, even.

But as Seungcheol limps through the entrance of the home you've built together, you feel your confidence in that pact falter for the first time. Perhaps you'd missed something in your vows. The part that told you what to do when the love of your life comes home stained in red. From his white button-up to his polished shoes— even his sweet, sweet face— tarnished.

You don't want him to hear the way your voice trembles. But God, that stench. That pungent scent of iron coats your throat and you can't help the way it constricts to keep the subsequent wave of nausea at bay.

"Cheol?"

His head snaps up at you like he's just now realized where he is. Glazed-over eyes connect with the wood floors you'd spent an hour mopping, then to his shaking hands painted in crimson, before that stale gaze finally lifts and meets your own.

"Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Seungcheol..." You take cautious steps his way, like how one would approach a wild deer. "Who's blood is this?"

Tears are in his eyes, but his face remains rigid. Like his brain is stuck in survival mode, but his emotions are leaking out.

"Chan's."

The boy's name hits your ears like venom. Sweet, gentle, kind, Lee Chan. The youngest intern under Seungcheol's leadership, you'd met him once at a company dinner. You don't think you've ever met someone with such a heart of gold. And it's a little hard to imagine you could be staring at all that's left of him. "Oh my God, is he okay? What happened?"

Seungcheol's face twists at your questions, some memory pulling at his brows and forcing his eyes shut. They open with fresh tears and the first ounce of clarity cracks through his otherwise dazed state.

"He's in the hospital—" You see the words catch in his throat. His fist repeatedly pounds against his thigh and his mouth hangs open until the words finally come. "It's my fault. He's just a kid, this is all my fault— he shouldn't have been there. They shouldn't have been able to get to him. It was too dangerous, he wasn't ready."

Nothing of his fragmented words makes any sort of sense. You've never seen him like this, so frazzled, so pitiful, so... broken. The sight of it twists your heart, contorting in your chest to such an unnatural degree there's a physical ache.

So, despite the nausea burning your esophagus and the screams of protest deep within your bones, your arms open and gravity pulls Seungcheol into them with labored steps. His knees buckle instantly at the contact and it takes every ounce of strength in your arms to catch him. Letting yourself sink with him to soften the fall; even if that means your knees land with a painful thud, already able to feel purple bruises blossoming from the impact.

Because you love him.

Because you vowed not only for better but for worse as well. And vows are only as good as the turmoils they prove to withstand.

Calloused hands grip the sides of your shirt. You try to ignore the stains they leave, pushing your focus onto the man before you on the brink of hysterics. His forehead falls to your chest, and that's when the most wretched sobs you've ever had the displeasure of hearing begin. Loud and sharp, like the blade of a sword, as they slice through the eerily still night.

A chill creeps in from where your knees connect with the hardwood and crawls up the length of your spine. It nests in your mind and metastasizes, igniting alarms in that little part of your brain that warns: you should be scared. Though it doesn't grant you the knowledge of what.

"Baby, what happened?" You ask and recite a silent prayer the answer to that is not him.

He sobs out an unpromising, "I can't."

"Seungcheol, there is too much blood for that shit. You need to tell me what the hell is going on." Your eyes are starting to burn with the flood breaching your lashes, unsure how much longer you can force an ease into your tone.

You need him to just spit it out. Before your heart explodes.

You steady his head between your palms and swipe at the blood spatter decorating his jawline. It just smears, mixing with his tears and tinting more of his cheek in a dull brownish-red. Seungcheol looks at you with eyes that scream please don't hate me and you don't know but... you know. Enough that when the confession finally pours from his lips, the shock doesn't totally shatter your ribs on impact. Instead, the words slowly seep into your skin and enter your bloodstream like a bitter poison.

Suddenly, minuscule details make much more sense, revealing the full picture like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. The nights he doesn't return until the sun breaches the horizon. The general air of mystery around his job and the "family business" he took over years ago. How insistent he had been with you learning some type of self-defense. All the way down to the dried blood that lingered under his fingernails.

You should be levels more upset than you are at his confession. Any normal person would be. He lied to you, for years. Hid a secret so large it could easily blow a crater in the earth should the measly stilts it balanced on collapse. Yet, the anger you feel doesn't boil over into a blind rage. It stirs with concern and simmers until it has been diluted into nothing but the type of anger that can only be fueled by love. It comes with the terrifying revelation that the person you love most in this world, could've been stolen from you at any moment and you would've been none the wiser as to how. It makes you want to hold him a little extra in the mornings, a little harder, closer.

Then, somewhere, in that tangled web of emotions fighting to reach the surface, there's an unexpected relief. Because one thing has been glaringly obvious since the day you met Choi Seungcheol. The reason he appears as such a pillar of strength relies solely on the fact that he shoulders the weight of the world alone. Rarely does he let his struggles reach his cheery expression. You can't help but think, now that you know, there's one less burden he has to carry by himself.

"Please don't leave me," Seungcheol rasps out. You'd nearly forgotten where you were for a moment. Forgot his face was still between your hands, that blood still smeared his cheek, and tears were still slipping from his lashes. But at this moment, as those weary earth-brown eyes search your face for an answer, you realize just how malleable your morals are when it comes to him.

"I love you." You confess, like it's the first time the phrase has ever left your lips. "Cheol, I love you more than anything in this world." So much it frightens you what you're willing to forgive.

But then again it doesn't. Because he's never been Choi Seungcheol, the city's most feared mob boss. To you, he's always just been Cheol. The man that nearly burned your kitchen down two anniversaries ago trying to make you breakfast in bed. Who pouts and whines when you haven't given him enough attention after work. Who's touch has only ever been as gentle as a Summer's breeze. And maybe you're naive, but you'd like to believe the Seungcheol that peppers your face with kisses every morning and begs for five extra minutes in bed is a truer reflection of his heart than his job.

With one final deep breath to steel your nerves and silence the brigade of questions swirling in your head, you press a long kiss to his temple— one of the only areas not tainted with red. The tension in his muscles visibly melts away at the contact and beyond anything he just looks... tired. You want nothing more than to let him rest in the safety of your arms, but he's still covered in Chan's blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You coax him from the floor, never once letting your voice slip above a gentle whisper. He tries to protest, insisting he needs to be at the hospital with the others to check on Chan, but puts up absolutely no fight when you tell him that can wait until tomorrow as you guide him towards the bathroom.

You gather towels and fresh clothes and lay them out on the vanity. "Take your time, okay? I won't go far, promise." With one last reassurance, you leave Seungcheol in privacy to shower and clean the blood from his skin.

Alone now, the adrenaline in your veins dissolves, and the full gravity of everything finally crashes around you. The metallic scent lingering in the air, the drying blood on the hardwood, the feeling of impending doom that comes with a truth so heavy. It's too much, at least to bear in such a tiny apartment. You all but sprint out the front door, accidentally letting it shut with a hefty slam.

The warm Summer night air hits your skin and wraps around you like a security blanket. You inhale deeply, once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth breath, it feels like the oxygen finally reaches the base of your lungs.

You sit, for a length of time you remain ignorant to, at the bottom of the stairwell. Lost deep in thought until the buzzing of your phone reverberates from your back pocket. You look at it but— no caller I.D.

Answering it anyway, a sense of comfort fills you at the familiar voice.

"Jeonghan." You greet.

"I'm sorry to call so late," He says, voice languid. "I just wanted to know if Seungcheol got home safe yet."

"He did."

There's a long pause of silence. Just the steady beeps of a heart monitor on the other side of the line. Then, "Is Chan okay?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping right now. Doctors gave him some of the good shit to knock him out for the night." There's a hesitance to the way he speaks and you think perhaps he's weighing in his mind what excuse Seungcheol might have told you as to why Chan is even in the hospital to begin with.

"Jeonghan, can I ask you something?"

"I can't promise I'll have an answer, but sure." He's always been so calculated in the way he speaks, which makes sense to you now.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. "Seungcheol, he... He keeps himself safe, right?"

"You know." He sighs, matter of fact.

"I do."

"He's careful, smart, keeps his hands clean-ish. We all look after each other, he's about as safe as he can be." The man on the other end of the line yawns, and you wonder how long he's been up wondering if Seungcheol made it home before he finally called. That in and of itself should comfort you and prove Seungcheol has people who care about him when you're not around, but it doesn't. You don't think anything ever could at this point. Perhaps it was better not knowing the truth.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Jeonghan snorts. "I didn't think it would."

Another stretch of silence spans over the line for an uncomfortably long time. So long, you begin to think maybe the call disconnected. But that steady beeping is still there, quiet, but there.

Then Jeonghan speaks, his sudden words sending ice pricking through your veins. "You're an accomplice now, you know?" His voice carries no emotion. It's as if he's reading the words straight from an instruction manual. "Unless, of course, you turn him in."

Oh.

You hadn't thought of that.

"Would you?"

His question lingers in the air like smoke, suffocating your airways so much it feels like you might choke before you can even answer.

Never has the idea of betraying Seungcheol's trust ever been a thought in your head, much less an option. But he's right. Your newfound knowledge makes you just as much a criminal in the eyes of the law as if you had committed the act yourself. It's either fess up while you still can or guard his secret with, quite literally, your life.

Perhaps you were a bit hasty. It was easy to hold Seungcheol in your arms and whisper comforting words between his sobs. However, when it comes to your own fate, you're forced to reckon with the dread that washes over you like a bucket of ice, alone.

Still, you're embarrassed that not even a shred of doubt weighs your decision. Just an immeasurable amount of guilt.

"No."

"You don't sound so sure."

"It's a lot to process." You defend, trying not to let your voice waver too much under Jeonghan's scrutiny.

"I know it is," He relents, and suddenly, his voice shifts back to the soothing, angelic tone you've always been used to. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you're feeling."

The conversation lulls in what you assume is Jeonghan leaving space for you to share if so you wish. You don't— knowing that if you were to loosen even a single thread tethering your mind in the realm of sanity, it would all unravel. You've only just begun to construct the brittle wall that separates your Seungcheol from the one covered in blood. If it were to take a blow so early and come crumbling down, you fear you may not have the strength needed to start over.

Your current position is precarious and emotions are already tricky— pouring them out to Seungcheol's best friend even more so.

"I'm fine. I should probably get back to Cheol." You say instead.

Jeonghan hums. "He's had a rough night." Steady beeps still pulse like a metronome in the background, mixing with a subtle chatter. "Let him know everyone is okay and if you two need anything, just call."

"I'll tell him."

"That means you too."

A voice calls Jeonghan's name and the line goes dead before you can say anything more. Not that you had much else left to say— or anything that would be news to Jeonghan at least. It felt like he knew more about your spinning mind in one phone call than you'd pieced together since Seungcheol stumbled through the door.

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, who's been alone in your tiny apartment for who knows how long at this point. With nothing but his thoughts and a water heater that runs out far too quickly to comfort him. Your heart aches at the idea of him crumpled up in the basin of the porcelain tub alone.

Seungcheol, whom you find sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands— hunched over a steaming mug of tea— upon your return. His hair hangs down in damp strings, dripping onto his pair of comfort sweatpants, the ones he tends to gravitate towards when he's had a long day.

The door clicks shut behind you and his head snaps up with lightning quick reflexes. A wild look flashes in his eyes, but it melts away almost as quick as it came. His shoulders slump with relief and for what seems like an eternity, he just let's his gaze linger.

"I didn't think you were coming back." He rasps. His fingers curl around the mug, siphoning off some of its warmth to combat the slight chill in the air.

His hands are clean now— free of any trace of dark red— then again, they never really were. Probably never will be.

"To be honest, I wasn't completely sure I was." You're still some distance away from where he sits, a fact you're made painfully aware of by the way his eyes flit between you and the door. As if he expects you to flee at any moment.

"I would understand, you know?" His voice is as soft and genuine as it was the day he said I do. "I wouldn't be mad. My job, this life, it was never supposed to be your burden. You can walk out and I wouldn't—" His voice catches and he takes a swig of his tea, cringing at the temperature as it goes down. "—I wouldn't stop you."

You know he wouldn't. Because Choi Seungcheol is a good man. There would not be a ring on your finger if he wasn't. It's why you're so comfortable closing the distance that separates you two.

It's why you're so comfortable excusing all of his wrongs.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You should." He croaks. Tears gather at his waterline and on instinct, you wipe the first to fall away. But more continue to silently slip down his cheeks. Unable to catch them fast enough, you step between his legs and guide his forehead to your shoulder with a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

Seungcheol lets out a shaky breath as your fingers trail down the nape of his neck to just between his shoulders, then back up again. You hold him. Just as you've held his heart for years. Delicate. Like handling glass.

"I love you," He whispers. "I'm sorry I lied, I— all I ever wanted was to keep you safe."

"I know."

He tilts his head back, staring up at you with damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "I don't deserve you."

You tuck a piece of hair that's fallen into his eye behind his ear. "I could find you in a thousand lifetimes and there wouldn't be a single one where that'd be true."

"I'd still spend every one of those thousand lifetimes making it up to you." His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, as if he's still scared you'll run away.

"You." You hold the underside of his chin so he can't divert his gaze for your next words. Your tone is a firm, bordering on authoritative. "Make it up to me by coming home."

Seungcheol nods, but it's not a good enough answer for you.

"Don't ever make me plan your funeral, Choi Seungcheol. Do you understand? You cannot do that to me."

"I won't."

"Promise me. Because I swear if I ever have to hear from Jeonghan that you're not coming home I swear I'll—"

Seungcheol takes your hand from his chin and pulls it flat against his chest. The quick but rhythmic beats of his heart calms your barrage of threats instantaneously.

"I promise."

The words leave his lips slowly. Each syllable is enunciated loud and clear, so the sincerity with which he says them can reach your ears without doubt. His words linger in the air and all you can focus on is his pulse. How terrified you are that one day it'll stop before your own. That there could come a night where your head rests against empty sheets instead of his chest. No longer lulled to sleep by its steady beating.

That thought rattles you more than any crime Seungcheol could commit.

It takes Seungcheol's thumb grazing over your cheekbone to realize you're crying. But then it becomes unstoppable. More worries spilling out in the form of tears. It's the not knowing that may be the end of you.

"I want you in this lifetime, Cheol. I don't want to wait until the next to live a full life with you. So I need you to keep that promise."

Seungcheol rises from his seat and brings you into his chest. Allowing you to hide away from the horrors of it all in his strong embrace. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it home to you." He reassures. And the sheer determination in his voice makes you believe him.

"And no more secrets, okay?" You mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I want you to tell me everything."

"It's better if I don't." He whispers with a deep exhale. And you want to be more upset with his answer than you are. But he keeps rocking you side to side and pressing long kisses to your temple.

"All you need to know is that none of it comes before you." The sincerity in his voice is as prominent as it was reciting his vows. "Everything I've built. All the money and power in the world— I'd burn it all to the ground for you."

2K notes · View notes

belladaises · 7 months ago

Text

The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab

We’ve all heard the timeless legends of the ancient Greek gods—tales passed down through the ages. But what if those gods were still alive, walking among us today? In this modern retelling collab, 13 talented authors breathe new life into these immortal beings, reimagining them as members of Seventeen. Once a Greek god, always a Greek god, but now their divine powers and personalities unfold in a whole new world.

Hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions

➵Title: Wisdom Doesn’t Falter to Thunder @drunk-on-dk ➵Pairings: Greek God/Heir!Seungcheol x Reincarnated (Metis) Fem!Reader ➵Greek God: Zeus ➵Genre: angst, smut, fluff, coworker au, reincarnation au, fantasy ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: Naturally, as one of heirs of his father’s tech company, Seungcheol had everything he could ask for in life - well, except for his father’s company. Seungcheol, like a thunderbolt, decides it’s time to take action regarding his stake in the company against his brothers, ultimately looping you, his wise advisor, into the mix. Will you be the one to help Seungcheol as he earns true leadership of the company? Or could the tale of you two be as disastrous as the story of Metis and Zeus?

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: as wild and untamable as the sea by @the-boy-meets-evil ➵Pairings: greek god!chan x reincarnated sea nymph!reader ➵Greek God: poseidon ➵Genre: angst, smut, fantasy, minor reincarnation ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: Chan remembers everything. Every little thing that's happened to him since his days as one of the twelve olympians. Poseidon to be exact. Even though he tries not to think about it now that he's living in modern times running a sad little aquarium, some memories are more vivid than others. Then, you stumble into his life and he can't explain the draw. You can't seem to figure out how this man is keeping an aquarium like this running when it seems like it's not that busy. Something about him really seems to put you off, despite the fact that he seems drawn to you. None of it makes any sense…until you start to remember.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: the soulkeeper’s betrayal by @hannieween ➵Pairings: greek god jun x reader ➵Greek God: hades ➵Genre: angst, smut, fluff, fantasy, mystery ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: when Hades realizes that something has gone awry in the underworld, he has no choice but to ask for help from his estranged wife. Though not without paying a price.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: Fated Strut by @beomcoups ➵Pairings: greek god!Jeonghan x model!reader ➵Greek God: Hermes ➵Genre: fluff, angst, smut, fantasy, doppleganger au ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: In a whirlwind fashion show, a part-time model's life takes a mystical turn when she becomes the muse for the captivating Greek God Jeonghan. Unbeknownst to her, she shares a deep connection tied to his past. As their chemistry ignites amidst secrets and rivalries, will love conquer their complicated fates?

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: All Is Fair In Love And War @okiedokrie ➵Pairings: Aphrodite Reincarnation! Joshua x Fem!Detective!Reader ➵Greek God: Aphrodite ➵Genre: Crack, Smut, Fluff, some angst ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: Joshua is the king of Los Amsterdam, not by blood, but by having the biggest network in the state. He gets caught up in an investigation regarding the assassination of one of his former clients, where he meets a detective who is strangely immune to his godly charms. Oh, right, he's the reincarnation of Aphrodite. Together they solve the case and find more than the mastermind in the process, maybe, they'll just find love.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: Kadō @daemour ➵Pairings: Demeter! Dokyeom x Florist! Reader ➵Greek God: Demeter ➵Genre: Fluff, Angst ➵Rating: T for Teen ➵Summary: When the most notorious divorce lawyer in the city becomes a regular at your little flower shop, you're pretty sure it's a bad omen, for both your love life and your store. But with each passing moment, it looks like your flowers are doing better than ever…and perhaps your heart beats just a bit faster seeing Lee Seokmin.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: Orion’s Constellation @staytinyville ➵Pairings: God!Vernon x Hunter!Reader , Vernon x Reader ➵Greek God: Artemis ➵Genre: Fluff ➵Rating: T for Teen ➵Summary: The story goes that Artemis fell in love with Orion but Apollo was jealous of that love. So he tricked Artemis into killing her love. This is a different retelling. One where rather then the huntress killing the hunter—the hunter followed the orders of the gods. And was repaid graciously.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: The Prophet and His Muse by @idyllic-ghost ➵Pairings: greek god!woozi x reincarnated lover!fem!reader ➵Greek God: Apollo ➵Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, romance, fantasy, soulmate au, reincarnation au, deity au ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: In a world where ancient myths whisper through the fabric of modern life, a poignant tale of love and redemption unfolds. A god reunited with his eternal love. As this ancient bond stirs to life, he must navigate the delicate interplay between myth and reality—striving to rekindle a romance that defies time and embraces destiny’s call.

Read Here

➵Title: Forging the Threads of Time by @wooahaeproductions ➵Pairings: Professor/Greek God!Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader ➵Greek God: Hephaestus ➵Genre: angst, fluff, smut, college au, reincarnation au ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: king of kings by @aaagustd ➵Pairings: kingpin/crime lord!mingyu x journalist!(f)reader ➵Greek God: hestia ➵Genre: angst, organized crime au, arranged marriage, childhood enemies to lovers, mystery, supernatural, smut, loosely inspired by the story of King Thrushbeard ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: If you’d known all those years ago that you would have to compete for his heart, you would have never torn it to pieces.

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: the union of bacchus by @hobeemin ➵Pairings: dionysus/artist! xu minghao x (f) oc ➵Greek God: dionysus ➵Genre: supernatural, fantasy, greek god au, smut, romance, angst ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: As the God of Wine, you’d think he’d be just as lively. But no, this enigma of an immortal always kept others guessing. That is until he met her. She was more than he anticipated–mortal or otherwise. Somehow, she put him under a spell. Had he found his equal?

Teaser Read Here

➵Title: Do No Harm by @soongyeopsal ➵Pairings: doctor/greek god!hoshi x fem reader ➵Greek God: ares ➵Genre: romance, angst, smut, coworkers au ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: Ares proves to everyone that he can change by living his modern life as Dr. Kwon. But does that matter if you stay the same? This do-over’s prognosis isn’t exactly promising.

Teaser Read More

➵Title: unforgiven by @haologram ➵Pairings: greek god!seungkwan x reincarnated!reader ➵Greek God: athena ➵Genre: angst, second chance romance au, fluff…suggestive ➵Rating: 18+ ➵Summary: seungkwan may have been represented by his considerably heartwarming traits, but he ruined his own fate with his vengeful & prideful behavior. despite his flawed outlook, he can still see you in every lover — until it’s you, again.

Teaser Read Here

Thank you @hobeemin for creating the graphics for this collab <3

615 notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

Villain! Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: fantasy, angst, smut, crack, cigarettes, stalking (for good), physical fights, injury, murder, death (not the reader, not seungcheol), paranormal elements (superpowers, misshapenness, telepathy, and floating), moral ambiguity (unclear distinctions between "heroes" and "villains"), sex toys, oral (f. & m.), getting caught masturbating, cock riding, edging, creampie, DIRTY TALK.

You’ve dated a guy from the basketball team in high school, a guy from the cafeteria you used to frequent, and had your flings with… normal people. Gym rats or those who sang at the local bar.

But never... a hero?

He was kind, and romantic, and treated you well—in the beginning of your relationship. But then he became distant, always desperate to go home at night, barely sleeping at your apartment. You thought about a whirlwind of things, like a normal person would think of; that he was cheating on you, that he had stopped loving you.

Tonight, you’re making dinner—a last-ditch effort to please him, to make him notice you again. The TV in the living room is tuned to the news, the background noise almost comforting. You chop vegetables with precise, almost robotic movements, your mind drifting.

“He’s probably just busy,” you mutter to yourself, trying to believe it. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.

Just then, a headline on the TV catches your attention. You glance up, expecting to see something mundane. Maybe an officer, a firefighter, or even a regular person with good sociology. Instead, you see your boyfriend, wearing a red hero cape, flying around the city. The spatula in your hand falls directly onto the ground, clattering loudly.

[Hero is seen flying between skyscrapers to make the city of Seoul increasingly safer.]

“What the...?” Your heart races as you stare at the screen, unable to believe your eyes.

Your boyfriend, the man you’ve been worrying over, is a fucking superhero? Just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy?

The front door opens and he walks in, looking tired but carrying the same gentle smile that used to make your heart flutter. Tonight, though, it only fuels your confusion and frustration.

“Hey, babe,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees your expression, the dropped spatula. “What’s wrong?”

You point at the TV, unable to form words. He follows your gaze, and his face falls as he sees the news footage.

“Ah, you found out,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

[...]

This is how it started. It's as if, when you didn't know, he still made a point of being present here and there. But now that you know, he doesn't even care about it anymore. “I have to save the country, love,” you’ve heard this a bunch of times.

So when you turn on the TV, you have to see him flexing those stupid big muscles—that he gained out of nowhere—making you doubt if he’s using padding or prosthetics under that cheesy costume.

He shouldn’t be seen around your house, so the 'villains' don’t know where you live.

You don't recognize him anymore. Was it egotistical to wish that he never had superpowers? That he was just a regular human, just like you?

"Hey," his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He's standing in the doorway, looking worn out but with a familiar, almost hesitant smile. "I brought takeout. Thought we could have a quiet night in."

You glance at the food in his hands, your heart aching. "A quiet night in? Like the ones we used to have?"

He sighs, setting the bags down on the table. "Yeah, like those. I know things have been... different. But I'm trying, Y/N. I really am."

"Trying?" you repeat, incredulous. "You disappear for days, and when you’re here, it’s like you’re not really here. You're always thinking about the next mission, the next villain."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "The powers, the responsibility... it just happened."

"Did it?" you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Because it feels like you chose this. Like you chose being a hero over being with me."

His eyes widen, pain flickering across his face. "That's not true. I didn't choose this over you. I chose this because... because I want to make the world a better place. For us."

You shake your head, "But what about making our world better? What about being here, with me? Being present?"

As you sit down to eat, the TV plays in the background, another heroic feat being broadcasted. You hesitate, looking at the man you once knew so well, now feeling like a stranger.

With great insistence, you managed to make him sleep in your bed. When you left the bath to join him in your sheets, he was already sleeping—hibernating, snoring like never before. You sigh, laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this until you saw the perfect clouds through the window, fluffy, looking like cotton candy, with the blue sky painting a canvas behind them. It was a beautiful morning.

You don’t remember leaving the window open, so you get up to close it, stopping the wind from hitting your face. The sun was radiating, and you could see people enjoying their morning. But still... why do you feel this smell of storm coming?

The water started to flow, not from the sky, but from your eyes—your tears. The next storm is the one inside you, making small whirlwinds and huge hurricanes, carrying you and destroying you. Obviously, your boyfriend wasn't home. His smell wasn’t there, his presence was like bills payable, only at the end of the month.

You made your bed, some of your tears ruining the perfect white duvet. You walked around your kitchen, picking up the single coffee mug on your countertop and washing it.

Your coworkers noticed your face—like you had slept nothing last night—and even asked what was happening. How could you explain this? How could you explain that you were dating a guy for some years, and he turned into a superhero—flying around the city with underwear over the costume?

Of course, they would laugh, not only because it's the biggest turnoff they will ever have seen, but also because they would think it's a joke, a badly told joke. It makes you feel even more stupid for being complicit, an extra in his comic book.

You arrive home. You look at the window, open again. You roll your eyes, closing it to prevent the wind from coming in. “Are you flying through my windows now?” you mumble, half expecting an answer.

You wonder if you should watch the news again, and see your boyfriend flex his muscles in front of the pretty journalist, putting out a fire in an establishment, looking at the camera to see if they've captured his heroic act, or when he carried a mail car with one arm in front of a group of girls who were walking on the sidewalk.

You cringe, remembering all of them.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you plop down and grab the remote. You flick through the channels, each news report showing another heroic deed of his. "Great," you mutter sarcastically, landing on a channel where he’s giving an interview, his muscles practically bursting out of his suit.

He’s talking about his latest rescue, grinning at the journalist who’s batting her eyelashes at him. "And what’s next for our hero?" she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

"I’m just here to help," he replies, flashing a charming smile. "Wherever I’m needed."

You snort, turning off the TV. "Right, wherever you're needed. Except here," you say to the empty room.

You wander into the kitchen, the silence pressing in on you. You fill the kettle and set it to boil, needing something warm to soothe your frayed nerves. As you wait, you think about the early days, when he was just a guy you loved. Back when his biggest concern was making you laugh, not saving the world.

The kettle whistles, and you pour yourself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy spirals. You take a sip, leaning against the counter. "Why can’t you just be normal?" You whisper to yourself.

A sudden whoosh of air makes you jump, causing your hand to bump into the kettle. The same speed you touched it, you yank your hand back, a little burn forming. It’s nothing too serious, but enough to make you curse under your breath.

Your boyfriend widens his eyes and rushes over. “Let me help you,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“Fuck off,” you snap, pulling away. “I don’t need your help.”

He frowns, clearly hurt. How can someone not want his help? “I’m just trying to help.” his voice laced with exasperation.

Irritated by everything and the little burn on your hand, you cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Use lasers from your eyes?” You turn to the sink, running cold water over your hand.

“You’re always complaining,” he starts, his voice rising. “But you’re so difficult to deal with lately.”

You whip around, glaring at him. “Difficult? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

He crosses his arms, his expression turning snobbish. “And it’s a walk in the park for me? I’m out there saving lives.”

“Yeah, and flexing your muscles for the cameras,” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re never supportive. All you do is whine about how hard your life is.”

You feel your blood boil. “Supportive? How can I be supportive when you’re never here? When you act like being a hero is the only thing that matters?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Because it does matter! I’m making a difference.”

“And what about us?” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “What about making a difference here, with me?”

He looks at you, anger and confusion on his face. “I’m trying to balance it, but you’re making it impossible.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You know what? I wish you never turned into a hero. I wish you never had these stupid superpowers. I preferred it when you were just human, like me.”

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be weak like you humans anymore. You’re just jealous when you should be cheering for me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jealous? Is that really what he thinks? “Jealous?” you echo. “I’m not jealous. I just miss the person you used to be.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I’m still that person. You’re just too blind to see it.”

"Blind? Are you fucking serious?" you scoff, turning your back to him. "Leave," you grunt.

He furrows his eyebrows, shocked. Never in your relationship did he think he would see you like this—his cute girlfriend who begged for him to stay just one more minute, asking him to leave?

"I'm not going to repeat it," you say coldly. "You're making me feel sick."

"Fuck you then!" he curses under his breath before he storms out, leaving you stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

"Oof, I wouldn't let him get away with it if I were you."

You turn toward the voice, coming from the window—that one that you had to close again even though you already did in the morning.

A man is sitting there with the help of the fire escape stairs outside the building. He’s dressed all in black, and you can’t even distinguish how many layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hair is black, and he has one eyebrow raised as he smokes a cigarette.

People react differently when scared. Some scream, some run. But you… you feel like your feet are glued to the ground, and from your throat, not a sound escapes. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your eyes widen in shock.

He doesn’t seem to care. He drops his cigarette, watching it accidentally fall on someone’s head below.

He hisses, "Ooh, sorry about that." Then he jumps from the window, landing gracefully in your living room as he brushes off his shoulders.

“You know, you should be more careful when locking your windows. You’re the superhero’s girlfriend, I mean—ex-girlfriend now, I suppose. It seems like he didn’t teach you some basic security stuff.” He looks around your apartment, studying it. “I even drank a coffee in your Hello Kitty mug yesterday—”

“Who the fuck are you?” you cut him off, your voice finally finding its strength.

He raises his hand mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” He smirks, glancing at the mug on the counter. “Nice collection, by the way. Just here to talk”

"Talk?" you echo, incredulous. "You break into my apartment, drink my coffee, and now you want to talk?"

He smirks, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, something like that. Seems like your boyfriend left you in quite a state.''’

You cross your arms defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he chuckles. “No, I just find it interesting. You’re dating the city’s golden boy, and yet here you are, all alone. Doesn’t quite add up, does it?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your boyfriend’s activities. And you,” he says, pointing at you, “are a fascinating part of that equation.”

You scoff, still on edge. “Fascinating? What’s so fascinating about being left behind?”

He smiles, a glint of devilishness in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe even... enjoy the freedom a little.” He winks, heading back toward the window.

As he climbs out, he turns back one last time. “Oh, and lock your windows. You never know who might drop by.” With that, he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there, more confused and unsettled than ever.

You move to the window and lock it firmly, your heart pounding.

Your boyfriend had warned you that this might happen, and it happened at the worst time—when he wasn’t there.

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep that night either, now worried that a fucking stranger could break into your apartment, and instead of just drinking a coffee, he might bake a whole cake in your kitchen or, worse, do something to you.

So, you do what a ludic person would do. You start packing an emergency bag and ask to sleep at your friend’s house, using the excuse that you’ve broken up with your boyfriend—when in fact, you were more scared than anything.

[...]

More terrifying was when you needed to return home.

You open your front door, putting the bag on the floor. Before you can turn around to close the door, a hand clasps over your mouth, and the door behind you closes. You feel a warm body pressing against yours as you close your eyes tightly.

It’s your end, you think.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes. When the hand is removed from your mouth, all you can mutter is, “Don’t hurt me, please.”

You hear a scoff, and then you open one eye. The person takes his hood off, revealing the same guy from the window.

“Are you stupid? Why would I want to hurt you? I’m not a coward.” He detaches from you, looking at your still-squeezed form. “Where were you? And you did a great job locking the other windows, but your laundry window was not locked.”

You can only stare at him, your heart racing. He rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being a pissy little girl? You’re a grown woman. I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you, and if it comforts you, I won’t steal your mug collection either. Maybe some coffee powder—but, well, can you stop?”

You think you’re going crazy. Was all of this supposed to be normal?

He rolls his eyes again and disappears into your kitchen. You take small, shy—and scared—steps toward the kitchen to find him using your coffee machine, watching the coffee brew. His arms are propped on the counter, and he turns his head to look at you.

He sighs, seeing your still-compressed form, like you’re still scared of his presence.

“Seriously,” he says, straightening up. “I’m not here to hurt you. You need to relax.” He takes a mug from your collection and pours himself a coffee, casually leaning against the counter as if he belongs there.

“What do you want from me?” you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a sip of coffee, savoring it before answering. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re okay. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly around to protect you, is he?”

You glare at him. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

He smirks, clearly amused. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He sets the mug down and steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “But here’s the thing—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold your ground. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late,” he replies, his tone serious. “You’re already part of it. So, you might as well get used to it.”

You begin to shiver as his words sink in. This is your life now, tangled up with heroes and villains. And there’s no going back.

He sighs, seeing the fear in your eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But you’re tougher than you think. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, whatever—he’s not around, and that puts you in a vulnerable position.”

“You mean, you’re here to spy on me. To see if you can use me against him.”

He shrugs. “I'm here ensure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, I have some principles.”

You laugh bitterly. “Principles? Breaking into someone’s home and terrorizing them is principled now?”

He sets the cup down and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But you need to be more careful. This world you’re tangled in—it’s dangerous.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to believe him. “And you’re what, my guardian angel now?”

He smirks. “Hardly. Think of me as a… concerned party. I don’t want unnecessary casualties.” “Stay out of trouble. Keep your head down.”

With that, he finishes his coffee and heads toward the window. “Remember, I'm not your enemy, but I'm definitely his. Don't make me your enemy too.”

"Wait!" you call out. He stops and turns around slowly, his expression curious. "W-who are you?" you stammer.

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really want to know?" he asks, his tone dripping with mocking curiosity.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re practically living here. I should at least know your name."

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "More like a roommate situation, huh? Alright, if you really want to know, you can call me Seungcheol. And if you’re genuinely interested in what I do, maybe I’ll take you to my HQ someday, show you my plans."

You grimace at his tone, which only makes him laugh harder.

Before heading down the emergency stairs, he looks back at you. "Stay close, alright? I need to keep tabs on you. You’re a bit exposed out here." He winks and disappears, leaving you standing there, more confused than before.

Seungcheol—the window guy, as you’d come to call him—disappeared physically for some days, but his presence lingered in odd, unsettling ways. You started finding pieces of ripped paper around your house, each with a different message.

“Keep your windows locked.”

“Log out of your social media from your home computer.”

“Check your door lock twice before bed.”

“Don’t leave your spare key under the mat.”

And one particularly embarrassing note: “I know you miss your hero-boyfriend, but can you also hide your sex toys? I’m traumatized.”

The embarrassment lasts only a few minutes each time, but then you think, nobody asked him to keep coming into your house. Still, there was a strange sense of security in knowing he was keeping an eye on things, even if his methods were invasive and borderline creepy.

Days turn into a week, and the silence feels heavy.

You find yourself almost missing the bizarre meetings. One night, as you’re cleaning up after dinner, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. You draw the curtains aside to find Seungcheol lounging casually on the fire escape, looking like he belonged there.

“Miss me?” he quips, flashing you a smirk.

You roll your eyes, opening the window slightly. “You really need to get a hobby, Seungcheol.”

“This is my hobby,” he says, slipping inside without an invitation. “Keeping tabs on you is surprisingly entertaining.”

“You know, you could at least pretend not to notice my vibrator,” you snap, half-joking, half-mortified.

Seungcheol grins, “Hey, it’s hard to miss when it’s just lying around. You could be more discreet.”

You huff in annoyance, continuing to clean up. He opens your fridge, rummaging around like he owns the place. “Any news?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He casually bites into an apple. “Yep. One of his enemies is planning to invade your place tomorrow at 7:48 p.m. The exact time you get home from work.”

You spin around, eyes wide. “What?! What do I do?”

“I suggest you stay close to me,” he shrugs. “I can keep you safe, make sure no one uses you as a pawn.”

“You want me to trust you?” you ask, incredulous.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to have some alien freak shoving its tentacles down your throat?”

You give him an exasperated look. “I knew you’d have this reaction,” he says, shrugging. He places a flash drive on your kitchen counter. “Watch it yourself.”

You close your eyes, massaging your temples. You don’t know if you’re ready to see what’s on that flash drive, much less trust a stranger who claims to be your ex-boyfriend’s enemy.

“I need you to leave. Even if he’s my ex, I still can’t do something like this.”

Seungcheol nods, looking up like he expected this. “Your boyfriend won’t be here to rescue you if that’s what you’re counting on.”

“How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even know you!”

“Because if your stupid boyfriend didn’t buy those superpowers, he’d be nothing. Without that silly red cape and the TV cameras, he’s just an insecure guy who wants to be seen. And— come on, he didn’t care about the girlfriend he had waiting at home. You think he cares about saving random people? Don’t be dumb.”

His words sting, and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. He nods negatively as he walks out again, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words sinking in. You don’t want to believe him, but deep down, you know there’s some truth to what he’s saying.

With a sigh, you look at the flash drive on the counter.

The next day was a mess from the moment you woke up. You couldn't find your white shirt, and your baby liss was nowhere to be found. Running late, you had to leave without fixing your hair.

Work was a blur of you staring blankly at your computer screen, your mind preoccupied with the fear that some tentacle monster might actually show up at 7:48 p.m.

Were you being stupid for believing a guy you met barely a week ago? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be a little suspicious?

As you stepped off the bus and walked along the sidewalk toward your building, your watch read 7:58 p.m. You glanced up at your window. The lights were off, and everything looked normal. No way a villain would get you, right?

"I knew he was lying," you mutter quietly to yourself, almost convincing.

But your conviction didn’t last long. A massive purple tentacle exploded through your living room window, sending concrete and bricks crashing to the street. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Was that a person in the middle of those giant tentacles? Were you homeless now?

"Are you gonna hop on or let these ugly tentacles suffocate you?" Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the chaos.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You turned to see him in his black outfit, waiting on his motorcycle. Your instinct was to kneel on the ground and cry about your now-destroyed apartment, but you didn't have time for that.

You sulked a bit before grabbing the helmet from his hand and hopping onto the bike, your hands wrapping uncertainly around his waist.

As Seungcheol sped off towards his HQ—or hideout, whatever it was—your tears started to flow. "My apartment... it's ruined. All my stuff, my mug collection, my unicorn pajamas I didn’t even get to wear yet," you whined into his back.

Seungcheol fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Seriously? We're running from a monster, and you're worried about unicorn pajamas?"

“Yes!” you sniffled. “They were so cute. And now I don’t even have a place to sleep. My place is ruined, and all my goods are probably destroyed.”

“Focus on staying alive first,” he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“But my mugs… My unicorn pajamas…” you continued, your voice muffled against his back.

“Alright, alright,” he said, trying to placate you.

Seungcheol had to concentrate to keep from crashing as he listened to you cry and whine about your lost belongings. He knew you were overwhelmed, and though it was annoying, he understood. Reaching his hideout, he finally stopped the bike and helped you off, letting you lean on him for support.

Your first instinct is to look around. It’s a large industrial loft, the walls made of bricks, and the long windows hidden behind some opaque plastic.

The place seems to have only the essentials: a large bed with a vintage headboard, a couch, a TV. Turning around, you notice the kitchen has a coffee machine just like yours.

Then your eyes widen as you spot familiar items: the white shirt you were looking for this morning, poking out of a huge black bag, a big box labeled 'mugs’ in bad calligraphy, your hair iron with the princess tape patch on the cord, emerging from another black bag.

Several bags are sprawled on the floor, all looking ready to burst.

"M-my things!" you squeak as Seungcheol looks unbothered, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile at your happiness. You run to him, giving him a clumsy hug that he doesn’t reciprocate, before opening the bags.

"It was very difficult to bring all of your stuff," he says, trying to hide his amusement. "Can I know why you have three... inflatable flamingos all the same color?" he asks, clearly judging the quirky items he found while gathering your things from your dresser.

You don’t respond, too busy rifling through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning.

You open another bag with a big smile on your face, which quickly fades when you see what’s on top: your vibrator, handcuffs, and lube.

You widen your eyes and try to close the bag with an awkward smile, but it’s too late. Seungcheol turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath as if trying to pretend he wasn’t the one who had to gather your spicy stuff.

You clear your throat, standing up and brushing off your knees. “When did you get all of this? I mean—how did you do it so quickly?”

"Some friends helped me," he answers, watching your reaction.

You widened your eyes, and he knew why.

“Chill out, I packed your Christian Grey stuff myself,” he said, looking up as if remembering something. “And what's with that neon green, dildo? Seriously?”

You stuttered, your face flushed. “I-I didn’t use that, it was a gag gift!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting you off with a furrowed brow.

“That’s… oddly considerate of you,” you admitted, still processing everything.

He shrugged again, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a nice guy.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed, “Thanks, I guess. It’s just… embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve seen worse,” he shrugged.

“Worse than a neon green dildo?”

He chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”

You point at the large industrial loft around you. “So, this is your place?”

"Not as fancy as yours, but, yes, it is," Seungcheol responds, shrugging nonchalantly.

You shake your head, still taking in the surroundings. "I wouldn’t call my place fancy. Just... more pink."

He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I noticed. You have a thing for unicorns and pastels."

You look around, taking in the mix of sparse furniture and personal touches. "Why do you have my stuff, anyway?"

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Had to make sure you had everything. Can't have you running back to your place and getting into trouble."

You shake your head, still in disbelief. "You really don’t look like a villain."

He scoffs, giving you a sideways glance. "That's because I don't have a red cape? You don’t look this naughty either. I discovered it in the worst way."

You try to slap his shoulder playfully, but he catches your hand with his quick reflexes, smirking as he lets go and starts walking toward the loft above. You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Different from your boyfriend, I don’t need muscle superpowers to be relevant,” he says, glancing back at you as he ascends the stairs.

You glance around as you reach the upper level, which is filled with computers, chemistry equipment, and some jackets thrown randomly around. "So, what exactly do you do here?"

"Let's just say I have my ways of keeping an eye on things," he replies, tapping on one of the computer screens. "Information is power, you know."

You nod slowly. "And what's your plan with all this power?"

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your question. "That depends. What do you think I should do with it?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not exactly an expert on villainous plots."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not planning world domination. Just...taking care of some business."

You tilt your head, still trying to piece everything together. "And what kind of business would that be?"

He sighs, looking frustrated at you—but trying to be patient. "Let's just say there are a lot of things that need fixing, and sometimes you have to break a few rules to get it done."

You frown, thinking about his words. "And my ex-boyfriend...does he know about any of this?"

Seungcheol shrugs. "He knows I exist, but he doesn't know the details. Probably too busy flexing for the cameras."

You can’t help but smile. "Yeah, he’s definitely good at that."

Seungcheol looks at you seriously. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me, it’s better you know the truth. You can’t go back to being ignorant."

"So, what do we do? I can't just hide forever."

Seungcheol sits on the edge of a desk, looking thoughtful. "You’re here because you’re vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable?" you interrupt, crossing your arms. "You make it sound like I’m helpless."

Seungcheol stops for a moment, looking at you blankly.

"Think fast!" he says suddenly, throwing a sock ball in your direction. You instinctively step back, catching the ball, but your back overtakes the loft railing.

Seungcheol gets up from his chair, moving swiftly to grip you tightly before you fall to the floor below. You go static as you look at him, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you.

"You're good at catching," he says, glancing at the sock in your hand. "But you need to have a better sense of space."

Your heart pounds, both from the near fall and his closeness. "What was that for?"

He releases you, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "Training. If you’re going to stay here, you need to be alert."

You nod. "Okay, but maybe warn me next time?"

He chuckles, stepping back to give you some space. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes, tossing the sock ball back at him. He catches it effortlessly. "So, what’s the plan? How do I learn to protect myself?"

Seungcheol tilts his head, considering. "I don't know... Maybe some basic self-defense? For example, if i do this—" He moves quickly, throwing a punch towards you—not to hit, but to test your reaction.

You manage to dodge, but not gracefully. He smiles. "Not bad for a beginner. We'll keep working on that."

[...]

You still miss your apartment, and a lot of your things are still in bags, which you pick through only when you need something. You always wondered what really happened in movies when heroes destroyed the whole city during battles. Now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. Your apartment is being repaired by the building’s construction company, with help from insurance. So, more days living with Seungcheol.

It’s not bad. It’s strange, for someone used to being alone at home. He leaves at night, just like your ex-boyfriend, but spends more of his days in the loft—more than your ex-boyfriend ever did.

He’s actually teaching you something useful. The two of you spar in the loft, not even needing to move furniture since there isn’t much. And he’s hard on you.

You support your hands on your knees, panting, while he looks untouched. "C’mon! Are you tired already?"

You straighten up, mocking his tone. "Unfortunately, my ex who fights around didn’t give me a preview of how to box."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to fight. He only has his powers to his advantage."

“You didn't watch what was on the flash drive, did you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

He sighs and asks you to come up. He sits you in his chair, in front of his computer, and opens a folder. There’s a video of your boyfriend inside a laboratory. It looks very old.

"I need more than just strength and flight," your boyfriend says in the video, addressing what looks like a scientist. "We’ve been studying this for years. My time has come."

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back,” the scientist asks.

“I’m sure. I can’t keep living this mediocre life,” your boyfriend replies.

“But what about the people around you? They’re at risk,” the scientist says.

Your ex-boyfriend's response breaks your heart, though you can’t deny it fits his recent arrogance. "I don’t care. I need this."

The scientist sighs and then injects several different colored serums into your ex’s body. He groans, and as he begins to levitate, the video blurs and turns off.

You stare at the blank screen, processing the information. Seungcheol leans back, giving you space.

"See what I mean?" he says. "He wasn’t thinking about you, or anyone else. Just himself."

“So, he chose this. He actually wanted this.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, he did. It wasn’t some accident or noble cause. He was just desperate to be more than he was.”

You sit back, processing the information. “He used to be so different. I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

“That’s what power does to some people,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the desk. “It changes them.”

Seungcheol’s screens start to beep urgently, pulling his attention away from you. He walks calmly to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. The steady rhythm of his movements contrasts with the beeping noises filling the space.

He’s about to leave again when he pauses, his back facing you.

You watch him, restless, pacing back and forth as your mind churns over the recent revelations. His peripheral vision catches your agitation. He glances sideways, noticing the anxiousness in your steps.

He moves towards the door, then hesitates and turns back. “If you need anything, just—”

“Yeah, I know. Just call you, right?” You finish his sentence, giving him a small, knowing smile.

He smirks, nodding. “Exactly. Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he leaves the loft, the door closing behind him.

You knew Seungcheol would arrive home late, and you needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the last bottle of wine was finished yesterday when you couldn't find anything else to drink with your popcorn.

Sweets maybe? Well, a villain’s house would have sweets? No, just as you thought. The only thing left was a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

You find yourself on the rooftop of Seungcheol's loft, the cigarette smoke filling your lungs and burning your throat. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and coughed every time the smoke filled your lungs.

But that’s what you had to dissolve a bit of your anxiety, your last moments with your ex replaying in your mind. So he never cared at all?

Suddenly, your cigarette is slapped out of your hand. You turn around to see your ex, his costume perfect, but his eyes deep and face scarred.

“This is what Seungcheol has taught you then? Aren’t you ashamed?” He sneers.

You open your mouth to answer, but he comes closer, making you flinch.

He scoffs. “What? You’re scared of me? Let me tell you something... He is the villain. And you’ve joined his side, my enemy, after all we had.” He spits the words out with venom.

Rage boils within you, making you feel not like yourself. “Seungcheol took care of me. If I were alone, I would be dead. You don’t know what kind of superpower this is.”

He grabs your arm, making you feel dizzy, your vision cloudy. The pain is intense and senseless.

“What? You thought a villain would help you? You’re fragile. You need attention so bad that I couldn’t even handle you.” You fall to the ground, the pain spreading through your body as you groan.

“You know what? If you think he’s going to be your enchanted prince, you’re wrong. So damn wrong. The chances of him wanting to kill you are greater than that stupid dream of yours—”

You hear an impact, and the dizziness and pain slowly dissipate. You breathe properly again. When you come back to your senses, you look up to see Seungcheol, fighting with your ex. Seungcheol is taking a beating, only advancing when your ex's power falters, like a lag.

You could leave sneakily, but was it right? Seungcheol literally protected you from your own ex, showed you his true colors, and taught you the best of himself. Even though he is cold and "cruel" as they say.

As you're thinking, a glass sound pulls you from your mind. It's an injection.

You see your ex crawling desperately to get it. Seungcheol gives you an exasperated look, signaling for you to pick it up.

You grab it, walking back as your ex roars for you to leave it. You clutch it in your fist and, in a moment of desperation, inject it into your leg.

Your ex widens his eyes. But the substance is too powerful for you. You fall again, the pain overwhelming you.

He laughs, but Seungcheol is on him, beating him relentlessly. The fight intensifies, Seungcheol’s blows becoming more furious. You can barely focus on their struggle, the pain in your leg is consuming your thoughts.

The injection burns through your veins, making you feel like you’re on fire. You clench your teeth, trying to endure it. Your ex's laughter turns into cries of pain as Seungcheol lands a particularly harsh blow.

Seungcheol’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you see the determination in them. He’s fighting for you, protecting you with everything he has.

Seungcheol pauses, turning his attention away from you as the hero rises once more, clearly summoning his last reserves of strength.

Seungcheol stands confidently, knowing he has a chance to defeat him—if only he weren't standing on the edge of the building.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t possess flying superpowers. Instead, he grips the edge of the building with nothing but the strength of his fingers, looking up at the hero who towers above him.

Yet, Seungcheol has one special superpower, the reason he's considered the villain: the ability to listen to those who need help, like an echo in his mind. He hears the calls for aid and responds in his own way, without the expensive, extraneous superpowers the heroes pay billions for.

Unlike them, who need to buy their abilities, Seungcheol was born with his. He helps those living on the margins of society, without seeking fame or recognition. He doesn’t want to appear on TV or in the news.

Inside the heroes' world, he is well recognized, but without the money and science they have.

Seungcheol has nothing in his favor.

Yet, he still manages to help people. They can’t understand him. And hate can come easily to that which is too remembered.

His body can't manage more than this—more than his telepathy.

If it could, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’s going to end up like this. His death won’t be caused by a big octopus or a giant RoboCop, as other heroes did. But by a great show of charity. He would do it for any citizen, but the fact that it’s you makes him have no regrets at all.

Seungcheol’s fingers start to slip, and he knows his time is running out. The hero stands above him, a look of triumph on his face. But Seungcheol’s mind is calm, even serene. He’s made peace with his fate.

The hero moves closer, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s telepathy kicks in stronger than ever. He hears the cries of the people he’s saved, their voices filling his mind.

He has always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, without the need for glory or recognition.

The world may see him as a villain, but he knows the truth.

His life has been a quiet rebellion, a stand against the notion that only the powerful can be heroes.

Seungcheol's mind becomes silent, and he can only hear your groans. His eyes close as he tries to hear from you again.

“Y/N?” he telepathizes, his voice entering your mind, velvet and deep.

You groan again, and he asks. “I’m here... are you alright, my love? Can you walk?”

The affectionate nickname makes your heart flutter. Seungcheol agonizes when the hero's steps on his fingers, but he agonizes more because he can't hear a proper response from you. Desperation sets in.

“Answer me, please. I’m not going to last,” he telepathizes again.

“Seungcheol...” he hears your voice and breathes out, relief washing over him. He looks down, watching the movement on the street below. It was too much of a drop to survive. His fingers were burning with pain.

“Seungcheol...” you call again. He shuts his eyes, clinging to the sound of your voice. “Let go,” you tell him. The words hit him like a jolt. He doesn’t understand. His arms tremble with the effort of holding on.

“Trust me, trust me, trust me.” He hears it like a whisper around his head. The conviction in your voice pierces through his fear.

He loosens his grip, his fingers slipping from the edge.

The air envelops his body like a hug as he falls, the distortion from the speed making the street sounds blur into a cacophony. The only thing he can think of is how you’re going to live by yourself now.

As he falls, memories flash before his eyes. He remembers every face he saved, every life he touched, his quiet acts of heroism, every moment of your brief time together, and then, vividly, your face.

He thinks of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy.

The moment Seungcheol hits the ground, he expects the pain, the end. Instead, he feels a strange warmth spreading through his body. He blinks, realizing he’s lying on a soft cushion of air, suspended just above the pavement. The hero stares down in disbelief.

Seungcheol’s body is gently lowered to the ground. He looks up to see you standing on the rooftop, your hand outstretched, eyes closed in fierce concentration. As his feet touch the ground, your eyes snap open, and you breathe out in relief.

Before Seungcheol can react, you advance on the hero, the two of you disappearing in a blur of motion and light atop the building.

Blinding flashes illuminate the rooftop as Seungcheol scrambles to his feet, urgency driving him forward. He runs into the building, tripping on the flights of stairs in his haste. The sounds of the battle above echo down to him, and he pushes himself harder, every fiber of his being focused on reaching you in time.

Seungcheol bursts onto the rooftop again, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold.

Your ex-boyfriend lies lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. In your trembling hand, the hero’s heart reactor device glows faintly, now smeared with blood.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol shouts, rushing to your side as your knees give way, collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The powers from the injection still course through your veins, but your energy is completely spent. You tremble in his hands, your body feeling like it’s made of lead.

The weight of what you’ve done hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare down at the reactor in your hand, the blood smeared on your fingers, and a violent shudder runs through you. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the acrid scent of smoke, and it’s all too much.

“I never wanted it to end like this,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Your face is frozen in shock, eyes wide and unseeing as you try to process the magnitude of your actions. “I-I’ve killed someone.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, his grip on your shoulders firm yet gentle. “You did what you had to do,” he says, his voice low and steady. “He would’ve killed you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you insist, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to become a killer.”

Seungcheol’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth seeping into your cold, shaking body. “Listen to me,” he says firmly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. He put you in this position, not the other way around.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you sob uncontrollably. The reactor slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanted to be safe,” you cry, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re strong,” he says simply, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Stronger than you realize. And because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache. Despite everything, there’s a flicker of hope in his gaze that you can’t ignore.

Seungcheol brings you back to his loft, your body feeling heavy and numb. He helps you inside the shower, carefully removing your clothes. You sit on the floor, naked, as the warm water cascades over you, washing away the blood and grime.

There’s no malice or ulterior motive in his actions—only a quiet, pure care. You stare blankly at the tiles of his shower, lost in your thoughts, while his hands work methodically, washing your hair and scrubbing away the blood stains from your skin.

You needed this.

The side effects of the injection, the strain of using powers you didn’t fully understand, have left you weak. So weak that you need him to do something as simple as this for you.

Once you’re clean, Seungcheol wraps you in a fluffy towel, drying you carefully. He dresses you in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin.

He guides you to his bed, tucking you in. You sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling at you like a heavy blanket. Seungcheol sits beside you, watching you for a few minutes. His body aches from the fight, but his concern for you overrides his own pain.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “You need to rest. Let your body recover.”

You nod, closing your eyes. The events of the night replay in your mind, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Seungcheol is there, watching over you. “You don’t have to stay,” you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I want to,” he replies softly. “Just sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand holding yours, grounding you in the midst of the turmoil. The darkness of sleep pulls you under, but for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

He waits for you to fall asleep before quietly moving around the loft, gathering what’s left of your belongings.

With quick, calculated motions, he loads his things, along with yours, into the trunk and backseat of his truck. The apartment, once filled with traces of both your lives, now stands empty, its furniture the only remnants of your presence.

When he looks at the empty space one last time, he takes a deep breath, then returns to the bedroom. Gently, he lifts you into his arms, careful not to disturb your sleep.

You’re so exhausted that you don’t stir as he carries you to the truck. His eyes flicker to you now and then as he drives, taking the road that leads to the other side of the country.

Long hours later, the sun starts to rise, casting a golden hue over the landscape. You wake up, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. You find yourself parked outside a roadside restaurant, the car silent. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you notice a blanket draped over you and realize you’re fully dressed, not just in his shirt anymore.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, fingers curling around the edges of the blanket. The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you see Seungcheol approaching with a box of food in his hands. He opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat, placing the food on the console between you.

“Hey,” he says softly, glancing at you. “How are you feeling?”

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Tired,” you admit, your voice still groggy. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the road,” he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use some breakfast.” He opens the box, revealing a variety of pastries, fruit, and a couple of sandwiches.

You nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. “Thank you,” you say, taking a bite and savoring the sweet taste. “For everything.”

He watches you eat for a moment before responding. “You needed to get away from there. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft. “But where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, his tone reassuring. "Somewhere, they won’t find us.”

You look at him, studying his face. There’s a determination in his eyes, a resolve that gives you a sense of security despite the uncertainty of your situation. “Okay,” you say, trusting him.

He nods, his eyes softening. “Finish eating. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

As you pass through small towns and sprawling landscapes, a sense of peace begins to settle over you. The rhythmic hum of the truck and the steady presence of Seungcheol at your side are comforting.

You share the occasional snack with him, your fingers brushing against his lips, eliciting a small smile from him each time.

As the truck continues down the road, the cityscape starts to take shape on the horizon. Tall buildings stand proud, their windows reflecting the sun’s light. It’s a bustling place, full of life and opportunity.

It’s everything you’ve been yearning for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

After you arrive, your legs stretch as you step onto the new asphalt. You look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and ask, “Where are we?”

Seungcheol smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’m going to show you,” he replies, leading you towards a big, white house. The house stands in stark contrast to the urban scene around it, classic and serene.

You follow him inside, and immediately, you notice people dressed in white moving about with purpose. Some are tending to children, others to elders, each room filled with an atmosphere of care and compassion. It's a place of healing and sanctuary, you realize, a refuge from the chaos you’ve just escaped.

As you walk through the house, you reach a garden at the back. The same people in white are there, playing with the children and dogs, the air filled with laughter and joy.

You notice a girl in white sitting by an easel, her fingers pressed to her temples. To your amazement, the brush on the canvas moves on its own, guided by her powers.

You stare in awe. “She’s painting without touching the brush,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

Seungcheol nods. “Yes, she’s using her powers. This place is a sanctuary for people like her, like us. A safe haven where they can learn to control and use their abilities for good.”

You look around, taking in the peaceful surroundings, the sense of community and support. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly, feeling a sense of hope blossom within you.

The next stop is a small, vintage apartment where you and Seungcheol place your things. The walls are adorned with faded floral wallpaper, and the furniture has a charming, old-fashioned feel. You sit on the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, and trail off, lost in thought.

“So, you’re a hero, not a villain,” you murmur, looking up at Seungcheol.

He pauses, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s not that simple,” he says, sitting down across from you. “People see what they want to see. To some, I’m a hero. To others, I’m a villain.”

You nod, digesting his words. “But you saved me. You brought me here. That makes you a hero in my book.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I just did what needed to be done. Sometimes, the line between hero and villain isn’t so clear.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It’s strange, you know? All this time, I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys were. But now… everything’s different.”

He nods, his eyes distant. “Life isn’t a simple story. It’s messy, complicated. People have layers, motives that aren’t always black and white.”

You turn to Seungcheol, who has laid himself out on the living room floor beside you. The gentle hum of the old radiator fills the silence between you as you finally ask the question that's been on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, glancing over at him.

He turns his head to face you, nodding slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you meet me?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “I first heard you every single night in my head before I even knew where you lived. It started with your thoughts and feelings—your fears, your doubts. I heard them all.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “You heard me in your head?”

He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t know who you were at first, just that there was someone struggling. I could sense your pain and your frustration. It was like an echo in my mind.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “When I'vve found you, I started watching the movements in your apartment. I saw you and your boyfriend fighting—a lot. I saw the nights you were left alone...”

You shift uncomfortably, thinking about all the arguments, the hurtful words exchanged. “What did you see?”

“I saw things that were hard to watch. There were nights when your boyfriend would come home drunk, lashing out at you for no reason. I saw him bringing people over, strangers who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Your heart aches as you listen. “So, you were watching all of this?”

He nods. “I was. I needed to be sure of what was happening before I intervened. I couldn’t just act without understanding the full picture. He was involved in some dangerous activities, connections with people I didn’t want you to be near.”

He looks at you with a serious expression. “I knew I had to do something. It’s my job, in a way. The place I showed you before, is where people like me come from. We’re spread out across the country, helping those in need.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you felt like you had to save me.”

“Exactly,” he says softly. “It was more than just a job. It was a responsibility. When I saw how much you were suffering, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I had to step in.”

As you lie there, processing everything Seungcheol has told you, it dawns on you that the man who once seemed so mysterious and distant wasn’t a villain at all. He was the one who sat on your window, smoking and wearing a black outfit, seemingly a shadowy figure.

He was the one who risked falling from a building to ensure your safety, who gathered your belongings—even your mug collection, and your… dildo—before your apartment was destroyed by an alien.

He was the man who, despite the doubts and fears, saved your life and now laid by your side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol’s presence beside you, so unexpectedly comforting, makes you feel secure in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. His gaze meets yours, a question in his eyes as if trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind.

Unable to hold back your emotions any longer, you roll over and drape yourself across him like a koala. The sudden weight makes him emit a funny gasp. You both end up laughing, the sound filling the room with warmth. He wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the hug with a soft giggle.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling.

You look up at him, your heart full, and press a soft kiss on his lips. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter closed, and he melts into the kiss, holding your face gently as if he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

But then, he pulls back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Wait, no, are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve just come out of a… complicated relationship.”

You can see the concern in his eyes, the careful consideration behind his words. “I am sure,” you say softly, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. You’re not a villain, and you’ve shown me what it’s like to be cared for.”

You move to kiss his forehead, then his neck, making him giggle again, his laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the conversation. He closes his eyes, savoring each tender kiss, his heart racing with every touch.

“I guess I’m just worried,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and affection. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to fill a void or something.”

You shake your head, placing one last kiss on his lips. “You’re not just filling a void. You’re something real and true, and I can feel it.”

“Can you… feel it?” he asks.

You smile against his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to reassure him. “Of course I can,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment your lips meet his again, you notice his reaction is less restrained this time. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear. His kisses grow more passionate, each touch of his lips filled with a desperate need to communicate everything he feels.

You can taste the sweetness of his affection, feel the way he melts into you, and you respond with the same intensity. Your hands explore the familiar contours of his face, as if memorizing every detail, every emotion he's conveying.

His breath quickens, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his entire body seems to respond to you, to the connection that’s unfolding between you both.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could.”

You brush your lips against his once more, a soft, tender caress. “It’s because it’s real,” you whisper. “It’s something I’ve needed for a long time.”

[...]

If you ever thought your life would change drastically, you never imagined it would be like this.

When Seungcheol left to handle his tasks for the night, it felt different. The house, though quiet, seemed fuller now.

His presence lingered in the way he had filled it with his energy, his routines, his little touches that made the space feel like more than just four walls. The absence of his constant presence was noticeable, yet somehow, it felt like a comfort.

You wandered around the house, touching things you hadn’t noticed before. There were small, personal details—like a collection of old vinyl records stacked neatly on a shelf, and a set of quirky, handmade coasters on the coffee table. They made the house feel lived in, like a real home.

In the kitchen, you found a note Seungcheol had left on the counter, scrawled in his familiar handwriting: “Pick a movie tonight. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at the simple gesture, a small piece of normalcy in the midst of the whirlwind you’d been through.

When he arrives at the apartment, the warm aroma of dinner wafts from the stove. He glances around, noticing that the movie on the TV is paused at the very beginning. It’s strange that you’re not here; usually, you’d be curled up on the couch, waiting for him.

His eyes sweep over the space, and he hangs his jacket on a dining chair, the soft thud of the fabric against the wood mingling with the hum of the refrigerator.

A sudden noise catches his attention—an “Ah!” from somewhere in the apartment.

Seungcheol freezes, his heart rate quickening. He tilts his head, straining to hear again. The sound came from the bedroom. Curiosity and concern propel him forward as he moves cautiously toward the door.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he peeks inside. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the scene before him.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, your legs were spread open in a way that revealed everything.

Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, and you’re arching back, clearly horny. The vibrator, the very same one he had glimpsed in your old apartment—a sight that had piqued his curiosity—was now pressed tightly against your clit.

He could see the pleasure etched across your face, the way you bit your lip and gripped the sheets. He hesitated at the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

The sight is so intimate, so raw, that he feels a blend of emotions—desire, awe, and a sense of protectiveness. His initial impulse is to step in, to be there for you, but he’s also painfully aware of how private this moment is.

His own breath hitches as he wrestles with the decision of whether to interrupt or simply stand back. He knows this is a vulnerable part of you, one that you might not be ready to share with him just yet.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, his desire is real as he steps fully into the room. The bulge in his pants is a constant reminder of just how affected he is by the scene unfolding before him. But he pushes past his own need, focusing on you.

He kneels beside the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might pull you from your reverie. His fingers, though trembling slightly, are gentle as he reaches for the vibrator. He eases it away from your clit, the sudden absence making you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part frustration.

You blink rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you process his presence. Your cheeks flush a deep red. Just as you begin to open your mouth, ready to speak or perhaps to protest, Seungcheol silences you with a touch.

Without a word, he positions the vibrator back against your wetness, the cool touch of it sending you screaming on your bed. Slowly, he guides it back to your clit, applying a steady pressure as he begins to circle it.

His eyes are locked onto your every reaction, absorbing each tremor and gasp as if they were treasures.

The immediate pleasure that jolts through you is overwhelming. You clench his forearm, your grip desperate and needy as you roll your eyes back in pure, unfiltered sensation. The way he controls the vibrator, the way he’s so deliberately attentive to your body—it drives you wild.

The intensity of your arousal triples, the added thrill of Seungcheol’s touch making it feel like every nerve is on fire. You sob, the sound escaping from you as you struggle to stay grounded amidst the stimulation.

Each circle of the vibrator on your clit feels like an eternity, stretching out the sensation to a nearly unbearable edge.

Seungcheol’s gaze never wavers from you. He watches you with an intense focus and tenderness, his own breath coming in uneven puffs as he fights to keep his own desires in check.

He’s controlling your pleasure with an expert touch, making sure that each movement is precise and perfectly tuned to your reactions.

He knows you’re on the brink, and he’s both savoring and prolonging this moment for you.

The control he exerts is deliberate, his movements are carefully calculated to push you to the edge without letting you fall over just yet.

As your body writhes beneath his touch, Seungcheol’s expression softens. He can see how much you need this, how much his presence, his touch, is amplifying everything you’re feeling. It’s a heady blend of power and vulnerability, and he’s completely consumed by it.

As the waves of pleasure begin to crest, you feel your moans transforming into quieter, breathless gasps. Your body tightens, with every muscle pulling taut as you approach the brink of orgasm.

It’s right there, just a heartbeat away, when Seungcheol suddenly pulls the vibrator away. The abrupt absence of its buzzing sends a shock through you, your body jolting as you let out a delayed cry of frustration.

Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. Rather, he sets the vibrator on the bedside table as if it were a routine, doing so with practiced ease.

Then he gets to his feet and strips off his shirt, baring his chest. Your need is heightened by the sight of him, so masterful and totally devoted to you. You watch him, breathless and with wide eyes, while he dismisses your little cries of protest.

He seems determined to show you something more personal than the toy could ever offer, judging by the steady, unwavering look in his eyes.

He says, taking off his belt, “I want to see you cum for me, not for a toy.” “I want to see you cum in my mouth,” he murmurs.

You swear you see your soul leave your body just like in a cartoon,with his words. He spreads your legs wide, putting himself between them. You can almost feel the need in your body quivering with anticipation.

His mouth feels like fire when it first touches your clit; the buzzing vibrator has made you more sensitive. You gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is moist and warm as it hungersily probes every part of you.

You let out a deep moan as he laps at your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your clit.

He sucks gently, then more firmly, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot in a way that has you writhing beneath him. Every nerve ending in the body is hyperaware of intense pleasure.

Your hips are held in place by Seungcheol's hands as he consumes you. You can feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers dig into your skin just enough to anchor you. His eyes glance up at you, watching your reactions, ensuring he’s giving you exactly what you need.

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice shaky. “I’m so close.”

His response is a deep hum against your clit. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking harder. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold on for dear life.

Every muscle in your body tightens, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He doesn’t let up, his focus entirely on you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, your back arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping your lips. Seungcheol continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone.

You take a deep breath, your vision slowly clearing, and catch sight of Seungcheol gripping his cock through his boxers. The outline looks thick and big, making your mouth water at the sight of it.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. His eyes meet yours, dark and round.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice husky.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you press your palm against the bulge in his boxers. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you touch him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you say, your voice gaining strength.

He groans softly, his restraint slipping. He helps you pull his boxers down, his erection springing free. It looks even more impressive without the fabric, flushed, throbbing, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of him. He watches you, his breath hitching as you stroke him slowly.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, looking up at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “And you’re so beautiful.”

You smile. Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on the tip, tasting the salty precum. His reaction is immediate, a shudder running through his body as he groans your name.

Encouraged, you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just holding you gently as you work him with your mouth.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw. His size is a challenge, but you’re determined to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His groans and gasps spur you on, each sound a reward for your efforts.

You bob your head, taking him as deep as you can, your hand stroking the base where you can’t reach. His hips begin to move, a slow, careful thrust that shows how close he is to losing control.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he warns, his voice strained.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continue your movements, letting him know without words that you want this. He curses softly, his grip on your hair tightening just a bit.

One thing he didn’t notice was your sneaky hand grabbing the forgotten vibrator on the bedside table. With a naughty grin, you hold the base of his cock to keep it still, then turn the vibrator on and press it against his length while your mouth sucks on his tip.

Seungcheol lets out a deep grunt, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes closing tightly. “You little—” he curses, his voice strained. Your smirk widens at his reaction, the vibrations traveling through his body, making him shudder.

“Who’s the villain now?” you tease, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

His response is a strangled moan, his hips jerking slightly into your mouth. “You... you’re the villain here,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!”

The combination of your mouth and the vibrator makes his body tense. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, his muscles tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

You increase the intensity, your hand moving the vibrator up and down his length while your mouth continues its assault on his tip. His breathing becomes ragged, and he’s practically panting now, his moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, his voice desperate.

You let go of his tip, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you realize you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine. The vibrator still buzzes in your hand as you reach for his cock, straddling him and slowly sinking down.

The sensation is electric—your drenched, sopping cunt engulfs him almost like a vacuum, drawing a desperate moan from his lips. His eyes flutter shut, and you can tell he’s loving it just as much as you are by the way his face contorts.

When you bottom out, Seungcheol squirms beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. He reaches for your wrist and places the vibrator on your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you clench around his length.

His moan mingles with a teasing smile, his eyes dark with lust. If he wasn’t a villain before, he definitely looks like one now.

You ride his cock in circles, the vibrations on your clit making your body curl inward, your nails digging into his abdomen. The pleasure is overwhelming, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you move faster, chasing the high that’s just within reach.

His grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you move. “That’s it, baby,” he growls “Just like that.”

Seungcheol sneaks a hand to the vibrator and turns it to the highest level. You grunt, throwing your head back as the intense vibrations radiate through your entire body. He can feel them inside you too, the added stimulation making him groan.

“Fuck, Seungcheol!” you cry out, your voice shaking as you jump up and down on his cock. Your pussy meets his length and then his base, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Yeah, take it all, baby,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”

You moan louder, the dirty talk driving you wild. “Tell me more,” you gasp, craving more of his words, the filthier, the better.

He thrusts up into you, his own pleasure building as he watches you ride him. “You love this, don’t you? Being my little slut, taking my cock so well,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his moans.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you reply, your movements becoming more frantic. “I love it, Seungcheol. I love being— Fuck!”

He grins. “You’re so fucking wet for me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

You shiver at his words, your body responding eagerly. “Shit, Seungcheol, you feel so good inside me,” you pant. “I want to cum all over your cock.”

“Do it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love it.”

“I’m gonna cum again, Seungcheol,” you gasp, riding him faster. “I want you to cum with me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing them. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Cum inside me,” you moan, your nails digging into his chest. “Fill me up, Seungcheol.”

He thrusts up hard, matching your frantic pace. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, leaning back to get a better angle, driving him deeper. Your voice breaking with need. “I need it, Seungcheol. I need your cum.”

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him getting close. “You’re gonna get it,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

Seungcheol presses the vibrator harder against your swollen clit, and you convulse on him, your body shaking uncontrollably from the combined sensations.

“Fuck,” he growls, “You’re creaming all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking soaked.”

You moan loudly, barely able to respond as the vibrations and his cock drive you wild. “Yes, Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “I’m so wet for you.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to thrust upward, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. “Hm… The way you’re dripping all over me. I can feel every drop.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you bounce harder, trying to chase the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t stop cumming,” you whimper. “It’s too much.”

Seungcheol’s breathing grows ragged, his gaze fixed on the way your pussy pulses around him. “That’s right. Let go for me. I want to see you lose control. You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

The pressure of the vibrator against your clit makes you cry out. “I’m cumming so hard,” you moan. “I can’t handle it.”

He grunts, his voice deep and raw. “That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock. I love how you’re losing it. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.”

Your eyes roll back. “Seungcheol,” you cry out, your body arching and trembling. “I’m gonna—”

He groans as he feels your inner muscles clench around him, the vibrations making every nerve in your body explode. “Yeah, let it all out,” he commands. “Show me how much you fucking need me.”

You convulse one last time, your vision blurring as the orgasm washes over you. Seungcheol holds you tightly, his cock still buried deep inside you as he continues to grind against your clit, making sure you get every last ounce of pleasure.

Seungcheol wastes no time, flipping you over onto all fours like you're a rag doll. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, your body pliant and obedient to his every move. He quickly turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. His hands find your ass, squeezing and fondling your cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock back inside you, abusing your sweet spot with relentless precision. You feel the sting of your skin meeting his pelvis with each strong thrust.

You bite down on the pillow, muffling your sobs as your body trembles beneath him. The orgasm still pulses through you, but now Seungcheol is fucking you through it with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

His grip tightens on your hips, one foot propped up on the mattress to give him more leverage. The bed creaks under you, the mattress springs creaking.

His moans become whiny and throaty. You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching inside you with every thrust, and the sight of the white ring around his shaft driving him feral.

Summoning strength you didn't know you had, you lift your head and glance over your shoulder. You need to see his 'bad boy' posture crumble.

Seungcheol's face is a picture of raw emotion, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His expression is utterly shattered, as if he's about to break down and cry like a boy.

The sight of him like this, so helpless and undone, makes you squeeze harder around him. The reaction is immediate—Seungcheol's eyes roll back, and his hips slam into yours, grinding deep as he reaches he orgasms.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He groans as he cums harder than ever before, his hips twitching with each spurt. The room is loaded with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together.

He stays buried inside you for a moment, savoring the sensation of your bodies connected, his cum still dripping from where he's filled you to the brim.

Seungcheol sleeps soundly, like a baby, his face peaceful and unburdened. In that moment, it doesn't matter who he is or where he is; his mind is completely consumed by thoughts of you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being your synchronized breaths. Exhausted and spent, you don't even have the strength to clean up. You sleep without a care, even as his cum slowly drips down your thighs.

[...]

Morning breaks gently, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Seungcheol stirs, his senses gradually returning to him. But something feels off. He blinks his eyes open, expecting to see you lying beside him. Instead, he’s met with a sight that jolts him fully awake.

You’re floating.

Your body is hovering a few inches above the bed, suspended in mid-air. Your eyes are wide with shock, mirroring his own as you both take in the surreal scene.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, your voice tinged with panic. “Lower me down.”

He scrambles out of bed, his mind racing to process what he’s seeing. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his hands gently guiding you back down to the bed. The moment your body touches the mattress, the floating sensation ceases, leaving you both staring at each other in stunned silence.

You sit up slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you brush your hair back. “Wasn’t the injection supposed to last only for a few hours?” you ask.

Seungcheol, still healing from the sight of you floating, nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what they said. But…maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it’s affected you in ways we didn’t expect.”

“So, does this mean you can fuck me while I'm floating in mid-air?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He laughs, a surprised sound escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly caught off guard by your audacity.

3K notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

falling for u | c.hansol

pairing : vernon x reader

WHAT ! - vernon slowly getting replaced by sofia ^_^ thank you to this anon !!!

warnings : kisses, petnames, mentions of the other svt members, slight skin ship, not proof read, established relationship au

when vernon had met you, he knew from the beginning that you were the one. being committed to someone romantically was scary for him but what scared him even more was the thought of introducing the wrong person to his family, his family was very special to him. vernon wouldnt introduce just anyone to his family

so when he laid down next to you in bed staring at the ceiling as you were on your phone and asked you

“do you wanna come back to new york with me? just to get away for a bit…and meet my family?”

the last part was a faint whisper but was loud enough for you to hear it. youve talked to his family over the phone on the occasion they call him and want to say hi to you, and kept contact with his mom and sister texting them every so often

but youve never actually met them in person

the thought of it shook you a bit knowing this was a big step in your guys relationship.

noticing your pause he held your hand “i promise theyll love you, they already do” he said comfortingly as he looked over at you

so there you both were standing in the airport in new york ready to pick up your bags. you ordered a uber as vernon picked up the luggages, and when he came back he kept his hand on your lower pack comfortably guiding you through the airport

the uber was quiet besides faint whispers between vernon and you. he pointed at places that he wanted to take you to or told you stories about his childhood remembering the sights as the car passed them

when you two got to vernons childhood house you guys thanked the drive as vernon opened the door for you and took out the luggages before thanking the driver

making your way to the door you stood there waiting for vernon as he approached with the bags, going down you grabbed one to help him instead of ringing the doorbell

“did you ring or knock?” he asked looking at you with a faint smile

“no, i wanted to help you” you bluffed tightening your grip on the suitcase

he smiled and rubbed his fingers over your grip “relax, its no big deal okay? youll fit in just fine” he assured as he rang the doorbell

you heard running to the door and see sofia smiling at you. she wrapped her arms around you causing you to smile hugging her back

“its so nice to see you in person” she mumbled into the hug

vernon smiled at the sight and cleared his throat causing sofia and you to break up the hug

“im here too” he smiled at his sister to which she rolled her eyes playfully “i can see that”

sofia brought you inside the house, inside you see his mom setting the table and his dad walking towards you to give you a hug catching his moms attention and joining in. they both hugged you as vernon watched smiling from afar knowing that he was right

you had nothing to worry about

vernon walked up stairs to his room to set down the bags. he looked around making mental notes of what to show you and the stories he has on his room. from the figurines, to the vinyls, and even the albums he had bought

as he walked downstairs he sees you and his family already seated as if he was the guest, he grinned and sat down by you making you sandwiched between sofia and him.

the table was filled with laughs, stories, and vernons embarrassment as his family exposed his embarrassing stories

as dinner ended you help clear the table letting you bond with his mom, as soon as you finished vernon watched as his sister brought you up to her room to talk

he shook his head as he saw you both go up stairs smiling knowing where this will lead

vernons mom and him caught up as he chilled in the kitchen with her

“you have a good person vernon” his mom told him making him smile for the 500th time, but he already knew that information he was happy that his family knew how great you were

he walked upstairs walking past his sisters room where he heard both of your guys laughs

vernon started unpacking yours and his stuff and laid out your pajamas for you as he freshened up

after maybe a hour and a half of him being up stairs he started to miss you but you was still with his sister. vernon laid in his bed debating on whether he should bring you back to his room or let you have fun with sofia when it clicked to him

YOURE HIS PARTNER?

he sat up and walked to sofias room softly knocking on the door before opening it catching both of your guys attention. you both looked over at him as if he was some intruders, he sat by you and tugged on your shirt slightly “come back to my room” he mumbled causing sofia to groan “no, stay with me”

vernon looked over at sofia “well this is my partner”

“and this is my best friend”

you watched as they both bickered enjoying the sibling dynamic between the both of them

“you have them all the time, i got like 3 hours with them” sofia defended herself

“well youll have a full week with them” vernon said ending the argument bringing you back to his room

vernon and you both laid down as you rested your head on his chest looking at the missing half dim sticky stars he had on his ceiling. he pointed at the different things in his room explaining the stories

pointing at a spiderman plush sitting on a shelf he starts speaking

“that one, my dad won it for me at-“

he was cut off by his door opening, you both looked up and see sofia peeking in

“yn, tomorrow do you wanna go explore with me?” she asked eagerly

“of course” you smiled making vernon look at you

“what about me?” he asked looking over at sofia to which she closed the door

he laughed slightly and rested back down on the bed

“i told you…” vernon mumbled

“you have nothing to worry about, you fit right in”

he closed his eyes and smiled at how you got along so well especially, with his sister. his sister taught him a lot of things about relationships and how to guide through them instead of being a rock and hes glad that he sees the results of her coaching paying off

sure, maybe she’ll steal you from him but he couldnt blame her, if he were someone else he’d want to steal you too

so this week will be long for him, but vernon would wait ages if that mean he could see you spend time with his sister

BONUS : pouty clingy vernon

after 3 days in new york, which were just 3 days of his sister hogging you. you had came back to vernons house to see a pouty vernon laying in bed

you slowly approached him just incase you were seeing things but nope, the pout was very visible (maybe to you only but who cares)

when vernon saw you he held his arms out to which you filled in the space allowing him to hug you

“ive missed you today” he mumbled against your hair

“you have?”

“yeah my sister has been taking you for these 3 days when its suppose to be a you and me getaway

im glad youre getting along with my family, especially my sister but does she really need to take you 24/7?”

“maybe?” you smiled

vernon rolled his eyes playfully and looked down at you

“so whatd you and her do today?”

“ah!” you said pulling out some bags

“we went to brunch, then went to this pop up store” you explained pulling out the bags and each item

and s you explained, vernon watched smiling, but not at what you got but you. he enjoyed seeing the look and smile on your face as you explained your day with his sister, even if he was sulking 5 minutes ago he enjoys seeing you happy.

even if its for the reason hes sulky

“tomorrow you wanna go out with me? i have some things to show you” he asked smiling after you finished your haul

“yeah of-“

just then sofia opened the door

“yn do you want to go out with me tomorrow-“

“NO”

1K notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

everywhere everything all at once | c.hansol

in which vernon would chose you every life time, based on his favorite movie :)

ive been writing alot of vernon latelyyyy (if u get the movie and references, give me a hug.)

the screen went black after the movie ended leaving vernon and you speechless

this had to be one of the most beautiful movies you two had seen after binging so many. you turned over to vernon who was still staring at the screen with a blank stare, reading his facial expression you moved a piece of his hair out of his face to get a better view which knocked him out of his trance

slightly flinching at the sudden touch but relaxed realizing it was you

“whats on your mind?”

you asked still looking up at him

“would you love me in every life time?”

the question stunned you for a second, why was he asking this so suddenly?

“i mean waymond loved her in all of his lives. so i was just thinking…

would you love me in all your lives?

would you even choose me?”

each question left you shocked, because you hoped he knew the answer already. but sometimes everyone needs reminders,

right?

“sol,” you started catching gaining back his attention. he slightly turned his head to you as if he was afraid of what youd say

“ill choose and love you in every life i live. even if youre not a option and i have to find you myself, ill do that just do be loved by you in every single universe of mine”

vernon finally looked at you and smile slightly contented with you answer. he held you a bit closer and ran his hand through his hair

“i knew youd say that, i just wanted a little…

reminder?”

“i know.”

“i would choose you in every lifetime of mines too

i dont think i could ever live without you”

so there you both were, laying on the couch holding eachother knowing that even if the universe did set you apart, you both would slowly find eachother again no matter the circumstances

because you know he would look for you, and you know you would look for him

no matter if you two were rocks in the same pile, you would dig through the other rocks to find him. a special rock, one that shines in your eyes and to that he’ll look for you and once he finds you, you both will live as rocks together

happy

intertwined, sewn together

(did this mofo just go on a rant about rocks…?)

594 notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

IYAK MALALA

decipher you | Woozi one-shot

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x fem. Reader

tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, yearning, happy ending, good surprises, a pov switch at the end (just for funsies)

a/n: It's been eons since i wrote on here and a sudden woozi brain rot caused me to write this. not proofread and please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions or fics

masterlist

It’s way past sunset and well into the next day. Hey you can’t help but keep staring at the clock, your phone and the door. The same order. Every 15 seconds.

Clock. Phone. Door. A heavy sigh… Silence… Clock. Phone. Door. A sigh… Silence…

You should go to sleep, you are aware. But the flicker of hope in you has not died yet. He’ll be home before sunrise… today.

You had the same thought for the fifth night in a row. And the last four days you’d been proven wrong.

Yet here you sit, on the edge of your soft brown couch- handpicked by your Jihoon, looking and hoping for any signs of him showing up for a full night’s sleep.

Jihoon always tiptoed in at the early hours of the day- dragging his messy hair and droopy eyes slowly to lay beside you on the bed. Every morning you pretended you didn’t notice him come in. You pretend you didn’t notice his exhausted sigh as his head hits the bed. You pretend you didn’t notice the light peck he gives you even as sleep threatens to take him away. You pretend not to smile as he says the same thing each morning- “Love you baby. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

And each day you pretend you have faith in his sleepy promise. But why wouldn’t you?

This is Jihoon. Your Jihoon.

The same person who stood through your strenuous years of doctorate degree madness. The Jihoon who held your hand through countless vaccinations, never once complaining that you’re too old to cry about needles. The same Jihoon who always cooks every weekend for the two of you, no matter the amount of pressure he is in.

This is the Jihoon who flew 14 hours across the globe to be with you during your thesis presentation.

This is the Jihoon who took a stand against his company and the industry to proudly announce you as his partner and dedicate multiple love songs to you.

This is the Jihoon who learnt your language to talk to you and your parents in your mother tongue.

The is the Jihoon who married you in your home country even if it meant having to fly out his family and friends across the globe.

This is Jihoon. Your whole universe for the last decade. You trust him with everything in this world and know him like the back of your hand.

But even after all these years, you can’t decipher him.

The way he goes silent suddenlymakes it almost impossible to understand if it’s a good, bad, or nothing silent.

Of course, over the years he has learned to let you in on his thoughts. But once in a while, he relapses into this shell of his. This regression happens in higher intensities during the song production time. He is more present during dance practices and comebacks. But when Jihoon is in Producer Woozi mode, he forgets everyone and everything for hours (and sometimes days) on end.

You had gotten used to it for the most part. Usually, this wouldn’t have annoyed or irked you the way it is right now.

But this time, it’s different.

Your world turned around in the last three days and the one person who needs to hear it isn’t there. The one person your heart is leaping out to isn’t there to hold it. This one time you wished life’s timing wasn’t cruel.

There are a lot of things in life you are capable of accomplishing on your own.

But you know how important his work is to Jihoon. After 13 years in this field, the incredulous passion he still carries is commendable. And after everything he and the team has been through, they’re finally enjoying their craft and you’d be the last person to disturb that equilibrium.

Jihoon’s craft is special. His dedication and work ethic are special. You knew he didn’t like to be interrupted or questioned during his process. And god knows you didn’t want to do that.

But you need Jihoon, now more than ever.

So you look up at the clock once again. 1:05 AM Sigh… You turn on your phone once again. No New Notifications. Sigh… You run your hand through your hair. Holding your breath in, you look at the door. Silence… Sig-

The clicking sounds on the door awaken your soul. One-click. One push. The door swings open and there he is- Jihoon. Your Jihoon. Same fluffy, messy hair. The old worn down black hoodie. Droopy eyes now wide open in surprise.

“Baby. Why are you awake? It’s so late.” He says as he kneels next to you after removing his shoes.

“Jihoon-ah…” your voice comes out in a croak. You haven’t uttered a since the last 5 hours you were at home.

“Hmm?” He looks at you with stars in his eyes. The eye bags prominent as the light hits his face. He’s the most beautiful human you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Before you could speak he begins, as his one palm draws circles on your thighs and the other holding your hip. “I’m really really sorry baby… I know I haven’t been present in a while. The company has been pressing us for variety and I’ve been breaking my head about it.”

A pause as he lays his head on your lap and looks at you.

“But today I got it baby. I did it.” His smile lights up his whole face. Pure happiness gleaming from his eyes. This version of Jihoon was one of your favourite. The one gleaming with pride, grinning with joy and enjoying every bit of satisfaction that comes with the kind of dedication only he can pour into his art.

So you smiled, mirroring his happiness.

“I’m so proud of you honey. Can’t wait to hear it soon!”

“You’ll be the first one to hear it.” He says grinning. Your raise your eyebrows and he giggles. The sound of heaven.

“I mean after the team you’ll be the first to hear it.”

Both of you laugh, a soft ringing laughter echoing through the walls of the home you built for yourselves.

You clear your throat slightly.

“Jihoon I need to tell you something…”

“Yes?” He says in the middle of a yawn.

He looks so exhausted in the moment that he looks 10 years younger.

You decided to wait another day.

“I… just needed to tell you… that I missed you… a lot.” Your words come out in a whisper. Barely audible but you know he heard it by the way he shifts on your lap like a little cat.

“I know baby… I’m sorry.”

You sigh. He was sorry and you knew it.

“You could’ve texted me”

He grumbles an apology into your thighs.

“Jihoon you told me you’d communicate better… we’ve been through this cycle before. You’re always going to be creating music, but the least you can do is let me know. You promised me jagi…”

More grumbles as he manoeuvres himself to settle against your stomach.

Your heart skips a beat.

“I understand work is hard. And I’m an adult so I understand even if it’s difficult. But… but your child won’t be able to…”

By the end of your sentence, you could barely hear yourself. But the way Jihoon freezes against you is proof enough that he heard you.

A moment passes and there is no reaction from him. Another moment.

And what feels like a million tiny moments later, Jihoon’s messy head pops up away from your stomach to your face.

His eyes are glistening and big like boba balls. You hold your breath trying to n to read his face. The creases in his forehead and the straight closed mouth slowly give way to the tiniest smile.

That’s all the sign you need as you break into a huge smile.

He looks at your smile, his own mirroring it, and then down at your stomach then up again at your face. He does it a few more times as you break into soft laughs.

He sits upright on his knees, his face in front of you, big wid eyes full of surprise and hope, as his hands cup your cheeks.

“Y/n… are you being serious right now?”

You nod, words too little for the happiness pouring out of in the form of tears.

Jihoon looks stunned but pulls into a close and tight hug.

Home…

When he faces you again, tears are rolling down his cheeks. “When did you find out?” “Umm… four days ago” “Baby why didn’t you tell me soo-“

The color drains from his face as he moved toward your stomach again. He hugs you around your stomach so lightly as if he’s holding a feather.

“I really am sorry jagi. I know I say it a lot but I should do better. I should’ve done better. For you. For us. And…” He looks at you with an apologetic smile, “and for our child.”

You run your fingers through his silky tousled hair. “Jihoon-ah, it’s okay. What’s done is done…”

He smiles at you.

“You have no idea how restless I’ve been waiting to tell you. To see that look on your face.” His smile grows wider and he places a peck on your very normal stomach whcih makes you giggle.

“You do know there is no actual baby in there yet right?�� He pouts as he looks at you, causing more giggles on your end.

“I hope our kid doesn’t get your oversmart brain and is normal like me” he says defiantly.

You let out a snort. “Please Mr worldwide popular idol ‘Woozi’! You’re as far from normal as is possible my dear.”

“Well normal or not, I know our child will have the best dad.”

Jihoon’s cheeky comment sets of a back and forth of arguing about which one of you is better until early hours of the morning as laughter rings through the house.

———

Jihoon:

It was another night of sleeping after dawn for him. He was no stranger to a late night. But for the first time in years he feels too ecstatic to sleep.

His mind and body are buzzing with happiness at the thought of the love of his life carrying their child.

He thinks back to the 17 year old Jihoon who saw this cute girl across the street struggling to get her bags on her cycle basket snd decided to forgo his inhibitions for once and help her. He thinks back to 20 year old Jihoon who, for the first time in his life, gave a speech at a bar confessing his love for the same girl despite all his social anxiety. He thinks back to the 28 year old Jihoon who decided to talk to her parents and arrange a special performance for her on their wedding even though all he wanted was alone time with her.

He thought back to everytime he took a chance for this beautiful and smart girl, now lying next to him peacefully asleep, and he thanks every god and higher power in the universe for giving him the courage to do so.

Without her Jihoon wouldn’t know love and life. Now they have a little bundle of joy on its way just to commemorate this love they share.

And this time Jihoon was going to make sure he’d be there every step of the way.

248 notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

Breaking and Entering

You don't want Jihoon to worry.

Fluff (a miniscule amount of angst) - woozi x fem!reader

A hell of a lot of words for a sick fic :D Described as "princess treatment" by my friends 😌

AO3 link

Word Count: 3.1k

////////////////////////////////////

Before you even open your eyes, you feel a scratch in your throat that burns like hell. You reach for the water on your nightstand and take large gulps trying to soothe the pain. As your eyes open, they droop heavily and take a moment to adjust to the early morning sunlight that makes its way past your curtains. A chill suddenly attacks the uncovered parts of your body. You duck back under your comforter only to have an oppressive heat come in waves that cause sweat to cling to your forehead. On top of all that, you can’t breathe out of your left nostril. You’re terribly sick.

As you lament in your miserable state, a notification brightens your phone and you have to shut your eyes. You blink them trying to get used to the light, but all it does is give you a headache. You brave through the pain to turn your brightness down and check the notification. It’s a text from your boyfriend, Jihoon.

Jiji: good morning babe~ 😘

You: Good morning!

Jiji: what are ur plans for today? work?

You: No

You pause for a moment before continuing your response. You wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him that you aren’t feeling well today. On one hand, he might want to know that kind of stuff so that he can take care of you. On the other hand, it could cause some unnecessary stress in his already stressful life. Also, with his busy schedule, he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. You decide ultimately that this illness would probably be over quickly, and you don’t want to make Jihoon worry about nothing a little cough medicine and tea would fix.

You: I'm going to take the day off to relax and be lazy lol 😏

Jiji: that sounds nice

i wish i could do the same 😮‍💨

You: Busy schedule today?

Jiji: yup 🙃 but im excited for our date later this week

You: Me too!

Jiji: i have to go to work

text me later

You: Will do! I love you 🩷

Jiji: love u too~🖤

Putting your phone down and taking the chance to move from your bed to at least retrieve some relief in the form of medicine or warm tea, you feel your muscles ache in a way that makes you never want to move again. For now, you stare at the ceiling with the resolve to get over this silly little cold. You fall asleep soon after and stay asleep for many, many hours.

When you finally awaken again, the chill in your bones still hasn't subsided, no matter how many layers of sheet and blanket cover you. You have to force your eyes to open against the deeper sunlight now pouring through the cracks in your curtains. You power through the discomfort to get them to adjust to the brightness. Again, you reach a hand out for your phone and see that it is afternoon and that you have some missed texts from your boyfriend.

Jiji: hey~

wuts up

Jiji: taking an afternoon nap huh

text me when u see this

The messages were all sent about 45 minutes ago. You feel a little bad about lying, but it only strengthens your resolve to get better and put the whole lie behind you. You text back like normal, hoping that he has the time to read and respond even for just a few minutes.

You: Sorry! I fell asleep watching anime

It doesn’t take too long for a reply to pop-up. You had been dating Jihoon for months now, but you still got butterflies every time he texted you. Even now, aching all over and dripping from your face, he makes you feel a warmth you swore would make you even healthier than you were before.

Jiji: oh rub it in my face 🙄 lol

dont get too far without me

You: I would never!! 😫

How’s it been today? You're not too stressed, right?

Jiji: eh

im coping lol

nothing im not used to

You: Don’t push yourself too hard ok? 🥺

You're doing such a great job!!!!!!

Jiji: thx lol

i gotta go. love u~ 🖤

You: I love you too 🩷

You decide to try to come up with the ultimate healing game plan for the rest of the day. You plot out your meals and activities to maximize the time you can spend getting better. Or at least you try to as you come to realize that sleeping an extra 4 and a half hours without getting out of bed means that you’ve yet to relieve yourself. This kickstarts your game plan as you rush to the bathroom.

You power through the aches in your body to finally brush your teeth and put your hair in a manageable bun for the day. You put on your sweats and some socks to keep warm and make your way to the kitchen where you heat up some soup and make a mug of herbal tea. You take medicine and take it easy all day. The change in scenery from your bedroom to the living room not only motivates your mind to change, but also it motivates your body to move. You swear you already feel better.

Unfortunately, the next two days look the same, and you do not, in fact, feel any better. Even with minimal movement throughout the days, you still manage to leave a mess of dirty dishes, clothes, and tissues strewn about the apartment. You are miserable and finally starting to come to terms with it. The delusion of your ability to heal quickly and on your own was finally starting to dissipate. You thought seeing a doctor was a waste of time, but you start to see the necessity of an appointment the more time you spend with a scratch in your throat and a headache hammering your skull.

The worst part, however, is not the pain, nor is it the constant sweating or the need to breathe through your mouth. No, the worst part is that today is Jihoon’s one day off; you are supposed to be ready to go on a date.

It's a little late in the morning when you wake up. You thrash in your bed frustrated that you are still sick and very tired. When you check your phone, there are no new messages. It isn't unusual for Jihoon to sleep in on his days off. You dread having to tell him the truth that you had been sick all week and couldn’t go out tonight. You could anticipate his response: a string of crying emojis and then a laugh where he says he’s just kidding and he’s fine as long as you get better. He wouldn’t really be okay with it, but he would say he is. He would be really disappointed; he isn’t very good at showing his true emotions, but you know he feels them so deeply. You don’t want to cause him any undue stress or heartbreak. At this point, it unfortunately is inevitable.

You grab your phone and hover over Jihoon’s contact, trying to muster the courage to send your good-morning-text and your confession followed by a long apology and promises to make it all up to him one day. You don’t expect your phone to ring, brandishing a very familiar sweet smiling selfie with the name “Jiji” underneath. You are startled then you take a deep breath, clear your throat, and answer.

“Good morning, my baby,” a sleep-rasped voice calls out from the other side.

“Good morning,” you try to answer in a normal voice, doing your best to hide your congestion.

“You sound different. What’s up?” Jihoon caught on immediately.

You whine a little over the phone, only prolonging the inevitable. There’s only silence from the other side. “I’m sick,” you say, then blurt out, “I’ve been sick for the past three days. I really, really tried to get better, honestly. I’m so sorry, Jiji. I can’t go out tonight.”

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, maybe from the nerves of finally coming clean, maybe from the extra exertion on your sick body. The five seconds it takes for Jihoon to respond feel like five hours. All he says is, “Oh. Okay.” After that, he hangs up the phone, leaving you stunned and with a horrible pit in your stomach.

You’re in shock. The kind of shock people feel after breaking a limb or recovering from a disaster. It pushes every other feeling out of your body. You do your morning routine in a fugue state. When you sit back in your bed, it all hits you at once. Tears stream down your face almost unconsciously, and you lay down with your face in your pillow. Eventually, you fall asleep again, too tired from the illness to continue to cry or feel anything.

Jihoon makes up his mind quickly. After abruptly hanging up the phone, he immediately gets up and goes through his own routine faster than ever, even taking 30 minutes off of his normal workout just to have more time for his own plan. After coming home, he does something a little out of character. He goes to the kitchen to cook something that isn’t chicken breast and white rice.

This surprises his roommates. Soonyoung tries to help him with the big pot of what was so far just stock and vegetables. He gets distracted easily, and it takes him a long time to cut up an onion. Jeonghan takes a picture of Jihoon and sends it in the group chat asking if this is normal behavior for Woozis. Seungkwan tries to taste it before the dish is ready and whines when his hand is met with a smack from a wooden spoon.

“This isn’t for any of you. Leave it alone,” Jihoon says in a stern voice.

“Wait, what? Then who is it for?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N, my girlfriend. She’s sick.”

The mood in the apartment changes. Now, Jeonghan is texting more furiously in the group chat about how Jihoon cares so much about his poor, sick girlfriend. Seungkwan now insists on tasting the dish the whole way through the cooking process to make sure it’s suitable for such refined tastes as his and yours. Soonyoung calls his mom and asks what the best thing is to cure illnesses. It becomes a whole big thing that has Jihoon a little bit annoyed but also grateful his friends care about you almost as much as he cares about you.

Jihoon’s morning and the better part of his afternoon off of work are then filled with surprise visits from Mingyu, Jun, and Seokmin who bring an array of dishes that could feed you for a month and Minghao who brings a special tea blend that he uses when he's feeling sick. Vernon sends a playlist of chill music for you to listen to while you recover, and Wonwoo writes a list of movies he recommends you watch to rest. Chan makes a special delivery of his grandma's famous kimchi, which has the rest of the boys groaning that they don't get any this time. Joshua sends the best essential oil wax melts so you can indulge in some aromatherapy. Finally, Seungcheol makes sure that Jihoon tells you that he can send anything in the world to your house using his card whether it be medicine or a treat from your favorite bakery or even a new designer pajama set to make sure you are at maximum comfort levels.

As he makes his way over to your apartment, Jihoon feels silly carrying a bunch of bags filled with various gifts from everyone on top of the soup he made that seems to pale in comparison. He curses Jeonghan under his breath for telling everyone his plan to bring you supplies, effectively making him the delivery boy because he is the only person who has the passcode to your apartment. He tries to call you on his way over, now adding his phone to the pile he was juggling. It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. He tries again and meets the same outcome. He assumes that you’re resting; being sick for multiple days sounds exhausting which is why he is so willing to bring over everything he (and the others) could possibly think of to make you feel better.

Jihoon reaches your front door and knocks loud enough that you would be able to hear it from your room, but soft enough that you wouldn’t wake up if you were resting. He waits a beat before just typing the code and letting himself inside. He makes his way to the kitchen and sets down the various bags on the countertops. Only once his arms are empty does he realize the state of the apartment. He slowly takes in the dirty dishes and various random stuff left on the floor. The trashcan is full, and tea bags litter the countertops. There are tissue boxes everywhere, each one full of used tissues.

He walks slowly to your room and, opening the door, he almost couldn’t make out your sleeping shape on the bed. You’re curled up into a ball under many layers of blankets on one side, and on the other was a pile of clothing. There’s more clothing on the floor. Jihoon goes back to the kitchen and takes a deep breath. He meticulously puts all the food everyone prepared into the fridge, rolls up his sleeves, and decides to start there. He makes a list in his head of all the things he could realistically do in the few hours you would be asleep.

The next moment, Jihoon is elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing dishes and wiping countertops. He finds all the cleaning instruments and proceeds to sweep and vacuum. He fills a trash bag with tissues, tissue boxes, and food containers. He gently tiptoes around your room, gathering up the clothes from the floor, which he assumes are dirty, and putting them in the wash. The clothes on the bed, which he checks are clean, are now folded and put in a hamper for later sorting. He even has time to reheat his soup and make a pretty plating of it paired with some rice and a cup of some of Minghao’s herbal tea.

You awaken when you hear dishes clanking in the kitchen. Someone is in your home. You freeze until the noise stops and begin to get up from your bed. With your legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to stand and possibly defend yourself, the door opens slowly and in walks Jihoon with a tray of dishes.

He looks surprised, then flashes a big smile, then says, “Good, you’re awake. It’s time to eat.”

All you can do is stare at him in disbelief as he sets a tray of soup and rice and tea on your lap. He sits cross-legged in the empty space beside you and scrolls through his phone as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“W…what’s all this?” you stutter out, utterly confused.

“Lunch,” Jihoon answers nonchalantly.

Looking at him beside you, you realize that there is indeed empty space on your bed for him to sit where there was once a pile of clothes. Tears appear behind your eyes when you look around at the spotless floor of your bedroom. You look at your boyfriend as one tear falls.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, it was a real mess in here.” He turns to look at you and uses his thumb to wipe the one tear from your cheek. “Start eating. I bet you haven’t eaten all day. How are you supposed to get better if you don’t eat?”

He was right. You take a spoonful of broth and bring it to your lips. It tastes wonderful. Alternating between tea and soup and rice, you feel fuller, and the heat from the meal eases your throat just a little more. Jihoon looks at you and sees how happy you look to be having a meal that wasn’t microwaved from a package. You are already almost done with the meal after only a few minutes.

“See, you were hungry, huh?” He teasingly shakes his head.

You lightly push your boyfriend's arm. You make a face, suddenly feeling awkward to be around him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“What? Why? Because you lied to me for days and didn’t let me take care of you? Or because you canceled our date on the day of because you assumed I cared that we went out somewhere?” he starts sarcastically, “I actually hadn’t thought about it all day.”

“I’m serious, Jiji!” you try to whine but end in a cough. He’s laughing at you as you get a little frustrated.

“I’m seriously not mad. I wish you would’ve told me, but being mad won’t fix anything.” His smile is soft, and he’s looking at you with love in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t know it would last this long. Honestly, I don’t know what I have, and you probably shouldn't be sitting so close to me right now.” You weakly try to push Jihoon away, but he sits like a rock, not budging at all.

“I’m fine,” he chuckles, “The plague couldn’t even keep me away from you.” He leans to kiss your forehead.

All your muscles relax as the last few bites on your plate disappear. Jihoon takes the empty tray in one hand and uses the other to guide you to your feet with him. He wordlessly walks you both out of the room. You see that not only is the entire apartment clean, but there are small gifts left out on the coffee table.

“What is all this?” you ask your boyfriend as take a seat on the couch, waiting for him to put the empty plates and bowls from the tray in the sink.

He takes a seat next to you and rubs the back of his neck with one hand and avoids eye contact when he answers, “The guys heard you weren’t feeling great, so, of course, they had to help out, too.” He goes through and shows you the wax melts, medicine, and self-care products. He also tells you about your new stock of homemade meals from the best cooks in the group. You get really excited about the kimchi from Chan’s grandma. He sends you Vernon’s playlist and Wonwoo’s recommendations. He even shows you the text Seungcheol sent him about using his card for whatever you might need.

Everything is perfect for the rest of the evening that was supposed to be a fancy, romantic date night. It turns out that watching movies and listening to music while snuggling and talking is the best medicine for illness and the most romantic date you have ever been on.

281 notes · View notes

belladaises · 11 months ago

Text

human shield

encountering strangers at a house party can be nice, while other times it can be...not what you expect. not to worry, though! here comes your big boyfriend to save you.

info seungcheol x reader, comfort (i lowkey don't know how to categorise this), reader is smaller than cheol, unwanted attention from strangers, 1139 words. hani's note i'm back pookies 😝 i have some more in store for you all coming soon! anyways, i hope you enjoy this and pls interact with it by liking commenting/reblogging <3

music boomed throughout the place and you watched as your friends move to the current song playing with grins on their face, belting out lyrics every now and then.

it had been a while since you all had hung out with each other, each of you being held down with work and taking up extra shifts or tasks to help colleagues. you were more than relieved when your friends realised that their free time had finally aligned with the whole groups and suggested an activity to do together which is how you all ended up at a...house party?

okay, maybe a house party wasn't something you would have liked to spend precious time with your friends. originally, you had planned to do a few rounds at go-karting but the place had turned out to be closed on the day you all agreed for the hang out. bummed out and a little annoyed, seokmin had been quick to bring up a house party that would be hosted by his friend. most of your friends had perked up and said that it would be a little refreshing to attend the party, that it'll allow you all to relax after facing all the stress from your respective work lives.

so here you are, leaning against the wall with seungcheol on your right. the two of you had been dancing with the others for a while but soon became a little exhausted and moved to the side to catch your breaths.

from the corner of your eye, you see seungcheol turn to you, "i'm a little thirsty, are you?"

"oh, yeah. i really need a drink right now, would you mind?" you tilt your head and watch as he smiles at you.

seungcheol shakes his head and pinches your cheek, "i don't mind at all, baby. stay right here, okay? i'll be back."

he disappears into the crowd and your eyes linger there for a few seconds before flitting away to look for your friends. as expected, seokmin and soonyoung are still dancing, they stop to drag wonwoo into the mix who protests at first but joins in with a smile.

however, your view becomes obstructed as two men approach you, your smile dropping. it's a little intimidating but you're sure you can handle a little chat if that's what they want.

one of them speaks up, "hey, cutie. are you alone out here?" he gestures behind him with a thumb before continuing, "we can keep you company!"

from the way he started his conversation you can tell how he definitely does not want just a little chat so you decide not to entertain him or his friend, "no, thank you. my boyfriend is here with me."

but they laugh when you say that and look at each other sceptically, "boyfriend?" one of them asks, almost in disbelief. there's a smell of cigarettes and alcohol coming from them and it makes your nose scrunch up slightly.

his friend steps forward, "where is he? don't see him here..." he pretends to look around and it begins to irk you the way they're both acting.

"we can't leave a pretty lady alone. lets go have some fun," the other man reaches towards you and tucks some hair behind your ear. you jerk backwards at the unwanted action, feeling disgusted.

“we’ll make sure you have fun, pretty." you don't answer but he persists, "let us buy you a drink, then.”

“no thanks, my boyfriend's got that.” you spit and divert your attention somewhere else with crossed arms, feeling a little suffocated from so much attention from two strangers alone. you can tell they’re getting a little annoyed but know that they won’t give up.

“why are you being so difficult? just come with us and relax,” one of them says with faint scowl. frustrated, you stare at them with fiery eyes, "i said no. you may fuck off, now."

you notice one of his hand reaching towards your face but it never touches you, a tall figure steps in front of you and blocks his way, the woody scent wafting into your nose.

seungcheol.

realising that it’s none other than seungcheol just from his scent, comforting warmth and built figure, you relax and let out the breath you were unintentionally holding.

“heard you were looking for this lovely lady’s boyfriend!” seungcheol jests, voice steady and dominating as he hands his and your drinks to vernon beside him. completely shielded by your boyfriends frame, your hand clutches onto his shirt at the waist and a finger from the other hand hooks into his belt loop as you watch him intimidate them effortlessly.

one of the men scoffs, “that’s you? move buddy, she’s no match for yo—”

seungcheol cuts him off, “and you are? that’s a good joke, maybe you should be a comedian!” he chuckles falsely and pats one of them on their shoulder before his smile vanishes, “don't ever think about laying that dirty hand on my girl or any other that clearly says no, for that matter. now, unless you don't want to keep being able to use that hand, you better fuck off like she said."

the guy sends seungcheol a dirty look and drags his friend down the hallway. seungcheol watches closely until the both of them are out of his sight.

"fucking creep," seungcheol mumbles.

"hey, you good?" vernon questions softly, earning a nod of you as a response.

a warm hand rests on your upper arm, you look up to see that it belongs to seungcheol who peers down at you with a worried look on his face. your name falls from his lips effortlessly, "are you okay? they didn't try anything, did they? I'm so sorry i took so long, i should not have left you alone like that."

"it's okay, they didn't do anything. i'm the one who sent you to get us drinks," you reassure him, "don't apologise, cheol."

"i'm still sorry, doll. i should have taken you with me," he pulls you closer, your chests meeting as he hugs you gently.

"i told you, it's okay," you kiss his jaw for extra reassurance before taking your drink from vernon, "thanks nonie."

vernon smiles and pats your head, "i got you. also, have you seen the others? i'll have to take their drunk asses home today."

seungcheol takes his own drink from vernon's hand, watching you nod and point to where the others were still dancing. wonwoo catches you pointing and taps both soonyoung and seokmin before tugged them along over to the three of you.

"hi!" soonyoung shouts with a wave. you wince at his volume and slap a hand to his mouth to which he speaks muffled words into.

seokmin, in his own drunken state, shushes soonyoung with a finger to his lips, "shh, soonie. you have to be quiet, okay?"

"see what i mean?"

WOOHOOOO!! you made it to the end! please don't hesitate to leave me feedback in my ask box or to like, comment/reblog! thank you for reading <3

406 notes · View notes

belladaises · 1 year ago

Text

→ SNAPSHOOT ·˚ * [SMAU]

IN WHICH, you’re president of the school yearbook and when it came to what you’re assigned to for the year you took everyone into consideration before yourself, which ended with you having to cover sports; specifically basketball for the entire year. you hate basketball. it also doesn’t help that the captain of the team, choi seungcheol, happened to be your ex-crush of 2 years.. the feelings won’t come back, right?

paring ; basketball player!seungcheol x fem!reader

genre ; sports au , probably angst , slow burn , 2 oblivious idiots , friends(???) to lovers , college au , bad humor ,

warning ; (will add to) , sexual and death jokes , i don’t know ANYTHING abt basketball guys , down badness

status ; ongoing ! (061824 - ???)

profiles,

y/n’s group

seungcheols group

→ CHAPTERS ᶻz

1. romantically or platonically

2. fun(ny)

3. it’s getting too straight in here

4. don’t let hoshi manipulate you

5. captain free

6. get her back

7. her favorite captain

8. i’m gonna text her

9. feminism or whatever

10. a lion and tiger

11. tiger stripes excuse

12. hey girl

+ more !

ENJOY!!

177 notes · View notes

belladaises · 1 year ago

Text

healing comes in small doses: stomach bug

pairing: husband! kim mingyu x wife! reader

healing comes in small doses masterlist

synopsis: in which, you're trying to get a message across your oblivious husband.

w.c: 6,7k

genre: domestic fluff

tags: npr, non idol!au, established relationship, gendered terms, terms of endearment (baby, babe, honey), reader is shorter than mingyu, soft mingyu, fluff, family dynamics, pregnancy

warnings: nsfw mentions, suggestive joke, sickness (pls let me know if i missed anything!)

takes place as newly weds and before seo ah!

a/n: the dialogue and idea of dropping hints are by my lovely alratatata @temptaetions <3 thank you so much, alta! I appreciate you for always having these boundless dialogues! also i need creative input for my banner. it's my first attempt ksghfdk. i was exhausted towards the end soo...i hope you guys enjoy! ~

Minors/Blank Blogs/Spam Likers will be blocked!

as always, i i thrive on tags, reblogs, and comments!<3

No one told you that part of the highs of being newlyweds was the giddy feeling of choosing the right colors of furniture, picking up on a main recipe for banchan to suit your preference for savory and your husband's affinity for spice, and to your surprise--budgeting.

It was something you both learned the hard way. Though you thought having a partner would make you accountable with your spendings, sometimes the excitement just gets the both of you. Like that ridiculous marble and glass coffee table whose granite color did not compliment your cozier apartment at all. Or that thrifted shoe rack you both got because it was “vintage” but you had to constantly nail together or choose which shoes could balance out the weight on each layer. Or the fact that you both lapsed into an unhealthy addiction for Mrs. Kwon’s fried chicken and that Mingyu picks up iced americano for you each weekend on his way back from his morning runs.

The attention towards your spending habits as a couple came to light when one evening, Mingyu decided to surprise you with his own take of said fried chicken. Being the amazing cook that he is, he nearly outdid Mrs. Kwon’s recipe. You immediately looked through the receipts, did a calculation and total of all your spendings. To your horror, you sat your husband down to tell him that you could have saved nearly 700,000 KRW if you had just had some self-discipline.

So, you sell the eyesore of a coffee table, use the money to get a good deal for both a new coffee table and shoe rack from IKEA. You get your own espresso machine later and make use of the tumblers your cousin bought you for your wedding day.

What you've both discovered with budgeting was, there were certain items you could save up on by simply doing it yourselves. Initially, you were hesitant about the prospect of doing a terrible job with DIYs that you end up spending more for the damage than saving. Luckily, Mingyu is very good with his hands. Any task or skill he'd put his mind into would always come out great.

You've both started baking your own bread for example. Just last week you've learned to culture your own yogurt. Mingyu, on the other hand, took up some carpentry classes for the sake of custom-building furniture in the odd corners of your home. In the beginning, you thought it was a stretch, not really keen on competing with Nara Smith. But considering that you were both starting on your savings goal for a new home, you let him.

Nearly a year into marriage and budgeting for two had been an adventure, and you've learned it at times didn't have to be strictly practical. You had fun with it too.

Tonight, for example, you gave into your week-long urge to dye your hair and your husband offers to do it for you.

"I never do these steps when I dye my own hair," you mutter, Mingyu scoops a generous dollop of vaseline on his fingers. The rough pads of his fingers smooth the product over the skin near your hairline.

"Yeah, me either," he whispers as if his concentration would break if he was any louder.

You snicker, imagining seventeen-year-old Mingyu and his chestnut brown hair that earned him a suspension and that one picture Wonwoo showed you of Mingyu at twenty-years old with the box-bleach hair fail.

Your husband immediately knew where your mind went with that sparkle of mirth in your eyes. He groans with a pout, "Don’t. "

You giggle once he reaches the back of your ears, "I didn’t even say anything!"

“Your face carries all the subtitles,” he huffs out before carefully applying towards the last few areas of skin the hair dye would touch.

It's incredibly endearing, you think, that Mingyu chose to do this extra step so you'd avoid the annoyance over the stains on your skin without the protection of the vaseline.

"Thank you, babe," you shoot him a dopey smile as he secures a plastic bag over your (his) old t-shirt. The man only smiles, quickly pecking your nose before slipping gloves over his hands. He looks over the bathroom counter. Plastic over the tiled surface, mixed hair dye, a brush, a comb, and towel.

You help him out by sectioning your hair and setting up a show for you both to watch from your phone. You don't even watch him brush the hair dye on to the first locks of hair. Simply setting your eyes on the show playing on your screen with full trust.

"It doesn't smell...strong or chemical-y," you note, briefly glancing at the mirror to see that your husband has covered half of your hair.

He smirks proudly, tapping at the box, "It's ammonia free~"

"Cool," you say, raising a disbelieving brow at him towards the mirror, "How'd you know about this stuff?"

"Only two failed hair-dyeing can teach ya."

"Oh, I'm starting to think you shouldn't be doing this."

“Please, that’s the exact reason why I should be doing this.”

You give him a look but let him be. You know how careful Mingyu is when it comes to you anyway.

An hour later, you’re drying your hair while your husband cleans up the bathroom of all paraphernalia and stains from the dye. True to his word, the color looks promising, a little darker than expected and you notice a section that’s uneven but you didn’t mind, it was at the back of your head anyway. It still scratches the itch for a new look without anything drastic. You catch Mingyu glancing towards the mirror from time to time, like he’s anxious you’ll hate it as if you didn’t choose the color and do this to yourself. You find it cute.

You also find it cute to tease him too, so you keep your expression neutral and finish up drying your hair.

Mingyu looms behind while you brush your hair and mindlessly style it to frame your face. You love it. The longer you look at it, the more the darker shade grows on you that you decide you love it more than your first choice.

You don’t say anything though, even when your husband compliments you. You only hum and after a while, release a deep sigh. His eyes hold that glassiness in them like it does when he’s worried and he gnaws on his bottom lip a little.

“You don’t like it?”

You tilt your head, doing your absolute best not to crumble at the way his voice sounded so small. But you stifle your smile and pull out the uneven section of hair, “Well…you missed a spot.”

A low whine escapes the back of his throat and he looks at you through the mirror while brushing his fingers through your hair. Wrapping his arms around you, he nuzzles his face into your neck in apology.

“But you look really pretty,” he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Would it help if we dyed your eyebrows too?”

That’s when you burst out in giggles unable to resist his pout—which grows 10x worse once he realized your ploy.

“Bully,” he pinches your side. You squeal, tilting your head up and reaching with one hand to cup his face and kiss the corner of his mouth. Then you keep pressing kisses anywhere your craned neck could reach till his mock offended expression falls away.

“Sorry, babe,” you smile, “I love it. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Of course, baby,” Mingyu kisses the top of your head, a pleased smile stretching across his lips when his choice of brand of dye doesn’t smell of chemicals but rather a soft scent of a fruity conditioner. “The color really brings out your eyes.”

You laugh a little, endlessly amused and endeared how Mingyu speaks to you like he’s your girlfriend. You both take a few seconds to admire his handiwork. He hasn’t let go of you yet, swaying your bodies from side to side while you put away your things.

“Do you think our kids will have your eyes?” your husband asks.

You nearly drop your hairdryer along with the sudden swoop of your stomach at the question. You pause and sputter out a quiet, “What?”

Looking back at the mirror, you notice that he has that far off gaze in his eyes. He shrugs, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d love it if they would, y’know? Or your nose—especially your smile,” there’s a ghost of a cheeky smirk on his mouth, “But if they got my height though. Oh, the world is not prepared.”

A flush creeps up to the back of your neck and even while your brain is trying to process the conversation, you answer him dumbly, “Yeah…sure.”

You talked about kids before you got married. Only in passing and mostly in light hearted conversations such as:

“Imagine if our kid sees this photo then calls it vintage.”

“Hope the clumsiness isn’t genetic. I’d hate that for our kid.”

“Babe, can you imagine Soonyoung wants a whole ass baseball team? Think we can top that?”

Those count…right?

With the way Mingyu talks about children, sends you random cute baby reels, and plays with his little cousins—you know that he’s great with kids and that he’d probably want them in the future.

Still, that was when you were dating.

Being married makes the prospect even more real and nearer than you thought. And maybe Mingyu was right that your face carries all the subtitles because he suddenly pales.

“Oh baby…we…sorry...we never talked about it, haven’t we?” he composes himself and loosens his hold because it looked like you wanted to hurtle towards the toilet and vomit.

“I-…yeah …I guess?” you manage to mumble.

It was not like you and Mingyu couldn’t talk about serious topics. It just caught you off-guard and quite frankly you were still trying to imagine what it would be like to have child with the current set up you have now. Everything was just so easy with Mingyu but the idea that you’re married and doing life together after years of self-preservation--it was still something you’re getting used to. Now if you think about having a child to the mix—

You meet Mingyu’s eyes in the mirror, eyes naturally drawn to the glint of his wedding ring from the hand he has on your bicep.

Then your shoulders relax.

When you had your first heartbreak, you had thought that this wouldn’t be possible for you. No one could care for you better than you could care for yourself. And while your parents did their best for you, their marriage was not one you’d want for yourself. Coupled with having unhappily married co-workers and speaking with divorced ladies that constantly warned you about the woes of marriage—you unconsciously villainize the concept of union. Besides, the only happy marriages you personally know of are ones that don’t have kids.

You didn’t want to be spending evenings, exhausted after work explaining how the stove works. You didn’t want to be the one deciding which color fits the kitchen or argue over the difference between titanium white and eggshell white. You didn’t want to endure the broken doorknob for two weeks all the while you nag and remind your husband to get it fixed. You didn’t want to be that one exhausted mother with a newborn having to explain to her husband how to prepare a baby formula when all you want is a five-minute shower.

You weren’t keen on being on your own in a marriage when you’ve done better being self-dependent your whole life.

But then there was Kim Mingyu.

Kim Mingyu and his blanket hogging tendencies. Mingyu and the random songs he belts when he potters around the apartment. Mingyu and how he inhales your three spoons in one go. Mingyu and his low whiny voice that increases in 1.75x speed when he’s convincing you to humor him. Mingyu and him risking getting his tongue burnt when he’s too excited to try something you’ve made. Mingyu and his stupid little urgent waddles and cheers from the counter to the freezer when he’s purchased your favorite ice cream.

Being in love with Mingyu was easy. He was the easiest ‘yes’ and the easiest ‘I do.’ Mingyu made marriage look easy and fun.

Because Mingyu beats you to your alarm to cook breakfast when he knows you prefer slower mornings. Mingyu, who proactively listens to you ramble about how you should re-do the kitchen and take you to trips to IKEA and Costco all the while sharing his preferences. Mingyu, who always cleans up and never leaves the dishes out until they’re all piled up because to him it’s an eyesore. Mingyu, who makes every grocery trip interesting and fun because he’s simply giddy with the thought of purchasing things for your home together. Mingyu who notices how often you scoot towards his pillow in your sleep then purchases the same exact kind for your own side of the bed.

Mingyu is always paying attention even towards the things you don’t know you need.

All of the sudden you realize; marriage was fun because it was him.

He was a good man, a wonderful husband—and without a doubt, you know he’d make an incredible father.

“Baby?”

“Mm?”

“Were you listening to me?”

You don’t realize that you weren’t listening to him nervously ramble at all. Your husband’s gnawing his bottom lip, voice softer and lower than usual. The same tone he uses when he’s unsure. Is this okay? Did I do good? What do you think of this color? Do you like it?

Taking a deep breath with newfound reassurance, you spin in his hold and drape your arms over his shoulders. You look up at him with adoring eyes, quietly apologizing before asking him to repeat it.

“ ‘S okay, honey,” Mingyu squeezes your waist, “I just… asked how you felt about having kids? I know we haven’t been married for long. But you…make me love life more. I love everything about you and I love everything about us. You make me feel like we can do anything.”

Your husband’s eyes stare deeply on your own and he swallows, licking his lips, “Of course, whatever your answer is, it won’t change that fact.”

You play with the collar of his shirt, “And what about you?”

There’s a sweet smile that quirks up the corner of his lips, and even when he doesn’t tell you, you know what his answer is. He’d rather just not say in fear of pressuring you to agree with him.

Everything about this used to feel like a task, a call that revokes your freedom, and takes away your happiness.

But then there was Kim Mingyu.

Before him, you realize that you didn’t think you’d get married because you were too afraid of neglect and unfulfillment that you ultimately depend on your own. Before him, the thought of bringing life into a world where you’d exhaust everything for them only to have your partner do the bare minimum would be unfair for the child.

It wasn’t a question of what you want but rather the unease of slipping back into relying on yourself for these big responsibilities.

Yet of all the people you could choose to share them with, you were glad it was him.

Because with Kim Mingyu all those fears remain “before him.”

A child, half you and half him—it fills you with a foreign warmth you can’t name. You feel your cheeks ache at the thought of a mini version of yourselves, running around and picking up on your habits. You try to put a face on them and while you know your husband thought it first–you wish they’d have his kind eyes. And it's bizarre how there exists a love for a life that has yet to exist simply because they’re yours –and Mingyu’s.

So you shoot him a bashful grin before pecking his chin because the poor guy looked like he would faint if you kept him on edge like this.

“Yes, Gyu.”

The answer doesn’t make sense and you belatedly realize you don’t know how to answer his question. But his eyebrows raise and he blinks, “Really?”

His smile stretches out into a full grin as you nod and he just keeps asking you over and over again if you were serious.

And with how casually and out of the blue he’s brought the topic, you think it's only fair to answer just as chaotically. You reach for the drawer behind you, pull out the packets of your birth control pills, and toss them into the bin, all the while you maintain eye contact.

Mingyu’s surprised giggles fill the bathroom. The kind of giggle you’d never expect from a man his size, shoulders shaking and reaching the high pitched tone when he’s giddy and flustered.

The comfort and peace you felt over something so life changing has never left your mind. You’re a little freaked out with how easily you had given into the idea of being a mom rather than the idea of being a mom itself. Well, with Mingyu as the father, it does make sense. Especially with how he had cradled your face, kissed your forehead and told you that you were both in no rush. That everything will happen in its own time. The last thing he wanted was for you to pressure yourself to deliver (literally and figuratively) when it was something you both should enjoy.

Still, it was good to be prepared as you adjust your budget once more to start saving up on a house and funds for raising a child.

The longer the idea of family sits between you and the more open you both are talking about it, you quickly realize how you had nothing to worry about at all. Because between your conversations and how adoringly and consistently cares for you, he’s always viewed this life together as a partnership. Not in a corporate way but rather he never found the dishes or cleaning to be solely one person’s job but both of yours. You never had to go through it alone.

Every task had always been shared. A seamless dynamic that moved like clockwork. You knew when Mingyu was too tired to cook that you’d take over dinner. Or when it's both late and you’re both exhausted, Mingyu has delivery on the way. When you took trips across town, you had fun with it by playing rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to be passenger princess for the day. Daily cleaning was a must by Mingyu’s standards, such as vacuuming, wiping down surfaces, and putting away the dishes. They were easy, you find that it leaves your mind less cluttered too, more relaxed. The laundry was when either of you noticed first if it was full. The folding however, was another story. It was a task you both weren’t very fond of, so it either went through another game of rock, paper, scissors or a bribe to vacuum the car’s interior instead.

It felt nice and it felt right, knowing you felt capable but also supported. You loved doing life with Mingyu and you just know your worries of feeling alone or becoming a ‘married single mom’ will never come into fruition.

Of course, it has not always been easy and you always lived by love not being enough. But being with Mingyu further proved your point. Because it was not only love that sustained you both throughout. So did consistency, communication, consideration, empathy, wisdom, and friendships that further nurture what you had.

You distantly wonder if that will still be enough when you find yourself five months later, in your workplace’s bathroom, staring at the striking two lines on your pregnancy test.

Between Mingyu starting his new position over his workplace, and your own week off, you’ve had enough time to get another test at the doctor’s and process the same positive results that you are indeed five weeks into pregnancy.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering how your conversation in that bathroom coaxed a more feral and shameless side of Mingyu in bed. He took the whole breeding kink to the next level, pounding you into the mattress like it was nobody’s business. While his stamina has always been crazy, you’re still in awe of how easily he came and how much he had to give. And for the first time in your whole career, you had used up your sick leaves simply because your legs were too sore and knees wobbly.

Your husband had been apologetic about it, making sure to dote on you in ways you’d sometimes find obnoxious with how shamelessly whipped he was.

Though you don’t miss the smug edges of his smirk when you waddle to the warm baths he draws for you.

The nerves settle into excitement and you’re searching up creative ways to tell your husband that you are pregnant.

Wrapping up the test as a present–gross, you peed on that thing.

Placing a bun in the oven–it won’t be fun, not with how you can predict yourself explaining the pun to Mingyu.

Gifting an infant’s onesie–that’s more of something you’d rather do for your parents and his.

Writing over your belly with a washable marker–instant no, you don’t have the patience to mirror your writing.

You sigh, slumping on the couch contemplating between letting one of your mutual close friends know or stubbornly keeping on the idea that your husband should be first to know. There were too many ways to tell him and you just want to make it special.

Then it clicks.

Maybe you didn’t have to have only one big reveal.

You don’t have a meticulously curated step by step plan. The goal was to simply drop vague hints until Mingyu eventually gets it. It’s perfect since it was fun to tease your husband and though he’s the most observant person you know, he has his oblivious tendencies that were both infuriating and amusing.

And this morning, as your nails dig into the bathroom tiles and you empty your stomach of its contents–in spite of the nauseating sensation– you think this could be your opportune moment to drop your first hint.

“You’re okay, baby, breathe,” Mingyu whispers, voice low and rough with sleep while he holds your hair back and runs a big palm up and down your spine.

It pushes you to curl over the bowl and retch. At this point, all you have left is bitter liquid and it tells you there’s nothing more to expel. It leaves you lightheaded as you lift your head, weakly swiping the spit that spilled down your chin. Your husband’s soothing touches ground you–his hand rubbing up and down your arm, the other coming up to brush the sweaty strands of hair clinging to your forehead and neck.

He softly kisses your temple, “Don’t fight it if there’s more.”

Something about the gesture, his raspy sleepy voice, and patience makes you a little teary-eyed.

“Sorry,” you croak.

Mingyu tsks, a sound of protest as he squeezes your arms, “Why are you apologizing, baby? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The apology comes as an instinct by now, the guilt of inconveniencing people deeply ingrained in you. Even after years together, it’s still something you’re learning to unlearn.

The smell of your vomit makes you suddenly gag, and Mingyu is quick to reach over and flush its contents. He’s back to rubbing your back, encouraging you to release if there was more. Slowly, the twisting in your stomach quells, and your breathing regulates as you lean back against his chest, the warmth of him calming you down.

After a few moments, once he’s sure you’re fully okay, he kisses the top of your head again.

“Think you can stand up and gargle for me? I’ll get you a cup of water.”

You hum, scared that if you nod, you’d get dizzy.

Washing your hands and rinsing your mouth makes you feel significantly better. The heavy footsteps of your husband fill the hall and he appears beside you in the mirror. He sleepily smiles, brows dipped in worry and his hair fluffed up and sticking in odd directions. His old t-shirt is rumpled and the collar is tugged to one side in his haste to stumble after you when you had quite literally jumped out of bed. It’s probably around 2AM by now, judging by the lack of light outside and how it's only been a few hours since you went to bed.

He must have noticed the apology in your eyes because he cuts you off once your mouth opens.

“Baby, don’t. Please.”

You sigh and nod, taking the glass from his hand and letting him love you, letting yourself be okay with being sick. Well, not the exact reason why you’re this way but the side effects of pregnancy was definitely feeling sick.

Mingyu cradles your face, thumb rubbing over your clammy cheeks. His eyes have always been expressive and you can see the disquiet in them. “This is the third time this week, I’m bringing you to the doctor’s this afternoon.”

The sudden panic nearly swings you back to nausea because you didn’t want him to know the real reason why you’re like this. At least not from the doctor but from yourself.

“No, i-it’s…I mean,” you fumble a little, “I already went the other day actually.”

Mingyu’s brows furrow, not recalling you ever telling him you did. He looked a little confused, you always told him where you went and while he’s not particularly the type to monitor your every movement, he’d expect that you would at least tell him something as important as a doctor’s appointment.

Before he could ask further questions, you’re quick to explain, “It’s nothing serious, babe.”

“Baby…”

Oh, boy, he’s pouting now.

You bite your lip, trying not to fiddle with your fingers to give away your white lie, “It’s just…a stomach bug.”

“A stomach bug?”

“Yeah, I…have a stomach bug.”

Stomach bug. You inwardly flinch a little and apologize to your unborn child that you likened them to a sickness…a bug.

Mingyu’s searching your face, not fully convinced but you do your best to keep your expression neutral. He could easily read you, he’s always paying attention to you and you’re hoping you're somewhat achieving your goals here. Not that soon but just enough to keep him on his toes. You guess that it's the exhaustion on your face and his own that makes him acquiesce to your reasoning.

He sighs, rubbing your hips before he’s ushering you back to bed.

“Okay, honey, but will you remember to tell me about these next time?”

You flush a little, feeling flustered over his worry and a slight guilt that you did it on purpose. But you nod and apologize, he shakes his head planting a firm kiss on your mouth before he snugly tucks you in. He doesn’t settle in bed though, promising you he’ll be back as he heads out of your bedroom.

You listen to his shuffling in the kitchen, the refrigerator and cabinets opening, then the light bumps here and there that are typically Mingyu. Sleep takes over you quite fast, you don’t know if it's the gradual changing of your body or if you’re truly exhausted. He joins you later, out like a light and softly snoring.

The next day, you nearly give in and tell your sweet husband the big news when you learn that he went through your whole pantry to check the expiry dates and freshness of your foodstock, clearing out any potential food that could have made you sick.

“Do you think it was the kimchi?”

“Huh?”

“I think I might have over fermented the kimchi…now it gave you a stomach bug.”

“Uh…yeah, probably?”

“I’m really sorry, babe. I should have thrown it out earlier.”

“Oh, Gyu…this isn’t your fault.” (technically, it was.)

“It is…now you’ve got some weird kimchi monster making you sick.”

“Hm, you’re right. I should name it little Kim Chi, ‘cause y’know…the father is Kim Mingyu.”

“Ha ha.”

You’re at the grocery store a week later, watching your husband effortlessly reach over the top of the shelf for toilet paper. You’ve always enjoyed these trips with him, never growing tired of the thought that you’re both caring for yourselves and your home together. It’s mundane, it’s routine, but somehow it always feels special.

Mingyu’s mumbling out loud and counting calculations while he compares two brands of toilet paper–one being your usual and the other being on sale. That is usually your forte, something he’s quickly picked up on but you’re content watching him furrow his brows, lips jutting out as he calculates the tax. He must have said something you missed because he’s tilting his head over to you now, and coming around the cart to where you’re leaning on the handle.

“Hm? Sorry, babe, what’s that?” you lift your head from your arms.

“You look tired,” he says with a worried frown. He places an affectionate hand over your head before he gently nudges you away from the cart with his hip. “C’mon, just a few more on the list and we’re done.”

He takes over your self-assigned role as the ‘cart-driver’, while you stand there dumbly before following after him. You tuck your hands into your pocket and sigh.

You knew pregnancy would change your body but you don’t realize it comes up in ways that you don’t even recognize or even this early on. Like just ten minutes ago, you had to speed through the produce aisle cause you could not stand the smell of citrus. Then suddenly, everything about you feels so sluggish which didn’t make sense considering you just had the week off.

All the while your husband obviously thinks that it's simply due to your little stomach bug—little Kim Chi.

On your way to the personal hygiene aisle, you both find yourselves going through the baby aisle. Your eyes gloss over the nappies and baby formulas while your footsteps slow into a halt. Something in you twists and blooms into warmth when you think about how you’ll be finding yourselves here more often very soon.

With a quick glance over to your husband who’s busy cupping his pockets for your rumpled grocery list, you smirk and call him over to look at what’s caught your eye.

“Gyu, look here. Glass baby bottles…don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

Mingyu blinks, processing your question then scrutinizing the row of bottles you point at.

“I dunno, babe. All the stuff they put in plastic bottles kinda freaks me out…okay, I feel like a crunchy mom saying that and we don’t even have kids.”

“Not yet, anyway,” you add, leaning your cheek against his bicep while he picks up one out of curiosity.

“Oh? You wanna have my kids?” Mingyu tilts his head over to you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes and huff, “Gyu, we’re married and we’ve literally talked about this.”

Plucking the bottle from his grasp and taking another one in a pastel yellow shade to go with it, you walk towards your cart and place it there. You fight off the flush creeping up your neck, seeing the tiny baby bottles amongst the stacks of produce, seasonings, toilet paper–all things for your home.

Puzzled, your husband asks, “Why are you putting baby bottles in the cart?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, resisting the urge to break character and giggle, “Maybe it’s for when we have one. I’ll tell her that Eomma had her planned for a while.”

“Her? What makes you think it’ll be a girl?”

“You’re so girl dad coded, babe. I can see it now. She’ll put pigtails and pins on your hair and you’re crouched uncomfortably in her play set with a tiny teacup in your hands-”

“Are you ovulating?”

You cross your arms and shoot him your deadliest glare, “Wow, ask that louder why don’t you?”

Poor Mingyu, his cheeks are stained pink and he’s looking at you with wide eyes as he stammers, “I–I’m just saying! You never talk about babies like this, much less come into this aisle. We don’t even have a kid, honey.”

Your gaze falls to the ground, finding the scuffed up edges of your sneakers interesting, “We could though…”

Your husband takes note of your flustered state, distantly wondering whether you’re pressuring yourself into giving him children. He reaches a careful hand toward your arm, pulling you to his side.

“I mean, yeah, we could…in time,” he quickly pecks your head in reassurance, “But even then, we wouldn’t have to be here for a couple of months. Put that back! Weren’t we aiming for budgeting wisely–especially, for our future baby?”

You plant your feet firmly, blocking your husband from the cart as you look up at him with a pout you know he can never resist, “B-but, it's such a cute color! Imagine holding your newborn in butter yellow!”

It’s working, you know it, you can tell with how quickly he’s turning red and the sparkles in his eyes that he loves that idea as much as you do.

“There’s no newborn yet! Jeez, babe, was last night and this morning not enough tell you, I’m working hard to make that happen…pun intended-”

“Gyu, that’s nasty!”

“So was the way you were all over m-”

“Kim Mingyu!”

He chuckles as you weakly slap his chest, “What I’m saying is…we can always come back when we do have a baby.”

“Or…we can buy it now.”

“Honey.”

“Mingyu.”

The man stares you down. You’re rarely this whiny that he’s quite frankly stunned that it's this very topic that coaxed this side of you.

He sighs, then makes a poor attempt to look strict by scowling, “Fine, fine. But just this and don’t pin this on me the next time you go through our budget then call it a waste of money.”

You smile, satisfied and victorious. You lean up on your tippy toes to kiss the corner of his lips that resist the urge to stretch into a fond smile.

“Call it planning for the future.”

The days flew by and so do your hints over Mingyu’s head, each one being more obvious than the last.

He doesn’t question you when there’s a set of baby blankets you’ve carelessly left by the laundry basket. Or that one time he’s gone shopping with you and you’ve been extremely particular and vocal about keeping the fit around the belly area loose. Or that you requested for your bottoms to be twice your normal size. He’s only ever freaked out over a package of parenting books by your door before shrugging then picking up a volume to read, chucking it off to future planning.

If he only knew how much present that was.

You don’t know if it's the hormones or that you’re not being obvious enough, but you’re starting to feel restless over keeping your whole pregnancy to yourself for nearly three weeks after you’ve received your results. You’re nearing your eighth week now, and the solo doctor’s checkup earlier makes you feel odd that Mingyu isn’t there with you. Sometimes you’re giving into the urge to just toss a dinner roll over his head and yell that there’s a bun in the oven! But even then, you’re sure he’ll just rush over the oven and ask you where?

And while you’re cuddled up to his side, watching some boring nature documentary of the deep sea, you deduce that you’d much prefer this annoyed feeling over anxiety of how this news will change the trajectory of your lives.

It makes you smile to yourself, the thought that you’re just so secure and safe with Mingyu as your husband and a soon-to-be-father. There’s a fluttering in your chest you can’t suppress and you grin even wider. You snuggle deeper into his chest and Mingyu, who’s been scrolling through his phone, sets it down to look down at you.

“Wow, you must really like watching how the octopus eats its mate.”

You blink, readjusting your focus to the scene playing out before you. You’re a little startled to see that it was indeed a female octopus mauling a smaller male octopus. You feel your husband’s chest rumble and he knows you were simply zoned out. He lowers the volume, scooting back into the couch and running his fingers up and down your arm.

“What’s on your mind babe?”

There’s a mesmerizing shot of a jellyfish, floating and drifting through the deep blue current. The sunlight above it penetrates through its blushing hues. You’re entranced for a moment, feeling the steady rise of your heartbeat before you speak.

“You ever wonder what life is like inside a bag of water?”

Mingyu hums in thought, and you’re once again, endeared by how easy it is to have silly conversations with him. “You mean like…a fish going home from a pet store?”

“Or…back in the womb.”

“I don’t think I’d wanna be there again. I’m too large.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, an intrusive image of this 6’2’’ man fitting himself inside a belly.

Shaking your head, you add, “It’s also dark.”

“I hate the dark,” he agrees, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “It’s spooky.”

“Do you think the baby likes it?”

“Considering that it’s their first–” he pauses, processing your wording, “...what baby?”

“Our baby.”

You feel every muscle that holds you start to stiffen and seize up. You will yourself to stay calm and as nonchalant as you can, hoping that this time–your husband understands what you mean.

After a beat, Mingyu slowly pulls back to look at you. His eyebrows furrow,

“Our baby?”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with an expectant gaze and soft smile before you nod. You watch him unravel: his brow relaxes and his pink lips part–the gears in his head clicking and turning. His eyes are shimmering as they scan your face.

“You mean,” he licks his lips, mouth dry, “You’re…we have…one?”

You nod again, the edges of your vision blurring.

Mingyu twists his body, tenderly cupping your jaw. Pink dusts his cheekbones and his own eyes are teary and hopeful as they gaze into yours. You feel a warm shaky hand brush over your tummy, “You…have one…in there?”

You burst into a watery laugh, “Yes, honey. I’m pregnant.”

There’s a strained wheeze at the back of his throat and Mingyu all but throws himself into your arms. You grunt at the sudden weight off him, falling back into the cushions behind you. Your husband tucks his face into your neck, giggling and nuzzling beneath your jaw. Just as you’re about to return his enthusiastic embrace he pulls himself off, standing up and throwing his hands over his head. It’s like he’s overwhelmed, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he paces in nonsensical patterns, running a hand over his head.

“I’m…I’m going to be a dad? And you’re going to be a mommy?” he asks breathlessly, eyes wide in wonder.

“Yes, Gyu, we’re going to be parents,” your cheeks hurt so much from grinning.

Never did you think that breaking this kind of news would feel this way–overjoyed, and giddy. And you certainly didn’t expect the high pitched giggling your behemoth of a husband has while he bounces on his feet. His grin is bright, eyes crinkled into beautiful crescent moons as he stumbles back into your embrace. You can literally feel him vibrating and soon enough, you feel dampness gather into your collarbones.

“Aw, Gyu,” you coo, tenderly rubbing his head.

“I’m so happy,” he croaks into your skin, “I love you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The warmth this man envelops you in, his soft cries, his joy and tenderness—they tell you that marriage, pregnancy, and starting a family, all things that you were terrified of were not scary at all. They were beautiful only because Mingyu’s presence allowed it to be. What you have is so filled with love that you can’t wait for your little one to thrive in it. You don’t know what they’ll be yet but you promise yourself that they will not lack the love they deserved.

They’d grow up with a mommy and daddy who’d dote on them, who’s comfortable with their affections, and who’s willing to give them better than what they once had. You vow to always pay attention, to never dismiss their excitement, and to unlearn the ways you’ve been raised.

They’d be with a wonderful man as their father, the kind that would make silly breakfast pancakes, the kind who’d crawl on the floor with them and risk a backache for their pretend tea parties, and the kind that would show them how big the world is but there’s nothing to fear—because mommy and daddy would be there.

You ball your fists. Don’t cry, don’t cry. But you can’t help how in love you are with your husband and a child you’ve yet to meet.

“I love you,” Mingyu repeats, lifting his head to kiss your damp cheeks. He smiles at you, eyes still glossy with tears as he slides onto the carpeted floor. Gently resting his forehead on your tummy that is yet to show, he presses a sweet kiss just above your belly button, “And nice to meet you, stomach bug.”

You crinkle your nose. With a chuckle, you correct him, “Little Kim Chi.”

Your husband shakes his head with a grin before he lays his cheek against your stomach. He whispers his own promises to the child you're yet to meet--the only thing you hear however,

“I love you, little Kim Chi”

taglist: @armycarat2612 @toplinehyunjin @roseandpeaches @jespecially

@soffiyuhh @8queenc8 @waldau

permanent taglist: @najaeminluvbot @automaticpersonabatpaper

if you've been tagged, please consider commenting/reblogging <3

1K notes · View notes