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k-vanity · 3 days ago

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Befriending Tigers - K.SY

🐯Who: Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🐯What: Single parent au. Neighbours au. Humour. Some angst. Some fluff. Suggestive (18+). Single dad Soonyoung. 🐯Word count: 8.8k 🐯Warnings: Sexual references/ jokes/ conversations. Implied smut at the end. Oblivious Soonyoung. One brief depiction of alcohol consumption. Soonyoung has a five-year-old son, who is equally as tiger obsessed as his dad. Long live the tiger agenda. Seungkwan is reader’s best friend and a meddlesome menace. Ex friends with benefits Chan. Vernon is referred to as Choi Hansol and is Seungcheol’s brother. DILF Seungcheol agenda (even if he never actually shows up in the story, only mentioned but I still want to mention him). I honestly don’t think there’s anything else to warn but let me know if I’ve missed anything! 🐯Summary: “You won’t admit it to anyone, but you’re pretty enamoured with the tiger striped father-son duo from the very first moment.”

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

When you move into your new apartment, the last thing you expect to see when you turn around from putting down another box, is a small child standing in your open doorway. He’s dressed in a white tiger onesie and staring at you with his lower face smeared with ice-cream. The cone in his hand is dripping onto the empty space where you haven’t yet put a welcome mat, and you’re glad for that. You really don’t want to have to scrub ice-cream from a brand-new mat.

“Uh, hi?” you offer, tentatively moving forward a few steps, which this child apparently takes as an invitation to enter your apartment and drip ice-cream along the entranceway floor. At least you already have to clean it from wearing your shoes indoors as you ferry your belongings up from the van, so you’re not mad he’s getting a clean floor dirty. “Uh, you shouldn’t be in here. Where’s your parents? Or guardian? Older, responsible sibling...Grandparent?” you keep offering suggestions, but the child doesn’t answer, just keeps waddling around your empty shell of an apartment curiously.

You have to admit, he’s adorable, but you have no idea how the hell to handle children. It’s not that you’ve never been around them; there’s always at least one child in your family and some of your friends are even parents. So, you’ve been around kids, but never alone. You’ve never had to be responsible for one and you really didn’t think that would change any day soon. Especially not today.

Although it’s your apartment and you probably should steer the kid out of it and find his parents, you just stand awkwardly and watch him, not sure what the protocol for this situation is exactly. You’re very certain that you shouldn’t touch the kid and especially not pick him up to carry him outside, but he hasn’t seemed to hear you so far. Or at least, he hasn’t reacted if so. You really don’t have the confidence that he’d follow your lead if you tried to get him out.

So, you just stand and wait. Hope that he’ll turn around and toddle off. Of course, if he did do that, you’d follow him to make sure he’s safe. And if he tried to leave the building, you would definitely get over your hold backs and pick him up to keep him safe as you call the authorities. But for now, you just keep a safe distance and wait.

After what feels like forever, but really isn’t even a minute, the boy walks over to you and plops down by your feet, to return to eating his ice cream as if this is a normal, everyday occurrence for him.

You’re honestly starting to believe you fell asleep on the floor and this is a very strange, very vivid dream. Or an exhaustion induced hallucination.

Which only grows when you hear rapid footsteps and look towards the open front door in time to see a flash of orange and black rush past. A tiger. Another tiger.

You barely blink before the orange and black is back in the doorway and you find a grown man wearing a tiger onesie, eyes wide in panic and hands gripping the doorframe either side of him as his chest heaves.

“This yours?” you get out, pointing to the child by your feet while the man just stares dumbly, mouth open as he sucks in breath. He nods rapidly, still trying to catch his breath and unable to speak. “Right.” You look down at the child, who is contently crunching away on his ice-cream cone and spilling even more ice-cream over his thighs and the floor between them. “Your grown up is here, cub,” you inform and motion to the doorway.

The little boy looks over and lights up. “Daddy!” he cheers.

“Baek,” the man finally speaks, voice tilting in warning yet sounding too relieved to really put any scold into his voice. “I told you to stay at home. Why are you here?”

“New friend!” the boy declares then abruptly moves closer to you to attach himself to your legs, smearing ice-cream and smushed waffle cone over your jeans. Now you really don’t know what to do, so just stand with your hands awkwardly hovering by your waist.

“I am so sorry,” the man breathes out and toes off his shoes before scuttling over to pry his son from your legs. “We’re working on his stranger danger skills. And his listening skills. And personal space issues.”

“He’s uh, cute,” you reply, not sure what else to say as the man swoops his son up, uncaring for the mess that smears on his outfit as he does.

“He is!” he agrees, beaming brightly, expression completely changing to joy and pride and oh, he’s really fucking cute. He turns his head to his son and leans in a little closer to talk softly to him. “Can you introduce yourself, cub?”

The boy looks at you and beams big and bright, just like his dad. “I am Kwon Baekho!” he declares. “Nice meet you!”

“Ah, nice to meet you too,” you reply, unable to hold back your little chuckle at his adorable antics before you introduce yourself.

“Be my friend?” Baekho requests, looking at you with big, excited, yet still pleading, eyes.

“I’ve never befriended a tiger before,” you muse. “It could be very interesting. Sure, let’s be friends, little tiger.”

“Daddy!” Baekho bounces in his dad’s arms as he looks at him utterly elated. “I have new friend!”

“That’s so cool, cub,” the man enthuses.

“Daddy new friend too?”

“Uhm, I don’t know. She might only be willing to make friends with cute tigers,” he responds before glancing at you. “What do you think?”

You bite back the automatic retort that he is also a cute tiger. There’s something you need to be certain of before you let your honest thoughts out. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Is there a partner around that would find issue with us being friends?”

“No.”

“No to your partner not finding issue with it, or no to there not being a partner?” you wonder.

“Both.” You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, and he quickly realises what he’s just said. “Uh, that wasn’t a smart response, was it?” He gives an embarrassed little smile. “Sorry, I meant that there’s no partner. Just-just me and Baek.”

“Then I guess I’ve made friends with two cute tigers today,” you respond.

His eyes widen at your words, before his cheeks suddenly pinken and he stammers on his words. “U-uhm that- I- me cute?”

“Do you see any other tigers here?” you tease and to your genuine amusement, the man takes a moment to quickly look around the apartment from where he stands as if he is truly checking and half expects to find a third person sporting a tiger outfit. You think you’d probably lose your mind if another person turned up in a tiger onesie at this point.

“No,” he answers when he looks back at you, something oddly innocent in his rounded eyes. “I uhm…We should get back!” he exclaims suddenly, making you jump at the sudden increase in volume, but his son seems far too used to his father’s noise as he doesn’t react and continues to lick at his sticky hands, ice-cream now all gone. Or transferred between the three of you and the floor, at the very least. “Got-gotta put away the groceries!”

“Probably a good idea, yes,” you agree and watch as he quickly turns and scuttles off. He forgets to put his shoes on at first, so has to double back and awkwardly shove his feet in them, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he glances at you shyly, then refuses to look in your direction again.

Once the adorable man and his equally as adorable child are gone, you let out a little laugh and head out of the apartment yourself to get back to work.

Oddly, you feel a little energised after the encounter, enough that you don’t realise until over an hour later, when you’re done cleaning the ice-cream from your floor, that the man never gave you his name.

Despite living in the same building, at least you assume so, you don’t see Baekho or his dad for almost two weeks.

You’re in the middle of making dinner ready for your monthly friend dinner when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” Chan offers before you can even wipe your hands to do as such yourself.

“He’s whipped,” Seungkwan whispers from your left, where he’s pretending to help with cooking by hovering and handing you items. Even if Chan and Minghao are both watching TV in the living room as you all wait for Hansol to arrive. You just roll your eyes and elect to ignore your best friend, it’s often better to do so anyway.

You assume it’s Hansol arriving now, but the loud gasp Chan lets out at the door tells you otherwise, especially when he exclaims a name you don’t recognise. “Soonyoung!”

“Who?” you mutter confusedly and glance at Seungkwan, who looks equally as puzzled. Bewildered and curious, both of you leave the kitchen and head to the front door.

To your surprise, Minghao is now also at the door and looks happy to be talking to this Soonyoung. Clearly, he and Chan are both friends of this person.

“Who is it?” you ask once close enough, making your friends move aside and reveal Baekho and his father, neither in tiger onesies this time. But they’re both still sporting tiger stripes on their matching short sleeved shirts. They’re even wearing matching jeans. It’s so fucking cute. “Oh, hi,” you greet. “You’re Soonyoung.”

“Oh, uh yeah. Guess I forgot to introduce myself the other day,” Baekho’s dad, also apparently known as Soonyoung, replies sheepishly, and rubs the side of his neck with one hand, the other on his son’s shoulder as the boy stands in front of him.

“I was prepared to call you Baekho’s dad for the rest my life, but Soonyoung also works,” you tease, and Seungkwan nudges you pointedly. You ignore him, making him huff. “I take it you know Chan and Minghao?”

“Yeah, we work together,” Soonyoung confirms.

“I’m Seungkwan,” he introduces before you can say anything else, reaching out to offer his hand, which Soonyoung takes to shake politely. “I’m her best friend and the one you have to impress.”

“What?” Soonyoung mumbles dumbly, while you shove Seungkwan away as he sniggers.

“Ignore him, he has many issues that we’re trying to get to the root of.”

“Mostly, we’re trying to get him his own love life, so he stops trying to interfere in ours,” Minghao states. “Any chance you have someone we can set him up with?”

“Uh, maybe?” Soonyoung offers awkwardly. “I don’t really know him to know the kind of person he’d suit.”

“Understandable,” Minghao hums then looks down at Baekho. “Can’t believe you’ve never even told us you have a son.”

“Uh, well…people change how they act when I do. Make assumptions about me and him and all that, so I just…keep my private life private,” he explains, looking both a little defensive and also very apologetic.

“Makes sense. But for the record, the only difference is that now we’ll want updates. He’s adorable,” Minghao enthuses, then leans over to address Baekho directly. “Hi, I’m Uncle Hao.”

“Uncle?” Baekho questions then looks up at his father confusedly. “Like Uncle Goo?”

“Yeah, cub. Minghao is one of daddy’s friends,” Soonyoung confirms then motions to Chan. “And he’s Uncle Channie.”

“My friend too?”

“You should ask them that, not me.”

So Baekho turns to Minghao and Chan. “My friend too?” he requests.

Chan immediately lowers to a crouch with a bright smile. “Of course, we’re friends!” Baekho beams, then throws himself forward to Chan, who catches him with a laugh and accepts the hug happily. “He’s definitely your son, Soonie,” he muses.

“Can’t deny that, huh?” Soonyoung replies with a chuckle.

“What’re you two all dressed up for, anyway?” Minghao wonders as he straightens up and eyes the neatly ironed shirt Soonyoung is wearing.

“Oh, uhm…” Soonyoung’s cheeks pinken and he shyly looks away. “We were just going for dinner.”

“Funny place to come for dinner,” Minghao teases, motioning to your front door, making Soonyoung’s blush darken. “Were you planning to invite her?”

“To apologise for the other day!” Soonyoung exclaims quickly, big eyes lifting to look at Minghao, and then you. “We’ve been trying to make you cookies since then; to make up for it and apologise for the mess he made with his ice-cream. Which I’m really sorry about, by the way; I should’ve said that the other day.”

“It’s fine, I’m not mad about it or anything,” you assure.

“You made cookies?” Seungkwan wonders, eyeing the empty-handed father-son duo. Baekho is still attached to Chan and now happily chattering away to the still crouching man indulging him.

“We tried, but it turns out we’re really bad at baking. So, we thought that maybe dinner would make up for it?” He looks at you sheepishly. “But I see today is a bad day.”

“How about you join us for dinner?” Seungkwan suggests, slinging one arm around your shoulders and smiling too sweetly at Soonyoung.

“What?” Soonyoung mumbles dumbly in response. “Us join you all?”

“Yeah! It’s our monthly friendship dinner and she’s hosting this month!”

“Oh, uh, I don’t want to intrude on your friendship dinner.”

“We’re all friends here now, right? Come on, come in.” Seungkwan lets go of you to dart forward and grab Soonyoung’s wrist to tug him inside.

Soonyoung lets himself be pulled inside with wide eyes that dart to you in alarm. But seeing you watching with an amused little smile and no attempt at arguing, he relaxes and willingly removes his shoes. “Cub, come remove your shoes,” Soonyoung says.

“But we go dinner?” Baekho replies confusedly as Chan puts him down.

“We’re going to have dinner here tonight, okay?”

“With friends?!” Baekho gasps, bouncing on his toes. When his dad nods in confirmation, Baekho cheers excitedly then turns back to Chan to launch himself at him again. “Dinner, Uncle Channie!”

“Yeah!” Chan cheers and gets up, holding Baekho securely with one arm and using his free hand to tug the little boy’s shoes from his feet, to hand over to Soonyoung so he can put them down neatly. “What’s your favourite movie, Baekie, we can watch it while we wait for dinner, huh?”

As if it’s not the first time they’ve met, Chan carries Baekho to the living room while they begin to discuss movies together without a care for anyone else present.

“I forgot how much he loves kids, and kids love him,” you muse.

“I didn’t know he likes kids,” Soonyoung admits. “I wouldn’t have hidden Baek from him so much if I knew they’d get along so well.”

“Probably because they have the same mental age,” Seungkwan says, then sniggers when you backhand his arm scoldingly. “Alright, sheesh, defensive of your boy.”

“Your boy?” Soonyoung blurts, looking at you in surprise. “You’re dating Chan? I thought he’s single.”

“We’re not. Kwan is just a fucking idiot,” you respond, then shove Seungkwan out into the hallway before shutting the front door. Minghao sniggers and walks off to join the pair in the living room, while Soonyoung looks between you and the front door, which Seungkwan is now banging against. “So, dinner?” you suggest and head to the kitchen.

“Uh…” Soonyoung looks at the front door one last time before scuttling after you. “You’re leaving him out there?”

“He knows the code; he’ll let himself in when he stops being dramatic,” you assure and quickly get back to preparing dinner. “Do you two have any allergies or anything?”

“Baek’s lactose intolerant, but otherwise we eat anything.”

“Finding lactose free ice-cream must be hard,” you comment intrigued, while being glad that dinner doesn’t include any products with lactose in, so you don’t have to try and find an alternative at the last minute.

“Yeah, we have to go to a fancy store to get our dairy, but it’s worth it so he doesn’t miss out. And he really loves ice-cream. Mostly spilling it, but he enjoys himself, so I’m happy to clean up after him.”

“You seem like a really good dad.”

Soonyoung blushes at the compliment and shyly looks away from you as he responds, “Ah, surprised to hear that seeing as you first met us because my son had wandered out of the apartment when I was getting the groceries from the car.”

“Kids just do shit like that. Our other friend, who we’re waiting for, has an older brother with a little gang of kids. He’s an incredible dad, but even his kids have wandered off when something interests them. One left in the middle of the night a few weeks back. Climbed out of a window and fuck knows how she got it open, but we were all out looking for her for hours.”

“Oh shit, that happened to my friend recently too. I didn’t know until the next day because he didn’t want me to worry when I have Baek to watch. I would’ve been at home worrying and unable to help if he had let me know when it happened.”

“That makes sense. I wouldn’t have told you either if I were him.”

“I get it, but I also still do kinda wish I had known. I care about his kids a lot and he’s helped me so much with Baek, him and his wife both, so I owe him a lot. His family is mine and mine is his, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I think I’d feel the same as you in that circumstance. Baekho comes first, but you’ll still do everything you can to help your friend with his kids.”

“Exactly,” Soonyoung confirms, then looks over towards the kitchen exit when he hears Baekho shriek, but the boy immediately starts laughing, so Soonyoung relaxes and leans onto the counter. “So…what’s that with Chan?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s got to be some kind of reason for Seungkwan to accuse you of dating or whatever, right?”

“We used to like…well, be friends with benefits, I guess.”

“Used to?”

“Mm, it ended months ago, but Kwan insists Chan has feelings for me because he dotes on me more than he used to. But Chan dotes on everyone.”

“He does. He’s one of the sweetest guys I know,” he agrees and naturally glances to the doorway again when he hears the front door open, before he turns to look at you again. “So, he really doesn’t like you?”

“Why? You into him?” you tease.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” he confirms sarcastically, making you giggle amusedly. “Just wondering why your best friend assumes it.”

“I admit, Chan’s been more attentive since that started. And even now it’s ended, he hasn’t stopped. But I don’t think it’s because he likes me or anything, despite what Kwan says.”

“Then what?”

You look at him with your lips quirked in amusement. “Well, wouldn’t you be more attentive to the woman who regularly sucked your soul out through your dick?”

Soonyoung chokes on nothing, and you snicker, looking away from his flaming cheeks to focus on dinner. “R-right.”

“Why did you make your passcode so fucking long? Kwan forgot it like five times,” Hansol complains as he enters the kitchen. “Oh, hey, Soonyoung,” he greets the man as if it’s normal to see him in your kitchen, even if Hansol’s eyes had initially widened in surprise. But as per usual, the guy doesn’t remain shocked for long and gets over it. One day, you’ll find something that truly shocks Choi Hansol.

“Hold up, you two know each other too?” you baulk, looking between them.

“Wait, you were one of the ones who found Dari?” Soonyoung questions, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Seungcheol is your DILF friend,” you realise.

“Please strop referring to my brother as a DILF,” Hansol requests, making a disgusted expression as he stands beside you to pick a handful of raw carrot slices from the chopping board. You don’t even bother slapping his hands away, you know it won’t ever truly deter the scavenger.

“I’ll stop calling him a DILF when he stops being a DILF.”

“Gross, he’s married.”

“Could’ve been me,” you joke.

“Nah, if you were my sister-in-law I’d be pissed. I’d have to stop checking you out or Cheol would beat me up.”

“I have a great ass,” you respond in a faux solemn tone. Hansol hums in agreement before he wanders out of the kitchen with his handful of carrots.

As soon as he’s in the living room, you hear Baekho excitedly call to him and Hansol returns it with the enthusiasm he always seems to save for his nieces and nephews.

“So, Chan has fucked you and Hansol wants to?” Soonyoung clarifies.

“No,” you respond with a laugh. “Hansol’s never had any genuine interest. I offered once, before Chan; but he said he just likes window shopping, not trying on the dresses. And ever since, I’ve been trying to get him to wear a dress.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Oh, you have to let me witness that if you manage to get him in one,” he enthuses with a grin.

“Will do,” you confirm with a nod.

As the others stay in the living room, playing and entertaining Baekho, Soonyoung remains in the kitchen with you, talking and joking around as if he’s always been right here by your side.

It’s only the second time you’ve met the man, but you think he’s already effortlessly wormed himself into your life. And you’re more than happy to have him here.

Ever since Soonyoung and Baekho joined you for dinner and you discovered that your social groups are already pretty entwined, you’ve seen a lot more of the pair.

At least once a week, you find yourself out with the pair and some mutual friends, or even Soonyoung’s best friend Mingyu. It turns out that you met Mingyu the night when you were all out looking for Seungcheol’s escape artist daughter. Although he had flirted with you that night, after Dari was safely at home of course, Mingyu is nothing but purely friendly when you meet him with Soonyoung and Baekho.

At first, you assume it’s because of the child present, but even on the evenings when the three of you are sitting in Soonyoung’s apartment and Baekho is in bed, Mingyu still doesn’t flirt. You have to assume that he’s changed his mind about you and momentarily mourn losing your chance with the ridiculously handsome man. But all it takes if for Soonyoung to smile at you when you laugh at one of his dumbass jokes, and you forget all about wanting to climb Mingyu.

It really isn’t a surprise to you that you very quickly grow attached to Soonyoung. You tend to fall fast when it happens, but you think you’ve never quite fallen this hard so fast before. All Soonyoung needs to do is look at you and your heart starts to race and urge you to run over and grab his stupidly cute face to lay a big juicy kiss on his pouty lips.

Of course, you never listen to your heart, because that would be kind of fucked up to just kiss him like that. But you want to. Want to kiss all over his handsome face, and body. But that’s a thought for once the sun goes down and your libido goes up when you’re home alone and unable to think of anything but Kwon Soonyoung.

Regardless of the moves you want to make but refrain from doing, in fear of doing something he doesn’t want and scaring him away, you want Soonyoung in every possible way. And worst of all, your best friend knows it.

As if Seungkwan wasn’t bad enough the day he met the man, before you had even mentioned Soonyoung in any way, he gets worse and more meddlesome once he realises that you’re interested in the dude. You don’t even say anything, but Seungkwan looks at you and the way you’re smiling at Soonyoung while he talks to you one day, and Seungkwan’s evil gremlin brain decides “oh, I’m going to make those two bone”. Ever since then, Seungkwan has made many attempts and comments about the two of you.

Most of the time, your best friend isn’t even subtle about suggesting Soonyoung take you to bed, but the man just doesn’t seem to get the hint. Considering how deeply Soonyoung blushes when you even off handedly compliment him, he seems so stone faced when Seungkwan says something to him about the two of you. You can’t tell if Soonyoung is genuinely clueless or just a very good actor.

Either way, your best friend won’t quit, Soonyoung is dense, and you are getting close to choking one of them. One in the consensually sexy way, the other in the I-regret-befriending-you way.

“I bet he’s a freak in bed,” Seungkwan comments out of the blue as you sit in fold out chairs in Seungcheol’s back garden for a big summer barbeque.

It’s the first time the new combined groups have been in one place at once. It’s kind of hectic and you don’t even know everyone or who all the kids are, but it’s nice. Nice to be involved and be a part of this amalgamation of different people smushed together into one weird family.

The reason for Seungkwan’s words is the fact that you both happen to be in the perfect place to have a view of the entire garden, including the large table full of food, where Soonyoung has just shoved the entire orange that he’s just peeled into his mouth at once. It’s honestly not even the most questionable thing you’ve seen the man do, but you think you probably shouldn’t let your best friend know that.

“Yeah,” you agree and sigh forlornly, making Seungkwan cackle before he takes a sip from his bottle of beer. “The things I’d let him do to me is insane, Seungkwan.”

“I know, I’ve heard them all. You’re a freak too. You suit each other.”

“We’d make cute babies,” you decide and Seungkwan laughs even harder.

“What’s funny?” Chan asks as he drops down onto the grass in front of you and leans against your knees to catch his breath. He’s spent the past hour straight running around with the kids, playing all sorts of games. Including a water pistol fight that has left Chan’s plain white t-shirt sticking to his toned torso in random places.

You eye the wet patch over his left nipple and have the urge to bite it; you know he likes that. “Why did we stop fucking?” you ask abruptly, making Chan straighten up to look at you bewildered.

“What?”

“Why’d we stop fucking?” you complain and sit up a little straighter so that you can reach out and run the fingers of one hand through his damp hair. You let your nails drag over his scalp and enjoy the flash of warmth that surges through you as Chan visibly fights his eyes from fluttering back. He’s always been so weak for his hair being played with in any way, and you discovered how much he loves it during sex too.

“Ew gross,” Seungkwan declares, eyeing you both in disgust yet doesn’t make an effort to leave. “Can’t believe you’re trying to cheat on the father of your future children with the man you broke up with because he’s so vanilla.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter, recalling that you did end things with Chan because you were honestly getting bored of the sex and he wasn’t willing to try anything kinky. The sex was still great, the man really knows what he’s doing, but it just wasn’t enough to keep your interest, unfortunately.

You had felt really bad about it for quite a while, but Chan had been really understanding and admitted that he had a feeling that things would end soon; that he was even considering it himself because he could see that you weren’t as into it anymore. He’s always been such a sweet, understanding guy and you’re genuinely forever grateful to have him as one of your closest friends, even now. You’re glad sleeping together didn’t ruin your friendship because you’d truly hate to lose Chan.

“Someone wanna fill me in here?” he requests, tilting his head into your hold so that you’ll play with his hair, in a non-horny way this time, as he crosses his arms on your knees and rests his chin on top.

“I offered to do that, but you don’t want anything in your ass,” you remind with a pout.

Chan looks at you flatly for a moment, then turns his gaze to Seungkwan, clearly knowing you’re a lost cause right now. “Why’s she being horny?”

“Soonyoung,” Seungkwan responds simply.

“You wanna fuck Soonyoung?” Chan asks, looking at you in surprise.

“Jesus, you’re as clueless as he is,” your best friend mutters. “Speaking of.” He straightens up a little, smiling innocently and making both you and Chan look up to find Soonyoung approaching with a plate in his hands. “Soonyoung, do you want to increase the tiger population with her?” Seungkwan asks while pointing his thumb to you.

“Increase the tiger population?” Soonyoung asks and Seungkwan nods. “Have you found a new charity?” he wonders, looking at you as he sits on the grass and immediately shoves a cupcake into mouth.

“She is the charity,” Seungkwan deadpans before getting up. “I give up, you’re fucking hopeless, honestly.” With that, he stalks off to find someone else to meddle with, while Chan sniggers in between stealing bits of food from Soonyoung’s plate.

“What does Kwan mean?” Soonyoung questions, handing his plate to Chan, so the younger happily accepts it and starts to eat earnestly, while Soonyoung gets up and sits in Seungkwan’s empty seat on your left.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss.

“You always say that,” Soonyoung complains. “I know he’s your best friend and everything, so there’s going to be secrets, but you two always do this. He says something and won’t explain what he means, and you just tell me not to worry about it. Can’t you fill me in just this once?”

“I wish,” you mutter. Chan immediately almost chokes as he abruptly laughs, and the topic is dropped as you and Soonyoung both focus on helping Chan clear his airways.

For the past couple of hours, ever since you didn’t explain to Soonyoung, he’s been off. He had left you and Chan not long after that and hadn’t been in your close vicinity for the rest of the get together.

The only reason he’s close to you now is because you went to Seungcheol’s house together in your car. It made sense to travel together and it’s nothing new for you either. But this evening, it’s awkward for the first time.

Since leaving Seungcheol’s, neither of you have said a word and even Baekho in his seat behind you has been quiet. Then again, he was already asleep when you worked together to strap his floppy body securely into his car seat.

“Okay, we can’t do this,” you decide, making Soonyoung jolt at your sudden voice and look over at you instead of reaching for his doorhandle, now that you’ve parked in your allocated parking spot in the apartment lot. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to look at him. “We’ve never been like this, Soonie, and I can’t handle it. Are you that bothered by what Kwan said?”

“I’m bothered by you dismissing it and not including me,” he replies honestly, frowning at you and letting his expression reflect how hurt he is by it. It makes you feel incredibly bad, and you know it’s not his intention, Soonyoung just wears his heart on his face most of the time. But if it had been his intention to make you feel guilty and to twist your heart in your chest, he’s certainly achieved it.

“It’s just not important.”

“It’s important enough for you two to have a secret about,” he points out. “I really do get that you have secrets, and I’m not upset about that part, I’m upset that he keeps teasing me with it and you let him. Either tell me so I don’t feel like shit about it or stop doing it.”

“It’s Kwan, you know there’s no controlling him.”

“I know, but I’m not talking to him, I’m talking to you,” he reiterates. “You can tell me, then he won’t be teasing anymore. He’ll probably stop doing it when he knows I’m in on the joke. So, problem solved.”

“Soonie.” You sigh and before you can say anything more, he tuts and gets out of the car. You almost call out to tell him to come back but you recall the sleeping child in the backseat, so you groan exasperatedly and get out of the car. So that Soonyoung can’t avoid you even more, you stand in front of Baekho’s door before his dad can reach it and lean your weight back against it.

Soonyoung immediately makes a frustrated sound when he circles around the vehicle and realises what you’re doing. “Let me take my son home. It’s past his bedtime.”

“No, it’s not.”

Soonyoung presses his lips together, knowing that you’re right. Baekho’s bedtime isn’t for another two hours, the boy is just exhausted from the hours of playing with all his friends. “He’s asleep.”

“Exactly, he’s asleep and fine until we’re done talking.”

“You’re not telling me shit, so there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Soonyoung-”

“No!” he snaps, making you cut off as your eyes widen in surprise. In all the months you’ve known Soonyoung, you’ve never heard him raise his voice in anger. Even now, he’s not shouting, but it’s still harsher than you’ve ever heard him be, ever seen him look. “I’m fucking done. Now move and let me get to my son. I don’t want to have to move you myself, but I will. Don’t get in between me and my son,” he warns, and you immediately move aside.

“That’s not my intention. I’d never do that,” you say quietly, watching as Soonyoung opens the door to grab his son’s backpack first, to sling onto his back, then carefully unbuckle the boy to pick up so gently, despite the irritation on his features.

“I know,” Soonyoung replies, equally as quiet as a lot of his anger melts away. Yet when he turns to look at you once he has Baekho securely against his chest, the little boy still snoozing away with his head on his dad’s shoulder, he looks sad. “I know you’d never do anything like that. You’re a good person you’re just…not being a good friend.”

That hurts, a lot. Nobody has ever said you’re not a good friend before. But even if they had, you think Soonyoung saying it would still hurt more.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then fix it,” he steps aside so that he can shut the car door. “Let’s take a few days apart. I need space right now. I can’t deal with feeling like this; I have too much to worry about as a dad. I can’t let myself get distracted when I need my focus on my son. You understand that, right?”

You nod, swallowing thickly as you feel your heart shuddering in your chest, on the verge of cracking yet holding together. Although this hurts, it sounds like he’s giving you a chance and not ending your friendship right here in the parking lot, so your heart isn’t falling apart yet.

“So, think about it,” he says, after taking a breath in that sounds like he needs to stabilise himself in order to handle this. Handle his own trembling heart. It makes you feel even worse. “And on Wednesday, come over after work. Gyu’s picking Baek up from school and I’ll ask him to keep him for longer, so we can talk and…sort this out.”

“What if we can’t?”

“Then I guess you’ll only have one tiger friend.”

“Soon-”

“Please, don’t try and change my mind right now. Maybe tomorrow I won’t be so hurt, and I’ll come to you if that happens. But otherwise, don’t contact me until Wednesday after work.”

You want to say something, even plead at him not to do this, but you respect him too much. You care too much to disregard his feelings and make yours more important.

So, you just stand there and watch him walk inside, clutching his son close without looking back once.

Although a big part of you wanted to immediately call Seungkwan as soon as you entered your apartment last night, to talk it out with your best friend like you always do, you didn’t have it in you to talk to him. You don’t exactly blame Seungkwan for the fact your heart is aching, but you also know that he plays a part in it, so you hadn’t wanted to talk to him.

But now that you’ve slept a little and you’ve had more time for your heart to settle somewhat, you call your best friend.

“Boo Seungkwan’s phone, Choi Hansol speaking, how may I direct your call?” Hansol’s drowsy voice answers.

“What the fuck are you doing with Kwan’s phone?”

“He’s in the bathroom and it was ringing, so I answered.”

“You crashed at his place last night?”

“No, we’re still at Cheol’s. He wouldn’t let us leave; he said it was too late.”

“How late did you stay?”

“It wasn’t even midnight,” he deadpans, and you snort a laugh. “He’s so fucking cautious now he’s a dad, it’s unreal. You know he used to be out until 5am most nights doing fuck knows what?”

“I recall. You always whined that he wouldn’t include you.”

“And now he prevents me from living my youth.”

“Bro, we’re 26,” you remind.

“Ugh, don’t call me bro, you’re giving me sister-in-law trauma.”

As you crack up laughing, you hear Seungkwan in the background, singing a strange little song he sings to any of you every morning he wakes up next to one of you. Something about starting the day and grabbing life by the balls to make it go the way you want. You’re pretty sure he’s severely botching a famous phrase, but none of you have ever tried to correct him.

“Good morning, my bestie!” Seungkwan greets as he presumably takes the phone from Hansol and lets the man go back to sleep. “To what to I owe the pleasure of this call on this fine morning?”

“Soonyoung basically threatened to end our friendship,” you inform bluntly. Even without being able to see Seungkwan, you just know that his face has dropped at your words, and he’s likely dropped down to sit, ready for this talk.

“He did what?” he asks quietly, all humour and sunshine gone from his voice. He sounds nothing but serious and disbelieving. “Why? What did you do?”

“Not protect him from your shit.”

“What? Me? I’ve caused this?”

“Sort of,” you admit with a heavy sigh and sink further into your bed, unwilling to get out of it when you feel so crappy. “It’s both of us, but he’s upset at me, not you.”

“That makes no sense. If it’s both of us, he should be upset with us both.”

“You’re not as close to him as I am. We’re neighbours, I see him at least in passing almost every day, you only sometimes see him every week.”

“True,” he murmurs. “So, what did we do and how do we fix it?”

“It’s the jokes you keep making; the ones he never understands.”

“He doesn’t like them?”

“He doesn’t like feeling so left out. He gets that we’ll have secrets and he’s fine with that, but he’s not fine with being brought into them like the jokes do and then not actually being told what it means. That’s why he’s upset at me; because I always dismiss it and don’t explain.”

“Oh. Well just tell him you want to fuck him and that’s what it’s about. Problem solved.”

“Kwan, it’s not as simple as that,” you reply quietly.

“And why the fuck not?”

“Because…I don’t want to just fuck him anymore.”

“Oh.” Seungkwan sucks in a sharp breath. “You weren’t actually joking that you’d make cute babies. That wasn’t just your horny brain but your soft brain too.”

“Yeah, and I’m worried that what if I tell him what you’ve been joking about, and he takes it that I just wanna be friends with benefits when I actually want to try and date his cute ass.”

“Then you clarify and start dating. You’re practically dating anyway. You’re together half the time and have a weekly family outing, plus eat dinner together multiple times a week. Just move in together and fix the tiger population.”

“Can you take this seriously?”

“I am! You like him and I’m pretty fucking sure he likes you too. Sol, hey, Solie.” You hear a smack, immediately followed by Hansol whining. “You know Soonyoung really well, right? He likes her, right?” You can’t really hear Hansol’s response, but you don’t need to when Seungkwan lets out a frustrated sound. “Absolutely useless, why are we even friends when you can’t take note of when someone wants our girl?”

You can hear Seungkwan moving around and doors opening and closing so you remain silent, knowing your best friend is on some kind of mission and you’ll have to face his sass if you interrupt him.

“Hey, Seungcheol!” Seungkwan calls and you vaguely hear Seungcheol greet him in the background. “Yeah, slept fine. Does Soonyoung like my idiot best friend?”

“Seungkwan, what the fuck?!” you complain and immediately, the call cuts off, signalling that Seungkwan hung up on you so that you can’t whine into his ear while he’s talking to Seungcheol. “Oh, I’m going to castrate him,” you declare before sending him a text saying the same.

Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before Seungkwan calls you back.

“Leave my balls alone,” he immediately says, having seen your text before he pressed dial. “I need those.”

“No, you don’t, you’re eternally single.”

“I have hands,” he reminds. “Anyway, asshole. You should confess to Soonyoung.”

It takes you a few seconds to fully absorb his words and the implication of them, considering he had just been talking to Seungcheol, one of Soonyoung’s closest friends. “I should?”

“Yep. Trust me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so go over there and tell him you want to have his tiger babies.”

“Cubs.”

Seungkwan sighs heavily. “Whatever, freak. Just go tell him.”

“I can’t. He said not to contact him until Wednesday after work so-” you cut off, hearing sudden rapid knocking on your front door. “Did I order something?”

“How should I know what you do?”

“You think my accounts are yours,” you answer as you get out of bed and shuffle out of your bedroom.

“We’re besties, we share. And no, you haven’t ordered anything, why?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

“At 10 on a Sunday morning? Why are they even awake and bothering people?”

“You’re awake and bothering people.”

“Fuck off, you called me,” he reminds you.

“And yet, you still bother me.” You reach the front door and peer through the spy hole. “It’s Soonyoung, what the fuck?” you whisper into your phone as you step back from the door.

“Oooh, invite him in and make some cubs.”

“I’m hanging up on you now,” you deadpan.

“Noo! I want to hear the confession!” You can hear Seungkwan yelling even as you lower your phone and hang up, as your other hand removes the chain from the door.

After taking a second to gather yourself and breathe deeply a few times, you unlock the door and open it.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in many different states, including panicked from all the times his fearless son has waddled off, but you’ve never seen this wild look in Soonyoung’s eyes before. “Are you okay?” you immediately worry. “Is Baek okay?”

“Yeah, Gyu’s watching him. You like me?” he rushes out, words blurring together so rapidly that it takes you a handful of seconds of just dumbly staring at him before you can decipher that the fuck he’s said.

“What?” you return, eyes widening slightly as your hand curves around the edge of the door. “I what?”

“You like me. Like want to date me like me, not just friends. Though I hope you like me as a friend too and haven’t just been, like, pretending to all this time to seduce me. I mean, it worked if so, but I’ll be real fucking pissed off and won’t ever talk to you again,” he’s rambling, expression passing through every appropriate emotion, plus some extra bonus ones, as he talks. You can barely even keep up with him to react. Not that he’s giving you the chance to. “But I probably shouldn’t have said that because now even if you never liked me as a friend, you’ll just say you did so that I will date you and that’d be really shitty of you. But you’re not that kind of person. So, I’ve just said that for nothing, haven’t I?”

For a handful of strange moments, the two of you silently stare at each other before you manage to formulate a response. “I’m going to be honest, Soonie, I barely understood a fucking word you just said. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, just nervous, like really nervous because I never imagined you’d like me the way I like you and I still don’t have confirmation, but Seungcheol just called me and said Seungkwan asked him if I like you. And Cheol is shit with secrets, by the way, never tell him anything you want to remain secret because even if he stays quiet, his stupid face gives it away.”

“Do you want some water or something?” you offer and Soonyoung gives you a bewildered look. “Sorry, I’m just trying to work through everything and you’re talking very fast and a lot, so I’m not caught up yet.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Water actually sounds good, yeah,” he agrees, so you step aside to let him pad barefoot into your apartment. He’s still in his pyjamas; a cartoon tiger printed pair that you know Baekho has a matching pair for, purely because you bought them for the father-son duo last week.

You’re still in your pyjamas too; the expensive, silk set that Minghao bought you ages ago to wear for the pamper days you’re all always too busy to have these days. But you still bring them out when you want to feel better. It’s like the threads have absorbed some of the relaxation you felt from your past pamper sessions, because as soon as you put them on, you always feel less like you’ve got the weight of the entire world on your chest.

Once you’ve shut the front door securely, the two of you silently walk to the kitchen to get Soonyoung his glass of water. He leans against the counter as he drinks it, eyes flickering around to look at everything but you, and liquid trickling around the edges of the glass and down his chin.

You watch the path of a particular water drop slide from the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, down his neck, until it disappears under the collar of his pyjama top and makes a home against his chest. Right where you’d like to make a home too. And now that you’ve had a few minutes to let everything settle in your mind, you’re pretty confident that he’d let you.

With that thought in mind, you cross the short distance between you and pluck the glass from his hand. He sputters a little as his wide eyes glue to you, and he lets you remove the glass to place on the counter on your left.

As you reach up to cup his face and tenderly brush away the water lingering along his lips, he says your name on a soft breath that sounds like it comes directly from his heart.

“I can’t remember what most of the jokes were,” you start, eyes on his mouth as you continue to delicately trace the shape of his bottom lip with your thumb. “But I remember what he said yesterday, about increasing the tiger population.”

“Wh-what does that mean?”

“Well, you’re a tiger, aren’t you?” you muse, lifting your gaze to meet his own. “You already increased the population by one with that precious cub waiting at home for you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes blow wide, understanding and shock clear on his features. “You want a baby with me?” he whispers dumbstruck.

“Not yet, but maybe one day. For now, I’d just really like to see what it’s like to date a tiger.”

Slowly, Soonyoung starts to nod before his head is bobbing rapidly and his hands lift to grip onto your hips as he takes a step closer to you. “I’d really, really, really, like that.”

“So would I, because I really, really, really like you, Soonyoung,” you tease gently, smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he exhales heavily before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “I like you so fucking much but I was so scared you wouldn’t be interested because I have a child.”

“I clearly have a thing for DILFs,” you retort, making him chuckle.

“But me the most, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” you confirm and tilt your head to brush your nose against his gently. “You’re my favourite DILF by far.”

“I wear that title with pride,” he replies seriously, before giggling softly. “I’m really happy.”

“Mm, me too. I’d be happier if you let me kiss you though, just saying.”

“Oh!” Instead of giving consent, Soonyoung lifts his chin forward to tilt in until his lips find yours tenderly. You giggle happily against his lips, so fucking endeared by the man, and wrap your arms around his neck to melt against his lips.

When you feel his tongue brush against your lips, something suddenly occurs to you and you pull away, hands pressing to his chest, to put some space between you and let you catch your breath.

“Was-was that too far?” he worries amongst his panting. “I can keep my tongue to myself.”

“Never,” you argue and almost pull him right back in when he gives you the single most seductive smirk you have ever seen. “Wait, stop, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He chuckles and slides his hands across your back to wind his arms around you tighter and hold you closer.

“In the way that makes me about five seconds from dropping to my knees and giving you the suck of your life right here.”

“Well, fuck,” he mutters, blinking at you dumbly as his fingers curl into your pyjama top. “What if I get to my knees first, huh?”

“69,” you offer, and he immediately nods in enthusiastic agreement. “But wait, wait.”

“What? Don’t you have condoms?” He pouts at you. “I’ll run to the store in an hour, but I’ll get arrested if I go now, I’m about five seconds from being hard.”

“You get hard that quick?”

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day we met, of course I get hard when you say you want to suck my dick.”

“Okay, valid,” you agree with a nod. “And I have condoms, but about that.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got to know, are you vanilla?”

“What?”

“In bed. I ended it with Chan because he’s very vanilla and I wanted more than that. Are you willing to get kinky with me?”

“Babe, I’m a freak, I’m worried you won’t want to do the shit I want to do.”

Your eyes light up with excitement. “Like what?”

“Well, starting simple, how willing are you to choke and be choked? Not at the same time, of course, that’s just a serious accident waiting to happen, but can I choke you when while you ride me?”

“Oh, I’m going to fall in love with you, Kwon Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung immediately giggles happily before pulling you closer. “Good, then we can take tigers off the endangered species list together. I want a whole streak; Baek’s always wanted siblings.”

“That’s future stuff,” you respond, patting his chest soothingly. “Right now, I believe it’s time to sit on your face.”

“Fuck yeah.”

When you moved into your new apartment all those months ago, the last thing you expected was to meet a little boy and his dad and immediately become enamoured with the pair. You certainly never expected to develop feelings for the man either. But you suppose, you never really know what exactly is going to happen when you befriend tigers. You’re just very glad that you did.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

#seventeen fanfic #hoshi fanfic #m: nothoughtsjustfic #p: mxr #g: fluff #g: single parent #g: neighbors #g: humor #g: angst #f: oneshot #8k #r: 18+

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k-vanity · 3 days ago

Text

Every Summer After— A K-Vanity Event

The sun is out later, the temperatures are rising and what better way to celebrate than throwing the biggest party of the year? You are all cordially invited— hosted by K-Vanity's Entertainment Team

Create a written story and or visual work that is centered around a summer party. It can be in the house, the beach, cabin in the woods, etc. Here are some prompts to help spark some ideas (you aren't required to use these)

—front yard: meeting someone for the first time —kitchen: mixed genres, wild card —basement: dance floor (choose a song based off of your work), write a genre you haven't written before —rooftop: confessions, stargazing, being adventurous —backyard: pool party, bbq, gardening, etc

We can't wait to see what you come up with!

Rules

Must be a member of the net

Writers - must be at least 500 words

Visual artists - can be moodboards, gfx, gifs, icons, etc.

Tag #keverysummerafter and #kvanity

Net rules and regulations apply to the event

Event Timeline

June 21st – Sept 1st

M.list posted Sept 14th

#announcements #keverysummerafter #kvanity

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k-vanity · 4 days ago

Text

Every Summer After— A K-Vanity Event

We can't wait to see what you come up with!

Rules

Must be a member of the net

Writers - must be at least 500 words

Visual artists - can be moodboards, gfx, gifs, icons, etc.

Tag #keverysummerafter and #kvanity

Net rules and regulations apply to the event

Event Timeline

June 21st – Sept 1st

M.list posted Sept 14th

#keverysummerafter #kvanity

16 notes · View notes

k-vanity · 4 days ago

Text

Took You Long Enough

Summary // In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.

Pairing:

CEO! Seungcheol x reader

Warnings:

Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT members

W/C:

12 671

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

@nerdycheol , you are the one that suggested the watch brand and Hermés cologne brand🤣 and you as a cheol's wife, i take anything you said🫡

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

The office buzzed to life every morning by 8:00 a.m. A polished world of swift elevator dings, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the faint scent of espresso lingering near the breakroom. Floors were lined with pristine glass partitions, and employees moved with a subtle urgency, well aware of the silent clock that ticked behind every deadline.

On the top floor, behind a sleek black door embossed with silver letters, was the corner office of Choi Seungcheol, the man who built the company from the ground up. He wasn’t just the CEO, he was the presence. Charismatic, sharp, and composed, Seungcheol was known for walking into a room and changing its air pressure with just a glance. Rumor had it that he could read a financial report faster than most people could skim a menu, and no one ever left a meeting with him without either a promotion, a plan, or a panic attack.

But beneath his tailored suits and impenetrable gaze was a man with a past no one dared to ask about, and a reputation he carried like armor.

Today, as sunlight spilled through the towering windows of his office, Seungcheol stood facing the city skyline, coffee in hand, unaware that the day ahead would shift everything he thought he had under control.

At just 30 years old, Choi Seungcheol had already climbed the summit most people only dreamed of. It was hard to believe he started as a low-level assistant at the age of 20. No connections, no shortcuts, just a relentless work ethic and a vision that burned behind his sharp eyes. He wasn’t born into wealth, nor did he inherit the company. Every step upward was carved with grit and sleepless nights.

Now serving his second year as CEO, there wasn’t a single person in the company who questioned his leadership. Titles didn't need to be old to command respect, not when every project under his lead launched with flawless execution, crushing expectations and setting new industry standards. His name echoed in boardrooms across the city as a young prodigy, the kind of leader who didn't just manage—but rewrote—the playbook.

What made him even more admired, or perhaps feared, was how calm he remained in the face of chaos. Seungcheol didn’t just make decisions; he made the right ones and fast. He listened more than he spoke, observed more than he intervened, and when he did speak, the room listened.

He turned back from the window now, placing his coffee on the desk as his assistant knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” he said coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates were real, love was less of a question and more of a certainty. The rule was simple. When you meet your soulmate, just one look into their eyes, and you’ll hear wedding bells. Not a metaphor—actual bells. Ringing in your ears like a celebration only you two could hear. After that, everything seemed to fall into place, like the universe giving you a neatly wrapped ending: soulmates meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Well… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his closest circle, were either happily married, halfway through wedding plans, or sending him pictures of their toddlers with captions like “Uncle Cheol, when’s your turn?” The world was moving fast, and for someone like him, who always caught up quickly, this was the one race he couldn’t outrun.

He wasn’t single because he hated love. He just didn’t want to gamble with emotions. Exes and soulmates don’t mix well. What if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t the one? What if he broke someone’s heart only to meet his true soulmate later, and it all came crumbling down? So he stayed away from flings, from love, from anything that could mess with the balance of his life.

Still, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of anxiety. He wasn’t worried about getting married late, he was worried about his parents.

At 27, his mother had set him up on a blind date with someone’s daughter, he showed up out of respect, but came home early with a headache.

At 28, his father mailed out carefully written profiles of Seungcheol to other families with daughters, practically advertising him like some limited-edition luxury product.

By 29, they dropped all pretense and started pushing for an arranged marriage. “Just meet her, see if your eyes ring,” they said. He didn’t.

Now at 30, Seungcheol didn’t know what plan his parents were cooking up, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

But what could he do? Nothing. And so, as always, he chose the routine that never disappointed him: Wake up. Go to the office. Handle meetings. Review reports. Sign approvals. Go home. Sleep.

It was safe. Predictable and efficient.

It was just another day at work. The usual hum of morning emails and the faint buzz of distant phones filled the air, when Seungcheol’s secretary knocked once before entering, arms full with neatly stacked document files.

She placed them on his desk without a word at first, as he flipped through the last few pages of a report. But then, came a rare request.

“Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has extended an invitation. It’s a masquerade party,” she said, tone light but respectful. “Held by his wife. They’re hoping for your attendance.”

The name made Seungcheol look up, pausing mid-page. “…Mr. Shin?”

She nodded. “Yes. He personally requested your presence.”

Choi Seungcheol blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. Mr. Shin wasn’t just anyone, he was a veteran in the business world, one of the few people Seungcheol looked up to when he first entered the corporate jungle at twenty. Sharp, poised, but known for his warm charisma, Mr. Shin had once told Seungcheol over lunch: “Success is important, but relationships will carry you further than numbers ever will.”

Unfortunately, Seungcheol never quite grasped the latter.

He was never a party type. In his mind, parties disrupted efficiency. Hours wasted in polite conversation, standing under chandeliers, sipping drinks he didn’t care for. He didn’t hate people, he just… preferred structure.

But this invitation wasn’t something he could brush off. Not when it came from Mr. Shin. Refusing could send the wrong message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife was out of the question.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“…Tell them I’ll attend,” he said finally, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any clashes, push them back. And set a time for shopping. Something formal. Masked.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied with a slight smile, already tapping notes into her tablet as she turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind her, and then silence returned. Seungcheol sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the papers in front of him before removing his glasses and slowly pinching the bridge of his nose. A heavy sigh followed.

“A masquerade party, huh…” he muttered.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The night of the masquerade arrived with a velvet sky draped in soft stars, the city skyline glowing beneath it like scattered jewels. Seungcheol’s black car pulled up to the venue. An opulent estate on the outskirts of the city owned by the Shin family, known for hosting only the most exclusive circles.

From the very first step inside, the masquerade felt like stepping into another world.

The entrance hall was grand. High arched ceilings adorned with delicate gold filigree, with glittering chandeliers casting warm light across the polished marble floors. Elegant floral arrangements stood tall in glass vases, the soft scent of fresh orchids and lilies lingering in the air. Staff in crisp uniforms glided past with trays of champagne and wine, offering delicate glasses that sparkled like the guests themselves.

And the guests. Each one hidden behind ornate masks, dressed in tailored suits and flowing gowns, laughter muffled by polite conversation and the occasional clink of crystal. The entire ballroom shimmered with motion and elegance, the air alive with quiet prestige.

At the far end of the room, an orchestra played a soft, haunting melody. A waltz that wound through the evening like silk. Violins harmonized with cellos as couples swayed gently across the dance floor, their silhouettes graceful under golden lights. The music didn’t demand attention; it wove through the space, letting elegance speak for itself.

Seungcheol stood at the entrance for a moment longer, absorbing the scene. Dressed in a deep charcoal tuxedo, his mask was sleek, made of brushed silver, perfectly fitted and simple. Just like him.

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit with quiet precision and took a slow breath.

Seungcheol moved through the grand hall with quiet grace, the soft shuffle of his polished shoes drowned by the music and conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure near the center of the ballroom. Mr. Shin, dressed in a regal navy suit, silver embroidery trimming the collar of his jacket. Standing beside him, equally elegant, was Mrs. Shin, her mask adorned with pearls that shimmered with every turn of her head.

With his posture poised and his mask adjusted, Seungcheol approached them and gave a respectful bow.

“Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin,” he greeted formally, voice steady. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

Mr. Shin turned, a pleased smile stretching under his mask. “Seungcheol! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show. I’m glad you came.”

Mrs. Shin offered a soft nod, “You look dashing tonight, dear. As always.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, not when it comes from the both of you,” he said with a light smile, still formal in tone. “The venue is breathtaking.”

They shared a few pleasantries, light jokes exchanged beneath crystal chandeliers. Seungcheol tried his best to blend into the moment, smiling at the passing comments, laughing politely, sipping wine when handed a glass, but the stiffness in his shoulders never quite faded.

And then, as expected, his conversation naturally veered back to what he knew best.

“Actually, just before coming here, we finalized the restructuring proposal for the third branch’s distribution-”

He stopped himself, but the Shin couple only smiled knowingly.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head with a gentle chuckle, “Oh, darling. You can talk about work all you like if it helps you feel at home. No masks are needed for that.”

Her words, though playful, pierced the tension in him like a warm knife through ice. Seungcheol let out a soft exhale, barely realizing he had been holding his breath.

And so, he spoke. About the company. About numbers. About staff growth. About challenges and solutions.

And strangely enough, the conversation didn’t feel out of place. Mr. Shin offered insights, Mrs. Shin listened intently, nodding with that gentle, matronly glow she always carried. The air grew lighter around them, the laughter more genuine, the pressure in Seungcheol’s chest slowly easing.

Then, Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder with a proud smile.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. “My daughter just returned home after her studies abroad. I think the two of you will get along.”

Seungcheol turned just in time to see her approach.

You wore a pale lavender gown, subtle and elegant, flowing like morning mist. Your mask was delicate, silver trimmed with lace, soft feathers curling at the edges. You moved with the grace of someone raised in soft-spoken confidence, eyes quietly scanning the room until they landed on him.

The moment your eyes met, everything fell silent, except for the sound of wedding bells. Clear and unmistakable. Ringing only in your ears, like the universe had struck a chord, and fate had written the first line of a new story.

Both stood still for a moment too long, unsure whether to speak or breathe. And in the corner of his eye, Seungcheol saw Mrs. Shin’s knowing smile.

The bells still echoed faintly in Seungcheol’s ears, even as the rest of the ballroom returned to its natural soundscape. Soft music, low chatter, the clinking of glasses.

But for Seungcheol, the world had slowed.

His soulmate. He had finally found you. He should have felt relief, even joy. This was the moment most people spent their lives yearning for. The ache he had carried silently for years, the lingering worry behind every family dinner and silent commute, had finally found an answer.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t going to make it easy.

You are twenty. Young, bright-eyed, and still new to the world. Ten years younger. And worse, you are Mr. Shin’s daughter, the Mr. Shin he had admired for over a decade, the very man who shaped the path Seungcheol now walked. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel allowed.

This couldn’t be happening… could it?

Just as he was grounding himself, still locking eyes with the girl whose existence had just turned his world upside down, Mr. Shin’s voice cut in again, calm and casual.

He reached out, gently patting his daughter’s head as he looked at you with a father’s pride.

“I’ve been preparing for retirement,” he said, almost wistfully, “but before I can step back, I need to make sure she’s ready for what comes next.”

Seungcheol turned to him slowly, blinking.

“I need someone to teach her how to face the working world. Someone sharp, experienced… someone I trust more than anyone else in this industry.”

He turned fully to Seungcheol now, smile warm, eyes firm.

“So before I retire, Seungcheol… can I pass her to you? For mentorship, or practical training. Nothing prepares someone better than real experience.”

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Seungcheol’s grip on his champagne glass tightened slightly, his composed expression slipping just barely for a breath of a second.

Not only had he just discovered his soulmate, he was also being asked on the same night to personally guide you into the working world, into the very fire he had spent ten years learning to survive.

And you would be close every day. His soulmate. His senior’s daughter. His future trainee. His knees almost gave out, but he smiled faintly and nodded, because what else could he do?

“…Of course, sir,” he said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. “I’d be honored.”

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. and Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all.

You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

“So… I guess we heard it too,” you said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah. We did.”

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” he said, dipping his head politely. “But I assume you already knew that.”

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. “And I’m Shin Y/N.” You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on—guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves—but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still. Electric.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “Tonight, or… you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You mean you didn’t expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?”

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you teased. “But it’s alright. I didn’t expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we’re even.”

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior’s daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

“If this gets overwhelming,” he said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, “just say so. I won’t rush into anything. I know this is… a lot.”

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. “Why do you sound like you’re the one overwhelmed?”

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

“…Because I’ve spent years building a life I could control,” he said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. “Then maybe I’m here to teach you how to let go. Just a little.”

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed… and then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

“…I think you might be,” he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. “Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir.” And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi.”

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn’t losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. “You may begin today.”

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time. “You may return to your tasks,” he told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you.

The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full.

You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

“I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

“…Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

“Take out a pen and a notebook,” he said briskly, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to be the next CEO of your father’s company, you’ll need to start by remembering a few things.”

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

“Rule number one,” he continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. “No one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name.”

You nodded, scribbling it down.

“Rule two,” he said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. “Always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, “That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi.”

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rule three,” he said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. “Stop charming your mentor. It’s distracting.”

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface.

He kept his instructions sharp, his tone professional, walking you through key departments, introducing the core team, and pointing out what made his company function like a well-oiled machine. To any outsider, it looked like another day of excellence from the CEO.

But the staff, sharp-eyed and always quietly observant, noticed something was off. It wasn’t something loud. There were no smiles stretched too far, no extravagant gestures. It was the way he stood a little too close.

The way his voice dropped just slightly whenever he spoke to you. The way he’d glance at you longer than he intended when you weren’t looking. And above all, the strange, rare gentleness in his expression when he watched you scribble notes or tilt your head in concentration.

To them, he was different today.

Seungcheol didn’t think so. He was just… doing his job. Guiding you, as Mr. Shin had asked, offering knowledge and sharing insight. So why did standing next to you feel like the only part of his day that wasn’t suffocating?

Every time your shoulder brushed his as you walked beside him, his chest felt lighter, like the years of pressure he’d buried beneath routine and deadlines were slowly peeling away.

He blamed it on the soulmate bond. That had to be it.

Still, it didn’t explain how you made silence feel so comforting. Even when neither of you were talking, your presence carried a calm aura—quiet but grounding.

And for someone like Seungcheol, a man who lived and breathed pressure, your calm was unfamiliar… and unsettling.

Not in a bad way, but in a foreign, “how-do-I-function-while-feeling-peace” kind of way.

He was in the middle of explaining their operations team structure when he noticed you looking up at him with that same unwavering gaze. Focused, soft, and admiring, as if he wasn’t just your mentor, but someone you deeply trusted already.

That was when he blanked out. He literally forgot the point he was going to make.

“-and that department handles… uh…” His brows furrowed, staring at the floor plan pinned on the wall like it had betrayed him. “The, um…”

You tilted your head. “The logistics team?”

He cleared his throat, nodding once. “Right. Logistics.”

His voice returned to its usual pace, but internally, panic echoed like an alarm.

Thankfully, a familiar knock on the glass broke the moment. His secretary peeked in again.

“Sir, your meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

A lifeline.

He straightened quickly. “Right. Thank you.”

He turned to you, voice brisk but not cold. “I’ll need to prepare. My secretary will guide you around the rest of the office.”

You nodded politely. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

And just like that, he walked away, maybe a little too quickly, and stepped into his office, letting the door close behind him.

Only when the lock clicked into place did he exhale. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against his desk for a second, glaring at nothing in particular before muttering under his breath: “…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol.”

He scowled at his own reflection in the black monitor, then sat down and opened the meeting files, anything to distract himself from the echo of your smile in his mind.

The meeting room was sleek and quiet, filled with department heads and key project managers all seated in neat rows around the long conference table. On the wall, the quarterly projections were being presented by one of the finance leads: charts, graphs, bullet points ticking forward one by one.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol looked the same as always. Sharp suit, steady gaze, and the calm posture as he sat at the head of the table.

But his fingers betrayed him.

They tapped quietly against the table’s surface, then began twirling his pen between them. An unconscious habit. Over and over, the silver pen spun in rhythm, not once slipping, not once faltering. Precision, yes, but not focus.

His eyes stayed forward, directed at the slides, but his mind wasn’t in the room.

It was still in the hallway. Back where you walked beside him, soft footsteps echoing alongside his. It was stuck on the memory of the way you tilted your head, smiling gently. The way your voice sounded when you said, “I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat picked up again.

He subtly loosened the top button of his collar with one hand, hoping no one noticed. A deep breath filled his lungs, but did nothing to cool the sudden warmth behind his ears.

Get a grip, Seungcheol.

One of the department leads directed a question toward him. He caught it, answered professionally and concisely. The pause before he spoke was half a second too long, but not enough to cause alarm.

His pen spun again, even faster now, almost mechanical.

Why was this happening?

He had handled crises, led multi-million-dollar negotiations, turned failing branches into flagship models. He had faced rooms full of foreign investors and government officials. But now, here he was, fidgeting with a pen like some college intern, thinking about a girl with calm eyes and a presence that made his carefully structured world feel… quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. And Seungcheol didn’t know if that was comforting—or terrifying.

Someone called out his name again, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes?” he responded, blinking back into the present.

All eyes turned to him, waiting. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “I agree with the previous point. Let’s move forward with scenario B, but add a contingency plan for client-side delays. I’ll review the proposed schedule by Friday.”

Everyone nodded. The meeting continued.

But even as the presentation resumed, Seungcheol’s hand never stopped spinning the pen. And under the table, where no one could see, his leg bounced just slightly.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling, just barely.

The meeting ended without incident, at least from an outside perspective. Everyone filed out of the room with their notes and laptops, chatting quietly, discussing next steps. Seungcheol stayed seated for a few seconds longer than usual, pretending to review the printed schedule, though his eyes barely read the lines.

When he finally stood, he adjusted his jacket, gave his usual nod to his assistant, and made his way back to his office.

The walk down the hallway was normal. The familiar click of his shoes on polished floors. A few passing greetings from staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he opened his office door. And you were there, seated on the leather guest chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, notebook in hand. You looked up immediately as the door opened, offering him that same disarming smile, the one that had singlehandedly ruined his focus for the past two hours.

“Oh,” you said softly, “welcome back, Mr. Choi.”

His steps faltered, but only for a second. He walked inside with his usual calm, closing the door behind him. “Did my secretary bring you back here?”

“She did,” you replied, standing up as a gesture of respect. “I didn’t want to wander around too long without you.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at that sentence.

Without me, huh?

He made his way around the desk, taking his seat while pretending not to notice the way your presence shifted the air in the room. He placed his notes down, but didn’t look at them.

You stood there quietly, notebook still in hand, waiting—always respectful, always composed. He hated how much he liked that.

“Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, stepping forward again, calm and graceful. “Yes. Everyone was kind. But…”

You paused for a beat, then gave a teasing tilt of your head. “It’s a little boring without you.”

His pen rolled slightly across the desk from how fast his fingers froze.

You quickly added, “I meant that you explain things better. That’s all.”

“…Right,” he replied, clearing his throat, gaze darting briefly to the side before grounding himself again. “Let’s resume where we left off then. Sit down.”

You obeyed, smiling faintly as you opened your notebook again. Seungcheol forced himself to focus—not on you, not on your expression, not on the soft perfume that somehow lingered between the pages of your notes—but on his words. Yet, as he began speaking again about corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning, his voice betrayed him. It was softer now, gentler.

He wasn’t sure when that started happening. He only knew it never sounded like that before you arrived.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting a golden hue across the city buildings outside his office window. The office had begun to empty, lights switching off one by one as employees finished their tasks and bid each other goodnight.

Seungcheol was still at his desk, organizing a few final documents, when your voice cut through the stillness.

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, standing by the doorway, bag slung over your shoulder. “I think my driver forgot to come. I’ve been trying to call, but… nothing.”

He looked up immediately, brows tugging together. “Didn’t your father assign someone?”

You shook your head, looking only slightly bothered. “Both of my parents are working late today. The housekeeper said she can’t leave either. I can wait, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment longer before instinct kicked in. He grabbed his phone and stood up, dialing Mr. Shin with practiced fingers.

The call connected quickly. “Mr. Shin,” Seungcheol said with crisp professionalism. “This is Seungcheol. I wanted to ask if I should assign one of my drivers to send Y/N-”

“Why do you fetch my daughter back home?” Mr. Shin’s voice cut in, amused. “You know where my house is, and I’m sure my daughter trusts you.”

Seungcheol’s brain momentarily stalled.

“I- uh…” His voice cracked before he caught himself. “Yes, sir. Of course. If that’s what you prefer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Shin said cheerfully, “Good luck,” and then promptly hung up.

The silence in his office was sudden, sharp. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at it like it had betrayed him.

And then, your voice.

“So?” you asked, leaning slightly into the doorway now, your tone light, your smile just a touch too innocent to be unintentional. “What did he say?”

Seungcheol sighed, head tilting back briefly toward the ceiling. A soft groan escaped him, one of defeat rather than irritation. He looked at you, one brow slightly raised.

“Grab your things,” he muttered, already reaching for his coat. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

You let out a delighted hum, following close behind as he flicked off the lights and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, the air was calm and comfortable, yet Seungcheol’s heart thudded just a little faster. Not because of the weight of responsibility, but because you were beside him again, walking into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward.

This day was spiraling far faster than he’d planned… and he hadn’t even started the car yet.

The car ride started in silence.

You sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands resting neatly on your lap, your bag tucked by your feet. Seungcheol, behind the wheel, exhaled slowly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, not because it needed adjusting, but because he needed something to do other than look at you.

He wasn’t used to this.

His soulmate, sitting this close, beside him, inside his car. A space that had always been quiet, strictly for thinking or decompressing. Now? It felt like you were too close, and your presence was too warm. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and then your voice came. Soft, teasing, and sweet.

“You don’t talk much when you’re driving, huh?”

His knuckles went white on the wheel. “I’m focused.”

You chuckled. “Focused on not crashing? Or focused on ignoring me?”

His jaw clenched.

God, your voice.

Light and lilting, floating straight into his ears, sitting there like it belonged. It curled around him slowly, teasing the edges of his control. He prayed to every higher being in the sky that the red light wouldn’t last long, or else he’d melt into the driver’s seat. And then you had to go and say it.

“By the way… I know I didn’t ask earlier, but is it okay that I sit here? In the front?”

He nearly choked on air. What was he supposed to say to that? No, please sit at the back so I don’t lose my mind?

“It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked firmly on the road ahead. “You’re my passenger. Of course you sit there.”

But you weren’t just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you were looking at him like you could see every thought written on his skin.

He was barely holding it together. His grip on the steering wheel never eased. His heart was pounding in a very unsafe rhythm, and he had no idea what expression you were wearing because he didn’t dare glance your way.

Not until you touched him.

It was gentle, a brush of your fingers over his knuckles, maybe meant to comfort him. But the warmth that surged through his entire arm?

The way your touch somehow seeped into his skin and calmed every frantic part of him?

Too much, his heart skipped a beat, and that was when he almost crashed.

“-Shit,” he hissed as the car veered just slightly toward another lane. Someone honked loudly. Seungcheol reacted fast, jerking the steering wheel just enough to swerve back, crossing briefly into an open lane before easing to the side of the road.

He came to a slow, shaky stop. Only then did he realize, he’d been holding his breath. The exhale that left him was heavy, his hands still frozen on the steering wheel. His eyes wide, jaw clenched, adrenaline coursing through him, and beside him, you were giggling. Not just giggling, you were laughing.

He turned his head slowly, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

Your laughter only got louder, trying, but failing, to look apologetic as your shoulders shook.

“Y-You almost-” you hiccuped in the middle of your laugh, “-crashed because I touched your hand? Really?”

He should have been mad, or embarrassed. But instead… he found himself smiling, leaning back against his seat as the tension slowly bled out of him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Too dangerous.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still breathless. “Sorry! I really didn’t think it’d throw you off that much.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t touch me when I’m driving, or I might not just almost crash next time.”

You placed a hand over your chest, playfully solemn. “Got it. Hands off the CEO while he’s behind the wheel.”

With a final, lingering look, and a sigh that carried a secret smile, he started the engine again. This time, the drive was calmer, still quiet. But the silence now? Laced with warmth.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day, Choi Seungcheol arrived at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair styled neatly, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp. A plan already mapped in his head.

Today, he told himself, he would not lose focus, he would be composed and professional. Distant, even.

He was a CEO, not some college boy crushing on his lab partner.

And then you walked in. Calm as ever, radiating soft energy like it was stitched into your aura. You greeted everyone with a polite bow, a warm smile that reached your eyes, and when your gaze met his across the hallway, you smiled wider.

He blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. Stay sharp, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed behind him into his office, as per usual. You placed your notebook on the desk neatly, your voice as honeyed as it was yesterday. “Good morning, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat betrayed him again, but he forced a nod.

“Morning. Let’s begin the schedule,” he said, already opening his laptop to avoid your eyes.

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You slept well after your near-death experience yesterday?”

He stiffened.

You were teasing him, again.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t near-death.”

“It was slightly near,” you said with a soft giggle. “You looked like you were about to write your will in that parking lane.”

He closed his laptop slowly, eyes finally meeting yours. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

He clicked his pen once, and twice. Trying to stay unbothered and ignore the way your laughter from the day before still echoed in his ears like a favorite song.

“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on to today’s shadowing.”

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. You had plans. You stayed close, just close enough to keep him aware of your presence, but never inappropriate. You asked thoughtful questions, tilted your head as you listened, eyes always fixed on him with that same soft admiration.

Your voice? Still sweet.

Your tone? Still respectful, but never flat.

He was drowning quietly. And the worst part? He knew you were doing it on purpose.

He tried keeping distance. Told you to observe from the corner during a department discussion. You obeyed, then proceeded to thank him afterward, calling his approach “insightful and clean-cut.”

He told you to grab coffee for a break, hoping you’d step away. You returned ten minutes later with a second cup for him. His favorite, somehow.

He froze when you handed it to him. “How did you know this is what I drink?”

You tilted your head again, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “You mentioned it once. Thought I’d remember.”

He had no words, just sipped silently, while the heat of the coffee failed to cover the warmth spreading in his chest.

By lunch, he was cornered—emotionally, mentally, completely. And then came the final blow.

You peeked into his office again after a quick team session, hands behind your back like a child with a secret. “I finished organizing the files from the budget review. Do you want me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

You stepped inside, but instead of placing the files on his desk, you walked closer, slower, and set them gently right beside him, leaning just a bit forward. Then, you whispered, voice like silk, “You're doing great, you know.”

He turned his head so fast it startled even himself.

You stepped back immediately, that same sweet expression never leaving your face. “Just thought someone should tell you.”

He stared at you, absolutely blindsided.

You smiled again. “I’ll get back to my desk now.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, like you hadn’t just sent his heart sprinting through his ribcage.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, dragging a hand over his face, muttering under his breath: “…I’m doomed.”

Per Mr. Shin’s earlier request, Seungcheol knew that as part of your mentorship, you needed to start observing internal meetings, especially the ones that mattered. And this one, definitely mattered.

The conference room was filled with tension the moment it began. You sat beside Seungcheol, with his secretary just one seat away. The opposing company’s team stood at the other end of the long, glass table—well-dressed, well-prepared, and, unfortunately, woefully out of touch.

At first, the presentation was tolerable. Numbers were clean, projections stable, but as soon as they reached the slide titled Strategic Timeline for Implementation, everything changed.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed.

The speaker on the opposing side continued confidently, explaining outdated timelines and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since flagged as liabilities.

He raised a hand, slowly, but firmly.

“Hold it,” he said.

The speaker paused. Seungcheol gestured toward the screen. “This segment. You need to revise this strategy. We’ve already seen instability in those markets. Collaborating there puts the project at risk.”

The man across the table gave a tight smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline may damage our relationship with the local representatives. A shift might send the wrong message.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardened.

“I said it needs to change.”

The tension escalated. His voice was still level, but underneath it was a warning. You could feel the air grow heavier around the table. The other attendees exchanged subtle glances. His secretary lowered her gaze.

You sat there, watching him. His knuckles were turning white, hand clenched against the table. His shoulders stiff, jaw set, clearly holding back the frustration simmering inside.

Should you do something? You hesitated. You’d never seen him this serious before. This cold. It was a side of him you hadn’t met: CEO Choi in full form. Intimidating, sharp, commanding.

But something in you… moved.

Even if he’s your boss. Even if you’re scared. You didn’t want him to be swallowed by the storm he was holding back.

So, gently—barely noticeable to anyone else—you reached out beneath the table, and touched his knuckles.

The tension left his hand almost instantly. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at you, but he felt it, and it grounded him.

His eyes flicked back to the presenter. His shoulders lowered slightly. And then—calm, steady, dangerous—he spoke again.

“I said the cons of not changing. If you can’t change,” he began, voice slow and clear, “I can already see your company failing, and dragging mine down with it.”

The room froze.

“So I suggest you change it,” he continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “or I’ll stop collaborating with you altogether.”

He leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping a notch.

“It’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

Dead silence followed.

The opposing speaker faltered, swallowed hard, and eventually nodded. “Understood… We’ll revise it.”

Seungcheol nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

The rest of the meeting passed with no further resistance. Everyone suddenly became a lot more agreeable. When it ended, people stood slowly, gathering their notes and trying to pretend they hadn’t just witnessed the CEO version of a guillotine.

You, meanwhile, were still seated, glancing at him quietly.

As soon as the door shut behind the last guest, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. Not loud, but deep. Then he finally looked at you. Not cold, not intimidating, just… aware.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “For what?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a small, dry smile. “For keeping me from flipping the table.”

You giggled softly. “Glad I could stop a potential lawsuit.”

He laughed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Me? I just touched your hand.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyeing you. “That’s the problem.”

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room closed with a muted click, sealing away the tension that had filled the space just moments ago. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket.

Seungcheol remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders finally relaxed, jaw no longer set, but he didn’t move, not yet.

He glanced toward you, and then his gaze dropped to your hands.

They were resting gently in your lap, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. The same hands that had grounded him just minutes earlier with nothing more than a simple touch.

His eyes lingered there longer than he should have and you noticed.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips, making his eyes flicker up to your face in mild panic, but you weren’t teasing. Your smile was warm, as if you already understood what he was thinking without needing him to say it aloud.

You shift your seat closer to his, and without asking, without hesitation, you reached out and gently cupped his hands, both of them.

Your palms were warm. Your grip wasn’t delicate, it was steady and secure, like you weren’t just touching him, you were anchoring him.

He stiffened at first, not used to being handled like that. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something cracked inside him. Something quiet.

You smiled at him again, sweet and sure, and then said with the calmest voice he’d ever heard: “Hold onto mine if you want. I’m always here beside you.”

The words weren’t loud, they weren’t dramatic, but God, did they hit hard. His breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers, usually firm and commanding, hesitated, and then slowly, tentatively, curled around yours.

The pressure in his chest eased, the sharp edge of his thoughts dulled, and in its place was only your warmth, quietly settling in his bloodstream, pushing out the last remnants of the anger and disappointment that had clouded him just minutes ago.

It felt dangerous and addictive, but more than anything, it felt right.

He said nothing, still lost in your gaze.

And you? You didn’t ask for anything in return, you simply stood there, smiling as if you had all the time in the world to wait for him to breathe again.

And finally, he did.

“…You’re trouble,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

You laughed, soft and silvery. “You’ve said that before.”

He shook his head slightly. “I meant it even more now.”

But he didn’t let go, not yet.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The day had finally drawn to a close. The last of the lights at the office flickered off, and staff began to disappear one by one. Choi Seungcheol stepped out of the elevator, jacket draped over his arm, briefcase in hand, ready to head home.

That was until his secretary caught him in the lobby.

“Mr. Choi,” she said with a small nod toward you, waiting quietly near the front entrance. “Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a ride.”

He blinked once.

Again?

His eyes drifted toward you. You were scrolling on your phone, humming lightly under your breath, completely unbothered. Just like yesterday.

Suspicious.

You looked up at him at just the right moment, smiling, and all his suspicion melted into a sigh.

“...She’s doing this on purpose,” he mumbled to himself, but louder than he meant to. Still, he nodded toward the car. “Let’s go.”

You fell into step beside him, cheerful and bright even in the evening glow. Once inside the car, you didn’t even hesitate, you walked straight to the passenger seat and slid in smoothly, as if it were your assigned spot.

Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began to drive.

Silence filled the space again, peaceful, but electric in its own way.

He kept his eyes forward, focused, or trying to be. Then your voice—soft, laced with mischief—cut into the quiet.

“Do you want to get late supper?”

The car didn’t swerve this time, but Seungcheol’s grip on the wheel definitely stiffened. He glanced at you briefly.

Late supper? That was not in the schedule.

His routine was sacred. Home, shower, towel-dry hair for two minutes exactly, collapse onto bed, wake up, work, and repeat.

He did not do it spontaneously yet here you were, blinking at him innocently.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to look at you.

“Late supper?” he repeated, like the phrase was foreign.

You nodded. “I know there are some places still open for people like me.”

People like you? What did that mean? Were you just… casual about life like that? Wandering the streets at midnight, hunting for warm broth and rice with no plan whatsoever?

That was chaos, and dangerous… but oddly tempting. And while his mind absolutely panicked over the idea of shifting his routine by even an inch, his heart was already halfway to the restaurant.

He stared at you. You stared back, innocently and unassuming, completely unaware of the inner breakdown he was having. Or… maybe fully aware.

He sighed heavily, eyes closing for a second. “Key in the address.”

You beamed, tapping in the location into his GPS. He drove through the green light with a defeated grunt. He glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. and for once in his life, he didn’t hate the idea of change.

The city lights shimmered against the night sky, and neon signs flickered above street corners, glowing softly like stars fallen to the ground. The GPS guided Seungcheol through a few narrow turns before slowing to a stop beside a quiet cluster of food stalls tucked between two buildings.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried batter, and warm soup broth.

It wasn’t flashy or pristine, it wasn’t anything remotely close to what CEO Choi Seungcheol was used to.

And yet… he was here.

You stepped out of the car with a bright grin, your shoes softly clicking on the pavement. You turned back to face him as he closed the car door slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scene like a foreign landscape.

“First time?” you asked, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Very first.”

You giggled, hugging your arms to yourself. “Same. But I wanted to explore, and I figured... food like this probably tastes better when you’re not worried about etiquette.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s what everyone says before they get food poisoning.”

You shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a corporate man.”

“And you’re reckless,” he muttered, but followed you anyway.

You led him to one of the stalls with a steaming pot of tteokbokki, skewers glistening beside it. The ahjumma running the stall gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to sit.

The two of you took seats on worn plastic stools under a flickering lightbulb, the table in front of you scratched with time, marked with memories. And somehow, to Seungcheol, it felt weirdly peaceful.

You handed him a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “Let’s try not to act like we just left a board meeting.”

Seungcheol stared down at the food. No plated silverware, no polished wine glasses, just bubbling spicy sauce and steam against the cool air.

It was chaotic and… warm.

He picked up a piece of rice cake, blew on it once, then tasted it. His eyebrows rose.

“...That’s not bad.”

You laughed. “Not bad? That’s it? That’s your review?”

He nodded, eyes focused on the next bite. “Spicy. A little sweet. Soft texture. Good balance.”

“God,” you groaned, “you’re reviewing it like a Michelin judge.”

“You invited a CEO. What did you expect?”

You laughed again, and the sound danced through the night air, making his chest feel far lighter than it had all day.

As you both ate, conversation flowed more freely. You talked about small things: food preferences, random bucket list items, silly high school moments. Seungcheol found himself leaning forward more, laughing softly, even forgetting to check the time.

He didn’t even realize how relaxed he looked. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks clumsily trying to balance a fish cake skewer.

At one point, you handed him a tissue as he dabbed the edge of his mouth, cheeks slightly red from the heat of the spice.

“Next time,” you said between bites, “we should try grilled skewers by the river. I heard they open till 3AM.”

He stared at you.

Next time?

A part of him panicked again, knowing this was starting to become a habit. But the other part? The one quietly folding inside his chest, heartbeat slow and warm? That part didn’t mind at all.

After the last bite was eaten and the food stall cleared, you both stood up from your stools, stomachs full and spirits even fuller. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already fishing out a few bills to pay, but before you could even lift your hand to the stall owner, Seungcheol moved faster. With practiced ease, he gently pushed your hand aside—not harshly, but firm enough to make you blink in surprise—and handed over the exact cash to the ahjumma behind the stall.

He didn’t even look at you as he accepted the change with a polite nod.

You, on the other hand, were left blinking in quiet disbelief.

No words were exchanged in that moment.

The two of you returned to the car under the soft night sky, sliding into your seats once again. The car’s interior greeted you with its usual scent, clean leather and something that faintly smelled like cedarwood and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head toward him, curious.

“How did you have cash money in you?”

He glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I’m not always a card guy, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff. “Right. A card and cash money guy who doesn’t know how to relax.”

That made him laugh this time, a sound that was deep and rich and a little too attractive for your heart to handle. But it didn’t stop there.

He turned to say something else, only to realize you hadn’t buckled in yet. His eyes lowered to the strap by your side, then back at you.

“Seatbelt,” he muttered softly, but instead of waiting for you to fix it, he leaned in.

You froze.

The air felt thinner suddenly.

Seungcheol reached across you, one arm brushing past your shoulder, fingers catching the seatbelt smoothly as he clicked it into place. His scent surrounded you, something expensive and warm. He didn’t notice how close he was. He didn’t see the way your breath hitched, or how your lashes fluttered like they were trying to compose themselves.

To him, it was just another responsible act.

To you? It was too close. Too sudden and overwhelming.

He leaned back into his seat like nothing happened, shot you a relaxed smile as his hand returned to the wheel.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, as if your heart wasn’t thundering like a drum in your ears.

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parting, unsure if you should thank him or scream internally. But eventually, you just gave a small nod, tucking your hands on your lap.

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “Ready.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains of Seungcheol’s penthouse, casting warm light across his pristine walk-in closet. Rows of crisp shirts, tailored blazers, perfectly ironed trousers, and a curated collection of designer watches lined the walls like an exhibition.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, a clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, his charcoal grey blazer slung loosely over one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, falling in soft waves over his forehead.

And yet, he frowned.

Something was… off.

His hands moved on their own, slipping off the blazer and replacing it with a navy one. He buttoned the cuffs, stared into the mirror and tilted his head.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-colored jacket, loosened the collar slightly, and he looked at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

There was no event today, no company gala, no board of directors flying in from overseas. It was just a regular day at work. But then again… you would be there.

That alone was enough to make his entire closet suddenly feel insufficient.

He wasn’t even sure when it started, this strange habit of wanting to look just a little better each morning, starting from today. All he knew was that your eyes, so bright and attentive, always lingered a little longer than necessary. And the way you smiled at him, as if he was someone worth admiring…

He wanted to live up to that look.

He tried on three different watches before settling on a Piaget brand Polo Date watch. Switched out his usual thin-framed glasses for a bolder pair. Dabbed on a Creed brand cologne. Then he stood back, observing himself fully.

Blazer sharp, tie slightly loosened, hair perfectly imperfect, and a hint of confidence in his smirk, just enough to keep him grounded. Still, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Choi Seungcheol...”

But he didn’t change.

With one last glance in the mirror and a small breath to steady the fluttering inside his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The automatic doors of the building slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a gentle gust of morning air. Seungcheol stepped into the familiar lobby, polished floors reflecting the low sunlight spilling through the glass walls. The day had just begun. Staff were slowly trickling in, exchanging greetings and organizing the day’s start.

And then he saw you, standing near the entrance, chatting lightly with the front desk assistant, smiling just enough to make time slow down.

You looked simple—fresh-faced, your hair styled neatly, blouse tucked into a modest skirt—but to Seungcheol, you were breathtaking.

Maybe it was the light hitting you just right, or the soft sound of your laugh, or maybe, it was just you being you. Whatever it was, he was gone the moment your eyes lifted to meet his.

You turned fully toward him, a little surprise in your gaze, followed quickly by something warmer, something curious as your eyes slowly drifted from his face to… his clothes.

You blinked once, and then twice before your lips curled up knowingly.

“Oh?” you said with an arch of your brow, arms crossing lightly over your chest. “New look today, Mr. Choi?”

He tried to act unaffected, adjusting the strap of his watch as if it wasn’t planned, as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating between jackets this morning.

“I just picked whatever was clean,” he said flatly.

You giggled softly, stepping closer, eyes never leaving his figure.

“Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today.”

He froze, not obviously, but just enough for his breath to catch for half a second.

You looked back up at his face, tilting your head, clearly amused at how his ears turned ever so slightly pink.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“You are.”

“Y/N,” he warned lightly, though the corners of his lips gave away the smile threatening to break free.

You stepped beside him, walking toward the elevator as he followed. “You know,” you said, glancing at him sideways, “if dressing up makes you this charming in the morning, I might start asking you to do it more often.”

He scoffed gently, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t get used to it.”

“But you did it for me, didn’t you?” you teased, voice low and sweet.

The elevator dinged, and he walked in without responding. You followed closely behind, the space inside suddenly smaller than you remembered. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer. And when he caught your reflection in the elevator door, still staring at him with that quiet affection, you saw it: that small smile, breaking through.

The morning had passed quietly. Well, as quiet as it could be when your mentor happened to be the CEO and also your soulmate.

You sat at your desk just outside Seungcheol’s office, sorting through case studies he had handed you earlier. You were almost done highlighting key points when your phone buzzed softly beside your notebook.

It was a message from your mother.

《Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual. We’d love to see the two of you together. I made a reservation already, just in case.》

Your eyes widened slightly at the abruptness. You sighed softly. Of course your mom didn’t wait for confirmation before booking a spot. After re-reading it twice, you got up from your desk, lightly knocking on Seungcheol’s office door before pushing it open.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reviewed a report. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your knock.

“Yes?”

You stepped in, holding up your phone. “My parents messaged. They want to have lunch with you today. Apparently they already made a reservation.”

He turned fully to face you, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Today?”

You nodded, showing him the text.

He didn’t react much on the surface, but you could tell he wasn’t the type who took surprises well. Still, his expression remained composed, only betraying a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

“Cancel the team check-in for 1PM. And block a lunch schedule under the Shin family.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied promptly.

He turned to you, expression unreadable but his tone even.

“I assume they picked a restaurant already?”

You nodded. “They did. I’ll send you the location.”

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of work on his desk, clearly adjusting his internal clock again.

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not a shareholders meeting.”

He gave a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve met your parents, right? Do they seem like the type to keep things ‘casual’?”

You laughed. “Touché.”

He watched you quietly for a moment, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

You paused. “…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you,” you said honestly. “And I know how much they respect you, likewise to you.”

He held your gaze a beat longer, before his lips curved, just slightly. “You make it sound like I’m meeting them for the first time.” then he cleared his throat and reached for his watch.

“I’ll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but not before tossing him a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi.”

The only reply you got was the sound of a pen clicking behind you, and a quiet, amused exhale.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The restaurant was elegantly quiet, the kind of place where even the clink of silverware was softened by velvet-covered walls and subtle classical music. The hostess led you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents were already seated. Your mother in her pearls, your father sharp in a navy suit, as dignified as ever.

“Seungcheol,” your father greeted first, standing to shake his hand. Seungcheol gave a slight bow, professional but respectful.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin.”

“Likewise. Please, sit.”

You quietly slipped into the seat beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands folded politely on your lap.

The first few minutes were expected. Business as usual. Your father inquired about company expansion, potential collaborations, the trajectory of your training under Seungcheol’s wing. You listened attentively, occasionally stealing glances at your mentor, who answered every question with calm poise and clean, articulate responses.

It was going perfectly. Then the food arrived, and with it, your mother’s sudden ambush.

“So,” she said lightly, reaching for her soup spoon. “How is my daughter in your company?”

Seungcheol dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

“She’s attentive. Observant. Quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she’s shown in just a few days.”

You blinked, warmth blooming in your chest. The compliment made you sit just a little straighter. But your mother wasn't finished.

“And how is she…” she said, stirring her soup slowly, “…as your soulmate?”

The spoon Seungcheol had just brought to his mouth halted halfway. Then-

Choke.

Not a polite cough or a dignified clear of the throat, no. A full-on choke. You nearly dropped your own spoon as you rushed to grab his glass of water and held it out to him with both hands. He took it immediately, eyes watering as he tried to recover, sipping fast, gulping once, then twice.

“M-Mom!” you cried, cheeks flushing. “Seriously?!”

Across the table, your mother wore the most innocent smile imaginable. “What? I’m just curious.”

Your father turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “Soulmates?”

Your mother nodded, sipping calmly from her tea. “I noticed at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other for far too long. I had a feeling something happened. So I made a few… connections.”

You and Seungcheol froze.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you. Him still trying to swallow down the last of his panic, and you patting his back while staring wide-eyed at her like she’d just exposed your deepest secret.

Then she tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You were too stunned to deny it. Beside you, Seungcheol finally lowered the glass, setting it down slowly on the table.

But he didn’t look up. Not at your mother, and especially not at your father.

His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

You could see the gears in his head… what would they think? A man ten years their daughter, their trusted work partner… now tied to her by something unbreakable, fated.

He was terrified of your father’s judgment, terrified of how this would change everything.

You saw it all in the way his shoulders tensed, and how his eyes remained fixed on the tablecloth. For a moment, the air was still. Then your father set down his spoon with a soft clink and leaned back in his seat.

“…Choi Seungcheol,” he said.

Seungcheol immediately straightened in his chair, gaze still lowered. “Yes, sir.”

Your father’s voice was unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seungcheol hesitated. “…Because I didn’t want to risk complicating anything. With your daughter… or with you.”

Your mother looked between the two men, eyes narrowing slightly. You bit your bottom lip, and your father was quiet again. Then, after a moment that stretched painfully long, he spoke.

“…You’re an honorable man, Seungcheol.” Both you and Seungcheol blinked. Your father continued. “I’ve known that since the first time you sat across from me in a boardroom. That hasn’t changed. But now…” He looked directly at Seungcheol. “That honor means something more. It means you’ll protect her.”

Seungcheol finally looked up, stunned.

Your father gave a small nod. “You didn’t choose this, neither did she. But if fate tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her well, not as your intern, not as your subordinate, but as your equal.”

You stared at your father, lips parted in surprise. And beside you, you heard the breath Seungcheol finally let out. Quiet, shaky, and filled with quiet relief.

“…I will,” he said, voice low but clear. “I promise you. I’ll protect her, sir.”

Your father nodded again, then returned to his soup like he hadn’t just shaken the tension off the entire table. Your mother, watching everything with that quiet knowing glint in her eyes, simply smirked behind her teacup.

“Well,” she said, “now that that’s out of the way, let’s enjoy lunch properly.”

The quiet click of the car doors closing echoed softly in the air, muffled only by the cocoon of silence surrounding the two of you. The engine remained untouched. Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting lightly on the wheel, gaze fixed on the windshield.

But he wasn’t seeing the road.

He was reliving the moment, the conversation over lunch, the weight of your father’s words, the softness in your mother’s knowing smile. He had braced himself for resistance, for disapproval, for that slight pause before your father might say “But she’s still too young.” Instead, what he got… was a blessing. Permission to be selfish with his heart, to love you out loud.

He swallowed hard, feeling the words echo in his chest like they had carved out space just for you. You didn’t choose this, but if fate tied you together... treat her as your equal.

And god, he would.

He would treat you like a queen. He’d spoil you relentlessly, shamelessly. He’d plan every date to perfection. He’d get you that charm bracelet you’d once said you liked, and for every monsary you celebrated together, he’d add a charm. One for each memory.

The pressure of restraint melted off his shoulders like winter snow beneath the sun. And in its place, something even warmer bloomed: freedom. Freedom to love you.

And so, without starting the car, without breaking the moment, he turned his head, and saw you already watching him.

Lovingly. Softly.

As if your gaze could read the chaos of emotions unraveling in his chest.

You smiled, a small, sweet curl of your lips. “Hi,” you whispered.

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to make his head spin.

He laughed. A real one. Not the tight-lipped CEO chuckle he gave in meetings, no. This one was open, light, carefree. His teeth showed, his eyes crinkled, and you, caught in his joy, joined him with a soft chuckle of your own.

Then the laughter faded into something quieter, heavier, something that made the air between you two spark.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Mind if I do something,” he said slowly, voice low and a little breathless, “that’s normal for a thirty-year-old me... but might be embarrassing for you?”

You blinked once, head tilted like a curious kitten, but you nodded, without hesitation. And with that, he leaned in.

One hand lifted, fingers brushing past your hair to cradle the back of your head gently. His touch was steady and certain, like he had waited long enough.

And then, he kissed you soft and warm, eyes closed. No rush, no pressure, just him letting everything he had been holding in for days spill into that single, quiet kiss.

You melted against him almost instinctively, lips moving in sync with his—tender, slow, meaningful.

And in that kiss, Seungcheol thought: so this is what peace tastes like, this is what fate feels like.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed, breaths mixing in the small space between. You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with something sincere.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the masquerade.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The hum of conversation filled the large, sunlit private room in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked, and the smell of food already filled the air, even though not everyone had arrived yet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Seungcheol, dressed in a sleek black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his watch and veins. Beside him, you entered quietly, but not subtly, your fingers gently laced with his.

Heads turned, every conversation stopped. Then-

“Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!”

“Wait, is that her?!”

“Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!”

A wave of chaotic excitement crashed over the room as all of Seungcheol’s friends—his closest circle, the ones he called his brothers—immediately swarmed you with bright eyes and louder voices. Mingyu clapped Seungcheol on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. Soonyoung practically bounced on his heels. Seokmin gave you the biggest, warmest grin.

They were chaos, but they were warm.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Jeonghan looped an arm around your shoulders like you were already part of the family.

“So you’re the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting. “God, we’ve been hearing about you without even hearing your name. It’s an honor.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but let out a small, amused chuckle as everyone finally settled into their seats.

The chaos didn’t stop there, though. Once the appetizers were cleared and laughter quieted to occasional giggles between sips of wine, Jeonghan leaned forward with a grin that screamed mischief.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said, pointing a lazy finger at Seungcheol. “This guy’s been dating her for two years and still didn’t bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't bear waiting. A father now, remember those past times?” He flashed his ring proudly.

The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, others rolling their eyes at Jeonghan’s dramatics, even Seungcheol cracked a wide grin. But he didn’t say anything, not yet, because the best part hadn’t come.

After the main course, when desserts were being served and the wine glasses were half-full, Seungcheol stood up slowly, lifting his glass.

“I have two pieces of news,” he said, his voice calm but his smile soft.

Everyone quieted, eyes turned.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the group. “First- Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father’s company starting this year.”

A round of cheers, whistles, and applause erupted from the table.

“Yah! That’s huge!”

“A power couple, oh my god.”

“Don’t forget us little people when you both own half the country!”

You bashfully lowered your gaze, cheeks warm, mouthing a soft thank you as Seungcheol gently placed a hand on your back.

“And the second piece of news…” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, “-is that she said yes.”

Silence with confused blinks, then-

“Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!”

“SAID YES TO WHAT?!”

“Oh my GOD!”

“You’re LYING!”

The table exploded.

Mingyu stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. Soonyoung dropped his fork. Jeonghan’s jaw dropped open like something out of a drama. Seungcheol just smirked, then gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn’t even need to open it. The moment the box was visible, the screaming got worse.

You held up your hand, heart racing, showing the sparkling ring on your finger with a small smile.

“I’m his fiancée,” you said, voice shy but filled with certainty.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

The group erupted again, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the ring, while Seungcheol calmly sat down next to you, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just broken the minds of every single person at the table. And in the midst of all the shouting and disbelief, he leaned in close to whisper just for you to hear: “You're mine now. Officially.”

Your heart fluttered. And in the chaos of friends and laughter, you never felt more sure. Of him. Of you. Of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight

#seventeen fanfic #scoups fanfic #m: eclipsaria #p: mxr #g: fluff #g: slow burn #g: romance #f: oneshot #12k #r: pg 13

541 notes · View notes

k-vanity · 6 days ago

Text

Summary // In which a once-hesitant girl, slowly opens her heart to the boy who writes on her skin, and learns that love, when it's right, always finds its way home.

Pairing:

Lee Chan x reader

Warnings:

Mentioned of divorced, typical ol' chaebol family which does anything to seperate a couple, seperation, angst, fluff, introvert x extrovert troop, strangers-to-lovers, slow-burn, mentioned of men being negative, introvert traits, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT Mingyu

W/C:

9 011

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

《"Italic"》 -> written

《》 -> text message

Italic -> thoughts

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

It was a gloomy night.

The kind that settled like a quiet ache in your bones. The streets were alive with motion. People rushing home after long, exhausting hours of work, families gathered in the warmth of their living rooms, laughter muffled behind frosted windows. Neon signs blinked through the mist, casting a soft glow on slick pavement, while car horns echoed distantly through the air. The world moved on, indifferent.

And then there was you, alone, shivering beneath layers that didn’t feel thick enough, walking briskly through the cold that felt more personal than it should. You tightened your arms around yourself, breath fogging in front of you, boots crunching over ice-crusted sidewalks as you made your way to the nearest convenience store.

When you finally reached the door, your fingers curled around the metal handle, only to recoil at the sting of frozen steel. You winced, muttered a curse under your breath, then pushed the door open with a determined shove. The bell above chimed faintly as you stepped in, letting the door swing shut behind you.

Warmth wrapped around you instantly.

It wasn’t suffocating—just right. The air-conditioner hummed softly, circulating heat that made your skin tingle and your limbs relax. With a small, relieved sigh, you unzipped your coat and shrugged it off your shoulders slightly, soaking in the comfort like it was something sacred.

You wandered down the aisles with slow, measured steps, eyes scanning rows of snacks and instant meals. Eventually, you stopped in front of a familiar shelf, fingers hesitating before reaching for your usual late-night supper. The warmth almost made you forget the cold that haunted you outside. Almost.

As you picked up a snack, a faint tingling crawled across your left forearm—soft at first, like a whisper. You ignored it. It wasn’t new, not anymore. Only when you had gathered everything you needed and walked up to the cashier did the sensation intensify. You winced slightly at the sting, almost like pressure from within, then glanced down. The words were already there, written in a smooth, looping script that wasn’t yours.

《“Are you outside? I can feel you shivering. Don’t stay out for too long.”》

You blinked once, then rolled your sleeve down without responding. As usual.

The cashier was scanning your items, giving you the same disinterested expression that most night-shift workers wore, until he spoke.

“Nice to have a soulmate.”

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden comment. For a second, you thought he was making conversation about your snacks, until you followed his gaze. He was looking at your arm.

The words were still there, slowly fading back into the shade of your skin like a secret slipping away.

“Oh,” you said dryly, keeping your tone neutral. “Yeah. I guess.”

You tapped your phone against the scanner, showing him the confirmation of payment and reaching for your bag. You were already halfway turned to leave when he spoke again.

“Are you… not happy with your soulmate?”

This time, you didn’t hide the eye-roll. You caught yourself before it was too obvious, plastering on a practiced smile. “Not that I care,” you replied smoothly, voice laced with finality.

He seemed to get the message. He didn’t say another word.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold hit you like a wave, stealing away the warmth you’d soaked up only moments ago. You sighed, pulled your coat tight again, and began walking home—faster now, as if you could outrun the thoughts chasing you.

By the time you reached your house, the world was quieter. Dimmer. Your fingers fumbled with the keys before finally unlocking the door. You stepped inside and toed off your shoes, the silence of the home wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Your mother and older brother were already asleep in their rooms. The only sound was the low hum of the heater and your own soft footsteps as you headed into the kitchen.

You popped the food into the microwave, leaned against the counter, and folded your arms tightly against your chest. You watched the rotating plate spin, light flickering across your features.

And then, your mind drifted. To the words on your arm. To the stranger who wasn’t really a stranger. The one tethered to you by something deeper than logic: your soulmate.

Everyone gets one. It's part of turning eighteen. There are no glowing marks or mystical tattoos like the movies paint. Just one simple discovery: write something on your arm, and someone else—somewhere in the world—will receive it. Their response will appear on yours.

For those who hadn’t met yet, or were separated by distance, it was the only line of communication they had. A shared ink. A shared pulse. And it didn’t stop at words. Feelings bled through too. Emotions, sensations, pain, even birth and death. Everything.

Two halves of a soul in two separate bodies.

You used to believe in that. Once.

But then your parents—soulmates, supposedly destined—divorced before your eighteenth birthday. That belief soured into something else. Bitterness, disappointment, and realism. So, when you turned eighteen, you refused to participate. You never once picked up a pen. Not even out of curiosity. But he did. Your soulmate.

At first, his messages were filled with excitement—pure, childlike wonder. He had been so happy to find you. You remembered the first few notes vividly, even though you tried not to. He told you about his day, asked if you were happy, wrote songs on your skin. Waited for a reply. When none came, he went quiet for a while. The silence felt heavier than the words ever did.

Then one day, the messages returned—not in pursuit of conversation, but like a diary he’d chosen to keep just for you. Every morning, every night, small pieces of him would appear on your skin. Sometimes just a sentence. Sometimes a whole letter.

Always kind. Always gentle. And you felt it—his joy, his pain, his quiet hope. Even your guilt.

He never once blamed you. Instead, he would send small reassurances. Whenever you’re ready.

《 I’ll be here."》

Still, you never wrote back. Not even once.

Your older brother found out recently. He was furious—called you out, said you were being selfish, but you didn’t change. You couldn’t, you weren’t ready, not until you figured yourself out, not until your family healed.

Therapy with your mother was the first step. One day, maybe more.

But tonight?

Tonight, all you could do was lean against the kitchen counter, arms folded, staring at your wrist, wondering if guilt counted as love, or just the echo of something waiting to become it.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The alarm pierced through the stillness of your room, shrill and unmerciful. You groaned, rolling over and blindly swiping at your phone until silence returned. For a few seconds, you lay still, buried beneath your blanket, eyes closed, clinging to the warmth that made you forget the outside world even existed.

But the chill in the air seeped in anyway, nipping at the edges of your comfort.

You finally sat up, hair a mess and limbs stiff. Morning light filtered through your curtains—grey and unmotivated, like the sky couldn’t be bothered to rise properly either. You pulled your legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, your body cracking in quiet protest.

Then, you felt it.

A soft tingle on your left forearm—barely there, like the trailing touch of a breeze. You didn’t even look. You didn’t have to. Still, curiosity had its way. You turned your arm over lazily, eyes settling on the familiar, looping handwriting now forming against your skin.

《“Good morning.”》

Two words. That’s all.

You swung your legs off the bed, walked over to your desk, and began your usual routine. Brush teeth, wash face, pull on the school uniform. Your brother had once joked that you looked like a disgruntled office worker in it, you didn’t disagree.

As you sat down to put on your socks, the words on your arm began to fade, disappearing like breath on a mirror. It always worked like that. Soulmate ink never lingered too long. You told yourself that was a blessing.

Because remembering him… wasn’t something you wanted to do. And yet, you did. You remembered far too much.

You knew he went to your school. Knew he was in the same grade, maybe even in a class down the hall. He had told you once—or maybe three times—that he had physics first thing in the morning, and loved running during gym.

He told you everything, yet you never once replied.

He was always like that, scribbling pieces of himself into your day like confessions into a diary. Even after you ignored him, even when your silence said more than words ever could, he kept going.

He’d tell you if it was raining during his walk to school. Or how his teacher fell asleep during a video presentation and they all got extra time to nap. He even told you the color of the socks he wore for good luck during math tests. It was relentless. Honest… Lonely, maybe. And yet never bitter.

You tied your shoelaces tighter than necessary and shoved your bag over your shoulder, heading out of your room with one last glance at your bare forearm.

The ink was gone. Just like always. And still, for reasons you didn’t want to admit, it left an aftertaste. Not quite regret, not quite longing. Just something… heavy.

Your mom was already in the kitchen when you came down, sipping her tea in silence, the television playing the morning news in the background. You muttered a greeting and grabbed your lunch from the fridge, stuffing it into your bag. She didn’t say much back. Neither of you had figured out how to talk to each other properly again yet. It was a work in progress.

As you stepped out the door, bracing yourself against the cold morning air, you pulled your sleeves over your hands and walked toward school, telling yourself you were ready for the day.

The halls buzzed with noise the moment you stepped through the school gates. Chatter echoed from locker to locker, students weaving around each other like clockwork; some groggy, others overly chipper for a Tuesday morning. You kept your head low, your steps steady as you made your way toward your classroom, not in the mood to socialize.

Your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag as you pushed the door open and slipped in. The classroom was half full, mostly quiet except for the sound of chairs scraping and the occasional burst of laughter from the far corner. You walked straight to your seat by the window, dropping your bag with a muted thud and pulling out your materials without a word.

It was peaceful for all of two seconds.

“Good morning, Y/N,” a voice teased close to your ear.

You didn’t have to look. The familiar scent of floral shampoo, the way the chair beside you dragged unnaturally close. Only one person had the audacity to interrupt your silence like that this early in the morning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you continued aligning your books neatly, pretending to read the header on the first page of your notebook.

Unbothered, she leaned even closer, her voice playfully light. “So… any new news about your soulmate?”

You stared ahead, face blank, and shrugged. That was your answer, that was always your answer. She wasn’t satisfied. She reached out and grabbed your wrist, not harshly, just enough to turn your attention toward her. You stopped moving, your lips pressing into a thin line, gaze meeting hers. Her smile had dimmed just slightly.

She sighed, letting go of your wrist and giving your shoulder a light tap with the back of her hand. “Still no progression from you?” she asked, eyes scanning your face as if hoping for a twitch of doubt, some crack in the wall you always kept up.

You let out a quiet hum, neither a yes nor a no, then returned to flipping through your notes. “If you already knew that, why bother asking every day?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, clicking her tongue as she slouched in her seat. “Because one day, I’m manifesting that you’ll actually give me a different answer.”

You didn’t respond, you didn’t need to.

She reached forward and gently smacked her palm against your desk, making you sigh and reluctantly look back at her. Her eyes glittered with something between exasperation and genuine concern.

“I get it, girl. Your mom said men are trash, dogs, a pile of dogs-”

“No cursing,” you cut in flatly, eyeing the teacher who hadn’t arrived yet but could walk in at any moment.

She raised a brow. “That was an insult creatively disguised as a metaphor.”

“Still counts.”

She groaned and sat up straighter, her tone softening but her words still firm. “Okay, okay, whatever your mom said about men, I get it. I really do. But this soulmate of yours,” her finger jabbed lightly at your arm “he’s been there for you. For a year. Writing every day. Every morning, every night, through school stress and snowstorms.”

You glanced at your arm instinctively, even though it was blank now. The phantom feeling of ink hadn’t faded completely yet.

“Doesn’t that make you think,” she continued, quieter now, “that maybe… just maybe… he’s worth a try? At least for your first relationship?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, because no matter how much you tried to shrug it off, her words sat heavy on your chest. You hated how they made sense, hated how they echoed things you'd tried so hard not to think about.

Still, you gave her the only answer you had the strength to say: “You make it sound easy.”

She smiled sadly, folding her arms on your desk like she always did when she was about to offer one of her mini sermons. “Love isn’t easy. But if someone’s already trying that hard… don’t you think you owe it to yourself to at least try too?”

The classroom noise started picking up again as more students filed in. The teacher would be arriving soon. You turned your head back to your notes, jaw clenched, heart annoyingly louder in your ears than it had been before.

You didn’t reply. Not right away. But her words stayed with you, long after the bell rang.

The classroom fell into a quiet rhythm as the teacher began scribbling formulas across the board. You kept your eyes forward, posture stiff, pen in hand. You took notes mechanically, letting your hand move on instinct while your thoughts lingered far from whatever chemical reaction was currently being explained.

A nudge from your side broke the rhythm. You glanced down and saw a folded piece of paper being subtly pushed in your direction by your best friend, her hand already back on her notebook as if nothing had happened. You raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t look at you, just tapped her pen on the desk like she was totally invested in the lesson. Typical…

You reached out slowly, unfolding the paper beneath your desk. Her familiar messy handwriting greeted you: “Trust me on my words.”

You sucked in a breath, your fingers pausing on the edge of the page. She didn’t need to say more. You knew exactly what she was referring to. That sentence alone was already pressing against the corners of your mind, slowly but surely peeling back the walls you’d built.

You crumpled the note gently, not tearing it, but folding it into a neat square again and tucking it into the corner of your desk. With another deep breath, you forced your eyes back to the board.

But your focus didn’t return, not really. Instead, your mind kept looping back to her words. “Trust me.” Trust her on what? That your soulmate’s persistence meant something? That opening yourself up—just a little—wouldn’t destroy you the way it had destroyed your parents?

You glanced down at your arm. Still blank, but your skin tingled, as though it remembered what had been there just hours ago.

He always wrote so gently. With so much care.

You looked at your pen. It felt heavier in your hand now. Like it was daring you. Daring you to do the one thing you hadn’t done in over a year: write back.

Your best friend had no idea how complicated your feelings were. She didn’t know the full story. She hadn’t seen the nights your mum came home crying with wine-stained lips, or the mornings when she pretended everything was fine while tossing burnt toast in the bin. She hadn’t been there for the slammed doors and the silences. For the day your father’s handwriting stopped showing up on your mother’s skin.

No… she didn’t know.

Your mum wouldn’t want to talk about it either. Every time she even heard the word “soulmate,” her eyes darkened, lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. You weren’t ready to face that again.

And your best friend. She had good intentions, sure, but this wasn't some teenage movie where love solves everything, which left you with one last option. Your brother.

You poked your pen against your paper absentmindedly, chewing the inside of your cheek.

He was in his final year. Between exam prep, project deadlines, and dates with his soulmate—who might as well be his second spine at this point—he barely had time to eat a proper dinner. But still… he’d notice. He always noticed when something was off.

And even if he nagged, even if he launched into his well-rehearsed monologue about how you’re hurting someone who clearly loves you, you knew he’d listen. He’d understand, maybe not everything, but enough.

You bit your lip, dragging your pen softly across the edge of your notebook, not quite writing anything, just letting it glide.

You still didn’t know what you’d write back, but for the first time in a long time, you thought about writing at all, and that was something.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The moment the final bell rang, you packed your bag a little slower than usual. The chatter of classmates rose around you, desks scraping, footsteps rushing out to freedom, but you stayed rooted, your fingers curled loosely around your phone.

You typed a quick message to your brother.

《You: Can we talk? Just you and me. It’s about soulmates》

You didn’t wait for a reply. You already knew it wouldn't come in time. Your brother wasn’t one to check his phone often during school hours, especially not in his final year. Still, you tucked your phone away and slung your bag over your shoulder, letting out a long, silent breath.

Just as you stepped out into the hallway, a familiar sensation tickled your skin. Your eyes dropped to your arm.

Just finished my class. The sun’s out a little now, hope it’s warmer where you are.

You stopped walking.

Your breath caught, like a thread pulled tight in your chest. Every word from him made your heart ache. Every message he sent felt so close, so real, it made you want to look for him in the crowd. Just once, just a glance, would he know it was you? But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You clenched your jaw and shook off the thought, ignoring the quiet warmth blooming in your chest. Your heart could wait. You had things to figure out first.

You turned toward the building across campus, the one for graduating students.

Your steps slowed when you neared the wide entrance. Your school’s rules were clear—each grade had its own tie color, and yours practically screamed junior to every upperclassman you passed. You tugged at the end of your tie subconsciously, wishing you could blend in. Some students gave you glances—polite, curious, or confused, but then came the familiar voice of one of your brother’s classmates.

“Hey! You’re Wonhee’s little sibling, right?”

You turned to see a girl with glasses smiling at you kindly.

“Yeah,” you replied with a short nod. “Is he still in class?”

“Should be,” she answered brightly.

You laughed lightly, rubbing your nape. “Thanks.”

You pushed forward, making your way up the stairwell. The further you went, the more out of place you felt. The hallway buzzed with older students pouring out of classrooms, brushing past you with ease. Some gave you blank stares, others whispered to their friends, clearly wondering who you were. You kept your head low, gripping the strap of your bag tighter as you climbed.

On the third floor—the floor where your brother’s class was located—you paused to catch your breath. The hallway was calmer here, quieter. And then, you saw him.

“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted.

You turned and met eyes with Kim Mingyu, one of your brother’s closest friends. Tall, always relaxed, with an easy grin that didn’t change no matter the situation.

“You’re here for Wonhee, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, grateful beyond words for seeing someone you knew. “Did his class end?”

“Almost.” Yeonjun said, gesturing behind him.

You gave a short laugh, your smile a little crooked. Yeonjun added with a soft tap on your shoulder before walking off down the hall. You watched him leave, feeling the nervous churn return to your stomach.

One step at a time, you made your way toward your brother’s classroom. You weren’t sure how this conversation would go. Maybe he’d scold you, maybe he’d listen—or maybe both, but for the first time, you wanted to try. You wanted to understand, not just run away from what you didn’t want to face.

You stood just outside the classroom door. The hallway outside the graduating class was quieter than your own building, the air filled with an almost intimidating sense of maturity. You looked down at your tie, a shade lighter than the seniors', which only reminded you how out of place you were.

A few upperclassmen passed by and greeted you with polite nods. You recognized some of them from the times you’d come by to visit your brother. You gave them a small smile, replying with a gentle "hello" as you tried to ignore the awkward stares from those who didn’t know who you were.

Finally, the door to the classroom opened. The graduating homeroom teacher stepped out first, catching sight of you.

“Waiting for Wonhee?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes,” you nodded respectfully. “It’s been a while.”

“You’ve grown well,” she said kindly, and with that, she left with the soft echo of her heels fading down the hall.

And then, there he was. Wonhee. Your brother stepped out of his seat towards his soulmate. They were still holding hands, his thumb brushing against her knuckles affectionately. You watched, lips quirking upward, as he bent down to give her a quick peck on the forehead. She giggled, nudging him gently.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, clearly checking the message you’d sent. Just as he looked up, someone from outside the class called out, “Yo! Wonhee, your sister’s waiting!”

Your brother turned his head and his gaze met yours. You raised your hand with a sheepish peace sign and a crooked smile. He arched an eyebrow and walked toward you, fingers still intertwined with his girlfriend’s.

“So… what’s up?” he asked.

Before answering, you opened your arms with mock excitement and beamed at his girlfriend. “Hi, gorgeous!”

She laughed and pulled you into a warm hug without hesitation.

Even if your belief in soulmates had dulled over time, that never meant you didn’t support their relationship. Just because you weren’t ready didn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to be happy. He deserved this—someone stable, someone warm.

Your mom had never said anything against it, either. Even after the divorce, she supported your brother’s decision wholeheartedly, especially now that he was twenty-one and preparing to step into adulthood. He and his soulmate were already planning on renting a place once he graduated. She gave them her blessings, wholehearted and sincere.

You pulled back from the hug, only for your cheeks to get lightly pinched by his girlfriend. “You’re acting extra sweet today,” she teased.

You grinned and Wonhee rolled his eyes. “Stop hogging my girlfriend, for god’s sake.”

Both of you giggled in sync, ignoring him entirely.

The three of you began making your way out of the building. You took a few strides ahead before slowing and nudging your brother’s elbow.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “I wanted to talk. About… soulmates.”

He glanced over, his brow furrowing just slightly.

“I mean, I was hoping to talk to just you, but I guess it’s fine if she joins too. Maybe her perspective might help.”

You cast a sideways look at her, only to find her eyes wide and blinking with surprise. “Me? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I don’t really talk about this stuff with anyone. It might help.”

She gave a soft smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling warmly. “Then how about that café across from the library? Quiet and cozy.”

Wonhee groaned. “If this turns into a soulmates-and-feelings therapy session, I’m walking out.”

“No promises,” you and his girlfriend said at the same time.

You all laughed together.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The café Jiyoon, Wonhee’s soulmate, chose was quiet, tucked in between a laundromat and a closed-down bookstore, with soft lo-fi playing above the murmurs of students hunched over their laptops. The scent of roasted beans and sugar lingered in the air like a comforting blanket, enough to calm your nerves as you sat in a corner booth near the window.

Wonhee slid into the seat across from you, Jiyoon right beside him. You sat alone on your side, fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your school uniform while your untouched drink sat in front of you. You watched the froth bubble slightly at the rim. You didn’t know where to start, how to even open your mouth without all your thoughts collapsing into a mess of memories and uncertainty.

But you did try. Taking a breath, you looked down and began softly.

“I guess I just… never believed in soulmates that last forever.”

Wonhee blinked, leaning forward slightly. Jiyoon turned her full attention to you, her expression open and unguarded.

You continued, voice quiet.

“It’s not like I hate the idea. I don’t. But… watching mum and dad fall apart, it messed me up, I think. They were soulmates. They wrote to each other all the time when I was younger. But still… they divorced. And no one ever told me why.”

You swallowed and looked up for a moment, your gaze fixed on the window, not really seeing the street outside. “So when I turned eighteen, and the words started showing up… I didn’t know what to do. It felt like I was suddenly holding something sacred that I didn’t ask for. I was scared of it. Of… him.”

Your voice trembled slightly. “He kept writing to me, every day. Sweet things. Silly things. Encouraging things. I never replied, but he kept going anyway. It felt… undeserved. Like I was breaking something before it even began.”

Jiyoon reached across the table and gently laid her hand over yours. Her touch was soft, grounding. “You’re not breaking anything,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. “You’re scared. That’s not the same.”

You gave her a grateful smile. Weak, but genuine.

“I told my best friend today,” you added. “Not everything, but I told her about him. She’s been pushing me to open my heart a little. Said maybe… maybe he’s worth a try.”

There was a moment of silence between the three of you. Then, Jiyoon gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up with that kind of fear,” she said. “But… not all soulmates are like your mum and dad. Every pair is different. Every connection is different. Soulmates aren’t perfect—they’re just people, like you and me. They make choices. Sometimes, the world around them makes things harder.”

Wonhee, who had been listening intently, finally spoke.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer than usual, “mum told me what really happened.”

You looked up sharply. “She did?”

He nodded. “Only after I told her I was serious about Jiyoon. She wanted me to understand.”

He took a breath. “Mum and dad—yeah, they were soulmates. They got married, and for a while, things were okay. But dad’s side of the family didn’t approve of her. They thought she wasn’t good enough. Even after the wedding, they never accepted her. And eventually… they cut dad off. Bank accounts, inheritance, support—everything. They tried to make him leave her by taking away everything else.”

Your heart sank.

“Mum blamed herself. Said she ruined his life,” Wonhee continued. “But dad never once made her feel that way. He stayed, built everything from scratch again. He worked twice as hard just to give her back the life they wanted together.”

You were listening silently, eyes wide and unmoving.

“Then, a few months before your eighteenth birthday,” Wonhee said, his voice lowering, “dad’s family reached out again. Offered him a deal. Said if he went overseas and saved one of their failing companies, they’d stop interfering. He could finally live peacefully with mum.”

You inhaled sharply. “So he left?”

Wonhee nodded. “Mum didn’t let him decide. She forced him to go. Said she’d wait, even if she didn’t know how long it’d be. She wanted him to have his freedom again. And… he hesitantly left.”

Your throat felt tight. Your heart? It ached.

“I thought…” you whispered, “I thought he didn’t care anymore.”

Jiyoon’s hand tightened gently on yours. “He does. He always did.”

Wonhee leaned back, watching your face. “Mum and dad made mistakes, but they still loved each other. Mum gave up her pride, dad gave up his security. They did all that for each other.”

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t cry.

Jiyoon smiled warmly, her thumb brushing over your hand. “You don’t have to rush anything. No one’s asking you to bare your heart overnight. But when you’re ready, even if it’s just a simple hello, I promise, it’ll mean the world to him.”

You looked down at your arm. Blank skin, but your heart wasn’t. It was stirring. For the first time, truly, it wanted to speak.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

It had been a few days since that conversation in the café. Since then, nothing had drastically changed—at least not on the outside. But within you, something had quietly, delicately shifted.

You still woke up to his words written across your arm, messy and rambling like morning thoughts in a diary. He wrote as if you were someone he had known for years, as if you were a part of his routine, even though you’d never spoken back.

And you used to feel nothing but confusion, irritation, and fear. But now… you smiled.

You didn’t even realize it at first. But the corners of your lips curled upward as you read his latest ramble about being scolded by a teacher for yawning too loudly in class. Something about the way he described it with exaggerated frustration and little doodles of scribbled faces made your chest feel warmer.

Unfortunately, your best friend did notice. A sudden nudge on your arm pulled you from your trance.

“I see your eyes, so in love with your soulmate,” she teased, leaning in with a mischievous grin.

You immediately turned away, cheeks heating up as you tried to play it cool. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “So what’s his name, hmm?”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

Oh.

…Oh.

You awkwardly laughed, a sheepish grin stretching across your face. “I, uh… I don’t know.”

Her jaw dropped, as if you just committed a social crime of the century.

“What the hell?! You haven’t even chatted with him yet?!”

You sputtered in defense. “I need time, okay?!”

She looked at you as though you were the most ridiculous creature she had ever encountered in her life. “Girl,” she began, pressing her palm against her forehead. “What is time? You clearly don’t need time when your eyes are sparkling like a manhwa protagonist in love.”

She pointed accusingly at your arm. “And don’t even deny it. That dreamy look you had earlier? I saw it.”

You covered your face with both hands, embarrassment radiating off you in waves. Your best friend was relentless.

She sighed dramatically, “You are so lucky I’m patient.”

You peeked at her through your fingers just as she snatched your wrist.

“H-Hey, what are you-?”

Before you could stop her, she shoved a pen into your free hand and narrowed her eyes with the intensity of a drill sergeant. “Obviously, I can’t write it since, obviously,” she gestured vaguely toward the universe, “but I am here to speed up this whole tragic slow-burn.”

You stared at the pen, then at your arm. The smooth blank skin where his writing had just faded.

The thought echoed in your head like a soft whisper.

Just ask for his name. It’s not a confession, not a promise, just… a beginning.

Your fingers tightened slightly around the pen. Slowly, nervously, you lowered it toward your arm. Your best friend leaned in closer, eyes gleaming like a proud mother about to witness her child’s first steps.

Right.

Just write it.

Just a name.

You took a shaky breath and, in the smallest, most delicate handwriting, like whispering into someone’s ear for the first time, you wrote: 《“Hi. What’s your name?”》

The ink bled gently into your skin, black and slightly trembling. You stared at it, heart pounding.

It was just a question, but it felt like a door finally opening. And somewhere out there—across the school grounds, maybe even in the same hallway or behind a classroom door—someone was about to feel your words for the very first time.

You looked up at your best friend. She had tears in her eyes.

“About damn time,” she whispered dramatically, and pulled you into a tight hug.

The ink had barely dried on your skin when a sudden warmth spread through your chest, like sunlight cracking through a cloudy sky. It was gentle at first, but then it bloomed, fast and uncontainable, and it filled you from the tips of your fingers to the soles of your feet.

Your breath hitched. This… this wasn’t yours. It was his. You were feeling what your soulmate felt. And he was… ecstatic.

Your eyes widened just as black ink bloomed rapidly across your arm in a rush of writing—looped, excited, nearly tumbling over itself. The pen in your hand dropped onto your desk with a soft clatter as both you and your best friend leaned forward to read.

《“You replied-!! Wait- oh my god, your handwriting is so pretty?? I was not prepared?? I need a moment-”》

The words kept going.

《 “Okay, deep breath. Hi. Hi. I’m seriously smiling like an idiot right now. I’ve been writing to you for so long I thought maybe I scared you off or maybe you just didn’t exist or something but now you wrote back and I can’t stop staring at it. I’m really, really happy.”》

You couldn’t help it, you smiled. It was instinct. Pure, unfiltered happiness, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

《 “I feel like my heart just exploded. I don’t know what to say and I’m usually never out of words but seriously thank you for writing. Thank you. You just made my whole year.”》

You pressed your hand over your mouth to muffle the small, quiet laugh that escaped you, your cheeks burning. Beside you, your best friend was already gawking. Her hands clasped together dramatically like she was witnessing a live romance drama unfold in class.

And then, after a long stretch of messy, joyful writing, came the final line: 《 “My name is Lee Chan :)”》

You blinked at it. Lee Chan. Finally, he had a name, and you had written to him. Your fingers trembled slightly as you touched the last word, still a little dazed, still letting it all sink in. Your best friend nudged your shoulder, beaming at you like a proud coach.

“You’re glowing,” she said with a grin, her voice soft with sincerity this time. “I’m so happy for you.”

You smiled, blinking back the light sting in your eyes. “Thanks.”

She glanced down at her own wrist. “Well, now that you’re done unlocking your Disney princess core, I have a soulmate to write back to.”

You laughed quietly as she stood, stretching dramatically before heading to her own desk. “Enjoy your romantic monologue!” she called over her shoulder with a wink.

But you were already turning back to your arm, your heart still beating far too fast. The black ink shimmered slightly under the light, the warmth in your chest refusing to fade.

Lee Chan.

You whispered it under your breath, tasting the syllables.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

Standing outside Lee Chan’s classroom felt like the longest wait of your life. Even though the school bell had already rung, the homeroom teacher’s voice still echoed faintly from inside. You leaned against the wall, trying not to fidget, trying to look casual, but your fingers kept curling, uncurling, and the pen in your pocket felt heavier with every passing second.

You didn’t know when his class would end, but you had decided: you’d wait.

Finally, the sound of chairs dragging and the low murmur of conversation signaled the end of class. Students started pouring out, some stretching, some chatting, and your breath caught.

Okay, it’s now or never.

You scanned their faces. None familiar, that’s right, you didn’t know anyone in his class. You bit your lip before straightening up, spotting a boy still near the door, slinging his bag over one shoulder. You shuffled toward him, your throat dry.

“Um, hi,” you said, your voice almost too soft.

The student blinked at you, confused but polite. “Yeah?”

“I… I’m looking for someone. Is Lee Chan in your class?”

The boy perked up. “Oh yeah!” Then, without warning, he turned toward the classroom and shouted, “LEE CHAN, someone’s looking for you!!”

Your soul left your body. You nearly froze, wide-eyed as every nearby student turned to look. Oh my god, why did he shout??

And then, as if in slow motion, he appeared. Lee Chan turned at the sound of his name, brows lifted in curiosity. When he spotted you, his lips tugged into a polite smile. His uniform tie was slightly loose from the day, his sleeves rolled just once. He looked casual, boyish… warm.

He walked toward you. “Hey,” he said kindly, tilting his head a little. “Need help with something?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You almost said it, you almost told him you were his soulmate, but the words stuck to your tongue. How would he believe you? Anyone could just say that. And then, like the universe dropped a reminder right into your thoughts, you remembered something: his seat. You glanced past him to the desk his classmate had shouted from earlier.

Without answering, you gently brushed past him, walking toward the desk. He watched you with confusion, but didn’t stop you. You reached his table, picked up his pen. Your hands didn’t shake this time. You took a breath, rolled up your sleeve slowly, and wrote in careful strokes on your forearm: 《"Park Y/N."》

The moment the last letter left your pen, a small gasp escaped behind you. You turned. Chan was staring at his own arm. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted in disbelief, and then, slowly, he looked up at you. You saw the moment it clicked.

And so, you rolled up your sleeve further, showing him the name you just wrote. The ink was still fresh, your skin still tingled slightly from the pressure of the pen.

He stared at it, then stared at you.

His eyes glistened. “You’re…”

You nodded, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. I’m your soulmate.”

For a second, the world stood still. Then, in the middle of a noisy corridor, Lee Chan broke into the brightest smile you’d ever seen.

The chatter around you buzzed quietly, but no one seemed to pay attention. Not his classmates walking past, not the ones still in the classroom packing their bags. It was as if the world had granted this one quiet, suspended moment just for you and him.

You stared into his eyes, and he stared into yours. Both of you frozen, breaths barely even. And then, just like that, Lee Chan’s smile widened impossibly more. Without warning, he stepped forward and hugged you. It wasn’t shy. It wasn’t uncertain. It was warm and genuine and full of emotion, like he’d been waiting for this forever.

Your eyes widened at the sudden contact, but your body relaxed just a second after—because it felt right.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice slightly muffled against his shoulder.

You felt the chuckle vibrate through his chest before you heard it, and when he pulled away just enough to look at you again, his eyes sparkled like sunlight on water.

“Nice to meet you, Park Y/N,” he said, the words practically dancing from his lips.

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Nice to meet you too, Lee Chan.”

The hug dissolved into a gentle release, and both of you took a step back, finally getting a real look at each other.

He was striking in the simplest, most genuine way.

Lee Chan had short black hair that fell just above his brows, effortlessly styled with soft waves that made him look effortlessly put together. His dark eyes were bright, sharp and curious, but carried a softness that drew you in rather than intimidated. There was something about the way his eyes creased when he smiled, how his round nose and gentle jawline balanced the mischief in his grin.

His skin was warm-toned and clear, and a small mole sat under his left eye, only noticeable when you leaned in slightly. He wore his uniform neatly but with a casual ease—shirt tucked in, blazer hanging open, and a few friendship bracelets peeking from beneath his sleeves. His posture was confident, but not cocky. Comfortable, like someone who moved through life with a rhythm all his own.

Chan tilted his head, studying you in return with that same sparkling smile, like he already adored you despite barely knowing you in person.

And for the first time… the idea of soulmates didn’t terrify you. Not when Lee Chan looked at you like that. Not when your name on his arm made him smile like that.

You and Chan walked side by side, the school hallway echoing softly behind you, but it was like the world had quieted down just for this moment.

Your fingers nervously brushed your skirt, eyes darting from the floor to him before you finally spoke.

“I… I’m sorry it took me so long to write back.”

Chan blinked, turning slightly to look at you, his usual bright demeanor softening.

You took a breath. “It’s not because I didn’t want to. I just… I didn’t believe in it. In soulmates.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“My mum and dad… they were soulmates too,” you continued, voice quieter. “But things didn’t end well. They separated. My mum… she didn’t want to talk about it much, but I saw enough to understand. It made me feel like soulmates don’t guarantee happiness.”

Chan stayed silent, but you felt the warmth of his attention. Patient and comforting.

“And then you kept writing to me,” you said, laughing under your breath. “Blabbering like I was your diary.”

“I was treating you like one,” Chan admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I didn’t mind. It felt like I was talking to someone who listened, even if they didn’t answer.”

You looked at him, meeting his eyes. “And one day… I wanted to answer.”

His gaze softened so much affection swelling in those eyes that it made your chest ache.

“Thank you,” he said. Just one word, but you could tell how much weight it held. “For giving me a chance. For writing back.”

Somehow, your steps had already brought you to the school gate. You hadn’t even realized how short the walk had felt. You stopped, turning to face him. Your chest tightened again at the thought of saying goodbye already. You didn’t want to go yet.

Chan must’ve felt it, because he chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle your hair in that same tender way as before.

“If you’re feeling a little sad,” he said playfully, “maybe I can walk you home?”

You hesitated for a second, and he caught the flicker of doubt in your expression. “Don’t worry,” he assured you. “I want to walk you home.”

And just like that, he matched his steps with yours again. He talked like he always did; about his favorite boba flavor, his attempt at learning guitar, how he once tripped in front of his crush back in middle school (and how it still haunts him). You listened, giggling quietly, your heart fluttering every time he made a dumb joke just to get a smile out of you.

He was the same as his handwriting—playful, warm, and impossibly honest.

You were opposites.

But he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were meant to meet exactly the way you did.

By the time you reached your front gate, both of you were quiet again, like you didn’t want the moment to end.

“Goodbye,” you said, just above a whisper.

“Goodbye,” he replied, just as gently.

Neither of you moved.

The second goodbye came with a little more hesitation, and when Chan finally took a reluctant step back, he smiled and gave a small wave.

“Third goodbye,” he said softly, eyes still locked with yours.

You watched his back grow smaller down the street, and your heart just grew bigger. And when you finally stepped into the house, you were still smiling. Still lightheaded. Still hopelessly, completely, and beautifully in love.

The days with Chan grew like blooming flowers in early spring—natural, warm, and quietly magical.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

He wasn’t just your soulmate anymore. He became your favorite person. The one who made your cheeks ache from smiling too much, the one whose voice softened every hard day, and the one whose words—whether spoken or written—always felt like they were meant for you, and only you. And slowly, without even noticing it…

You fell in love with him. Deeply, genuinely, completely. But something held you back from saying it out loud. It wasn’t fear of rejection. No, Chan was never someone who made you feel like you'd be hurt. It was just… he hadn’t said it yet either. He hadn’t tried to shift this easy, beautiful friendship into something more. So you hesitated. Should I say it first?

Your best friend, ever the confident one, dramatically slammed her book on your table during break and leaned across it.

"Y/N, be a girlboss."

You blinked.

"This is the 21st century, okay? No one cares if the girl confesses first. Confess. Get your man. Live your best life.”

You opened your mouth, ready to object, maybe with a weak "but what if-", but she stopped you with a finger in the air.

"Unless you're telling me you're planning to pine and sigh for ten more years, you better tell him you like him."

And just like that, your mind was set.

Not just to confess, but to take it slow, make sure everything aligned. Like bringing him to your home. Introducing him to your mum. Getting her blessing.

So, that afternoon, you wrote across your arm in your neatest handwriting: 《"Do you want to come over to my house after school?"》

Chan replied immediately, his usual excitement radiating through his words.

《"I’LL BE THERE!! Should I bring snacks?? A board game?? A gift for your mum?? I’m nervous oh my god-"》

You laughed at his endless message, warmth blooming in your chest.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

That day after school, Chan stood in front of your house, hands slightly sweaty, fixing his bangs nervously as you opened the door.

You smiled. “Relax. She doesn’t bite.”

You introduced him. “Mum, this is Lee Chan. He’s… my soulmate.”

There was a small pause. Your mum’s eyes softened. She reached forward, gently held his hand with both of hers.

“I’m so glad you met him,” she said, sincerity swimming in her voice. “You look really happy, Y/N.”

And then came the most important words of all.

“You have my blessing, sweetheart.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief, but the smile that followed nearly took your breath away. He stayed for dinner, hesitated to accept it at first but quickly melted into your mum’s warmth as she offered him more rice and teased him gently like she’d known him forever.

When he finally left that night, he bowed so many times at the door you had to physically nudge him away.

Later, you told your brother about it all, and naturally, Jiyoon was more excited than anyone else.

"A double date!" she squealed. "Yes! Yes! We have to do a couple trivia game and karaoke and-"

You chuckled. “We’ll plan it soon.”

Everything was falling into place. So now…

Now it was time. Time to confess.

You sat with your best friend during lunch the next day, hunched over a notebook as you brainstormed ideas. Confessing through writing on your arm felt… too small. You wanted something real. Something he could remember, even years later.

“How about a rooftop picnic? After school?”

“With bento boxes and fairy lights?” she added.

You nodded, eyes lighting up. “I’ll cook. I’ll write a note too. And then I’ll say it.”

“You’re finally gonna say it, huh?”

You nodded again, firmer this time.

“I’m going to tell Chan I love him.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun was soft that afternoon, casting warm golden rays across the rooftop you had decorated with all your heart. Fairy lights twinkled even though the sun hadn't set yet, and the checkered picnic mat you laid out held two homemade bento boxes. One crafted with care, shaped into little hearts and stars, complete with his favorite side dishes.

And then came Chan.

Still in his uniform, his tie a little loose, and his hair tousled like he’d run to make it on time. But that smile—nervous and boyish—stole your breath the moment you saw him.

“You made all this?” he asked, amazed, as he sat beside you.

“For you,” you replied softly, handing him his bento.

Everything was perfect.

The light breeze, the scent of food, your heart beating louder than ever. You knew what you had to do, what you wanted to do. The moment was close. You turned to look at him, ready to begin your confession.

But… something was off.

Chan’s fingers fidgeted with the chopsticks, eyes darting to the food, then the sky, then your hand. He looked like he was trying to calm himself by stuffing a bite into his mouth, but even that didn’t work. He swallowed too quickly.

“Chan?” you asked, voice laced with care. “Is something wrong?”

He froze for a second, then sighed out a breath and finally looked into your eyes. And despite the nerves in his expression, he smiled. A small, awkward, but utterly sincere smile.

“Be my girlfriend…?” he asked, voice shaky, as if he wasn’t sure how you'd respond.

Your eyes widened. You opened your mouth in surprise, a soundless breath escaping before a laugh tumbled from your lips. You chuckled, warm and delighted, because of course. Of course he’d beat you to it.

Still giggling, you reached up and gently caressed his cheek, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw before leaning in, and you kissed him. A soft peck on the lips, full of affection and the warmth you’d held in for so long.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “And I love you too.”

His eyes sparkled instantly. Like you’d just given him the stars and the entire sky.

Without a word, he leaned in again and kissed you, more deeply this time, a kiss filled with months of unspoken feelings, of diary messages across skin and stolen glances across hallways. It was a kiss that tasted like happiness, like springtime and new beginnings.

When you parted again, breathless but laughing, he cradled your face with both hands.

“You beat me at cooking,” he said with a grin, “but I beat you at confessing.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Let’s call it a tie.”

He laughed—his bright, dorky laugh—and hugged you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The rest of the evening was full of shared bites, quiet laughter, and daydreaming about future rooftop dates. You both took photos, he insisted, and he kept one as his phone wallpaper. You spent more time talking than eating, and by the time the fairy lights truly glowed under the setting sun, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence, just leaning against each other.

Your heart was full.

You used to think soulmates didn’t last. But now, sitting under the soft purple sky with Chan’s hand in yours and your heart completely surrendered, you thought- Maybe some soulmates are just meant to take the long way around, but they still find each other in the end.

And your ending? It wasn’t just happy, it was just the beginning of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight

#seventeen fanfic #dino fanfic #m: eclipsaria #p: mxr #g: angst #g: fluff #g: strangers to lovers #f: oneshot #9k #r: pg-13

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k-vanity · 6 days ago

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ᐟ.⭑ THE CELEBRATION COLUMN ⭑.ᐟ

Today, K-Vanity Magazine would like to reserve this section to highlight one of our members. Before we continue any further, we’d like to wish the ever so talented and amazing Ali @winterchimez a very Happy Birthday!! May your day be filled with joy and positivity.

—K-Vanity Staff

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ

#birthday post

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k-vanity · 7 days ago

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Between Loads | J.YH

SUMMARY | You hate doing laundry but maybe your next door neighbor, Yunho, can make it worth your time.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, pwp, romance, neighbors to lovers, fluff

CONTENT/WARNINGS | the 6th floor has creepy crawlies (but nothing really happens), profanity, flirting, teasing, unprotective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (both m/f receiving/giving), dirty talk, laundry jokes, just jokes all around, kissing, skin marking, skin biting, hair pulling, fingering, multiple positions, creampies, breeding/impregnation kink

LENGTH | 7,004 words

TAGLIST | @aerangi

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @winerys-collection @cosyhomenet @keopihaus @ksmutsociety @k-vanity

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Thank you @pars-ley for the banner! I love it so much 💛💚 and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @heartikeu for beta-reading the beginning of the fic. And now she is completed! On another note, Yunho. Goddamn Yunho.

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

You hate doing laundry in this ever busy apartment building. Since it's late Saturday morning, all of the washers on the first floor have been preempted by people doing laundry to start their day. It'll take ages before a washing machine opens up, and you know that if you stick around, you're likely to have a load ruined from the little kids running about.

You wish management would provide folks with their own laundry hookups like they had with the dishwashers and stoves. Having one in your apartment would be heavenly. Instead, you have to head down several floors to the laundry room and then wait for God-only-knows how long for the damn machines to free up. The faster you could get in and out, the better off you would be.

"Maybe I'll go up to the sixth floor and use the laundry there?" you muse aloud as you pack away the rest of your clothes into your hamper. "But... Ugh, if it's not one thing, it's another!"

You normally avoid the sixth floor laundry room unless there are no machines available on the first, simply because you don't want the hassle of going into the hornets' nest. With the halls of the sixth floor filled with majority men for some odd reason, you want to avoid any harassment in the communal laundry room. You doubt very much whether they could keep their hands to themselves if you had no protection.

"Why must I face this annoyance?!" you yell as you storm down to the elevator with your basket. "It's a hassle, but, fine! Just this once! But, if they try to grab my butt or something, I'm punching someone! They better believe it!"

Armed with enough detergent and soap, you find the communal laundry room a touch more empty than your norm. With less folks around, maybe it will mean a quick load and not much trouble? The thought crosses your mind, but in reality, you know otherwise.

"You're here too, Y/N?" Your next door neighbor, Yunho, pokes his head out of the open washer as you set the hamper down. "You're not usually here on the sixth floor."

"It's crowded and annoying downstairs," you state. "I don't usually come up here because of the jerks that are on this floor, but desperate times and all of that nonsense."

"Yeah, this floor is crawling with creeps," he agrees.

"I'd love having a washer and dryer set-up in my place. Then I could avoid places like this."

Yunho continues working on loading up his washer, though, you catch his sly glances as you begin sorting things into the next available washers. "Until then, let me know when you do laundry and I'll come up and wash. I promise to help deter the creepy-crawlies."

You can't help but laugh at his offer. "All right, fine. Thanks, I guess." You pushed the last of the clothes into your washer and slammed the lid down. "We'll see how it goes."

How many years have you known Yunho? How long did he live next door to you on the fourth floor? It's been a few years already... Maybe three? Maybe four? Enough that you feel you're used to seeing him, even with his incredibly handsome features, every now and again.

He is very easy on the eyes. Almost a bit too perfect. Tall, with a bright smile, nice arms, and toned thighs... what you would give to climb him like a tree and—

Nope!

No, stop, don't start thinking dirty. Bad Y/N. Bad, dirty brain. Stop perving on Yunho, now.

You glanced up at his bright smile, and turned back to the washing machines. Oh no. It was a sinfully sinful thing to imagine the many ways Yunho might kiss your neck, those hands pushing up your shirt and—

You have to shake your head before things get out of hand. This isn't the time or place to have these kinds of thoughts. The sooner your laundry is done, the sooner you can get back down to your own floor and hide your face behind the closed doors and take care of certain... urges that are beginning to surface.

But as you glance back up at Yunho, seeing him leaning over his own washer as he puts the last of his loads in, a heat pools in the pit of your belly. What you wouldn't do to have him fuck you over one of the washers or against the folding table in the middle of the room. Oh no, there was no mistaking how good and strong those arms would feel wrapped around you, thrusting inside you and whispering in your ear.

Bad... bad thoughts... You don't need this right now. No, you do not need the added strain of Yunho's visuals causing such fantasies. Nope, nope. Don't start, you're getting too worked up thinking about it, stop. You bite down on your lower lip, eyes staring a hole into the washer before you.

"Y/N? Everything all right?" Yunho leans over his washer and peers at you. "You seem distracted."

Oh, how sweet a distraction... If Yunho would shut his mouth, that might make things go easier, right? Shut the door, lock us both in here for hours, and let loose? "I'm fine," you blurt out, flinging a hand towards him. "Just hate waiting for laundry to do its job."

"Sounds like you need something else to take your mind off it. Porn always helps me get through chores faster."

A strange noise escapes your throat, something between a retch and a wheeze. Your entire face flushes darkly, and you rub your palms against your cheeks. "What?!"

"That was a joke," he chuckled.

"Don't say shit like that," you groan. "Especially in a public space. Like seriously, who knows when some other crazy neighbor will walk through those doors?"

"Yeah, no, good point." Yunho nods, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. "How long did you put in to wash those?"

"Just a medium load. So... Half an hour. Probably 35 minutes," you answer. "Then, another half an hour to dry. Can't get out too fast, else I might forget stuff."

Yunho hits a button on his washer and leans his hip against the top of it, making an audible clicking sound from his tongue. "Wanna go for a walk around while we wait? Might help take our minds off chores for a while. And it'll keep those jerkfaces down here from bugging you."

"Sure, why the hell not."

As you two wander the halls, you're somewhat surprised how not creepy everything is. Yunho is, like always, a pleasure to speak with as the two of you trade gossip, funny stories, and daily happenings. This time, however, you focus a bit too much on his lips moving, the curve of his smile, and the soft laugh that breaks the quiet air. Your mind flitters and keeps drifting back to thoughts of that moment, imagining how it would feel.

Fuck, his lips look soft.

That's it.

Yunho's lips are full and plush looking. Very soft. Probably the best kissing lips that a man could possess, even in such a harsh looking face. They practically beg to be devoured. The kind of lips you could easily imagine sliding against your body with ease, tasting each and every inch, and then engulfing you whole.

Fuck.

Even with Yunho talking animatedly, you can't pull your focus away. The urge to steal his lips in a kiss overcame you.

It can't hurt.

"Shit, I want to kiss you."

Or, it might hurt. A lot, in fact, considering Yunho's steps falter, and he almost face plants into the wall. He looks at you with wild, confused eyes. "What?!"

"Shit," you close your eyes and slap your mouth a few times, "shit shit shit, sorry. My stupid mouth. Ignore that." You swallow hard and turn to walk down the stairs, a shameful blush staining your face. "Yeah, just forget all about that. Me saying that. Yeah, good plan."

Yunho watches your hasty retreat, following after with a renewed lightness in his steps. "W-Wait. That's it?"

You reach the sixth floor landing, Yunho still trailing behind you as you head towards the communal laundry. "I am a dumb idiot that blurts things like that out without thinking. Forget I even said anything, please."

"Hey," he laughs as he takes hold of your wrist, stopping your stride to his laundry room, "you can't just say something like that and expect a man to completely forget it!"

"Yes. Yes I can," you assure him. "So, you will."

He laughs again as he follows after. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho, please." You pull out of his grasp and make your way back into the laundry room where only one person sits waiting at the folding table for their dryer to finish its cycle. "I just want to die in a hole. Or the void. Yeah, the void sounds great. I want nothing more than to leave this stupid galaxy and just fade into the vacuum of space."

"Why, though?" he asks.

You open up your washer and quickly begin taking items to toss them into the dryers. "Because... I just... Ugh. I mean." You groan and hide your face against the metal lid of a dryer. "Please, it's embarrassing enough that you had to witness and hear that, you really don't want to know why."

Yunho, not backing down from this new information, leans against his own washer, studying your flushed face. "Why, though?"

"Because..."

He seems to notice your hesitance. "Come on. I won't make fun of you."

You hang your head a moment, taking a breath and holding it as you wait to feel calm again. But, when you exhale, there’s no changing the facts. He isn’t letting it go. "Ugh, you're gonna laugh."

"Maybe. Maybe not." His gentle smile makes your heart skip a beat. "Try me."

You let out another long suffering sigh. "You've just... Always looked like you'd be really good at it. Kissing. And," you continue when he starts to chuckle, "you've always been so friendly and helpful. That, uh, it gets a girl's thoughts going... A-And... S-Sorry."

He bites back his laughter as best he can, cheeks pinkened with delight. "Don't apologize, not for something like this."

"Please," you turn around, your face burning in complete embarrassment.

Yunho notices that the two of you are the only ones remaining in the laundry room, save the lone lady reading. A risky play, but perhaps there isn't any better of an option. As the woman's dryer buzzes, she gathers her things, leaving the room without hardly noticing either of you. The risk is certainly real.

"You still wanna kiss me?" Yunho's grin turns down right mischievous. "Because I gotta say... Now you've got me kinda curious, too."

You stare at him blankly. "Seriously?"

"C'mon." His voice is low and raspy, turning your legs to jelly as he approaches and takes hold of your elbows. "Nobody's around. Give it a shot. Just once."

Fuck he smells amazing. Is that aftershave? You don't know. You can't tell what scent it is, but you don't want to leave the safe cocoon his arms provide.

"J-Just once," you mumble, feeling yourself sinking into his body.

"Just once," he murmurs.

Yunho's thumb glides along your cheek before his fingers run over the shell of your ear and his palm rests gently on your jawline. He shifts and ducks slightly, his eyes drifting closed as the world fades to just you and him.

Warm, gentle lips meet, yours and your heart begins to thunder violently. Slowly, tenderly, his fingers curl around your jaw, encouraging you to follow his lead, coaxing a pleased noise to slip free. The rush of warm desire floods you, and the desire to melt against his solid frame nearly consumes you whole.

Just a simple press of lips, a taste, and just a hint of tongue that nearly drives you mad, and it leaves you wanting nothing more than more. All the build up and heat culminates into a blazing fire that courses through you.

The heavy breathing, the ragged needy moans that spilled free—did they come from your mouth or his? Did they matter, really? This wasn't enough. You wanted more, even as his teeth scraped across your lower lip, his touch and kiss sending you further into oblivion.

Until the buzz of the dryer brings you crashing back to the real world.

Both of you draw back, lips barely touching as the loud buzz of the machine interrupts your world. A sluggish, sheepish laugh is shared as you part, moving to the machines. Yunho drops down onto a chair with a smirk still tinged with a deep crimson across his cheeks as you fold clothes, still working out the embarrassment and slight afterglow you experienced.

"So?" He asks softly as he hands off folded items to you. "Thoughts?"

"Need a few more tries to confirm," you answer just as softly. "You know, so I can give an accurate review."

He laughs, taking his own clothes out of the dryer to fold. "Wouldn't want a biased opinion now."

"Mmhm, exactly."

After finishing folding up the clothing, the two of you make your way back upstairs to your shared floor, teasing and poking, giving and stealing lingering, awkward glances along the way.

It isn't until you parted ways with an airy promise for another "chore" session together that a revelation dawned upon you.

It would be so very easy to fall completely in love with Jeong Yunho.

Yunho stayed true to his words to accompany you in the laundry room on the sixth floor, sneaking in kisses each time, leaving you wanting so much more each time. It was a fun, little secret shared just between you two. And then, eventually, it bled into other things. Like going on dates, a shared couch cuddle and a good movie, maybe an evening of food delivery, stolen glances, and hand holding. You met his friends, he met your friends, more dates came afterward, and then he became your boyfriend.

Yunho managed to convince the building's management to let him get a washer and dryer combination inside the apartment instead of having to trudge a bunch of floors down or up to the laundromat. What a plus. Now, not only could you easily wash a load or two, but you and Yunho could easily watch movies while you waited for everything to wash, dry, and fold.

You were sitting in your apartment one night after putting your clean clothes away, when a knock sounded on your door. You padded over and cracked it open, Yunho looking back at you from the doorway with an impish smirk.

"I think some of your clothes got mixed in with mine," he says, raising one of your lacy panties up as if to display it. "Looks like a pretty important thing for you to get back."

"My, my, Yunho. You sure you didn't just stuff it into your own hamper to bring over under the pretense of 'oopsies' and 'drats, how did these get mixed in?'"

He laughs and shoulders his way into your apartment, the front door shutting behind him with a kick of a foot. "Geez, you got me figured out! Don't expose me!"

Your shared laughter fills your tiny apartment as he picks you up and tosses you on your own bed, a huge goofy grin on his face.

"By all means, please steal away my panties if you wish."

"Oh? Should I get the matching bra too? Make it a matching set?"

"A truly insidious master plot!" You laugh. "What else do you plan to get while you're in my place?"

Yunho steals a sweet kiss and shrugs. "Figured a few kisses would make me feel better, and maybe borrow a girl in lacy undergarments?" He nibbles a bit on your throat. "Only if she doesn't mind."

"Hmm, fine, I guess you can steal away the goods," you murmur, tracing over his lips. "But, you know, the price of a kiss like that is really high. Might even need a couple."

"Are we bartering kisses for your lovely underwear?"

"Yes."

"Then, let's see."

The two of you hold one another, laughing in between long, drawn out kisses. Each kiss grows longer, deeper, and sweeter than the last, and soon, a hot need for something more than innocent kisses begins to consume you. Yunho's touches are soft, tender, and all-consuming, a strange mix of heady lust and gentle caresses that send a rush of adrenaline into your heart. You slip your hands under the bottom hem of his shirt, pushing it up to feel his heated flesh under the tips of your fingers. His back, his broad chest, the muscles under his skin, you want nothing more than to explore every single inch of him.

"Your kisses have gotten very... demanding... lately." Yunho's chest vibrates with his laugh.

"Oh?"

He nips your shoulder, dragging his lips along your flesh. "You keep kissing and kissing and then you bite and suck on my lips, like you don't plan to give me a chance to breathe again."

"Hmm. You don't seem to dislike it, do you?" Your fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt, fingertips scraping against his skin with a delightful friction.

"Absolutely not," his laugh is soft and husky, sending your heart into overdrive and leaving the world behind as his mouth begins mapping every single inch of your exposed skin. "But," he stops long enough to tear his shirt free from his shoulders and fling it aside, "it's awfully greedy of you."

You snort a giggle. "M-Maybe. But," you suck in a shaky breath as he licks up the side of your throat, "I'm not hearing complaints!"

"Not complaining at all." His hand fans out on your thigh, stroking upward, leaving an excited trail of heat wherever he touches, causing you to let out a heady gasp. He laughs breathily against your skin, "Only that," he hooks his thumb around the waistband of your shorts and tugs lightly, "I'm very happy that my girlfriend," the buttons were freed, zipper and all, "enjoys," he presses kisses against your thighs, "a man who puts a little bite into her kisses."

Yunho slips your shorts from your legs, tossing them onto the floor with a growing pile of clothes. When you both laugh at the realization that you were nearly naked, leaving only a lace bralette and matching panties, he can't help but bite your thigh. His tongue laps at the faint red spot, and he grins up at you. "Looks really pretty on you."

"Pretty, hmm?"

"It's definitely something a beautiful girl like you wears and a man like me wants to take off her." Yunho runs a finger up and along the underside of your bare leg, tracing along your shape, the pressure causing your entire body to twitch. "Unless the gorgeous lady says I can't take it off..."

"It means more laundry for me," you giggle.

He hums and gently kisses your knees. "True... But then... I wouldn't mind doing your laundry with mine next time, would that be acceptable?"

"Hmm, I dunno..." you pull his head down towards yours and nuzzle his nose, "what would my hot neighbor slash boyfriend want as payment for doing my laundry?"

"Mmmm," he nibbles at the plumpness of your lips and chases your breathless laughter, "you." He bends lower and kisses the swell of your breasts as he whispers, "All of you."

The sound that rips from your lungs is deep, and wanting, and more than pleased with his words. "Keep talking like that," you laugh against the crook of his neck. "Because I might actually fucking marry you."

His full body laugh causes the mattress to sink and move. "I didn't realize marriage was on your mind. Is that the way to your heart?"

"Oh fuck yeah. Completely. Marry me, we'll have four dogs, and three kids."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, fuck why not."

There's another bright peal of laughter from him as he sinks down on top of your naked flesh. "Shall we call the preacher before or after you give me my next kiss?"

"Dirty, filthy proposal. You're despicable." You groan and thread your fingers through his hair.

"Can't believe you'd consider marrying a guy who has only kissed you in laundry rooms," he murmurs in between long, dizzying kisses. "What is the world coming to?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it's awful, isn't it?"

"Jokes aside..." Yunho kisses his way down your throat, your chest, across your ribcage, and against the skin under your breasts, his words sending shivers up your spine, "Would you want to have dinner, spend more time together outside of the laundry rooms? Maybe go on dates?"

Your arms wind tighter around him, and your laugh is sharp. "Mmm, y'know what?" Your palm gently runs across his forehead, brushing away his messy bangs as you catch a hold of his full attention. "I'd like that. A lot, actually."

"Yeah?" The smile on Yunho's face grows wide and radiant.

"Yeah," you laugh, "and now I want you to show me how talented you really are with those lips."

He hums happily, the sound rumbling against you. "And what exactly shall my gorgeous neighbor ask of me in that area? Keep it civil."

"How about..." you muse quietly, tugging your bra down a bit to expose a hard nub of a nipple to the air of the room, "how about a kiss here."

"This isn't very civil." Yunho's nose runs over the upper portion of the breast. "But if the lady asks..."

"Mmmm, and one right here..." You drag the hem of your panties a bit lower on your hip. "A kiss."

Yunho, understanding where your game is headed, playfully takes the lacy hem in his teeth, dragging it down to expose a tuft of trimmed pubic hair before releasing it and resting his cheek on your bare thigh. "Where does my demanding little neighbor slash girlfriend want kisses now?"

"Hm..." you tap your chin and point downwards at a spot that he finds to be utterly delectable and beautiful. "I can think of one other spot for a kiss."

"Yeah?" His breath whispers across sensitive skin, tickling and sending you spiraling into heady excitement.

"Y-yeah..." your words are barely a whisper. "Gotta say... Kinda looking forward to it."

"Happy to indulge you."

And as Yunho drags the rest of your panties free from your legs, his mouth begins a thorough worship and appreciation of the most intimate area of your body. The squeals and gasps he could wring out of you, your hands clenching his hair and the sound of his name falls from your lips with abandon spurs him on until there is nothing left in his head but pure desire to hear you cum and cry out for him.

Out of all the men that ate you out in the past, none comes close to the skills of Jeong Yunho. The others were rough, amateur, quick and wanting. Yunho took his time, savored every reaction and gasp that came. There is no need or urgency or even demand in his motions. Every touch, flick, lick, kiss, and stroke of his tongue are in total control.

Your thighs clamps against Yunho's head, holding him there, begging him to never stop with soft pleads of 'don't you dare fucking stop.' He chuckles as he gently grasps your wrists, encouraging your hands to hold on tight to his head. And when his long fingers joins in, pressing into every spot that sends an electric pulse running up and down your nerves, there was little doubt that the world stopped spinning and nothing existed but him.

Lips, tongue, and two fingers dance across your center, plunging and withdrawing until everything begins to blur into one continuous pleasure. Before long, there is nothing to stop the moans and keening wails from escaping into the quiet evening as the rush of climax exploded into ecstasy and absolute joy.

Through it all, Yunho remains between your legs, happily drinking everything you gave.

"You," you manage after the rush and joy, your voice hoarse and raw, "have one hell of a tongue on you. I mean, I already knew it was talented," his shoulders move with soft laughter, "but fuck, I could've used you a long ass time ago."

Yunho emerged between your legs, a silly smirk dancing on his lips. "Good to know I can be of some service to my demanding girlfriend. Need a breather? Or more?"

You laugh, pulling his face up so that you can reach his lips, relishing in the taste of his tongue and your pleasure mixed on them, "Oh, definitely more but I can wait after dinner."

Yunho chuckles at this. "I'm kind of regretting the order this happened, because now I'm too curious to take a raincheck for dinner and just jump straight to dessert."

"You say this as though you weren't just finishing devouring me whole, just a minute ago?" You run a fingertip along his lips. "I wouldn't have any complaints whatsoever. Besides," you move and kiss his throat, licking and nibbling a line up along the soft skin and under his jaw, "I'm looking forward to returning the favor."

He sighs softly at this and hums in thought. "You," he laughs and kisses your sweaty brow, "you know what? Dinner can wait. After."

"Yes, after," you giggle softly as you crawl down his body, eagerly unfastening his belt and pants, and helping him tug the rest of his remaining clothes free. Your lips trail up his knee, along his inner thigh, and then across the other to do the same. "Dinner can wait. Dessert, on the other hand..." You glance up at him and catch a glimpse of his fully erect cock. "Can not."

Fuck, he's big. And you will savor every damn inch of him.

Yunho settles back, propped up slightly by pillows, his fingers combing your hair idly out of your face. "Have at it, my lovely, greedy little neighbor." There was another sharp, surprised gasp from you, accompanied by a laugh, and a groan of 'you did not just call me that'. To which he responds with a soft laugh, "Okay, my little girlfriend."

Your jaw tingles and you shiver at the way his title rolled off of his tongue. "That one works a lot better," you giggle, your teeth scraping along his length, the muscles on his legs jumping.

A rush of heady lustful pride floods your system and you shiver, eager and greedy and hungry for what Yunho would have to offer you. As your mouth wraps around him, his head falls back and his mouth opens with a soft sigh. His fingers didn't stray from your hair and he helps push it back off your face to watch in rapt wonder. You felt your body flush hotter and hotter, a thrill coursing through your core as your gaze met his.

God he's fucking perfect.

Your hand cup his balls gently, rolling them tenderly and watching the way he sucks his bottom lip inwards, the softest whine in the back of his throat. You lick along the length, tasting and testing and relishing in the feeling. The hard length and gentle flesh in your hands, the warmth of his body, it was everything.

When his hips begin jerking and bucking a little, you allow your throat to relax. Yunho watch in quiet fascination and pleasure. "You'll tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

"I got this," you smile and hold his erection still while taking him completely into the recesses of your mouth. Your tongue laps along his girth, tracing the thick vein on his underside, tracing it, flicking, and pressing with each inch. Yunho's breathing hitches sharply, a low rasping groan leaving his throat as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, not entirely expecting an answer.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Yunho laughs, voice husky and spent and rough.

"Oh, I'm fucking living my dreams," you hum, bending over once again. "I could go all night."

Yunho laughs at your enthusiasm, and you continue lavishing him, wet and warm and insatiable in your hunger. Long fingers in your hair, the heavy weight of his length, the scent, and taste of his own sweat, your desire and want for him never burned so brightly in your veins. It didn't matter that your jaw began aching, that your thighs and core ache for his touch. You couldn't stop, you wouldn't.

A breathless "close" warns you and you take him deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. Your body responds hotly, growing so moist with longing and heady excitement, and an eager ache. The next series of soft, sloppy noises you pull out of him only brought you closer and closer to orgasm. He tense, his length grew harder, thicker in your mouth. You held fast, welcoming the sticky cum splashing over your tongue and coating the back of your throat.

Slowly, you lift your head up and meet his gaze. Carefully, you swallow, knowing how he tasted and how your body was absolutely aching for his. With a smile you slowly crawl upwards. "So?" you ask breathlessly. "Good review?"

"Four. Fucking. Stars."

"Ooh, nice. Would you recommend?"

"Hell fucking yes I'd recommend that mouth. Sign me the fuck up, yes," he let out another breathy laugh and kiss your chest, "fuck yes. Over, and over, and over again. It's fucking gold, baby."

"Excellent," you giggle and cup his face in your palms. "Wanna recommend other things now? I got an appointment that's open and willing and totally empty if you wanna recommend."

Yunho's arms wound around your waist and flip you onto your back with another sweet kiss. "Wish granted, babe."

The months that followed, and the time spent, left nothing to chance. By the end of it all, the laundry was more than folded, there were a lot of meals cooked between both apartments, movies had been seen and many, many dates were had. You wouldn't have had it any other way.

Your hands reach around Yunho, wrapping your arms across his torso and clinging to him tightly. "So... I was thinking."

"Yeah?" He stops folding his clothes long enough to pay full attention to you. "You thinkin' a lot lately."

"Yunho,” you pout.

"Y/N," he places his shirt aside and fully turns his full attention to you. "Go ahead and tell me."

"Is moving in with you... is it something we could consider doing, together? Like... officially?"

"Officially? As in..."

You make a sweeping gesture around the two of your places. "As in the apartment."

His laughter rings in your ears and soon his body is holding yours in a tight embrace. "Ah, we should totally move in together."

"It doesn't have to be your place, but—"

Yunho silences your rambling by kissing you. When his lips part from yours, a brilliant and beautiful smile graces his features. "Baby, we can get a bigger place. Or better yet, our own house." He kisses your forehead. "With our own laundry room, and kitchen, and, yes, three kids, four dogs, and..." Yunho squeezes you tighter in his arms, "a husband. How does that sound?"

A laugh, shaky and bursting at the seams and filled with absolute joy broke the quiet hum of the laundry machines. "Are we back to joking about the marriage thing?"

"If this isn't the woman I'm gonna marry one day, then I don't know who else could top her," his hands cup your face, fingers tickling through your hair. "Let's keep folding our laundry together. One load at a time."

"Stoooop, you are just too cute, I can't," you reply.

His thumb brushes along your cheek and then across your mouth. "For real though, let's look for a bigger place and really settle down. Maybe start with a pet first."

You sigh softly in agreement and stand on tiptoes to kiss the tall man. "Definitely. Totally." Your heart thud and sings at his promise for the future. "And, not that the sex isn't super, mind blowing, incredible. But…if you actually end up being my husband, then... We. Will. So. Break. This. Thing." You lightly slap the washing machine.

"We can start breaking it now, you know," he lifts you onto the counter and nestles between your thighs, "After all, if we are moving out together, might as well christen the appliances that helped us meet and fall in love."

"Seriously?" you question.

"Very, seriously,"he answers with a laugh.

Your hands snake through his hair and you draw his lips close to yours, sighing softly against his lips before speaking. "Are we done with laundry? I feel like we should be done."

"Oh baby, we haven't even gotten started," his words tickles your mouth with every syllable and leaves the hairs of your skin standing on end. "We're in between loads for now."

"Then I propose," your thighs wrap tighter against him, "we start another load now."

"Oh really?" His hand teases up the inside of your knee, lingering close to the hem of your skirt and then climbing upwards, exposing your skin a little further with each soft touch.

"F-for real," you groan softly, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He huffs and cups your cheek as his mouth assaults your sensitive neck. "Like last time?"

"Y-yes. Exactly. Just like last time. But this time you don't need to pull out," your thighs twitchs and press together, trapping Yunho's teasing fingers in their hold. "Give me your whole load, Jeong Yunho."

The loud, amused laughter that shakes through him was enough to send shivers up and down your spine and pool hotly between your legs. "If the lady says she's ready for my load, then the man will do his damndest to fulfill his responsibility to provide said load. Again, and again, and again." His fingers slip down the front of your panties, playing in the soft curls and gliding along your wet center. "Gonna give your hole the biggest load, baby."

"Right here on the counter?" you gasp out with a laugh.

"As much as I love fucking you on the counter," Yunho chuckles softly, removing his hands and picking you up off and from the counter and carrying you off towards his room, "it'll be more comfortable in the bedroom. No spills that way."

"How responsible," you manage as the cold air hits your thighs when he sits you on the edge of his bed.

"Just doing my civic duty," he wiggles his eyebrows.

Your chest rumbles with giggles as you lay back against the plush blankets, watching as he comes crawling after you. His lips and warm, tingling kisses return in full force to cover the expanse of bare skin revealed by his gentle tugging. When all was bare, your thighs wound around him and drew him closer to you.

Yunho chuckles and peppers soft, butterfly kisses across your abdomen, hands smoothing along your sides. "Don't worry, babe," he whispers huskily into your belly, sending a pulse of need running straight up through your body and nestling in your core, "I'll make sure that the next time, and the next time... And the time after, and the next..." His head trails lower, his lips following a slow, arduous path. "And every time after that... Our load is properly taken care of and completed."

You hum a small laugh and quip playfully, "Damn, is there a fine for unfinished loads?"

"You bet there is, and it'll come with a series of hickeys, and bruises," he answers.

"I'll take my chances then," you sigh, the tone teasing, but also bracing and ready. "Charge me up, baby."

His answering laughter was equal parts adorably sexy and oh so arousing.

Fuck, did you want this, right here and right now. To be filled and consumed and dominated by the very man who own you already, body and soul.

A soft, breathy cry escapes your lips when the full weight of him presses down. Your mouths meet, open and hungry and utterly wanting, teeth scraping gently on sensitive lips. Your back arches up when his fingers dance and toys with you, dipping between folds and sinking deeper and deeper still, and when he replaces the fingers with himself, there is a short moment where all sensation halts before a loud, gasping whine passes your lips.

His words, dirty, sweet, hot, loving, all reverberate through you, intoxicating you to the core. "Fuck..." You let out a long, ragged groan. "Fuck, Yunho."

A sweet, beautiful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, eyes half-close and fully lost in ecstasy and passion as his pace gradually begins increasing in urgency and need and desire. "There's my sweetheart. That's my girl. Fuck... just like that..." The breathless moans spill, pushing you faster and faster toward climax. "That's my girl."

Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails score down his back, his hips surging faster, burying him deeper, until all thoughts left your brain and all that remains was his touch, his body. You were alive, the world was alive, everything exists, breaths, pulsates in rhythm with him and your blood sings with the feeling. You are his and he is yours.

Forever.

He meets your lips again, swallowing the breathless whines and whimpers, before kissing your throat and along your clavicle. He pauses his thrusts momentarily, pulling out of you only to flip you onto your belly and urging your ass up into the air.

When his heat covers you once more, his fingers clawing at your hip to pull you even closer, and you bury your face into his sheets to cry out against them. "Fuck," you sob quietly, "ohhh, Yunho. Harder." You need him, everything, the unrelenting passion and unyielding love and comfort that surrounds you. "Oh my god."

He breaths another shaky breath into your neck. "Almost there." His tone is hot, sharp, ragged against the skin. "Got some of this load for ya. Not even halfway through the night. Hold on tight, baby." His voice comes as a rough command that sets your body on fire. "Gonna fuck this hole the rest of the night, just wait."

"Shit," was the only breathy, shaking sigh that you could form. "Oh my god."

Laughter bounced out of him, vibrating through you, bringing another bout of squeals. "Good fucking girl," he praises softly. "Fuck, baby. Such a good girl." He peppers soft, gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a long, deep moan. "You want every drop, sweetheart? Want every single load? Is that right?"

"Mm," your reply was short, sharp, and needy. "Every single drop, fuck."

Yunho drags your hips upwards, angling and pressing the blunt tip of him against the silken recess of your womb, urging himself forward to the hilt as his words fill your brain. "Fill you. Give you the biggest load you've ever dreamed about. Everything you want."

"Everything?"

"All the loads you need," Yunho continue, "hmm? Yes?"

"Everything, fuck,” your shoulders tremble, the sheer ecstasy that passes with his words bringing you to the edge of climax. "Please, everything."

"Good fucking girl," Yunho's grin and hoarse laugh leave you desperate, needy and wanton.

With one final push he has you seeing stars and exploding into orgasm. In the dizzying and wondrous pleasure-filled moment, he buries his face in your neck, shuddering against you, holding you impossibly closer still. His name echoes over and over, barely registering and it was all you could do but sink against the pillows, heaving for breath, unable and unwilling to move.

Eventually, he shifts off and rolls, a heavy, sweaty arm drapes over you and pulls you close. Neither of you said anything, simply staring at one another, breathing slowly and calming the pounding in each others' chests and heads. His gaze rakes slowly over your exposed form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, and finally resting against your eyes, so bright with contentment.

"I still got more in the tank," his thumb and forefinger pinches your chin gently between them. "So just to be safe, we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity."

You snort with laughter and hide your flushed face behind the pillows. "I hope we're moving in soon so there can be room for more clothes. Or better yet, storage space for our 'dirty loads'." You give another hoarse, rattling laugh. "Give me five minutes before you bring out another load."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Yunho playfully chides you, holding your hips gently and guiding your face towards his. He bends over to steal a kiss. "We are nowhere near finishing."

"Your tank doesn't ever run dry, does it?" you laugh softly.

"You are going to break this machine one day," came his mumbled retort but the sparkle of his smile said everything you needed to know.

"This machine better not break," you poke at his dick for emphasis before pushing him unto his back, "or there will be hell to pay, Jeong Yunho." You couldn't quite help the laugh in your throat, and the need that still flared inside.

"Remember, this is a delicate and rare machine. Handling is important,” he retorts with an eyeroll, a smile on his lips.

"How delicate and how rare?" Your laughter erupts, causing him to smile even brighter.

"Rare and delicate. And belongs to one specific and important person in my life," Yunho shrugs nonchalantly. "Sooo, handle me with extra care, babe."

"Dually noted and observed," you promise and reach to slide yourself home.

Fuck, you’re a wreck for him.

And, honestly... You were okay with that.

If his promises came with a load or two more, then all the fucking better for it.

#ateez fanfic #yunho fanfic #m: xomakara #p: mxr #g: smut #g: pwp #g: neighbors #g: romance #g: fluff #f: oneshot #7k #r: 18+

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k-vanity · 7 days ago

Text

WHAT THE HEART WANTS

〔 𝒾 〕 You push and pull with not just the forces of magnets, but comets and meteors on the verge of catastrophic collisions. When will it be too much, a moment or word too inexcusable to take each other back for?

𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 824 ⋮ 18+ ⋮ angst, smut, non-idol!au, toxic relationship (and i mean pretty awful toxic) au, feat! lee heeseung, jealousy, pet names (doll, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, degradation, fingering ᯤ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈: 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 — 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘻

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. All the content in my stories, especially characters, are used fictitiously. This is not a reflection of the actual persons' real-life dispositions, personalities, or views.

One day, you know you'll have to walk away from Jake.

There will be a point in time or word too inexcusable to take each other back for, a pin that drops with the sounds of a thousand gunshots piercing the air. You know this, the fact so deeply nestled in your gut it could make you sick if you ruminated on its validity for too long.

He's not the one for you, despite every good and bad emotion from the past two years that says differently. And, if you were entirely honest with yourself, you weren't perfect for him, either.

You push and pull with not just the forces of magnets, but comets and meteors on the verge of catastrophic collisions. It's not the stuff of romantic movies. You never walked into a relationship with him thinking he was made for that kind of love, the one where the boy gets the girl with sincere words and raw emotion. That potential died long before you ever met.

And it's apparent when Jake let you linger too long on Heeseung's lap, his resolve stoic as you giggled into your friend's neck like he was the pinnacle of comedy. It's unfair to use someone in this way, especially someone who knows the ins and outs of your train-wreck of a relationship.

"Why do you stay if he treats you like shit?" Heeseung asked once when you were alone at a house party Jake didn't bother attending. You can barely remember if you were on or off at the time; it's irrelevant, anyway.

You made an excuse about Jake's good qualities, the picture-perfect moments that turn the terrible ones to ash, but you knew the truth; you just couldn't say it out loud in the dead of night.

He loves me the way I deserve, and I love him the same.

Heeseung had his own romantic demons to dance with, so entertaining your need to strike a nerve in your emotionally-flippant boyfriend didn't bother him.

But boy, did it bother Jake without you realizing.

The threshold of your apartment is where he decides to pay you back for, in his words, "the actions of a bratty whore." He spanks you with both hands as his tongue works the inside of your mouth, saying "I shouldn't be entertaining you like this when you don't fucking deserve it." When he bites down on your bottom lip, you're already soaked between your thighs, before he even has the chance to undo the buttons of your shorts to slip his fingers inside of your underwear.

Most girls wouldn't put up with the insults he throws at you between his kisses and touches, but you love it. Sometimes, it makes you feel ashamed, letting him break you down verbally until you're pliant, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

It means he cares enough to put you back together.

"Feel that? Feel how wet you still get—always get—just for me? Can Heeseung make you feel like this?" he asks with venom, his jaw ticking the second he says your friend's name. "Or do your panties drop for any dickhead when I don't give you enough attention, doll?"

You moan listlessly, lost in both his anger and capacity to pull decadence out of his jealousy. Jake continues to press his thumb to your clit as his other fingers work around and then inside your sopping cunt, eager for the touches that undo every ounce of your strength.

"I asked you a question," he says, staring you down as three of his fingers continue scissoring you open. His eyes sparkle with determination that makes you babble with the answer he's searching for.

"No—never. Only you make me feel like this, Jaeyun. You know that, it's you. Always," you murmur. Pleased with your response, he kisses you again as his fingers reach the end of your spongy walls, hitting the spot that makes you mewl directly on Jake's tongue.

"Fuck—I'm gonna come," you warn, hips bucking against the wall and into Jake's hand.

"I know, sweetheart. Feel it all, it's okay." He presses his mouth to the corner of yours as water gathers in your eyes. And you do; you feel every single desire and regret, all marked with his signature.

Jake relishes in how weak he makes you. He has you now, desperate and spent, and nobody can take that power away, not even you.

When the orgasm hits, his lips murmuring how beautiful you look as you fall apart, it's electrifying. It reminds you exactly why it's so hard to leave him without another word. For all the pain, there's too much pleasure to say goodbye to.

One day, you know you'll have to walk away. But it's not today. You tuck your face into his chest, stray tears falling onto his shirt, and you find yourself unsure of if and when that day will ever come.

── .✦ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@tinycatharsis @filmnings @innocygnet @xomakara @frenchkisstheabyss @gyubookeries @xylatox @jaylaxies @lovetaroandtaemin @lollipop3 @anormieee @jaays-moon

#enhypen fanfic #jake fanfic #m: heartikeu #p: mxr #g: angst #g: smut #g: non idol #f: drabble #<1k #r: 18+

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k-vanity · 7 days ago

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[9:05pm] The Rainy Night - S.Johnny (Catman!Johnny x GN!Reader, fluff, established relationship!AU, inspired by a dream i had about Sehun’s Catman drama) 0.5k

Summary - Late one rainy night, your cat-man Johnny finds solace and warmth in your arms as you both surrender to sleep.

Now Playing: The Rainy Night - NCT 127

It’s past midnight, and your room is dim, lit only by the streetlamp glow filtering through rain-streaked windows. You’re half-asleep in bed, warm under the blanket, drifting between dreams and the sound of rain. There’s a soft thud outside the window, barely a whisper of sound that you’ve grown all too familiar with. You don’t turn to watch. You’ve grown used to Johnny’s visits in feline form.

A small, golden blur of fur slips through the cracked window, jumping down into the corner of your room. There was a faint shimmer in the dark, an otherworldly shift, like the air folding in on itself. Then, popping up from the edge of your bed was Johnny, with brown locks of hair slightly damp from the rain. The fur was gone, replaced by human limbs and the soft fabric of a blanket you always laid out for nights like these.

He hesitates for a second before climbing onto the bed until he feels the warmth emanating from your form. The mattress dips as Johnny slips in beside you, mirroring how he would curl up beside you as a cat. His breathing is uneven, his voice just above a whisper.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your half-open ones. There’s something unguarded in his gaze tonight, something raw. “I think I’m in love with you.” The rain doesn’t stop. It hums softly against the windows, steady and gentle like a lullaby. But inside, everything stills.

Your breath catches, heart tightening in your chest. His words don’t ask for anything, yet his arms snake around you. He’s not reaching for you out of desperation, but because it’s the only truth he knows anymore.

Slowly, you lift your hand, fingertips grazing the curve of his cheek. His skin is cool from the night air, damp with raindrops that haven’t yet dried. You brush a strand of wet hair from his forehead, and he leans into your touch like it’s the first warmth he’s known in days. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There’s no need.

You lift the blanket, silently inviting him to move closer. Johnny exhales, a quiet, shaky breath of relief, and snuggles closer to you. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into him. Your foreheads nearly touch, same with your chests, heartbeat to heartbeat. His fingers settle into the small of your back, grounding him.

Outside, the rain keeps falling, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Johnny’s confession lay gently between your bodies like something sacred. Your breaths slow and deepen in unison, the steady rhythm of the rain weaving into the pulse of your shared heartbeat.

Your eyes grow heavy, lids fluttering shut as his arms hold you close. Together, you drift into sleep, tangled and peaceful, the storm outside fading into a distant murmur.

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like [5:04pm] Fly Away With Me - N.Yuta

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films (join my taglist!)

#nct 127 fanfic #johnny fanfic #m: yuta nakamots #p: mxr #g: fluff #g: establish relationship #f: drabble #<1k #r: pg 13

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k-vanity · 8 days ago

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vampire!The8 x Reader: hunger at the first whiff.

DATE OF RELEASE: 15th June, 2025

WORD COUNT: 2 721

RATING: +13

TAGS: suggestive fluff, vampire!Minghao, piercer!Minghao, strangers to... uh, strangers, I guess, whatever the heck this is

WARNINGS: needles, blood & biting - like, exactly what you can expect from the AU

SUMMARY: Despite being a vampire, Minghao spent years over years working in the close proximity of blood, and he could swear that it doesn't bother him anymore.

Minghao was a professional. He knew he was. He’s been doing this for years, he knew himself. He trusted himself.

The scent of blood didn’t phase him. He registered it with calmness and stoicism, accepted its presence in his proximity. It was a gentle reminder of his nature, something to keep in mind, but nothing to be agitated with. It tingled his nerves a little. But he was a professional. People sometimes bled, and he could handle being surrounded by it. The tattoo saloon he shared the space with smelled of fresh blood for hours every day.

So why could he not focus on anything from the moment he caught her whiff?

It wasn’t completely out of ordinary for some scents to leak through the careful padding of common sense and reason that he built over the years. I… occurred. Once in a while, walking down the streets, he would smell something that would make his mouth water and his head – to turn on instinct, searching for the source. But it was rare enough that he had not yet had it happen in his workplace.

It was gentle at first. She had a small cut on her finger, wrapped in a pink band aid with cartoon characters printed on, but the scent went through, irritating him just a little as he glanced up towards the entry. Was she his customer or the tattoo saloon’s – he wasn’t sure. He didn’t remember everyone, and most of the appointments were booked through the app, without a face attached that he could get familiar with beforehand. But he just finished one appointment and was busy cleaning the equipment – there were still about twenty minutes until the next one.

He listened as she walked over to the counter, looking around curiously. She’d never been here before, he could tell. His room was far in the back, but through the gap in the heavy black curtains that separated his space from the rest of the studio, he could watch and listen. And he heard her mention very clearly that she’s here for the piercing appointment.

The manager asked curiously if she’d been here before, and she shook her head, shyly admitting it’s her first piercing. They engaged in a small talk for a few minutes.

Minghao was a professional. When the manager peeked from behind the curtain and informed him of the new customer, he smiled politely and replied he will welcome her in a minute.

The scent grew stronger as she walked over, and then he lost the sight of her as she sat on a couch on the other side of the curtain. He only briefly spotted her bruised knee – the blood there managed to dry, but he wondered what in her lifestyle made her this prone to small injures. Or maybe she was just clumsy.

He mentioned he would be needing just a minute, but he took a bit longer, calming down his breath and reminding himself to stay calm. Getting agitated would bring him nowhere, and there was no way in hell anything would happen out of it.

Just act professional, Minghao. You’re good at it.

“Hello” he greeted with a smile, peeking from behind his curtain. The girl looked up at him, a bit taken aback, as if – somehow – not expecting him to appear. Her hands were sweaty. She looked stressed out. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Uh, piercing?”

“Yeah, can’t offer much else.”

The girl’s face heated up and he couldn’t stop a small smirk from pushing at his lips. Not the first time he saw someone too stressed out to answer to this question properly, but he had a soft heart for every single one. There was something special about being someone’s first.

She cleared her throat and spoke. Her voice was tense and trembling a little as she explained what she wants. Three simple piercings in her right ear, nothing to overthink. He walked over and told her to hold her hair up so he can take a closer look at her anatomy.

The sight of her bare neck almost made him lose balance.

You got this, Minghao. You’re a professional.

It didn’t differ from any other ordeal, he told himself. He had done this hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He knew his profession, knew what to do. It would go smoothly and the customer would leave happy and satisfied.

He ached for something in him to be satisfied, too.

He was fiddling nervously with his pen when he waited for the autoclave to do its job. He was acutely aware that on the other side of the curtain, the girl’s heart was racing with nerves, but his own tension filled his mind all the more.

When he finally invited her to come in and watched her lay down on the brown leather bed, he forced his emotions away and focused on the task at hand. The needles and freshly sterilized earrings were waiting on the wheeled table nearby as he instructed her to lay down on her back and tilt her head away from him.

He unwittingly glanced towards the entry and let his thoughts wander. The curtains were closed tightly. She laid in front of him, surrendered, innocent and unsuspecting, not even looking at him. If only he wanted, he could cover her mouth with one hand and quickly lean into her neck, and, and…

He felt her gaze at him as she turned when she didn’t hear him do anything for a short while. He smiled comfortingly. Her lips were pressed together tightly as she forced herself to return it, although he could tell she must have felt so faint, worried out of her mind. What did she fear, though? The pain, or the end result more?

Or was it her primal instinct telling her she shouldn’t be baring herself to a predator like that?

“It’ll take just a moment, please don’t move now.”

Like any other time, Minghao. You’ve done it endless times before.

He saw her hold her breath. How precious.

He calmed his own.

But when the needle pushed through her skin, gliding through the tissue like a knife through butter, releasing the sweet smell into the air, his hand trembled just a little.

It was nothing. Just a little slip-up, at worst. Nothing that could butcher his work or cause more than just a little bit of pain that was already there. But he was aware of it, and that was enough to distract him. If not his control slipping, at best, his body was betraying him.

Once ready, he put the first needle down on the counter. Only two more to go, he thought. His gaze shifted towards her for a moment, making sure she was alright. She was shivering slightly with every exhale, pain still fresh in her mind, but surrendering to it fully, staying still as he requested.

How perfect it was. How tempting.

He wasn’t sure if he could do it. But he knew there was no point in dragging it out.

Through the second piercing, he distracted himself just a little by looking at her face. Her lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as the needle went through the cartilage – as smoothly as the first one, but she was now more prepared for it, the shock of first one no longer numbing her, so the pain was more tangible, more recognizable.

With the second one done, her eyes were half-lidded, and her chest was heaving at an increased pace, her fingers clutching the edges of the bed.

What a sight.

He bit on his lip, focusing on the third one, making sure he doesn’t distract himself too much. But when that last needle went through her ear, he faintly heard her whimper, and he almost fucking lost it.

Minghao was silent. For the next few moments, he was completely silent as he exchanged the needle with the new piercing and carefully put a titanium ball on it. He stretched the time, doing his best to calm his racing thoughts.

Why now, of all times? Why was it his own customer that got him riled up like that?

It wasn’t out of ordinary for some scents to just… hit harder. But on the street, in a store, he could pass by and forget. The short moments of weakness would disappear, because he wouldn’t have to interact with them, wouldn’t have to be so close.

But, seeing the needle go through her ear, he could easily imagine these were his fangs instead, and it didn’t just hit hard. It hit like a fucking truck.

He felt her eyes on himself, and it brought him back to reality. He smiled gently.

“All done. It looks so cute, go, take a look” he encouraged, pointing at the nearby mirror.

But she didn’t move.

Her eyes were a bit hazy. He had customers react in different ways before. He knew that some were prone to fainting, some would be out of it for some time. Especially the first piercing was something you could never fully predict.

So he decided to take his time cleaning the area, letting her come back to as she needed.

It was when he was almost done, that her voice sounded out in the studio, making him freeze in his tracks.

“Are you always hungry when you work?”

His breath hitched and he slowly put down the disinfectant he was cleaning the area with, following by slipping off the nitrile gloves and throwing them in the trashcan. Familiarity of the motions helped him regain his cool.

“What do you mean?” he asked calmly, glancing at her from above his phone as he checked for the next appointment. He took her in early so there was a lot of time until the next one.

“Your eyes were, uh, red.”

Oh. He didn’t think it would be this obvious. It was a trait he couldn’t control and wasn’t too aware of. He could calm down his instincts if he needed, but if the craving was too strong…

“I’m sorry about that” he replied, trying to sound casual. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But to answer your question, no, I’m usually not hungry when I work. It would be quite bothersome to work like this” he huffed, as if it was the most obvious thing.

The girl stifled a laughter.

“I’ll take it as a compliment” she said softly, finally pushing herself up into a seat. She still looked a bit dizzy, but at least she was way more at ease. “So, would you like a taste?”

Minghao choked on his own saliva.

“E-excuse me?”

The disbelief in his voice must have made her double guess herself, because her eyes widened in panic.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry, I guess that was inappropriate. I just thought…”

“Have you ever been bitten before?” Minghao asked in a slightly scornful manner. He didn’t mean to be rude, really, but he had a strong suspicion she had no idea what she was talking about.

The girl pressed her lips together in resignation.

“No, but I always wanted to.”

His jaw fell.

And then he decided that if he’s already this deep in, he might as well risk it all.

“Are you sure?” he inquired softly, sitting behind her on the studio’s piercing bed. She turned her head to the side, lifting up the hair to take a look at the piercing in the mirror in the front, as if suddenly realizing that this was the actual purpose of her visit. But by doing so, she also bared her neck to him, and Minghao couldn’t help himself but lean down gently, nuzzling the skin of her shoulder with his nose.

“If you’re as gentle as with the piercing, then I have nothing to worry about” she teased, stilling. Her gaze rested on his reflection, curious and at ease.

“Don’t put your guards down” he warned, although it would be a lie to say that he cared too much. In fact, it was better this way. It felt nicer with the trust she put in him, putty in his hands, allowing him to guide her, as if it was a part of their arrangement.

His hands rested on her shoulders to hold her still, and her body relaxed against his own.

He placed a small kiss in the crook of her neck before biting down – slowly, almost affectionately, savoring it from the moment his fangs touched her skin till they nested deep within her flesh and stayed there.

She tensed for just a moment, from the pain – but he kept her tendons in a steel hold of his jaws. Her muscles twitched, but it only resulted in his teeth ripping in further, and she whimpered in a quiet complaint before giving up completely, her head rolling back and resting against his shoulder.

He took just a little. Just to quench his thirst.

Pulling away, he took in the bitemark’s appearance, then leaned down again to wrap his mouth around it, cleaning it up with his tongue.

Her body was relaxed. Not weak from blood loss, neither apathetic from pain, but pleasantly relaxed, hanging somewhere at the verge of consciousness, lost in the sense of trust and… some twisted form of pleasure.

Minghao held her in his arms.

He would need to let her go, eventually. His workday was not yet done. She certainly had her own matters to tend to as well.

But he didn’t have the heart to force her out of the space she was floating in. She enjoyed herself, he could tell. He had a feeling, before, that she could – the way she submitted to him when he was giving her the piercings, despite how nervous she must have felt. It was so obvious that she got off on the pain and dependence alike.

That’s what made it all the better for him – instead of a favor granted to him, this one felt like he’s being the one to deliver.

He cradled her in his arms carefully, letting her enjoy the calmness of his body as she slowly came back to herself. His needs were fulfilled, and he didn’t mind staying like this some more.

Some time had passed and he noticed her eyes flutter in the mirror ahead. His own fixated on the small bitemark on her neck, and he reached his hand around her chest to wipe a small smudge of blood off her collarbone. He couldn’t help himself, pushing her hair up to take a look at the fresh piercing, admiring the three silver dots that adorned her ear.

He sensed her starting to stir, and decided to break the silence.

“You should come back in a month or two, to get these shortened” he spoke up, tilting his head to the side. It was a work well done, fitting so well with her anatomy.

He spotted her smirking at the corner of her lips.

“Should I come get more done, too? What do you think?”

Minghao huffed out a laughter.

“You should make that choice yourself” he replied, although he could tell it was not the kind of answer she expected. But he would not provide a different one. It wouldn’t be right of him to try and convince her. She shouldn’t get the wrong idea.

Letting his eyes slip closed for a brief moment, he allowed himself the last, slow inhale of the scent that spread from the puncture wounds. Just for a moment, because drowning in it, like his instincts tempted him to, was out of question.

With a gentle push, he urged her to stand up, and she obeyed, although with visible sluggishness – whether it came from the hormones wearing down or her personal unwillingness to let the moment end, he couldn’t tell.

It felt quite surreal when she pulled out her wallet to look for cash.

“Ah…” Minghao scratches the back of his head. “It wouldn’t be right to have you pay me after…”

She blinked and shook her head.

“I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. Especially since I hope it’s not… the last time” she stated quizzically, making him wonder if she meant the piercing, or…

“Discount, then?”

“Sounds fair!”

At least he managed to keep this deal remotely professional.

Please reblog if you enjoyed and check out my masterlist for more SVT fics. And, of course, follow if you would like to read more in the future. Thank you for your time!

#seventeen fanfic #the8 fanfic #m: an annyeoing writer #p: mxr #g: fluff #g: fantasy #g: vampire #f: teaser #2k #r: pg 13

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k-vanity · 8 days ago

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Search My Body

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

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

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

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.7k

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

Note: We're so back.

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

Click here to join my taglist!

Read part 1 here!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A surprise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N," you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did you—"

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

"Never," Seungcheol mutters.

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

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

"No."

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

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

"Fine," he grumbles.

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

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

"Uh, get out?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol warns, tone sharp.

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

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

"Dollface?" Seungcheol mutters, raising an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop doing that," Seungcheol grumbles.

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

"You know what," Seungcheol hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

"Unfortunately," Seungcheol mutters, while Jeonghan chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Brat," Seungcheol mutters under his breath.

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

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

"Cheol, I'm sorry, I—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeonghan flashes a Cheshire grin. "Whoops."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Seungcheol says flatly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#seventeen fanfic #scoups fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #m: svtiddiess #p: mxr #g: smut #g: establish relationship #g: non idol #f: oneshot #3k #r: 18+

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k-vanity · 8 days ago

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ᐟ.⭑THE CELEBRATION COLUMN⭑.ᐟ

Today, K-Vanity Magazine would like to reserve this section to highlight one of our members. Before we continue any further, we’d like to wish the ever so talented and amazing Nabi @jenoslutie a very Happy Birthday!! May your day be filled with joy and positivity.

—K-Vanity Staff

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ

#birthday post

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k-vanity · 8 days ago

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The Adventure of a Lifetime 0: Adventure is Out There

⚓Who: Female reader x ??? (Seventeen). Will be updated when necessary. ⚓Chapter themes: Adventure. Extreme slow burn. Pirate au. Fantasy. Friendship. Fluff. Some humour. Best friend Soonyoung. ⚓Chapter word count: 8.5k ⚓Chapter warnings: Mentions of general/past illnesses. Vague mentions of blood. Oblivious reader. ⚓Chapter summary: “It’s Soonyoung’s birthday, yet he gives you the best gift anyone ever could.”

My general masterlist - The Adventure of a Lifetime masterlist Next part - Chapter 1: The Fisherman

A/N- This is a tester/intro chapter to my Seventeen pirate series I’ve been planning for what feels like forever. I honestly have no idea if people will be interested or not, so this chapter is to gauge interest. Please do reblog/comment to let me know if you’d actually read this series, otherwise I won’t write it. It will be very long (around 500k) so I don’t want to write it for no reason when I already know what will happen, therefore I don’t need to write it for my own enjoyment. I’m rambling now but if there’s some interest in this chapter, I’ll upload a masterlist with more info! Reader does have a name, purely because I refuse to write Y/N for 500k. Her name also has a meaning, so it’s not a random name and means something in regard to the story. And a big thank you to @ourdawnishotterthanourday for beta reading this for me and also supporting me with this story from pretty much the moment of conception. I love you, my beabie 💗

Also, happy birthday Soonyoung! This story wasn’t originally going to be uploaded in time with his birthday, but I figured I may as well!

There’s a famous quote; ‘never wake a sleeping tiger’, it’s something you’ve heard the generations before you say throughout your life. It’s a phrase that’s pretty much ingrained in your very being at this point. The problem is that nobody has ever told you why you should never wake a sleeping tiger. Which means, of course, you don’t take the advice to heart.

Then again, you don’t think it’s meant quite literally anyway, and certainly not with this in mind.

The body beneath you flails and screams under the blanket at the sudden awakening. The three behind you laugh as you yank the blanket down to reveal the wide, brown eyed, sleep puffy face of one of your best friends; the final member to your group of five.

“Happy birthday!” you yell, excitedly jumping on your knees on the mattress either side of his waist, making him bounce with the movement too.

It takes a few seconds longer for Soonyoung to fully wake up and understand what’s happening, and then he breaks into the brightest, happiest smile. His eyes curve cutely with his joy, and you think that you’ll always wake sleeping tigers if this is how they look at you.

The morning consists of watching Soonyoung thoroughly enjoy his birthday breakfast, and eat perhaps three pieces of bread too many, just because he heard that you had gotten up bright and early to bake it for him fresh this morning. If there’s one thing that will make Soonyoung enthusiastically yam down food, it’s hearing that you made it.

From the very first failed attempt at a cake you made for his tenth birthday, Soonyoung has devoured anything you make for him without complaint. Even when your early efforts of baking and cooking had made him ill from undercooked food, or a frankly disgusting combination, Soonyoung has never once complained.

You truly value his friendship, and it’s no surprise that you go out of your way for him more than anyone else when Soonyoung has always supported you entirely in a way that no one else ever has. No matter what you’ve wanted to do or try, Soonyoung has always been right by your side, cheering you on and a step behind like the shadow you never want to lose.

After breakfast, the five of you complete your morning birthday ritual by taking the little trek up to the top of the hill, which overlooks the island that you all call home. Together, you sit on the same blanket that the five of you have been using for a decade now and take turns to give Soonyoung his birthday gifts.

The birthday boy is as happy and enthusiastic about every single gift he receives as always. He takes the time to coo over each present and hug the gift giver with a noisy smooch on their cheek. Which involves him having to chase Eme down so that he can plant a kiss on their reluctant cheek.

Though they’re both smiling by the time they return to the blanket, and Soonyoung is only limping minimally from the punch to his thigh. Clearly, Eme went easy on him on account of it being his birthday. You won’t say it aloud, but you think it’s sweet of them.

“Now, for the gift we all know you will like the most!” Jeonghan teases, nudging you with the tip of his bare toe from the other side of the blanket. He’s laid down across the ratty, old material with his head pillowed comfortably on Carmen’s thighs, enjoying her natural reaction of a head on her lap being to card her fingers through the hair of whoever has chosen to use her as a cushion.

None of you point out how much gentler Carmen is with Jeonghan. Granted, you’re all much gentler with Jeonghan than anyone else; he’s the frailest of you all by quite a margin and rather susceptible to ills, so the tender touch is needed. But Carmen’s gentle fingers and soft smiles always mean a lot more, even if she refuses to admit that. You all still know though, except Jeonghan, who is utterly oblivious and purposely deaf to the rest of you trying to convince him.

“Gross,” you complain, smacking Jeonghan’s bare foot away from your arm.

“Carmie,” Jeonghan complains, rolling his head to peer up at Carmen with a pout.

Carmen just smiles down at him and scrunches her nose a little in the way that she knows never fails to make him lose his soured expression. As expected, Jeonghan’s pout melts away and he smiles adoringly up at her; the same softness she always looks at him with reflected in his grey eyes locked on her.

“If they finally confess on my birthday, I’m going to sulk,” Soonyoung mutters once he’s leaned close enough to you to talk quietly in your ear.

“Baby,” you retort accusingly, even if it’s done entirely in jest.

“It’s Soonyoung day, not CarHan day.”

“It is,” you agree and turn your head to smile at him. “Happy birthday, Soonie.”

Soonyoung beams at you, perhaps from a little too close if he was anyone else, but it’s Soonyoung; you never mind when he leans in close or clings to you. He accepts the neatly wrapped gift from your hands with pure excitement.

The four of you watch as Soonyoung ever so carefully unties the hand-dyed orange and black striped ribbon, which he adds to the little pile of matching ribbons from the other gifts. You know he intends to keep them all purely for the tiger stripes, just like the wrapping paper placed in another lopsided pile. The four of you had spent hours painting little tigers by hand onto the otherwise plain brown wrapping paper; all for your friend who has been obsessed with tigers since he first saw one in a book as a toddler.

“Oh,” Soonyoung exhales softly when he has carefully peeled back the paper to reveal the leather jacket inside.

“It’s too hot to wear right now, but I didn’t want to wait until it’s colder to give it to you,” you inform, watching as he lifts the material up to hold in the light, his gaze catching on the tiger’s eyes that you had painstakingly embroidered on the collar; an eye on either side to come together when the collar is fastened.

“Look at the back, Hosh,” Jeonghan encourages with a lazy grin.

As soon as Soonyoung turns the jacket around and spots the tiger’s face, he gasps loudly and pulls it closer; to drag his wide, awe-filled eyes over every single detail that, admittedly, had taken you a good few months to finish.

“I think this is the quietest he’s ever been receiving a gift,” Eme snickers, mindlessly folding up all the wrapping papers neatly and placing them under a rock to prevent the gentle breeze from blowing them away.

“Did-did you really make this for me?” Soonyoung whispers, looking at you in a way that feels far too much for simply customising a jacket for him.

“You know I can’t make clothes,” you reply with a casual shrug, trying to brush aside the reverence on his features. But he moves closer to take your hands in his with his big, imploring eyes locked on you. You press your lips together and just nod in confirmation, knowing that he means the embroidered design anyway. You just didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it. You still don’t, but you can never lie to him.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever received. I will treasure this until my last day, Lia,” he promises. Words you know he means with everything in him.

“I know.”

“Try it on!” Carmen encourages.

“Okay!” Soonyoung happily jumps to his feet to pull on the jacket and pose, turning this way and that to show the jacket from all angles. He looks so proud and enthralled with his gift that you can only watch with a smile, glad to have made something that he genuinely adores and that brings him so much joy.

All day, Soonyoung wears his new jacket, excitedly showing it off to everyone he comes across. You aren’t even with him all day; both of you have your own duties to attend to after all. Still, every townsfolk you cross paths with tells you of the antics of the preening young man. It makes your chest feel warm with pride and joy. Clearly, Soonyoung wholeheartedly loves the gift; especially to still be wearing it, even in the hot June sun as he works with his father, the island’s lead carpenter.

You’re not even out in the sun yourself, but in the cool shade of the interior of Town Hall instead, though you still think it’s far too hot and Soonyoung is utterly crazy for wearing the black leather in this heat.

“I really think we should expand into this area,” you reiterate, pointing to a specific section of the map of the entire island, which is securely framed on the wall of the King of Shimmer Isles’ study. He’s standing on your left, thoughtfully staring at the map with his advisor on his own left, where she’s waiting for the man to come to a decision.

“Explain your reasoning again,” King Flauro requests, rubbing a hand on his slightly stubble-pricked chin, in thought.

“Because we don’t have any other option,” you point out flatly, making the man turn unimpressed, golden eyes on you. “Come on, father, we’ve been at this for hours! There isn’t anywhere else to go. We already have some structures on the other side of those trees, so it makes logical sense to cut them down to build the new houses! Unless you want to be an idiot and build in another direction where we don’t already have the pipework running?”

“She’s got you there,” Josephine muses, green eyes sparkling in amusement; a look you know so well after all these years. If not from the woman herself, then from her only child and one of your best friends, Eme.

“Okay, okay, there it is,” the king concedes with a nod, making both you and his advisor cheer in happy relief.

“Now can we go? The party started almost an hour ago and you know how Soonyoung gets when anyone is late,” you remind, rushing to the door to open it and urge the pair out of the study.

“He only sulks when you are late, Cordelia,” Josephine points out with a grin. Another expression Eme definitely gets from their mother.

“We’re best friends, of course he sulks when I’m late. I’m blaming you, by the way,” you tell your father as he steps out of the study. He gives you a look of betrayed disbelief that makes Josephine snicker as she follows him out, with no files in her arms for once. She knows that you would whine at her for making you detour to allow her to drop them off at the relevant locations if she had tried to bring any with her tonight.

“I can’t believe you’re going to throw your father to the tigers like that,” he complains. “What would your mother say, Delia?”

“She’d be the first to laugh at you getting scolded by a 25-year-old who calls himself a tiger,” comes your sniggered response as you imagine Soonyoung telling off the King of Shimmer Isles for making you late to his birthday party. By the snicker coming from Josephine, you know she’s imagining it too.

“My queen loves to see me suffer,” Flauro sighs dramatically and slings his arm around your shoulders as the three of you exit Town Hall to step into the cool evening air and start your walk to the house of the Kwon family at the edge of town.

The location is perfectly suited for Soonyoung’s mother to have plenty of space to raise her chickens and sheep in the field behind the house. Yet still close enough to the shipyard for the two men to easily get to work in the morning without disturbing anyone by bringing lanterns past sleeping houses; they can just walk behind the few houses between theirs and the shipyard entrance.

“Merinda is the last person who would want you to suffer,” Josephine scoffs. “She’s proven that time and time again, Flauro.”

“That she has, my knight in blood-smeared armour,” your father agrees with an amused little twist of his lips, blended with the obvious infatuation he has always held for you mother. You’ve never said it, but you hope that one day, you’ll find a man to look at you the way your father looks at your mother, and that you will return that look just as reverently.

“Gross,” the woman pulls a disgusted expression at the mental image painted by the king, of your mother covered in blood as a result of protecting him.

An image that isn’t even remotely exaggerated if you can believe the stories your parents, especially your mother, have told you over the past two and a half decades. You’ve never once doubted even a single tale.

“It is,” Flauro chuckles in agreement. “But I love her with everything in me.”

“Hey,” you complain while prodding your father’s stomach, making him jerk away with his hands defensively over the ticklish spot. “I’m literally your only child, where is the love for me?”

“In that tiger running over,” Flauro sniggers as he points ahead of you.

Sure enough, Soonyoung is rushing over from further down the street, while already calling out complaints about how late you are.

“It’s his fault!” You defend, pointing to your father without hesitation in putting the blame rightfully on the golden-haired man’s shoulders.

Flauro stops in his tracks to look at you as if you’ve just committed treason and offered him over to a blood-thirsty enemy. That only grows when Soonyoung immediately stops whining at you and instead turns to scold the king, while Josephine walks off cackling to herself as she finishes the journey to the house on her own.

“Soonyoung,” Flauro eventually cuts off Soonyoung’s rambling as he takes the young man’s shoulders in his hands.

Soonyoung’s lips press together, and his eyes turn round as he looks at the man, who was once taller than him, but now they stand at the same height. Soonyoung has even long overtaken your father in broadness, thanks to his long hours working alongside his own father; hauling heavy wood around to build and fix whatever the townsfolk ask of them.

“Yes, uncle?” Soonyoung asks, looking as if he’s expecting to be scolded for telling off the king.

“Happy 25th birthday.” Flauro smiles, which Soonyoung mirrors happily, only growing wider when the king brings him in for a warm hug.

“Thank you. Do you like my jacket?!” Soonyoung bounces back to turn in a full circle. First, he spins far too quickly in his excitement for anyone to catch any detail on his jacket, and then again slower upon realising how fast he initially turned.

“You do realise that I live with Delia, right?” Flauro chuckles. “I’ve seen the progress of that jacket over the past months and heard more curses than a father ever wants to hear from their daughter.”

“Hey, I didn’t swear that much!” You pout at your father defensively.

“Mm, sure.” Flauro puts an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders, and the other around yours, to encourage you both to complete the last few streets to the Kwon house. “Have we missed cake?”

“Why would I let the cake happen without Lia there?” Soonyoung asks, looking and sounding genuinely puzzled in an almost offended kind of manner.

“Oh, so you’d have the cake if I wasn’t there but because Delia isn’t there you refuse?” the king asks, theatrically upset, making Soonyoung giggle while you roll your eyes at your father’s dramatics.

“Yeah! You may be king, but you didn’t bake it!”

“Okay, true. I guess in this instance, baker beats king,” Flauro concedes simply with a nod.

“Baker always beats king when it’s Princess Cordelia,” Soonyoung grins, then takes off running when you almost glare at him.

Flauro laughs as you dart off after Soonyoung, yelling at him for referring to you both as Princess and the use of your full name, all while Soonyoung laughs away happily. Even when you pounce on him and make him piggy-back you the rest of the way to his house, he’s still beaming with pleased laughter.

It’s late by the time you and Soonyoung sneak out of the house. It’s no longer full of the families of your friendship group of five; now just containing Soonyoung’s parents asleep in their bed and your three friends all passed out in a pile in the living room, for the traditional birthday sleepover.

Though, you and Soonyoung have your own traditions for your two birthdays. One involves taking a walk hand in hand to the little cove around the northeastern side of Shimmer Isles, which the two of you had declared your secret spot when you found it on your 8th birthday and started the tradition. Of course, back then, the walk was much earlier in the day. But as you grew up and were allowed to leave the house without the sun to guide your way, the walks have grown later to suit your adult lives.

“Do you remember how on your birthday you said you want to adventure?” Soonyoung prompts, when you’re close enough to the cove that you can hear the gentle crash of the calm waves rolling onto the sand and hitting the cliffs surrounding the little beach.

“Mm, yeah, what about it?” you reply, after easily recalling saying as much on your birthday walk five months ago, when Soonyoung had asked you what your plans as a ‘freshly 25-year-old are’. You haven’t yet gotten to the point in the walk where you’ll ask Soonyoung what his own plans are; another tradition the two of you share.

“What if I say you can?” He gives you a little, nervous kind of smile before tugging you through the break in the cliff that leads to the cove.

You’re very confused what he means, until you step out onto the sand and your eyes land on the small boat sitting there as if it’s waiting for you. Waiting for this very moment.

“Just need to pack up supplies and we’re ready to go,” he informs, motioning to the ship with his hand that isn’t securely pressed palm to palm with yours.

“Soonie…” you murmur, feeling so speechless knowing how significant this is.

You know that a ship like this hadn’t existed in the shipyard; there was one of the same size, but it certainly wasn’t in condition to sail. It was not this beautiful.

This ship, although only big enough for a handful of crewmembers and their cargo, is perfect. Everything about it looks strong and sturdy, looks as if it has been cared for in a way that means it will last a long time. It looks as if a lot of love went into getting it into such a wonderful condition.

“It’s your birthday, not mine,” you point out, looking at him and finding him already looking at you. Nerves are clear in the tightness around his mouth and the slight furrow of his brows, even if he’s smiling gently at you.

“I know, but I finished her last night.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing. You both know it’s not.

“Soonie-”

“I even painted her name.” He leads you closer to the ship until you’re standing on the sand, where it’s banked and propped up carefully with a stand that he must’ve made himself for this reason. “Look.” With his free hand, he points at the carefully painted words on the port bow.

The Sceanery

“And…shit, I did it wrong, didn’t I?” Soonyoung realises after staring at his own handiwork. His expression falls dramatically, and he lets go of your hand so that he can move even closer to the ship and reach up to try to scratch the silvery paint off with his short, blunt nails. Yet, you quickly tug him back and hold his hands in yours to stop him. “It’s spelt wrong, Lia,” he points out, looking rather disappointed in himself and glancing between the words and your face with a frown. “I knew I should’ve asked Hannie to write it down for me, so I got it right.”

“It’s perfect, Soonie. I wouldn’t change a thing,” you assure, squeezing his hands a little.

“No, it’s not. You deserve better than a ship with a misspelt name.”

You look at the ship and her beautifully painted name, lips curling up into a little smile before you turn back to Soonyoung. “It’s not misspelt, it’s a pun,” you declare. “We’d be taking in the scenery on the sea, therefore, The Sceanery.”

Soonyoung stares at you for a few seconds, blinking rounded eyes at you before his expression melts into an awestruck smile. “You’re so smart, Lia.”

You giggle a little and lean over, tilting up on your toes to press a grateful kiss to his cheek before rocking back down onto your heels. “Thank you, Soonie. It’s the best gift I have ever or shall ever receive.”

Soonyoung smiles bashfully, timidly looking at you through his eyelashes in a way he only does when he’s really shy. It’s very cute.

“It makes my gift to you look like utter shit,” you jest, though it’s not entirely a joke.

You can’t even begin to imagine how much time and effort he put into fixing up the ship and getting it finished, to what you already know is such an incredibly high standard. Soonyoung never does anything in halves. You know, even without stepping foot onto the ship, that he put his all into every inch of it.

“Hey,” he complains, pouting offendedly on behalf of the jacket, which he is still proudly wearing.

You ignore him to continue. “What do you want?” you ask, shaking his hands a couple times as if urging him to answer honestly. “Ask me for the world and I’ll give it to you,” you promise, linking your fingers together with his and looking into his eyes openly.

There’s a pause as Soonyoung considers your question carefully. You watch as his warm-brown eyes travel over your face while he thinks. Something must catch in his mind for a second as his eyes linger and widen fractionally near your mouth, before his lips twist slightly and he moves on from whatever the thought was, while his gaze continues its path over your features.

When he’s decided, he locks his brown eyes with your turquoise ones; eyes which he has, on many occasions, compared to the great sea that you so deeply love and are connected to. “Okay.” He nods in agreement. “Give me the world.” You raise your eyebrows in a silent question. In return, he nods to the ship on your right. “Promise me that I can remain by your side as you travel the seas, and we can see the world together.”

“Are you sure? You really want to go with me?”

“Of course,” he scoffs. “I’ve always followed you, Lia, why would I stop now?”

The words are barely out of Soonyoung’s mouth entirely before you let go of his hands to throw yourself at him with a bright smile and embrace him tightly. “I love you, you know? So much, Soonyoung,” you remind, squeezing him affectionately.

“I know,” Soonyoung replies softly as his arms wrap around your waist and he tucks his face down into your neck. “I love you too, Cordelia.”

When you return to the Kwon house, the pair of you excitedly pounce on your friends to wake them up and tell them of your plan to sail the world together in the ship that Soonyoung built for you.

At first, the three stare at you blearily with sleep-mussed hair as they try to decipher what exactly your excited babbles mean.

Then, when you’ve repeated yourself for the fourth time, Carmen is finally awake enough to register your words fully and gawps at Soonyoung in shock. “You built her a ship?!”

“It’s a sloop,” Soonyoung points out with a sheepish grin, while holding up his hand to extend a single finger. ��Only one mast.”

“I don’t care how many masts! You built her a ship, Soonyoung!”

“No… Just fixed one. It was mostly all there; I just had to replace the deck, parts of the hull, the supports, the mast, get new riggings and sails-”

“You’re an idiot,” Eme declares flatly, earning a pout from Soonyoung, before flopping back down to get cosy under the thin blanket over them. “Just let me know when we’re leaving.”

“We?” you ask, prodding at Eme’s backside until they slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

“Leave my ass alone.”

“We?” you repeat, poking at their calf this time. Eme kicks out at you, making you snicker as you let the momentum of the painless hit topple you over against Carmen, who silently wraps her arms around you naturally.

“Of course, we,” Jeonghan replies, on Eme’s behalf. “Like we’ll let you two idiots go travelling the world without us; you’d be dead before the week is up.”

“Hey!” both you and Soonyoung reply in sync, with matching offended pouts aimed at the eldest male of your little group.

“I’d never let Lia die!” Soonyoung exclaims. “I’d protect her with my life!”

“We know,” Eme sniggers without lifting their head, or turning to look at any of you. “She’s a better fighter than you, idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Soonyoung whines. “Auntie says I’m a great sword fighter and have really clever strategies! Just because you fight like you were born with a weapon in your hand!”

“You’re an excellent sword fighter, Soonie,” Carmen soothes, patting Soonyoung’s thigh to settle him down and smooth out the upset scrunch of his eyebrows. “And you are very intelligent in your strategies; you studied very hard, harder than any of us to learn everything auntie taught us.”

“I did,” Soonyoung confirms while nodding emphatically.

“But you would definitely follow that idiot into the dumbest, most dangerous situations without hesitation,” Eme points out, while literally pointing in your direction, despite still not facing you. You can’t help but wonder how they can always so easily locate any of you like that. It’s truly impressive.

“Lia isn’t an idiot.” Now Soonyoung is offended on your behalf and looks more upset than when his own intelligence was under scrutiny. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met!”

“Hannie is literally pretty much a doctor.” Eme rolls over onto their back to give Soonyoung an unimpressed look. “Pretty sure he’s the smartest one here.”

“In one subject! Lia is smart at everything!”

“Carmen,” Eme groans, looking at the eldest forlornly. “Please help me out here; the baby won’t listen to me.”

“Hey! I’m not a baby!” Soonyoung complains.

“You’re the baby of the group and Carmen is the mother.”

“Mama Carmen,” you mutter, which Eme copies before you both snigger and look at Carmen, who is far too used to the pair of you to react past a fond little smile at your shared humour and antics.

“Everyone is smart in their own way,” Carmen says diplomatically. “Delia is smart in a wide range of ways, you’re right, Soonie. But she also doesn’t think things through beforehand and has gotten us all into trouble many times, especially you.”

Soonyoung automatically opens his mouth to try to defend you, but then he clearly realises he can’t refute Carmen’s words and presses his lips back together as he slouches defeatedly.

You’re not even offended. You’re the first to admit to your faults, and barrelling headfirst into anything that catches your attention and seems like it will be fun or interesting is definitely your weakest point. Still, it’s led to a lot of good memories and very few truly dangerous ones, so you highly doubt you’ll ever try to change that fault of yours.

And Soonyoung’s weakest point is his unwavering loyalty to you and even your most hare-brained schemes. Which, in hindsight, only encourages your special brand of chaos and tomfoolery further.

“Which means you need supervision,” Jeonghan summarises. “So, we’ll all go with you. Right, Carmie?”

“Right,” Carmen agrees without hesitation. “But we’re not going to blindly climb aboard and set sail with no heading. We need a plan and until then, we’re not stepping foot past the barrier.”

“I’ve never been past the barrier,” Soonyoung murmurs while crawling to his place amongst the duvets, pillows and blankets padding the living room floor into a makeshift bed. It’s barely big enough for five 25-year-old bodies, but you’ve been doing this since you were so young that you can’t even remember the first time. You may all complain and shove at each other for more space, but at the end of the day, not one of you would ever truly want it any other way.

“None of us have,” Jeonghan chuckles, shuffling over to make room for Carmen to return to her usual space right at his side, with Eme on Jeonghan’s other side and already almost asleep, having always been the one to fall asleep easiest out of you all.

“Except Delia,” Carmen giggles as you lay down in the space between Eme and Soonyoung and curl up against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist comfortably. Eme, even in their almost-asleep state, sticks a leg out to wiggle their left foot between your legs; uncaring of the fact that they always wake with a numb foot from it being caught between your legs all night with little circulation.

“Our sea princess,” Jeonghan giggles back at Carmen and you roll your eyes, making Soonyoung grin sleepily at the sight.

“Bubbles will love exploring with us,” Soonyoung whispers to you, grinning as you peer up at him. You grin back and nod, thrilled at the thought of having your sea-dweller friend along for the adventure.

Soonyoung is right, Bubbles will love getting to traverse the seas and see his mother again after so many years apart. You’re now even more excited than you were before, for your adventure with your five best friends.

The few days following Soonyoung’s birthday consist of three of your friends trying to convince their parents to allow them to join you and Soonyoung on your adventure, while you and Soonyoung do your best to start to gather supplies and come up with a plan of where to go to start the journey.

As for Soonyoung’s parents, all it takes is for Soonyoung to announce his intention to travel with you, when the seven of you set down for breakfast the morning after his birthday. His parents look between you two, then share a look before simply nodding in agreement, making you and Soonyoung light up excitedly. His father, Cheonghyeon, promises to supply Soonyoung with the best tools possible to take on the journey, so that he can keep the ship in sailing condition and fix whatever damage the seas may cause.

Whereas, when you wander into your father’s office in the town hall to tell him your intentions, the king lets out a theatrical long-suffering sigh and accuses you of abandoning him, just like your mother. You only roll your eyes and remind him that she’s due home any day, and that he’s getting needlessly dramatic in his old age. That shuts him up and he gives you a list of tasks to complete before the day is up if you want his approval.

On the list is a task to dig up a strange number of precious gems from around the island; the very reason your homeland is called Shimmer Isles.

Embedded all over the island is a seemingly endless amount of shiny gems and stones. You know they’re precious elsewhere in the world, but here on Shimmer Isles, they hold little value due to the copious amounts of the jewels naturally buried in the land.

That task alone lets you know that you already have his approval to leave. There isn’t any reason for your father to want the gems at all. The only person to ever use them tends to be your mother, when she leaves the Shimmer Isles to travel on her own ship with her crew on their adventures. Though, she always digs her own up days before her travels, so this is your father making sure you will have enough financial aid out in the big, scary world.

Once Flauro gives his permission to you, Josephine shortly follows in giving Eme permission to join. And then Carmen’s parents agree on the terms that you have your first journey planned properly and can prove it to them with navigational maps they expect Carmen to create herself. But Carmen has no idea where The Sceanery will go because you have no idea yet either.

On the same day that your mother returns from her travels, she sits down with you in her study after dinner and shows you a little journal. A journal that she tells you she had curated specifically for you many years ago.

It’s only upon opening the journal that you know exactly where you want to go to start your adventure.

“Mermaids?” you gasp, taking in her familiar style of sketching in the shape of a mermaid; a creature you have been fascinated with since childhood and have always wanted to meet. Yet even your mother with all her decades of travel and adventure under her belt has never met one. You never even knew that she has been collecting information on mermaids until now.

“Aye,” she confirms, leaning back in her seat as she puffs on her favourite pipe. “I know you’ve always wanted to see a real-life mermaid, so I’ve always kept my eyes and ears open for tales. And this-” she taps the journal in your hands with a strong finger, “this is my years of information compiled into one easy to follow guide for my favourite daughter.”

“I’m your only daughter.”

“Think that makes you my least favourite too, by default,” she teases.

“By that logic, you’re my least favourite mother too,” you reply with a matching grin as you look into her blue eyes; so dark that they look black in the low candlelight, the same colour as her neatly braided hair where it lays over her left shoulder and stops at her mid-chest.

“Touche.” She tips her hat at you, making you giggle before you look back at the book. “All my years of intel have pointed me to a man known as Legs.”

“Legs?” you question, raising your eyebrows and looking at her to see her nod, puffing on her pipe again. “Why?”

“How should I know?” She scoffs and offers you the pipe, but you shake your head, so she shrugs and puts it aside before leaning forward to turn the pages of the journal to her hand-drawn map. “He’s said to be found in Embermere Harbour. It’s about a two-week travel east of here, but I bet you’ll have the sea on your side and make it shorter.”

“Maybe not the sea itself, but certainly some helpers to help me on my way,” you muse. “I’ll do it in ten days.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” your mother chuckles and leans back in her chair as she picks her pipe back up. “There’s a storm due to cause havoc a little north tonight; if you want to miss it, I’d suggest either you set sail by this time tomorrow or you’ll have to wait it out a week before going. And I know you, my dearest daughter, are an impatient little shit.”

“I take after you.”

“That you do,” she agrees with a lopsided grin. “You’re the best and worst parts of your father and I.”

“There’s no hope for me, is there?”

“Not the slightest bit.”

The very next morning, you rush straight over to Carmen’s house before she or her parents can go to work to excitedly show them the journal.

Although it’s not Carmen’s own work, Miko and Toto know from Toto’s own past travelling with your mother, that she is more than competent and trustworthy where her navigational skills are involved. Plus, they know she would never endanger you or any of their kids, so they nod in agreement and give Carmen permission to look in the attic for Toto’s old gear to use.

After excitedly hugging Carmen’s parents in thanks and telling them you’ll look after their daughter, you run off with your journal to burst into Soonyoung’s house. It gives his mother a fright, where she’s cleaning up from breakfast, her husband and son already at the shipyard where Cheonghyeon’s office and workshop is.

Before you can dart back off, Junghwa calls you over to sit with her at the table.

“What is it, auntie?” you worry with a frown as you curl your fingers around the back of her hand, where she is holding your right in both of her hands on top of the table at the adjacent side to you.

“You will look after my Soonyoung, won’t you, Cordelia?” she asks gently.

“Of course. I’d give up my life to save him.”

“And he’d do the same for you,” she chuckles and lifts your hand to touch your knuckles to her cheek in a way she has always done to comfort herself when she is worried about any of you.

Admittedly, it’s often you who feels her soft cheek against your skin. Perhaps you really should stop being so careless to allow her to stop looking at you like she is worried that she will never get to sit with you at her kitchen table like this again.

“I’ll pull captain on him,” you assure with a lightness to your tone as if you’re joking. But you’re not, not really.

The same night you all decided to pack up and start a life of adventure, Soonyoung had declared that as The Sceanery belongs to you, only you can be her Captain. Which the others agreed with at once. Jeonghan even pointed out that you’ve always been the leader of your merry little band of misfits; it simply makes sense for you to keep that position, just with a more official title now.

So, you are the Captain of The Sceanery, even if you know you will never take that title seriously unless you absolutely have to. You’d rather just be equals with your friends and be the ship’s cook, as the most adept at cooking amongst you all. But if the time comes where your friends are in danger and you need to pull rank to have them leave and let you handle it, give up your life to protect them, you will.

You just hope that Soonyoung’s stubborn streak and loyalty to you doesn’t get in the way should the worst happen.

“I know,” Junghwa chuckles softly and kisses your knuckles in that motherly way she always has. Not that your mother has ever kissed your knuckles, but you’ve seen Junghwa do it to Soonyoung so many times and observed the clear motherly love in her gaze as she does, so you know the love Junghwa puts into this action.

Your mother has her own methods of motherly love, none lesser than Junghwa’s affections by any means, as you feel the warmth of love from both. Your mother is simply less obvious with her affections and always has been, according to your father.

“I’ll make sure he comes home to you in one piece,” you promise, squeezing her hand a little, and lifting it to press your own kiss of promise and love to her skin.

“I’m not sure you can protect all of him, sweetheart.”

“If he loses a finger, it’ll be because he got distracted while trying to do a trick with a sword.”

“That’s true,” she agrees with a laugh. “But I meant his heart.”

“Oh, I suppose there will be plenty of opportunities for him to meet women on our travels,” you confirm, expression twisting a little at the thought of those faceless, nameless women winning the heart of Soonyoung just to break it.

“Mm.”

“I won’t stop him from chasing those that take his fancy, auntie, that’s not my place. But as his friend, I’ll always be there to make sure he knows he deserves the best, better than a fling on some random stop to stomp all over his heart.”

“Ah, I’m not worried he will fall prey to flings, Delia.”

You tilt your head a little in confusion at the woman. “Then what?”

“Just keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She pats your hand approvingly and gets up. “You should hurry if you want to catch him before he heads off to his first job.”

“Oh, right.” You nod and get up to hug her before running off.

As soon as you spot Soonyoung packing up the cart ready to head to work with a few of the men who work for his father, you yell his name. Soonyoung spins around to find you and lights up.

Just like always, he catches you without fail when you throw yourself at him with an excited shriek.

“What?” he laughs, neither of you paying any attention to the men around you, who just step around you both. They’re all so used to how distracted you two often get when together and tend not to notice the world continuing around you.

“We have our heading!”

“Really?!” Soonyoung starts to bounce excitedly. “Where to?”

“Embermere Harbour to find a man called Legs, who knows where to find mermaids!”

“Legs?” He falls still to give you a bewildered look.

“I don’t know why they call him that, I assume he’s fast or something.”

“Makes sense,” he murmurs as he nods in agreement. “When do we leave?”

“Mother says a storm is coming in from the north, so either we leave today, or we’ll have to wait a week.”

“I need to get someone to cover my shift; we still need to finish getting supplies!” Soonyoung takes your hand into his and leads you towards his father’s office. “Have you spoken to Carmen?”

“Yep, all good to go. Jeonghan is next on my list. I know his parents will be the hardest to convince and I don’t blame them. I’m worried about his health on the seas myself.”

“Me too. But we can make as many stops as he needs and keep stocked up on all the medicine we can. And there will be lots of books to collect about various medicines, new things he can try to help make him better in different towns.”

“Yes, I agree. Let’s just hope auntie and uncle do too.”

As expected, Jeonghan’s parents are the hardest of all to convince. Jeonghan has had troubles with his health since birth. For the first few years of his life, there had been many times where they had feared he wouldn’t make it through the night, yet he always pulled through, even if barely.

Since Jeonghan was old enough to read and truly understand the material he consumes, he’s been absorbing every single piece of information on medicine and the human body he can, in order to try to find a way to make himself better. So that he can join in with the games and activities you all play, for more than short bursts at a time before he needs to sit aside to catch his breath and get his energy back. So that he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly holding you all back. So that he doesn’t feel like such a burden on his parents’ constantly worried shoulders.

For a decade now, Jeonghan has been treating himself and the townsfolk well enough that nobody has truly been scared for his life in a long time. Yet still, being on a ship travelling the world isn’t the stability his body is accustomed to.

Nobody can blame his parents for being fearful, you are too, but you have faith in his abilities. Plus, you have a secret plan, one that not even Soonyoung knows. A reason for wanting to go on adventures and find lost treasures.

You don’t want riches; you don’t want fame. The treasure you crave more than any other isn’t one you can claim for your own or put a price on. It’s one that you hope will cure your precious friend of his ills. You want to find the location of a place of legend, so that you can lead Jeonghan to drink from the waters and give him the life he deserves.

If anything can cure him, it will be the Fountain of Vitality.

But you don’t know where it is. There’s so little information on it that you could spend a lifetime looking. You’ll do it though, for your friend. You’d go to the end of the Earth and back to give him a long, happy life.

Jeonghan’s mother is given refuge from yours and Soonyoung’s attempts to sway them when she needs to leave for the schoolhouse to teach the children their ABCs, or whatever is on the books for the local young children today.

His father, however, is forced to face the full brunt of both of your puppy eyes and pouts, while Jeonghan sits obliviously in his favourite armchair by the fire in the living room; eagerly absorbing the words from one of the medical books and scrolls his father has brought back for him this time from his travels with your mother on her ship.

“Please, uncle?” Soonyoung pleads, gripping Seungil’s hand in both of his, where he’s on his knees before the man.

Seungil is essentially just an older, taller, and healthier version of his son. They have the same pure black hair, though Seungil’s is kept short for ease on his travels while Jeonghan’s is long to his neck. And while both men have blue-grey eyes, Jeonghan’s are usually greyer. Though, the healthier he is, the bluer his eyes are.

The reminder of your friend’s healthy eyes perks you up and you shuffle over along the couch until you’re squished next to Seungil and poke his jaw until he sighs and lets you turn his gaze over to Jeonghan. “Look at his eyes, uncle,” you urge.

“I am aware of my own son’s eyes, Delia,” Seungil points out.

“They’ve been this blue for weeks now.”

Seungil knows what that means; the whole island knows what that means. The man stares at his son for a few seconds. “They have?”

“They have,” Soonyoung confirms. “You know we keep track of it. Carmen probably has it all written down in that journal she keeps of his health.”

“He still doesn’t know about that, does he?” Seungil chuckles, nudging both of you away so that he can get up.

“No, they’re both stupid,” you comment and catch the amused grin Seungil shoots at Soonyoung, who pulls a face. But you don’t have the chance to question it, you never do.

“Han,” Seungil calls as he approaches his son. Jeonghan looks away from his book and up to his father, who stops in front of him and carefully takes in his condition. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, I think I’ve really had a breakthrough lately. I’ve had more energy, and I can eat better than I have in a long time,” Jeonghan confirms confidently.

“You’re not lying just to convince me to let you go sailing around, are you?”

“No, father.” Jeonghan gets to his feet, after carefully bookmarking his page, so that he can lift his shirt to show his slim body. “Look; my ribs no longer protrude, and my stomach is filling out.”

“So, I see,” Seungil mutters, impressed and feeling a little emotional at the very slight pudge to his son’s lower stomach. It’s something he never thought he’d see due to Jeonghan’s body always having struggled to hold onto nutrients from food. If it even allowed him to keep the food itself in the first place.

“I ate two pieces of Soonyoung’s birthday cake!” Jeonghan announces proudly as he tucks his shirt neatly back into his waistband.

“Two?” Seungil smiles. “That’s really good, Han. That makes me glad to hear. Maybe we should have your captain bake a cake in celebration.”

“My captain?” Jeonghan gasps, eyes lighting up with the same excitement that you and Soonyoung feel rise in your own bodies. You both jump up excitedly and blindly grab onto each other, yet stay in place by the sofa, not wanting to intrude.

“Aye, your captain.”

“Thank you!” Jeonghan wraps his arms around his father’s middle to embrace him gratefully, a bright smile on his face.

“You’ll like travelling; all the books and medicines you can discover,” Seungil chuckles, leaning his head onto his son’s as he embraces him back, savouring this moment.

“I’ll become the most competent healer to ever come out of Shimmer Isles.”

“You already are.” Seungil lifts his head to lock suddenly serious, blue-grey eyes on you. You look back at him with rounded eyes, barely even noticing Soonyoung moving closer to you and putting a hand to your lower back. “And you better show your mother up by being the best damn captain possible and go above and beyond to keep my son safe.”

“I will,” you promise without hesitation. “I intend to buy every single piece of information I can to try and help Hannie get better.”

Jeonghan gives you a soft, grateful smile from where he’s still tucked up against his father’s front, to enjoy what might be their last long embrace in some time.

There’s no knowing how long you’ll all be away at sea and if Seungil will even be home whenever you return. Maybe your paths will cross on the seas, but a world as big as this makes the chances rather slim; and for the safety of your friends, you’d rather not travel in the same circle as your mother and her crew tend to.

“Come, Soonie, we still have lots to prepare. Pack up, Hannie; we’re setting sail before sundown.”

“Today?” Seungil sputters. “I’ve only been home less than a day!”

“We need to beat the storm, uncle,” you point out. “Your captain told me it’s coming, so take up your issue with her.”

“No way. That woman is stubborn and too quick with a sword,” Jeonghan’s father mutters, then waves you and Soonyoung off. “Get out of my house so that I can spend as much time with my son as possible until you steal him away from me.”

You and Soonyoung leave the Yoon house with giggles on your lips and excited skips in your steps, eager to start your journey across the open seas with your best friends.

You don’t know exactly what your future holds, but you both know that it’s going to be the adventure of a lifetime.

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#seventeen fanfic #ot13 fanfic #m: nothoughtsjustfic #p: mxr #g: fluff #g: slow burn #g: pirate #g: adventure #g: fantasy #g: humour #f: series #8k #r: nc17

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