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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 10 days ago

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Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

This was a very entertaining and fun read!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

When I was reading, I decided to write down my thoughts as I go, as I knew I'd forget otherwise. Below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherent comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such].

“ “Help me hide a body.” ” now if that isn’t an attention-grabbing opening line, I don’t know what is

“ The liquid nearly shot from Seokmin’s mouth, a spray that thankfully missed you. ” thankfully indeed

“ a familiar figure sprawled on the dusty floor, a dark red pool blooming around his head. ” 😮

Them screaming though 😂

“ "What do I dooo?" ” mental breakdown seems like the right course of action tbh

“ “No! He was smiling just now! I swear I saw it!” Seokmin’s neck craned to look at him again, and his face fell. Was it an illusion? ” okay but why did this make me laugh a lil

“ "he was our friend!"

"I KNOW! Which is precisely why I'm saying he wouldn't want this!" ” true friendship is letting your friends bury your body instead of going to the authorities

“ Seokmin decided that he couldn't do that to you. Not when you were looking at him like that, not when he was your only hope. ” he’s a true friend (and perhaps a simp but we love that too)

“ He hated how his heart still quickened at your touch, even now. ” aww. The quickening part, not he hating it part.

“ the glow of a phone screen illuminating your faces as you frantically searched online for methods of body disposal. ” okay, that’s kinda hilarious

Soonyoung and Seungkwan bickering is so them

“ You gripped Seokmin's collar, pulling him close. He hardly had time to register his reality when your lips crashed against his. ” AHHHHHH!!!!!

“ "What the hell do you two think you were doing!?" Seungkwan demanded. ” mommy seungkwan mode

“ "Are you two... together!? Since when!? I thought Y/N liked Wonwoo!" ” oh damn

“ “They're obviously trying to hide their special effects makeup project so we don't steal their concept. Did you also really kiss him to scare us away, Y/N?!” ” yes to both, with a bonus “just for fun” for the second.

“ The air was crisp with stunned silence before it was shattered by the simultaneous, high-pitched screams of you and Seokmin. ” 😂

“ "How does it pay you for hiding my phone in the literal refrigerator, Y/N?” ” omg he traumatised them just because of hiding his phone? He’s an actual giant shit

“ "Did you hate it that much?" ” poor babie :((

help me hide a body - lsm

pairing - seokmin x f!reader

genre/warnings - college au, non idol au, comedy, fluff, death scenario, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/killing, jeonghan (menace) cameo, boosoon cameo, one mention of jihoon and two of wonwoo, seokmin is a simp for reader, use of petname (min/minnie for seokmin), kissing, cursing, nothing serious is happening in here <3

wc - 5K

summary - seokmin never thought you'd ask him to help you hide a body. worse, he never thought he'd agree.

A/N - this is an idea of my friend who sent me a reel where somebody was asking which kpop idol would you not trust with helping you hide a body and someone answered dokyeom ಠ⁠﹏⁠ಠ thanks to her for making this come to life! also i really did not think it'd be this long but haha, i hope it doesn't flop 🤍🤍🤍

huge thanks to both my babies @hannah81141418 & @kissbyoon for being my ultimate support through the writing process <3

“Help me hide a body.”

The liquid nearly shot from Seokmin’s mouth, a spray that thankfully missed you. You stood beside him, your heart drumming loud in your chest.

"That's hardly a joking matter," he stated, turning to you, expecting the relief of laughter that would signal a prank. Instead, your expression remained starkly serious.

"I'm not joking, Seokmin," you insisted, and the glass halfway to his lips stilled as he faced you again.

"Come on, Y/N, that's really not funny."

Your bottom lip jutted out, your eyes holding an insurmountable desperation that tightened a knot of anxiety in Seokmin's gut.

He was truly fucked.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ ㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Seokmin clung to the belief that this was an elaborate deception as he followed you towards the college's forgotten storage room. Surely, any moment now, you would burst into laughter, mocking his obvious fear.

But the sight that greeted him shattered that hope: a familiar figure sprawled on the dusty floor, a dark red pool blooming around his head.

Seokmin's breath hitched. His eyes widened, fixed on the still form. Beside him, you looked like you were on the verge of collapse.

A raw, high-pitched scream tore from his throat, making you jump. He turned to you, disbelief etched on his face. Then, a shared scream echoed in the confined space before your hand clamped over his mouth.

"SHUT UP! Do you want the entire building to know!?"

He wrenched your hand away. "Y/N, are you insane?! There's an actual dead person here! You actually killed someone?! And it's Jeonghan, for God's sake, he's our friend!"

"YES, I KNOW! I KNOW!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with terror and disbelief.

"IT WASN'T deliberate! I swear! I don't know how or when it happened! We... we were just fooling around and... and I... I pushed him, and he... ahggg! What do I do, Seokmin? What do I dooo?"

"Oh my God... oh my God..." Seokmin began to pace the cramped room, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. "No..."

"No, tell me this is some twisted prank you two planned."

"Tell me that's just spilled paint, and he'll sit up laughing at my foolishness."

"TELL ME HE'S NOT DEAD, Y/N!" He gripped your shoulders, shaking you with a desperate force that made his heart ache.

You shook your head, your gaze defeated. "I'm not joking."

"He won't wake up." Tears began to well in your eyes, causing him to recoil, staring at you in utter disbelief. "No... no, this can't be real... no, I..." His gaze flickered back to the lifeless body of your common friend.

"Have you called for help? What if he's not actually gone?" he demanded, moving towards the body despite the nausea rising in his throat. He had always had a weak stomach for blood.

"He is."

“No. He could be— wait, he’s smiling!”

Your eyes shot to Jeonghan’s still figure, his face barely visible under the dim light. For a cruel second, you believed Seokmin, but Jeonghan was indeed not smiling. “You've gone insane, Seokmin.”

“No! He was smiling just now! I swear I saw it!” Seokmin’s neck craned to look at him again, and his face fell. Was it an illusion?

He shook the image out of his head, still in disbelief. “What if— what if he's alive?”

"Seokmin, are you for real? Just look at the blood, damn it!"

Seokmin’s eyes narrowed at the still body—thick red liquid illuminated under the moonlight streaking through the window. Seeing Jeonghan’s bloodied body sent a wave of revulsion through him, a painful lump forming in his throat. He couldn't suppress it.

You had to rub his back as he vomited into the nearby bushes. And then you both sat in the oppressive silence of the storage room, Jeonghan's form covered with a soiled white blanket.

"No... no, this is very wrong," Seokmin suddenly declared, rising to his feet. "This is terribly wrong. We need to come clean. We need to call for help, get him to a hospital."

Your face drained of color and you stood quickly, "Are you out of your mind! I could go to jail! We can't do that!"

"Well, what alternative do you propose?! We can't just... for God’s sake, Y/N, he was our friend!"

"I KNOW! Which is precisely why I'm saying he wouldn't want this!"

"Please, Min. I can't endure that. My entire future will be extinguished before it begins! How will I face his parents? His sister? I'll be branded a murderer! I'll be imprisoned, Seokmin! Do you want that for me?"

"But, you... he... I..."

You grasped his arm, your eyes pleading with an intensity he found difficult to resist. He always did. "Please, Min. Please. Just help me this once, hmm? Just help me bury him, and I will never burden you with another request."

Seokmin stared at you, really looked at you, his jaw tight with conflict. He had never done anything more immoral than cheating in his test once. Burying a dead body of his friend who was murdered by his best friend wasn't something he could allow himself to do.

But you were there, looking at him with your beautiful eyes that were filled with tears—a sight he hated. You pouted at him, and begged him like your life would be over if he didn't help you, and for once, it really would be.

Seokmin decided that he couldn't do that to you. Not when you were looking at him like that, not when he was your only hope.

A frustrated groan escaped him. He nodded, and your arms were instantly around him, rambling words of gratitude. He hated how his heart still quickened at your touch, even now.

Even now when he had to help you hide his friend's dead body.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ ㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Then came the enormity of your task. How could you possibly execute this without being caught?

Seokmin perched on a wooden crate, with you leaning heavily against him from a higher one, the glow of a phone screen illuminating your faces as you frantically searched online for methods of body disposal.

Seokmin suggested a remote location, telling you that that's where they hide bodies in novels and movies.

“Yeah, and they always get caught." You countered, rolling your eyes at him.

"Well, do you have a more effective idea!?"

"No!? How would I have such knowledge? I don't murder people everyday!"

"Are you planning to murder people everyday!?"

"NO!? What the hell is wrong with you!"

Before Seokmin could respond, your hand clamped over his mouth, your senses alert to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Someone was directly outside the storage room.

Oh hell no.

You gestured frantically for him to silence his phone. In the dim light filtering through the cracks, Seokmin's eyes seemed to bulge with a silent 'what now!?'

Then, the familiar bickering of Soonyoung and Seungkwan drifted through the door. Their argument revolved around the late hour, a consequence, according to Seungkwan, of Soonyoung's procrastination on their shared project.

"What do we do?!" Seokmin hissed when you removed your hand.

"Don't worry, the door is locked from the inside," you whispered back.

"Hey, this is locked," Soonyoung's voice announced as he tested the handle.

"The CR said it was unlocked and that Y/N and Jeonghan were in here earlier and hadn't returned the keys," Soonyoung explained, earning a skeptical look from Seungkwan.

You were certain Seokmin could feel the frantic hammering of your heart. Unbeknownst to you, his own heart drummed against his ribs, a cold sweat slicking his skin.

"Brilliant, genius. We are definitely failing.” Seungkwan muttered.

"Hey, don't say that. I'll plead with the professor to extend the deadline. Maybe we can do something."

"You do realize that Jihoon is likely going to kill us, right?”

Soonyoung groaned. "Yeah, but why were we cursed to be paired with him!"

"Why were we cursed to be paired with you?"

Soonyoung pouted. "Alright, fine. Let's go back and think of something else instead of arguing here," he said, allowing the two hidden figures to release a collective, shaky breath.

"Move, you idiot," Seungkwan commanded, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket.

"You had the keys this entire time!?" Soonyoung's voice held a note of betrayal. You and Seokmin both froze in stress as you heard the jingle of keys against the lock.

"Yes. I’m always prepared unlike you," Seungkwan retorted, making Soonyoung roll his eyes. "Yeah, Boo Seungkwan, the supposed genius of this college, still manages to rank second last."

"At least I don't rank last."

The lock clicked open.

Panic surged within the storage room. Your eyes darted around, seeking some sort of escape. Maybe you would prefer jumping out of the window than being caught with your friend’s dead body in your college’s storage room.

Realizing the dread of your situation, you moved suddenly and desperately. It was stupid, and wrong, but you had to save yourself and Seokmin. You had to distract the boys. You knew they'd instantly run away. You had no other choice.

You gripped Seokmin's collar, pulling him close. He hardly had time to register his reality when your lips crashed against his.

All of Seokmin’s senses numbed. He sat frozen like some statue of disbelief, his eyes wide as your lips stilled against his, your own eyes squeezed shut.

"That hardly makes you any smar-" Soonyoung's sentence fractured as he took in the scene and Seungkwan jaw already hung slack.

"What in the actual hell-" Soonyoung's hands flew to his mouth, his gaze fixed on his two very platonic friends locked in an intense embrace in the dark storage room where the only source of light was the moon peeking in through the window.

Realizing your impulsive act wasn't having the desired effect, and your friends remained rooted to the spot, you slowly pulled away, facing a thoroughly flustered Seokmin. His cheeks were flushed red, and you could feel the tremble in his body.

Well, there went nothing. You swallowed hard and took a hesitant step back.

"What the hell do you two think you were doing!?" Seungkwan demanded.

"I would very much like to know the answer to that myself," Seokmin mumbled under his breath, his gaze unfocused.

“Oh, he seemed to be enjoying it."

"Shut up, Soonyoung!" Seungkwan snapped, turning to you for an explanation. You merely cleared your throat, avoiding eye contact with the three bewildered faces.

"Are you two... together!? Since when!? I thought Y/N liked Wonwoo!"

Seokmin felt a poisonous bubble rise up his throat at the mention.

"Yeah, and wasn't Seokmin secretly-" Soonyoung's breath hitched as Seokmin's large hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. You looked from one to the other, your mind fogged with confusion. You couldn't really tell why Seungkwan was face-palming, and why Seokmin looked like he had seen a ghost. Well maybe because you just kissed him out of nowhere.

It was then that Seungkwan's attention snagged on something in the shadows at the back of the room: a white sheet partially covering an indistinct shape, with a disturbing patch of red visible.

"Is there something at the back!?" he asked, squinting his eyes to look better in the dim light. Oh no no no.

You couldn't be doomed. Not like this.

"It's nothing!"

"It's a project!"

The contradictory responses from both you and Seokmin echoed in the room. You slowly craned your neck to glare at him, and he still refused to outright meet your eyes. His gaze was trying to focus on the slight movement he saw under the sheet, but Soonyoung's voice snapped him back to reality. It must be an illusion again.

"I know!" Soonyoung exclaimed, as if struck by a sudden realization. "They're hiding something!"

You swallowed hard, a sheen of sweat breaking out on your forehead. You couldn't really tell how Seokmin looked like, but the years of knowing him could give that much away: he must be scared shitless.

"That much is obvious," Seungkwan deadpanned. “They're obviously trying to hide their special effects makeup project so we don't steal their concept. Did you also really kiss him to scare us away, Y/N?!”

You stood in stunned silence, unable to know what you should be feeling. You were relieved, and if you heard it right, Seokmin also let out a breath. You did not want to answer Seungkwan. While your friend lay dead and his body was rotting, a kiss stemmed from extreme distress was not your major concern.

What, however, was your concern was kicking your two friends out. You ushered them out somehow, confirming that you were indeed preparing for your special effects project and you'd like it if they kept their noses out of it. Once they were out, you collapsed against the closed door, a shaky breath escaping your lips.

Seokmin was still numb, staring at the floor when you turned to him. "You kissed me."

"I know! I'm sorry, Min. My mind went blank; I couldn't think of anything else-"

"You just kissed me," he repeated, his tone flat. He really looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maybe being kissed by your best friend of years was more terrifying than seeing a ghost.

"I swear I will make it up to you later. We don't have time for this right now. Please, let's focus, hmm?"

He looked up at you, managing to mask the sting of your casual dismissal. He understood that your mind was clearly occupied with more important matters like burying your dead friend.

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "Think. Where? Where can we put him where nobody will ever find him?"

Seokmin chewed on his lip, shaking the feeling of your lips on his own away from his mind. But whatever he said still sounded absurd. "What about... the woods?"

You stared at him blankly. "Seokmin, we live in the middle of the city. The nearest woods are like an hour away. And how exactly are we going to carry a dead body through the entire college campus and then into a car without anyone seeing?"

“Oh. Right."

You paced the small storage room, your mind racing and your heart hurting. You could feel tears prick at your eyes anytime your gaze drifted towards the body, but you had to hold on. You had to save yourself. Jeonghan wouldn't want you to go to jail for killing him accidentally.

"What about... outside? Somewhere on campus?"

Seokmin's eyes widened again, this time with alarm. "Are you crazy?! Someone will find him for sure!"

"But where else, Min?" you pleaded, throwing your hands up in frustration. "We can't just keep him here! He's... he's going to..." You trailed off, unable to say the word. Your eyes filled with the tears you'd been holding back, but you didn't let them fall.

Then, your eyes landed on the dusty window overlooking the back of the storage room. It was overgrown with vines and looked like it hadn't been opened in years. Beyond it, you could just make out the very edge of the college grounds, a patch of uneven, untended land bordering a high brick wall.

"Wait," you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, walking towards the window. You peered through the grime. "What about... right there?"

Seokmin followed you, squinting through the dusty glass. "Right where? Behind the storage room?"

"Yeah," you said, pointing. "That little patch of land right against the back wall. It's the very end of the campus. Nobody ever goes back there. Remember? We used to sneak back there to... you know..." You trailed off again, the memory of happier times feeling like a joke now.

Seokmin looked doubtful. "But... wouldn't it be too obvious? Right outside?"

"Not if we do it right," you argued, your mind starting to form a plan. "It's hidden by all these bushes and that broken fence. If we dig a grave deep enough, and then cover it up really well... nobody would ever know."

“Dig a grave? Y/N, we've never even planted a proper flower, let alone dig a grave for a..." He swallowed hard, unease settling over him once again. What was he supposed to say? Dig a grave for our friend? The thought alone gave him a fresh wave of nausea.

You looked at Jeonghan’s covered body for a while, pursing your lips together to not burst into tears. You second guessed your proceedings for about half a second before your future played like movie in front of your eyes—cold, grey walls closing in, the heavy clang of a metal door, the judging eyes of strangers, the endless, empty days stretching out before you.

You saw yourself in a drab uniform, the vibrant colors of your life fading to dullness. The faces of your parents, etched with disappointment and shame, swam before your eyes. The thought of never laughing freely again, never feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin without bars in between, made your stomach clench.

“No!” You yelled to yourself, shaking your head violently. The desperate urge to avoid the ugly future took over you. There was no turning back now.

Seokmin was in front of you before you knew it, his hands on your shoulders as he looked down at you in concern. “What happened?”

"We have to do this. It's our best shot, Min. We can't risk trying to move him off campus. This is close, it's hidden, and hopefully, nobody will ever think to look there."

Seokmin bit his lip again, his gaze flicking between you and the window. He looked pale, almost like he was about to be sick again. "But... digging sounds hard. And what if someone sees us from a window?"

"It's late," you reminded him. "Most people are in their dorms. We'll be quick, and we'll be careful.” You looked at him, your eyes pleading again. "Please, Min? Just like you said, you'll help me?"

Seokmin sighed, the fight draining out of him. He looked at your pained face, your tear-reddened eyes, and the sheer desperation radiating off you. He knew this was wrong, so incredibly wrong. But the thought of you facing this alone felt more wrong.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "Okay, Y/N. We'll... we'll dig a grave behind the storage room." He swallowed hard again. "Just tell me what to do.”

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ ㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Now came the most agonizing part: digging a grave.

You both were bound to be inexperienced. It wasn't like you dug graves everyday, but you hadn't ever thought you'd be this bad.

Somehow, Seokmin managed to carve a shallow pit from the hard earth. And then you both stood outside the window, staring at the blood stained sheet that Jeonghan was wrapped in. All that was left was carrying him to his grave. The final act of separation.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. "No."

"No, I can't do this. This is wrong."

Seokmin shut his eyes tight, letting his own tears fall. He could feel the immense pain in his heart, but he had to be strong for you. His hand found it's place on your back, rubbing softly. “We can't turn back now, Y/N. We have to."

"But what if they find out!? What if... what if my parents discover this! They'll hate me! Jeonghan’s parents will never forgive me for... for this. And Wonwoo... he'll never want anything to do with someone like me." Seokmin's hand dropped away as if burned.

"Seriously? That's your primary concern right now? His potential disapproval? Not the fact that one of your friends is dead, and the other is now your accomplice!?"

Your jaw tightened at his tone, your tears blurring your vision of his teary face. "Well, who forced you to help me if it was such an unbearable burden!?"

"YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO BEGGED ME TO HELP YOU!"

"WELL, I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP ANY LONGER! YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE! I WILL MANAGE THIS ALONE!"

"ARE YOU INSANE!? I CAN'T LET YOU DO THAT!"

"WHY NOT!? WHY DO YOU CARE!? WHY DID YOU AGREE IN THE FIRST PLACE!?"

"BECAUSE I—" Seokmin's confession was abruptly cut short by the distant wail of police sirens, growing rapidly closer. Something close to a flashlight shone through the dirty windows of the old room.

You could hear some voices, and if you could, you'd lie down beside Jeonghan and drop dead yourself too.

"Shit," Seokmin muttered before he held your hand, pulling you into the shallow grave he had just dug.

"Jeonghan! Jeonghan is still in there!" You gasped.

"Oh my God, we are going to get caught red-handed," Seokmin shook his head in horror. Your voice cracked, and your fists involuntarily tightened onto Seokmin's shirt. "No, I am too young to go to jail.”

Seokmin felt his heart clench painfully. Apart from seeing his friend dead, the sight of you trembling in fear and crying was the single most haunting sight he'd ever had to see.

He didn't know where he found his voice when he softly wiped your tears. "Don't worry. I won't let you go to jail."

You looked at him, your eyes watery and your lips trembling, as you heard the distinct sound of footsteps. Seokmin began to cry with you, his own fear escalating despite his big talk. "What do we do now, Minnie? What do we dooo? We're so dead," you sobbed as he pulled you into his arms, trying to hide you. "Don't worry. I am with you. I am with you in all of this. I won't leave your side, no matter what."

"Really?" You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. You knew he was far too kind for the horrific situation you had dragged him into. He nodded, sniffing, before you buried yourself in his embrace, and he held you tightly.

"Let's... let's just turn ourselves in," you whispered as the voices came closer and closer. "Alright... let's do that," Seokmin choked out.

"We'll be okay, right?" You asked, looking up at him with a tearful pout. He replied with an equally tearful and pouty face, nodding. "As long as we're together, we will be alright."

"What is going on here?"

The voice was oddly familiar and close. Seokmin and you stood up from the hole together, raising your hands in the air and squeezing your eyes shut as you began to murmur pleas for mercy.

"Please forgive us! We didn't—"

"It was me! I did it! I killed him! I forced her to be an accomplice! Arrest me!" Seokmin blurted out, cutting her off, making her stare at him in disbelief. "What are you—"

"What are you doing! Arrest me quickly!" he repeated, his eyes still shut tight, as he extended his hands to be cuffed.

"What are you doing, Seokmin! That is not—"

"Shush! Don't say anything!"

"No, I can't let you do that!"

"I said don't say anything!"

"How dumb do you both have to be?" The two of you fell silent as you heard the chillingly familiar voice again. When you both opened your eyes, you saw your dead friend standing in front of you with his arms folded.

The air was crisp with stunned silence before it was shattered by the simultaneous, high-pitched screams of you and Seokmin.

Jeonghan burst out laughing, a loud, hearty sound that echoed in the silence. He clutched his stomach, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "Oh my god! Y/N, you literally did not even check my pulse! Exactly like I predicted. I know you so well."

You and Seokmin stared at him, your mouths agape, still trembling from the adrenaline and fear.

“I didn't think you'd bring this dummy in, but God, are you both dumb?! You made it all so easy!”

Jeonghan wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "How does it pay you for hiding my phone in the literal refrigerator, Y/N?”

Seokmin’s knees buckled, and he fell back into the shallow hole he'd dug up. His illusions from earlier slapped him right across his face. He wished he could just bury himself right here and never see the sun again.

Jeonghan waved his phone that played the police siren for a second before pocketing it. His hair were still red, painted in fake blood that you only now realized was paint.

Paint from the tins that were lined up right where Jeonghan hit his head.

No, you couldn't have been so dumb.

“It was so hard to stay still and act dead while listening to all of your foolishness. You both are funny.”

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

“No no no,” Jeonghan clicked his tongue, “Do not even think of turning this against me. Not only did you guys kiss over my dead body, you were also literally going to bury me?! Without even holding a funeral?!”

"Shut up Jeonghan, or you will actually be dead in the next few seconds," you snapped, your jaw clenched and your voice still trembling slightly. Your head spun with the sudden proceedings and if you weren't rooted to your spot from the shock you just experienced, you would've choked Jeonghan to death.

"Wow, so I was the one who was killed and you guys are traumatized instead of being thankful that I'm actually not dead? Were you happy that I died!?" Jeonghan continued, his tone laced with mock hurt.

"GO AWAY, YOON JEONGHAN! YOU SCARED THE LIFE OUT OF ME! I DON'T EVEN WANT TO SEE YOUR STUPID FACE! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT I HAD TO DO BECAUSE OF YOU? I FREAKING KISSED SEOKMIN!" you exploded, the memory still vivid and mortifying.

"What did hiding my body have to do with you kissing Seokmin!? Why would you kiss him!?”

"Did you hate it that much?" Seokmin interrupted, a visible ache painting his face while he stared at the sky. It looked beautiful from the grave. He really wished to never get up after all that he went through for the night.

But you weren't listening to him, your focus solely on the 'not-so-dead' culprit.

"UGH JUST- JUST DISAPPEAR FROM MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW OR I MIGHT REALLY KILL YOU THIS TIME.” you yelled, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

"Fine! I am going," Jeonghan huffed, turning towards the door. "You better apologize, or I might report you two to the police for trying to bury me alive!"

“Entitled fucking bastard.” You muttered under your heavy breath, trying to calm your nerves. But all you wanted to do was rip your hair out and maybe tie a rope around Jeonghan’s ugly neck.

You sat down on the ground, your legs giving up as you stared into nothingness. All that happened in the past two hours flashed before your eyes, and you couldn't help but grow more and more hatred towards Jeonghan. However, the boy right behind you, slowly climbing out of the hole made your entire being shudder.

"Why did you do it?" you asked, not realising how weak your voice came out. Your eyes were still fixed ahead, as if looking at Seokmin would somehow stab your heart.

"What?" Seokmin asked, sitting beside you with a sigh.

“Why did you take the blame upon yourself? You could've gone to jail for something you did not do," you elaborated, finally craning your neck to meet his eyes.

Seokmin felt like his heart would leap out of his chest. "I would do it again if I was faced with a similar situation. I would do it if it was a real situation too.”

"Why?” You looked at him intently, searching his eyes for an answer. “Why would you do that far for me? Am I that important to you?"

“Yeah, you are," he replied nonchalantly, as if stating a simple fact. His face turned to look away as he wiped any remaining wetness from his eyes.

"Why?" You pressed, talking in a daze.

"Because I love you," he whispered, unable to hold it in any longer. Seokmin had kept his love as a secret for years, but now that he experienced an extremely overwhelming situation, all of his hidden emotions oozed out of him easily.

You felt your blood run cold.

"And I'm not saying it as a friend," he added, his voice a little rougher now. "I hate it when you keep swooning over Jeon Wonwoo. I hate it when you can see all the guys in the world but never me," he confessed, his gaze holding something indecipherable as he looked at you.

"I don't care if you stop being friends with me anymore. I can't keep pretending to be just a friend.”

"I want to date you."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your heart beat in your ears, and you feared this was another overly ugly prank. You couldn't be fooled twice in a day. You would've liked to believe this wasn't real, but your eyes stayed wide open as he leaned in, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and placed a quick, tender kiss on your lips.

"This is for the kiss you stole from me," he said softly, pulling back slightly but still close, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looked ahead. You, however, remained frozen, staring at him in utter disbelief.

"Hey! We promised no dating among ourselves!" Jeonghan's voice boomed from the window. He had a comical look of disapproval plastered on his face, forcing Seokmin to pull a little away from you.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” You gritted your teeth, eyes not leaving Seokmin’s face but speech addressed to the menace you had as a friend. “I told you to get the fuck out of here. I'm really going to bury you the next time I see you, but right now I have some important business going on. SO LEAVE.”

Your sudden yell startled a reddened Seokmin, and Jeonghan just laughed, proceeding to close the window. “You both should thank me and my genius brain for tonight. Otherwise Seokmin would've forever fooled around and you would've stayed oblivious.”

You didn't know why in the world was Seokmin’s side profile suddenly attractive, and why was he glowing a little in the dark. But you knew that you wanted to kiss him again. And you also knew that you were going to do it.

Seokmin and you walking hand in hand a few days later at the campus wasn't a surprise to anyone.

#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: help me hide a body by hanniescookie #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: lee seokmin x reader #g: college au #g: comedy #g: fluff #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 17 days ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

I keep writing kid fics myself at the moment so reading this came at the perfect time for my apparent current almost fixation on kid fics! Definitely an enjoyable read all over. Love a good family dynamic, including supported friends who are basically extended family 😌

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ “SOONYOUNG, HER CROWN!” ” okay but that made me snort. What a great opening line

“ too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie ” man, I wanna stick my greedy hands in his onesie, but not for sweets, nor in the pocket 😈

“ “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.” ” aw, what a cute, well behaved little baby 🥺

“ “Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. ” 😂

“ “Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.” ” make more kids

“ Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. ” so true. What an asshole

“ he looks good in everything. ” and nothing 😏

“ Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. ” what a good boy

“ You burst like a bubble ” I don’t know why, but I really liked this description

“ “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.” ” yeehaw

Sweetest Thing (j.ww)

PAIRING: Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader

SUMMARY: For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing.

WC: 2,278

AU: Slice of Life, Married Couple/Parents

GENRE Smut, Fluff

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Light mentions of anxiety regarding letting kids go trick-or-treating without them, slight body insecurity and light mentions of a skirt not fitting comfortably, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, spitting, hair pulling, stupid and corny during sex.

A/N: This was originally requested for Haliween on sailorrhansol by an anonymous user. Sorry it got deleted bestie :/

A/N 2: PLEASE THE BANNER IS NERDY BUT THEY’RE DRESSED AS COWBOYS OK LMFAO

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST

“SOONYOUNG, HER CROWN!” You warn, watching as your friend smacks the plastic crown off Haen’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice, too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie where she knows she’ll find candy. “Are you sure you can do this?”

Soonyoung scoffs. His outrage is lessened by the ridiculous tiger onesie he’s in, the suit zipped to the neck and the hood pulled up over his head. He’s got Iseul in his arms, cradling her in her dragon costume as she pulls on his hood while Haen reveals a Jolly Rancher.

“Maybe we-”

Wonwoo’s hand on your lower back cuts you off as he steps through the door frame. He pitches his voice low and gentle as he crouches down, eye level with your eldest child. “Hey, no candy until after. We agreed, remember?”

Pouting, she shoves the candy back inside Soonyoung’s pocket. Behind him, Jihoon and Jeonghan snort. “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.”

Mouth pressed firmly to hide your smile, you feel the overwhelming sense of love for her as she puts her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for Soonyoung to escort her down the steps and sidewalk to go trick-or-treating.

“We’ll be fine,” Soonyoung assures, pouting as he takes Haen’s hand and spins around. Your other friends hold out the empty buckets made to be filled with candy. “We promised we had them, and we do!”

Wonwoo stands, hand sliding up your back as he does. “You remember where the key is?”

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. He passes Iseul to Jeonghan, who holds her far less precariously. “We’ll let you know when we’re back. Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.”

Children and parents line the streets. You watch your little group of friends with your two kids meander down the sidewalk, Jihoon immediately lifting Haeun to put her on his shoulders. Nerves eat away at you as they finally vanish from your line of vision, lost to the other swarms of trick-or-treaters and bobbing halloween lights hanging from trees.

“Maybe we should-”

“Nope,” Wonwoo says gently, pulling you toward him. “They’ll do fine. Jihoon is with them, what could go wrong?”

Blowing out a sigh you nod, taking a moment to just drink him in. As much as he hates dressing up on Halloween, he’s done it again this year for you, dressed in the exact cowboy costume that you had put together for him. It’s less a costume than it is precariously picked clothes - the tan, suede button up and brown leather pants had already been in his closet, along with the belt and bolo tie. You’d just purchased the hat and the boots to complete the look.

And it is a look.

Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting on the couch in a shirt with juice stains from Iseul spilling her apple juice all over him or if he’s in a pressed suit at a company holiday party - he looks good in everything.

Heading back inside, you catch yourself in the mirror near the entrance, tugging at your skirt a little. It’s a little higher and tighter than you remember, and the button digs into your stomach a bit more than you like. Chewing your lip, you quickly turn from the mirror, busying yourself in the kitchen looking for your car keys and purse.

Wonwoo follows you silently, leaning against the door frame as he watches you. His eyes are heavy on you, your stomach fluttering as you drop a credit card onto the floor. Cursing, you bend down to get it, feeling the skirt hug you tightly and restrict your movement for a second.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, pushing off the wall.

“No, no,” you manage to peel it off the tile. “This damn skirt is so much tighter than it used to be. God.” Standing up again, you shove your card into the wallet, not meeting his eyes as he drifts toward you. “Maybe I should change.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know.”

“I think it looks fucking fantastic.” You roll your eyes, looking at him with a deadpan stare. His mouth twitches a little as he drops his gaze to the jean skirt in question. “You look fucking hot.”

“We’re married. You have to say that.”

“Weird. I don’t remember that being in our vows.”

“It definitely was.” You fiddle with the zipper on your wallet, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I think it was right after in sickness. It said and always tell your wife she’s hot.”

His laugh is throaty and he reaches for you. You let him, his hands soft as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and something that is distinctly Wonwoo. Instead of looking up to meet his gaze, you focus on the pocket of his shirt, lifting your hands to fidget with it and press it flat.

“Baby,” he murmurs. You still don’t look up at him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I really like the skirt, but you can wear whatever you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. It makes your legs look good. Not to mention…” One hand drifts from your hip to your ass, squeezing generously. Your breath catches and your eyes flick up to meet his. They’re dark, a playful edge to his gaze that you’re intimately familiar with. “You look good in everything to me.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he imitates. Wonwoo’s fingers skim the edge of the skirt, brushing across your thighs. You shiver, clinging to him a little as your eyes flutter shut at the contact. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he says, “Want me to help you out of it?”

The two of you have been together for nine years, married for six. You know every part of your best friend turned boyfriend turned husband. There is no corner of his heart he has left unturned to you, no thought that you cannot complete, no words he can speak that you don’t already know.

So when he asks if you want him to help you out of it you know what he’s asking you. He isn’t saying he’ll help you out and to pick out a new skirt. He isn’t asking you to change it. He doesn’t even want you to put the skirt back on, if his hungry gaze and the low pitch of his voice tells you anything.

“I thought you wanted to go to the halloween party.”

His laugh comes out in a huff. “I’d like to get you out of that skirt more.”

Wonwoo’s fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, a question. “Please.”

Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. He spins you against the counter so that your hips are pressed to it, your back to his chest. He sinks his hands down your front, fingers deftly undoing the button. His hot breath is on your neck, his lips barely skimming your skin in an almost-kiss.

Button popped, Wonwoo pulls the material open. Instead of rolling it down at the waist, his hand snakes into your skirt, pressing against your underwear as his mouth connects with your throat. You let out a breathy noise, melting in his arms as he presses his fingers to your clit over the silk of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breath, going slack against him. He doesn’t mind, pinning you between him and the counter as he circles his fingers teasingly. He keeps his mouth busy, pressing wet kisses up your throat and toward your jaw. “Thought you wanted me out of it.”

“I will,” he promises, nipping your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. The lower pit of your stomach burns with desire, sparking at his lazy touch. “Just wanted to touch first.”

“Slow ain’t your thing, cowboy?”

“Nah, I’ve got a pretty thing that wants to take a ride.”

Your laugh is cut off by a hiss, your head falling forward, as Wonwoo glides a finger down to press at your entrance. You feel your muscles clench, your stomach lurching as he teases you. A hand shoots to his wrist and you dig your fingers in, nails biting.

“Be nice,” you warn sternly.

“Mmm. You’re using your mommy voice.”

“I wouldn’t have to if daddy was being nice.”

“Daddy says he’ll make up for it.”

Daddy does. He always does. Wonwoo loves to tease you and make you beg for it, but he doesn’t now, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he can stroke your pussy in full. He moans at the wetness he finds, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch as he works his hand between your legs.

Wonwoo’s fingers are deft and skillful, applying just the right pressure and stimulation to work you up. Your breath becomes stilted, feeling the ripples of pleasure as he gets you where he wants you. Pinned between him and the counter, you can’t move. Can’t squirm. Can’t buck your hands to meet his strokes when he sinks a finger into your cunt.

“Fuck,” he rasps, pressing a messy kiss to your shoulder. “Like fucking silk.”

Heat creeps up your neck. You feel breathless under his attention, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as Wonwoo leisurely fucks you with his finger, dragging it out only to slide up to your clit, circling gently.

Your fingers dig into him as Wonwoo strings you along, enjoying the way your sounds turn airy and weak. He plays you perfectly, working you up until you feel your thighs twitching, eyes shut as you let him steer you toward your peak.

Wonwoo pulls his hand from your skirt, making you eyes fly open, mouth hanging open. Turning to yell at him over your shoulder, your words are lost as he drops to his knees, fingers yanking your skirt as he goes.

Cool air hits your legs as he taps your ankle, asking you to step out of the skirt. You do and he rewards you with a gentle kiss on the back of your thigh, his hands skimming up your legs. You feel the coolness wear his wet fingers leave a slick trail on your skin.

Leaning forward, he plans another gentle kiss on the curve of your ass, making you laugh. He hums pleasantly, hands warm and explorative. He presses the small of your back gently, making you lean onto the counter, ass out.

Delicately, he peels your underwear from your hips, tossing them somewhere else. His hands return to your legs, pressing gently to pry your thighs apart. He groans at your messy cunt, no doubt proud of his work.

The marble countertop is freezing cold, ground you as you rest your cheek on it. You feel your chest heavy, holding your breath for a moment when Wonwoo leans forward and dips his tongue between your folds tentatively.

“Soonyoung should take the kids more often,” Wonwoo notes, breath hitting you between the legs. You make a strangled sound, distracted by the way his fingers squeeze your thighs, digging into the meat of them. His tongue dips back in, dragging upward again. “Want to do this more.”

“You - fuck - did this last night.”

“Not with you bent over the counter and this pretty ass in my face.” His hand smacks your ass lightly, making you squeal. He laughs deep in his throat, a little bit of a groan as he mutters, “Exactly.”

Wonwoo stops talking, mouth busy as he fastens his lips to your heat, sucking gently. He drives you insane, losing yourself in the way his tongue circles gently around your bundle of nerves. He alternates between tongue and lips, a shattering combination of heaven and hell as he works you toward an orgasm.

His mouth isn’t the reason you fell in love with him, but as you start breaking apart, you think it might be a solid entry on the list of reasons. You reach back with one hand, knocking the hat off his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. He grunts, appreciative as he gives a particularly greedy suck, making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away for a second. His fingers peel you open and you moan when you feel him spit against your hole, clenching around nothing. “Who needs candy when I have the sweetest thing right here?”

“Wonwoo.”

“You even melt in my mouth.”

“Wonwoo.”

He chuckles. “Yeah baby, I know.”

He always knows. He attaches his mouth back to you, slick and messy and loud as he works you to your orgasm. Your nails dig against his scalp - he doesn’t care. He lets you tug him further in, happy to press his face as close to your heat as possible.

You press back into him, muscle clenching. You burst like a bubble, completely coming undone under his mouth as you come against him, face pressed to the counter. He pushes you through it, not letting you escape him when you try and wiggle away, tongue hot and hungry until you’re begging him to let up.

Wonwoo pulls away, breathing heavily. His hands skate up and down your legs and suddenly you’re grateful your weight is all on the countertop, thighs totally useless.

“God damn,” you pants, eyes shut.

“Yeah,” he agrees and stands. You feel him crowd you in, touch seeking your hips. “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST

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#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: sweetest thing by sailorsoons #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: fluff #g: smut #g: established relationship #r: nsfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 17 days ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

June! My favourite Jun writer! This was so cute. I know there’s a lot of angst, but it’s still cute. It’s always to easy to imagine Jun in your stories, you write him so well 💗.

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded ” yay!

“ the real question is, where do you begin? ” my question with life in general tbh

“ but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. ” oh, I can just imagine him bouncing around the racks of baby clothes with a big grin and arms full and still picking up more because he wants his baby to have everything that is even remotely cute 🥺

“ “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.” ” wow!

“ seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready. ” he’s such a sweetheart 🥺

“ "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?" ” okay, that made me laugh ngl

“ he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you ” cute

Sorry I didn’t comment on much, I got absorbed in reading and forgot to write things down as I went like I usually do 😬

happy ending

member — husband!junhui x f reader genre — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count — 6.6k synopsis — a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time. warnings — female reader, planned pregnancy, there's a big argument but i tried to not make it too toxic (jun and reader have a happy & healthy relationship i promise), swearing, there is a happy ending lots of fluff !! notes — requested by anon — this has been sitting in my drafts for months bc every time i look at it i get shy and wanna change my mind but i'm proud of how this turned out so i'm posting it finally! i know pregnancy fics aren't everyone's favorite but this was honestly very comforting to write so i hope anyone who chooses to read can find comfort in it as well <3 also the last time i proofread this was like april and if i try to proofread it rn i'll get shy again and chicken out so if there's any mistakes pls ignore! i hope you enjoy :)

you sat on the bathroom floor, trying to comprehend the weight of the news you held in your hand. you couldn’t believe it. you could? you couldn’t.

after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded. the slim plastic stick with two tiny pink lines was the last piece of evidence you needed. it had been months of carefully tracked cycles, fertility doctors, and new positions that seemed too weird to actually do anything. but now, everything was finally falling into place.

you don’t know exactly how much time you spend sitting on the floor and staring at the pregnancy test; thinking, planning, and thinking some more. but when you finally stand up and place the positive test on the counter with shaking hands, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet what’s happening. something you’d wanted for so long, and finally it was all right in front of you.

what do you do now? no— you know exactly what you need to do, and it’s a long list of things. the real question is, where do you begin?

you thought back to all the videos you’d watched over the last few weeks. somehow every social media algorithm knew exactly what you wanted to see, and it had given it to you in abundance; baby showers, gender reveals, those “get ready with me - new mom edition” videos. all getting your hopes up before you could confirm whether or not it had finally happened.

with your hopes high and expectations even higher, you were already beginning to plan how you would break the news to junhui. as your husband and your soon-to-be baby’s father, of course you wanted him to be the very first person to know, so you couldn’t wait too long to tell him. you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

maybe you’d get a little gift box and give the test to him before dinner. but, then again, it was literally a piece of plastic you’d peed on. surely you could give him… something a little nicer than that.

maybe you could buy a baby outfit and wrap it up for him. but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. you would want him to have the honor of picking out the very first one, going to the store together and looking through the whole section before finally settling on the perfect one.

what else was there you could do? bake a cake? make a crossword puzzle? buy him a t-shirt that says “dad-to-be”? so many ways you could do it, but none of them seemed perfectly right.

from the other room you hear the door opening, and hurriedly you stuff the test into a drawer, not wanting to tell him just yet. you need a plan first; waiting another day or two couldn’t hurt, so you’ll just have to figure out how to tell him later.

you flip off the bathroom light and stride into the hallway, barely able to contain the grin on your face. you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, and with news as big and exciting as this you have no idea how you’re going to be able to hide it from him for more than a minute.

but luckily you don’t have to wonder about it for long, because as soon as you see jun you can already tell he’s in a sour mood.

you know it’s usually best to let him have some time alone when he’s upset, but not for too long because he starts getting frustrated with himself and won’t stop working until he’s exhausted.

but you’re still on a high after everything today, so you decide on being a little bit sweeter to him in the hopes that your happiness will be contagious and that it’ll lift his spirits, despite what was probably a really awful day at work.

you find him sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, long fingers pressed against his eyes trying to block out the light.

“hey, junnie,” you call out, sitting down in a chair next to him. “bad day?”

“yeah,” he answers shortly.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you hum, putting your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches and your hand falls away in surprise. he’s never done that before. weird. you try something else. “um, any requests for dinner?”

“not hungry.”

“alright. well, i guess i can cook up some veggies and leave them out, you can heat them up whenever you get hungry.”

he moves his hands away from his face and onto the table, sighing as he leans back in his chair. “can you just— leave me alone for a while? i’m sorry.”

you nod and stand up. “no, it’s fine. i get it. i’ll bring you some tea later then, maybe. text me when you’re feeling better.” you reach out and gently touch his hand before walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

it’s definitely one of his worser days, you note, so you retreat to your bedroom to watch more videos on your phone, trying to bring back your excitement from earlier. hopefully later he’ll be more open and you can sit down and eat something, and maybe by then you’ll have come up with a good way to tell him the news.

an hour passes and you come out of your bedroom to look for jun, having a question from one of your friends about the dinner you’d arranged to have together next week. but he’s no longer in the kitchen, so you peek your head into his office room and find him exactly where you expect him to be, trying to work himself to death.

you clear your throat before you enter, not wanting to startle him again. “hey, junnie, i know you’re in a bad mood, and i’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“what do you want?” he snaps, never turning around from his desk. just from the way he’s hunched over his computer, he looks like the most stressed you’ve ever seen him, and your chest tightens with worry before your brain registers what he’s just said to you.

“i— excuse me?”

“i said, what do you want?” he repeats, still facing away from you.

you resist the urge to glare at him, knowing he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and you aren’t trying to add to it. “you don’t have to be rude, jun. i just came in here to double check about next weekend, minghao’s texting me.”

he finally lifts his head, slamming his hand down on the desk. “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief, your voice lifting in tone. “well, i’m so very sorry to inconvenience you then, but i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, jun.”

“and i don’t appreciate you talking to me like i’m a child! when will you get it through your head?”

his comment stings, but you brush it off. “well, maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit and hiding in your office then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” you’re starting to get tired of how he retreats in on himself every time bad shit happens. all you want to do is let him know he doesn’t have to do it alone, and he’s just… exploding at you for no reason, so you don’t try to hide the snarkiness behind your words.

he scoffs angrily and stands up, towering over you at his full height. “oh, grow up! you’re so moody all the time and you expect me to just put up with it! as if i don’t have enough other shit to worry about, i have to worry about what you think of this and that and everything all the damn time!”

you’ve never seen him get so angry like this, and it’s almost scary how completely different this jun is from the jun you know and love. “okay, jun, fine, i’ll just—”

“no, don’t fucking “jun, fine” me. it’s like you’re doing it on purpose at this point, you act like everything is just so perfect and then when it’s not you act like it’s your job to fix everything! you can’t fix everything!”

“i said fine! just forget it, i’ll leave you the hell alone like you always want!”

he pushes past you and crosses the room in two strides, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. “i need to get some air. i’ll be back later.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying to look unphased but inside your heart is breaking. “you’re really gonna walk out like that? you’re just gonna run away from this? real mature, junhui.”

he spins around, and the look in his eyes is cold. “if i don’t get out of this house right now i’m gonna say something i actually regret.”

and in a flash the door is slammed shut and jun is gone. you can hear his car starting up in the driveway, and seconds later everything is dead silent.

you stand frozen in front of the door, unable to move. you can’t believe it. you can’t. what just happened?

jun has never just… walked out like that.

his words ring in your ears; though your argument wasn’t very long, a lot was said in a very short time and you can’t even begin to think about how to process it as it starts to hit you all at once.

say something he actually regrets? what the hell does that mean? so he’s saying he doesn’t regret everything else, the cursing and the anger and the pointed words that were clearly meant to hurt you?

minute after long minute passes and you realize he’s not coming back anytime soon. finally you drag yourself away from the door, dropping down on the couch in a daze.

there’s never been a time where you and jun haven’t made up immediately after an argument. sure, maybe you take a little bit to cool down in your own space, but neither of you like letting the tension sit unresolved for very long. so what was it this time that made him leave without even a goodbye?

so many reasons, so many excuses, so many words you could’ve said instead. you shouldn’t have reacted like that, you shouldn’t have kept it going, you should’ve just left him alone. would that have made him stay? if you’d backed down sooner and just let him work through it on his own?

despite all the what-ifs and the doubts in your mind, your conscience won’t allow you to let him worry about everything by himself without at least offering your help. you’re a team, husband and wife, and you’ll be damned if you let him forget that. maybe you trying to help actually made things worse in the end, but at least you know you tried… right?

it’s not until you check your phone and realize that jun’s been gone more than half an hour that you finally let yourself cry. you’d been so focused on worrying about where jun was and whether he was okay that you’d barely even thought about what might happen after this.

will he just… come back and pretend nothing happened? will he come back and still be angry at you? it would almost be worse if he was calm and acted like everything was normal. would he even apologize? would you even apologize? of course you would. both of you said things that were fucked up, and you’ll be the first to admit it if it means this whole thing can be over. right now all you want is to have junhui back.

the tears keep falling but you don’t even feel yourself crying, your face rigid as the tears continue to stain your cheeks.

after an hour you force yourself to get up off the couch and move somewhere, anywhere around the house to try and get your mind off things. but you can’t erase his voice from your head, the look in his eyes as he walked out the door and the way his shoulders hunched from anger mixed with exhaustion.

you find yourself back in your bedroom and you fall onto his side of the bed, wishing you would wake up to find that this has all just been a very bad dream.

it’s after 10pm when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand and you sit up in a panic, scrambling to see if it’s something from jun. your eyes sting from crying so much, and you blink away the remaining tears as you unlock your phone with shaking hands. your heart drops even further when you realize it is, in fact, from jun, but not the news you want to hear.

you let your phone slip out of your grasp, tumbling to the carpet with a thud. when he’d said he’d be back later you had assumed that meant he’d be coming back tonight. clearly you thought wrong.

tomorrow seemed so far away; too much time to spend alone in a house that was supposed to be filled with happy memories, but now all you felt was pain. you felt it in your chest and in your stomach and in your head and everywhere. the whole room was suffocating, heavy weight crushing down on you from every angle.

you slide to the floor and pick up your phone. you don’t text junhui back. you’re not sure anymore if he’d even read your message.

instead you type in your friend seokmin’s phone number, listening to the line ring as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes.

as soon as he picks up, he can hear the anguish in your voice and he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong, but all you can muster up is a soft, “can i stay with you tonight?” because you can’t bear to be in this house another second without junhui.

and of course he says yes, and of course he’s immediately on his way over to pick you up. and of course he stops at mcdonald’s on the way back to his house to buy you something to eat, because you haven’t eaten and even though you don’t particularly have much of an appetite right now, seokmin would rather die than let you skip a meal, especially on a night like tonight when you could really use something to keep you going.

you throw your overnight bag on the floor of seokmin’s living room with a small sigh. in a haze you’d tossed in whatever items you thought you might need; a toothbrush, pajamas, something to wash your face with.

he gives you space for a while as he pulls out the folding bed part of the couch and brings out blankets and pillows for you to sleep with. you don’t say it, but you really appreciate his help. he’s been one of your best friends for so long, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

you hadn’t thought about it while you were packing, but as you stand in seokmin’s bathroom you think about the cleanser you’d grabbed; your favorite one, the one jun had gotten you for your birthday last year and you’d never switched to another brand since.

every single thing reminds you of him, and you push down a fresh wave of emotion as you scrub the foam into your skin, trying to wash away all your tears.

when you’re done getting ready for bed you find seokmin in the living room with a pot of tea. he was just trying to help, but unluckily for him, he’d made green tea. it was your favorite… but it also happened to be jun’s favorite.

and this time you can’t hold back your tears, and seokmin is sitting wide eyed and bewildered, wondering why you’re crying over tea, but he doesn’t ask. he just reaches out to let you hug him, and you squeeze him so tightly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets you hug him as hard as you can and lets your tears stain his t-shirt.

it takes another half hour for you to calm down enough to talk. you’d spent the time watching whatever was on tv, not really paying attention and instead playing everything back in your mind. seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready.

“jun and i… had a fight,” you say finally, interrupting the commercial playing on the screen.

“i figured,” he says, offering you a comforting smile as he mutes the tv. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“i don’t know. there’s not much to talk about.” you take a shaky breath, remembering it all one more time. “we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean. at least, i know i didn’t mean them. then he just… left, and he texted that he’d come home tomorrow. that’s it.”

you don’t tell him about the pregnancy test. you’ve mentioned once or twice that you and jun had been interested in starting a family, but you’d never gone into detail about it and you weren’t going to now. you still wanted jun to be the first person to know, even though you didn’t know when that might be anymore.

you tell him about other things instead, about your day at work and your plans for the weekend. eventually you finish your tea, and seokmin retreats to his own room and shuts the door with a quiet click, leaving you alone in the quiet of his living room.

it takes you a long time to fall asleep, but soon your exhaustion catches up with you and you let yourself rest, physically and emotionally drained. at least the silence here isn’t as bad as the silence at your house.

across town in his friend seungcheol’s guest bedroom, jun can’t stop tossing and turning. he’s fucked up, he knows he fucked up, big time.

why did he leave? he shouldn’t have left. you had been absolutely right, he was running away from everything and it was stupid and dumb and immature. but in that moment all he could think about was what the next awful thing he might say to you was, and he knew if he had stayed for any longer he wouldn’t have been able to stop what came out of his mouth. he was out of control, and immediately he knew it.

not even the worst day in the world could make you deserving of all the things he said to you. you were the only thing that wasn’t bad in his life; even on shitty days like today, all you did was care about him. and all he did was hurt you.

jun barely sleeps that night, finally forcing himself out of the extra bed at dawn. he’d been too anxious to sleep, too frustrated with himself to do anything other than think about everything he did and wonder if you were okay without him.

he’d already gotten an earful from his friend last night, and he knew he was still in big trouble. the things he said wouldn’t just go away overnight. in fact, they’d probably gotten worse by leaving them to build up overnight, and again he’s kicking himself for ever leaving in the first place.

he packs up his things as quickly as he can, eager to get home and see you again. on his way out the door, he thanks seungcheol for letting him stay the night and he apologizes for bothering him so late.

“i’m not the one you need to apologize to. you better figure out how to fix this, jun.”

with a straight face he nods, bowing his head as he closes the door.

in his car, jun takes the long way home, trying to find an open grocery store. he knows it won’t make up for how he acted, but the very least he can do it buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he walks through the aisles, basket in hand, trying to think of something else for you. maybe he’ll get the ingredients he needs to make your favorite dinner tonight; he hadn’t eaten last night, though you had offered to cook for him and he’d shot you down.

he feels another pang of guilt at the thought, remembering yet another kind gesture you’d tried to give him that he’d brushed off like it meant nothing. it meant everything to him, and in the middle of the frozen vegetables aisle he swore he wouldn’t ever do it again.

he’d taken you for granted, and he was so lucky that things hadn’t ended worse than they did. he could’ve said something truly unforgivable, or he could’ve even lost your relationship altogether. but he was still yours, and you were still his, and he would just have to work extra hard to make sure you knew how sincere he was.

he’d been a little worried that you hadn’t texted him back last night, seeing that you’d read his message but never responded. you were probably still hurt, and he didn’t blame you; still, he’d hoped you would say something back.

with grocery bags loaded full of ingredients for dinner and the special things he’d bought for you, the drive back home feels a little more hopeful.

he plans out everything he’ll do in the car. he’ll bring the groceries in and put them away quickly; it’s still fairly early in the morning, so hopefully you won’t be awake yet. he’ll arrange your flowers all nice in a pretty vase, and he’ll come in and wake you up with the best apology of his life and hopefully a really big hug. after the last 24 hours he really could use a hug, and he’s sure you could too. and then he’ll explain how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean any of it and then everything will be better again. yes, everything will be okay.

the first part of his plan goes perfectly. he sneaks into the house and when he’s met with silence he continues putting everything away, quietly so he won’t wake you up in the other room. then, he puts the flowers in a vase and with everything in place, he walks down the hallway to finally face you.

but when he twists the bedroom door handle, the bed is made and the room is empty. you aren’t there.

he frowns, leaving the room and poking his head into the bathroom, then his office. he calls your name loudly, hoping you’re just in a corner of the house and you’ll come out once you hear him. but no reply.

he goes back into the living room and sets the vase down on the coffee table, trying to think. you aren’t usually up this early, but maybe you hadn’t been able to sleep and you’d gone out for a walk, or maybe you’d gone to the store to get more cereal?

a sinking feeling rises in his chest, and he walks back into the bedroom to confirm something, sliding open the closet door to check. your overnight duffel bag is gone.

he ducks back into the bathroom to check something else. your toothbrush isn’t sitting in the jar like it usually is. he slides open the bathroom drawer to check one more thing, and—

his hand freezes on the knob, staring at something in the drawer that wasn’t there before. he’s not sure it is what he thinks it is, but either way there it is, clear as day in front of him: a little white piece of plastic, sticking out from underneath a tissue.

gingerly he pulls it out, holding it up to the light to see it better. when he sees the two pink lines he nearly drops it in shock, but he stops himself, setting it gently on the counter instead.

this is something special, something precious, and he knew he had to take care of it. you’d saved it for a reason; you could’ve easily just thrown it away once you knew the results, but you had kept it instead. were you going to give it to him?

he covers his mouth with his hand, still staring at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. it was just a cheap piece of plastic, but to him it was the most important thing in the entire world.

he deflates when he realizes you’d probably been planning on telling him last night, before he’d blown up at you. if he’d been paying attention to anyone other than himself, he would’ve noticed your mood was happier than usual, your face glowing with contained excitement. he should’ve been paying attention.

there’s a sense of urgency in his stride as he dashes around the house, looking for any other sign of you, but it’s clear you weren’t there. there were so many places you could be, he can’t even begin to think of where to look. your parents, friends, family; hell, you could even have stayed in a hotel, alone and upset. he should’ve been there. none of this should’ve ever happened.

immediately he presses the speed dial for your phone, but of course– no answer. he calls again, and again you don’t pick up. he curses, resisting the urge to slam his phone down on the table in frustration. no, he has to stay calm. that’s what got him into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

he remembers that your parents are out of town on vacation, so you probably wouldn’t have gone there. you wouldn’t have gone to a hotel because you always lecture him about the importance of saving money “just in case”, so you wouldn’t have paid to stay somewhere. your sister is still in college and shares an apartment with three other people, so probably not the best idea either.

that narrows it down to one of your friends’ houses; seokmin, who lives a couple blocks away, or joshua, who lives on the other side of town.

he figures seokmin is his best bet, so jun takes a deep breath and finds the contact in his phone.

“what do you want?” seokmin’s usually cheery voice has an edge to it today, and jun knows he’s picked right.

“is she there?” he asks anxiously.

“she is,” he confirms, and jun exhales, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “but she’s asleep still. i’ll let her know you called.”

“wait,” jun adds quickly.

the line is silent for a moment, and he’s afraid seokmin’s already hung up, but finally he gets a response. “what is it?”

"can i–are you sure? please," jun pleads. if he could just talk to you, just explain what happened and that he's so fucking sorry—

“hold on,” seokmin says, and the phone goes quiet again.

jun’s heart is in his throat as he waits for a response, and he stops when he finally hears your voice. “hello?”

he breathes a sigh of relief. “sweetheart. i’m so sorry.”

you don’t reply, so he continues.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he starts, trying to put the right words together. “i shouldn’t have said any of that last night, and i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry.”

“thanks” is all you say, and he hates how small and sad your voice sounds. it’s his fault you sound like that.

“i found your test,” he bursts out, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

“oh." you pause, swallowing. "so… you know.”

“yes, i do know, baby. i’m so sorry, if i had known before—”

you cut him off, your tone suddenly rising with anger. “‘if you had known?’ so you won’t yell at me if i’m pregnant, but you’re just fine with yelling at me when you think i’m not? is that the only reason why you’re even apologizing to me right now?"

“no— fuck, no, of course not. i shouldn’t yell at you, period. and i’m not going to ever again.” jun pauses for a second, rubbing his hand over his eyes. he’s done nothing so far but make everything worse. “i really messed up, honey, and i’m sorry. i can’t say it enough. but— please, come home. i don’t want to talk over the phone.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall again. you don’t want to cry about this anymore. “okay,” you say finally. “i’ll be home in a little while.”

“thank you,” jun says, and the way his voice breaks makes your heart sink. you can tell he feels awful about everything, and you do really, really miss him.

“…i love you," you add, changing your mind at the last second.

“i love you, too!” he says immediately. “i love you, too, honey. text me when you’re on your way.”

“i will.”

he says “i love you” twice more before you end the call. you sit in silence for a second, processing everything before you stand up off the couch and head to seokmin’s room to give him back his phone.

"can you take me home now, please?" you tell him softly, and immediately seokmin stands up and hugs you, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"of course. let me know when you're ready."

half an hour later you find yourself in the front seat of seokmin’s car once again, this time sitting nervously in his driveway as he puts your bag in the trunk for you. you're still not sure if you're ready to face jun yet, but you know you have to.

reluctantly you unlock your phone and open your text messages with jun, your eyes landing on the text he'd sent last night that had gone unreplied. with shaky fingers you type out that you're leaving seokmin’s house, and jun replies almost instantly with a long string of heart emojis.

seokmin gets into the car and starts it, and you exhale and set your phone in the cupholder.

"are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at you. "because you can always let me know if you need anything. anytime, day or night."

"i'm alright," you say, taking a deep breath. "i'm fine. but thank you, seok. i really appreciate everything."

he smiles, shifting the car into reverse. "of course. it's no problem at all."

the second he hears the car pull up outside the house, jun jumps up off the couch, smoothing his shirt down anxiously. through the window he watches seokmin hand you your bag and close the trunk, giving you one last hug before he gets back in the car. he doesn't drive away until you're at the front porch, and with a deep breath jun swings open the door, before you can even knock.

you both stand there in silence for a second before he blurts out another apology. "i'm sorry," he rushes to say. "i'm really sorry."

you give him a weak smile. "can i maybe… get in the house, first?" you ask quietly, motioning with your free hand at the doorway.

"yeah, i— yeah, shit, of course," jun says as he practically jumps out of your way, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

you set your bag on the floor by the couch as he closes the door behind you. the sound of the lock clicking seems too loud in the uncomfortable silence that settles over the room.

"can… can i give you a hug? please?" he asks, and you stay quiet but nod.

he closes the distance between you in one stride and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly and holding you close to his chest. "i'm so sorry, honey. i didn't mean any of it. i promise."

"i believe you," you finally manage, your voice a little muffled from how he's pressing you against him.

he doesn't say anything more, just holds you and holds you, and it feels so good to be home where you belong. there's a lot that needs to be said, but for right now you don't need any more words. you're just glad to be back together again.

after a while you pull your head away from him so you speak. "i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong, baby. i'm the one that needs to be apologizing."

you shake your head. "no. i said some things last night, too. granted, not as bad as you, but…"

jun breaks out into a grin at your joke, and you feel your mood start to lighten. "…which is true. and i'm sorry."

"jun, you can stop apologizing now. i get it, you're sorry. you don't have to tell me a million times," you say, trying to laugh a little.

now it's his turn to shake his head. "well, i'm going to anyway. because i am sorry." you look away from him, feeling embarrassment start to boil up, but he continues talking. "i'm serious. i'll say it as many times as it takes to make it right."

you turn your head back to him, struggling to keep a straight face. "why did you leave, jun?" you ask softly.

he takes a deep breath, and still trapped in his arms you can feel his chest expand with the breath.

"it was stupid," he says finally. "i left because i didn't want to stay and risk hurting you more. but i realize i did that anyway, by leaving. i was just… i needed some air. but i shouldn't have stayed away, and i'm not gonna do that again. i won't do it, ever again."

"i just don't want you to leave me," you manage, trying and failing to hide the crack in your voice as you feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

he hugs you tighter and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair with his thumb. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. i'm not going to, i promise."

you don't respond, but you know he's telling the truth. the last 24 hours have been hell for the both of you, and you don't doubt he means every single "i'm sorry" he's said.

"so…" jun starts, and you tilt your head up at him.

"so?" you know what he's going to say next, and despite the excitement you had yesterday you feel yourself dreading this part of the conversation.

"you're pregnant?"

you sigh, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "yeah."

he hums. "but you don't sound excited?" he asks.

"well, i was, last night."

"i'm sorry," he winces. "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?"

you shake your head. "no, it's fine. the moment's kinda… ruined, already."

he sighs. "yeah, i know. i'm sorry i ruined it."

"i said it's fine, jun."

"no, it's not fine," he says firmly. "it's one hundred percent my fault. this is important to you, and to us, and we should be celebrating right now. last night should never have happened."

"jun, it's in the past. it was messed up, but i forgive you," you say, lifting you head to look at him once more. "it's not a big deal. we're okay now."

"i just want you to be happy about it," he says with a sniff. "we've been trying for so long, and finally…" he trails off, staring at you with watery eyes.

you smile at him. "i am happy about it, junnie. i'm so happy, you can't even believe."

"did you tell seokmin?" he asks, and his brows furrow when you shake your head no.

"no, i didn't. i wanted you to be the first i told," you say shyly. "i knew you would want to be the first to know."

"i love you so much," he says, still hugging you. he's never going to let you go, never again. "do you know how far along?"

"no, i didn't go to the doctor. probably like two or three weeks, though, if i've been counting it right."

"wow," he sighs, a smile on his face as he stares off into the distance behind you. "i can't wait."

you watch his eyes, practically able to see the thoughts running through his head.

after a while he loosens his grip around you, moving to swipe at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. "well—anyway," he starts, giving you an awkward chuckle. "i bought stuff for breakfast. if you haven't had any, yet. and i'm making dinner tonight, too."

before you can even respond his eyes widen, like he's just now remembering all the things he had planned, and he lets go of you, bounding into the kitchen. he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you. "and i got these for you, too. sorry they're not the best, it's all the store had this morning."

"junnie, if this is the best the store had, then i don't think i wanna see their best," you laugh, holding the flowers up and admiring the dozens of bright blooms. "this is gorgeous, but you really didn't need to get me anything."

"but i wanted to," he counters, still running around the room to grab the gift bag sitting by the couch. "consider it an 'i'm very sorry' slash 'congrats you're having a baby' gift."

you set the vase down on the table next to you and take the bag from him, pulling out the tissue paper and crumpling it into a ball.

"i didn't have a whole lot of time to look this morning, but i found these," he says nervously, waiting for your reaction.

from the bag you pull out a miniature plastic hanger holding a set of tiny pajamas covered in little kitties, attached to a matching set of striped orange socks.

"i wanted to be the first person to get you baby clothes," he explains as he fidgets with his hands.

"i knew you would," you smile at him, setting the empty bag and the clothes on the table along with the bouquet of flowers. "and they're perfect. they're so… you."

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another hug. "i love all of it. thank you, jun."

he grins, rocking you back and forth in his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheek. "i love you too, baby. i missed you so much. i won't ever do that again."

"i know," you smile. "now… you promised me breakfast, isn't that right? because i'm starving. crying is exhausting."

he laughs. "no crying anymore. and i did promise you that, so tell me: do you want blueberry waffles, or strawberry?"

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❯ i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: happy ending by archived-junkissed #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: wen junhui x reader #g: angst #g: fluff #g: established relationship #r: sfw #wc: 5k to 10k #june 💗

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 20 days ago

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hello, by any chance, do you happen to know if hannieehaee deleted their account or changed their name account? I can’t seem to find the fic you reviewed and I’m growing desperateeee 🥲

The account has been deleted, yes. At least, as far as I've seen. I know they were going to deactivate months back and planned to leave their fics up, but I assume they changed their mind and entirely deactivated.

The only way to really read the story would be through a reblog (I assume you can read the full story via my reblog) but the original post isn't accessible anymore

I'm not sure what story you're referring to exactly, but I might be able to recommend something with a similar theme if you let me know which story it was

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 20 days ago

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Hi! I had read some of your ff on your main blog a few days ago but I realized I couldn't access them anymore, may you please check if I was blocked so I can see if it's something wrong on my end 🥲? I really enjoyed your ff!! And would like to see more :3 (I am a 99l but hadn't updated my profile before until recently 😔)

Just unblocked you, thank you for adding an age indicator to your account!

I'm glad you enjoy whatever story you've read!💗

Also, another reason writers block accounts is if they're blank because they might be bot accounts and such. Just a heads up to anyone else who may read this and wonder why they've been blocked by a writer despite having an age indicator. Reblogging stuff makes your account look real and also supports creators (if you follow those kinds of accounts [artists/writers etc]) so I strongly advise reblogging some stuff, especially to support your favourite creators! (once again, this is just a general note to anyone who may see this ask, I'm not aiming it at you specifically 💗)

#nothoughtsjustfic stuff

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 28 days ago

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Hello, I’m writing you because I think there’s a problem with your other blog “ nothoughtsjustfic “. I was reading one of your fics ( which was amazing by the way) and it crashed saying that your blog cannot be found.

Did your remove your blog or is it a technical problem ? Anyway keep writing, your fics are awesome much love ❤️❤️

Oh, that's very strange. As far as I can tell, everything is fine. I genuinely have no idea why it would crash like that

I hope it was just a glitch and you'll be able to finiah reading whatever story it was soon!

I'm glad you enjoy my work, though! Makes me very happy to hear 💗

#nothoughtsjustfic stuff

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 29 days ago

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I genuinely never thought I’d read an au of a video game I have no clue about, but this was such a good lil series! I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time here in this world 💗

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ The people living here have truly made an effort to beautify their little community with whatever they had available. ” love that for them

“ “You’re just really handsome, that’s all,” ” so damn true

“ “You being this pretty while literally being covered in someone’s innards says a lot about how naturally beautiful you are.” ” made me snort lol

“ “How’s your leg feeling today? Should I fetch you any painkillers?” ” aw how sweet of him. Thinking of his gal’s comfort and pain when he could be getting jiggy with it

“ Satty trots over, curious about the plant in your hand. ” BESTIE!!!

“ “How’s my hot librarian wife doing?” ” SCREECHING

“ “how’s my hot sniper husband doing?” ” on today’s episode of “what did chee read wrong” I read “sniper husband” as “spinster husband”, which initially made me laugh, but then I was just very confused at the contradiction 😂

“ And once again, you’re reminded that even in this broken world, you’ve found something whole. ” oh, that was such a sweet and perfect way to end!

Under the Orange Colored Sky - Chapter 6: I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

Summary: The threat is over, and you're settling in to your new, peaceful life in the grove.

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 2,2k for this chapter chapter: 6/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

Masterlist / << Previous Our heroes last chapter already, thank you so much for reading 🧡

Chapter 6: I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire

Using the current confusion as an edge, you nimbly unhook one of the frag grenades from your belt.

As your carts roll into the sanctuary, you and Wonwoo peak out in the back. The sun is rising, and you finally get to take a good look at his face in daylight again.

His eyes dart around as the gate behind you closes, and the signs of real civilization starts to appear.

An old tire used as a flower bed. Windchimes made of rusted scrap metal.

The people living here have truly made an effort to beautify their little community with whatever they had available.

You glance over at him taking it all in, his eyes widening as small buildings appear, relatively well kept. Even though his face is full of small cuts and bruises, he looks relieved.

There’s a spark in his eye despite the exhaustion you’re both feeling at this point.

“What?” He turns to you, smirking, as he notices you staring.

“You’re just really handsome, that’s all,”

He grins as he leans in and gives you an affectionate peck on your cheek.

“You being this pretty while literally being covered in someone’s innards says a lot about how naturally beautiful you are.” Your nose scrunches up in mock disgust, but a laugh escapes anyway. He’s right, though. You’re both dying for a proper wash and fresh clothes. An older man smokes a pipe on a nearby porch, gently rocking in his chair. At his feet, a little girl plays with a couple of battered toy cars. He squints at the two of you, then lifts his hand in a small, friendly wave.

Both you and Wonwoo smile as you wave back. - - -One week later

You wake up with an arm splayed across your belly, a thumb gently stroking across your skin.

It’s strange to meet a new day without that familiar heaviness in your chest.

That faint feeling of dread—fear of everything unknown out in the wasteland ready to rob you, eat you or kill you. Not knowing if you’ll have enough food or water.

Life hasn’t felt this light in as long as you can remember, made infinitely better by having a warm body protectively wrapped around you.

“Good morning baby, sleep well?” Wonwoo’s deep voice hums in your ear.

You lay your arm across his, and settle deeper into your current spooning position, basking in his closeness.

“I did, and you?” Your eyes are still shut, shielding yourself from the rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains.

“Mhm, very,” his breath tickling your neck.

His lips are on your exposed neck, kissing it gently.

You sigh in pleasure, and it spurs him on—kisses trailing towards your collar bone.

His warm and wet lips stirs something in you.

You feel needy, and instinctively buck your hips back at him.

It earns you a low groan, as he pulls down the strap on your tank top, revealing your breast.

He grabs your waist and rolls you over on his side, and your lips are instantly on his.

His hand on your waist starts to move downwards now, settling on the curve of your hip, clothed by your skimpy sleep shorts. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.

“How’s your leg feeling today? Should I fetch you any painkillers?”

You smile at how caring he is for you, but shake your head.

“It’s only a dull ache, but I’m not in pain.” He strokes your hip again, and you tug him closer. “I need you back here.” You dive into another kiss, deeper this time. His mouth trails down your chest, lips enveloping a stiff peak with reverence. There are no nipping teeth or faintly scraping nails this morning—just softness. Affection.

You always found the term making love to be kind of corny, but this is undoubtedly it.

“Can I pull this off?” He’s tugging at the hem of your tank top, and you stretch your arms out so he can shimmy it off.

He moves you fully on your back now, positioning himself in between your thighs.

You get a good look at him now that he’s hovering over you—his eyes are still puffy from sleeping, and he looks adorable like this.

His dark brown hair is all tousled, and he has that distinct warm man scent—it’s not necessarily bad, but on the contrary a scent you want to bury yourself in completely. His hungry gaze roams your body—your lips, breasts, plush belly

“You’re so beautiful Boo, I could stay in bed with you all day,” you reach up to cup his cheek, touched by the sincerity in his voice.

You’re both uncharacteristically patient and tender with each other this morning—maybe your subconscious knows that you’re all safe now, allowing you to linger.

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as his hand dips beneath the hem of your shorts, gently cupping your bare mound.

You bite your lip at the sensation, almost begging him audibly to touch you further.

He lets his finger run against your slit, gasping as he feels how wet you already are, collecting your arousal on his fingers.

He grins, and when they reach your nub, he applies pressure and starts to rub ever so slightly.

You arch your back and whimper in pleasure, pushing yourself against his palm.

“That’s it baby,” his words just make you grind against him more, and he slips one of his fingers inside of you.

“You’re always so ready for me, perfect girl,” he hums.

You sigh, “Wonwoo, I need more.”

He’s not hard to ask, and he pulls his shorts down just enough for his length to pop out. It’s hard and ready, and you can’t help but wet your lips at the sight.

He slides upwards until your faces meet—your arms wrapped across his back, and his elbows on the sides of your face.

As he kisses you, you use one of your hands to line him up against your entrance.

He enters you tenderly—barely pushing, as he lets you decide the pace.

“More, I need more,” you moan, and he thrusts carefully into you, until he’s fully settled and stretching you out. You stay like this for a beat, fully immersed in each other both physically and emotionally.

“Take me Wonwoo,” you whisper in his ear, and he instantly starts sliding in and out of you, while keeping you flush against him.

You’re completely enveloped in each other now, letting the pleasure overflow your senses as you make love.

You feel his lips against your ear, “just because I’m fucking you slow,” he pants, “doesn’t mean you’re not coming first.”

You can’t help but react to his promise, and a needy whimper escapes you.

“Let me give you some space baby,” he stays inside you as he grabs a pillow, swiftly positioning it under your behind. This angle allows you to stimulate yourself, while he’s still right above you.

You didn’t anticipate his next move though.

He slides slightly back, gathering saliva in his mouth and letting it drip down to your core.

Your eyes widen at the filthy display, but you love it—and he knows it.

“That should make it easier,” he grins, watching you position your finger expertly on your nub.

He takes it as a sign to start moving inside of you again, still thrusting at a low and deliberate pace.

The combination of your building climax and the strokes of his length inside you has you seeing stars already.

His dark gaze is fixed on your face, studying your changing expressions and sounds of pleasure.

A drop of sweat drips from his forehead down on your cheek, and he bends down licking it off of you.

“Wonwoo, I’m coming,” the taut string in your abdomen is about to snap, and he thrusts into you faster, “come for me baby, I want to fill you up so badly.”

You’re finally spilling over the edge, toes curling and thighs trembling.

You clench around him, and he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Of fuck, I’m coming,” as you’re still trembling, you feel him pulsing inside of you, as he collapses on top of your chest.

You’re both in a daze now, sweaty and positively steaming.

His length is still twitching inside of you, and you can’t help but giggle and lift your eyebrows.

“You filled me up alright”; he’s pretty much out of it, but still manages to laugh, “I can’t hold myself back with you Boo, you’re irresistible.”

Your hand strokes his back lovingly, as you relax in the state of your blissed out bodies. - - -

Two months later

“Wonwoo, come look!” you clap your hands excitedly, kneeling on the dirt below you.

He jogs over, crouching beside you.

“Look at these,” you lift a leaf on the plant in front of you, revealing a small sprout.

He leans in to study it closer, “oh, a baby tato?”

You nod eagerly.

When you moved into The Grove, you were placed in one of the homes that came with a little orchard. The couple who lived here had succumbed to radiation illness, and the orchard was neglected and dying when you moved in.

You still remember the look you and Wonwoo gave each other when you caught a glance of the yard as you entered your home for the first time—both ready to roll up your sleeves and transform it into something that could sustain you.

By the help from your kind neighbours, you’d acquired both corn, mutfruit, tatos, silt beans and razor grain—all growing happily outside your home. “That brahmin dung is working miracles,” he remarks, straight-faced. You snort.

Satty trots over, curious about the plant in your hand.

“These are not for snacking, ok girl?” She tilts her head at you, losing interest—probably more interested in the mountain of canned dog food at the settlement storage house anyway.

Wonwoo plants a kiss on your cheek.

“Well done baby, we’re going to have some delicious stews when winter arrives.”

You envision the pair of you in front of the fireplace, huddled under a throw as you dig into your own, home-made meal.

Satty settled strategically below you on the floor, forever hopeful for any leftovers. - - -

One year later

You open the canvas bag, pulling out two dusty, beat-up books.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” you mutter to yourself.

You wipe the grime off the first one, “Dean’s Electronics.”

You open a random page, and it’s got a detailed description of how you assemble a radio. “Cool, this could definitely be useful,” you place it in a shelf labelled Utility .

You grab another book. “Making Friends, Vol 2.,” you snicker at the title, “well that’s undoubtedly useful outside these gates!”.

You’re not sure which category it belongs in, but you decide to put it in Utility as well.

There’s a knock on the door, and Wonwoo pokes his head in.

“How’s my hot librarian wife doing?”

Your beam.

“I’m doing good, how’s my hot sniper husband doing? Did you spot any radscorpions from your tower today?” He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “No monsters. Just a clear sky and a nice breeze.” He lifts you from your chair, holding you tight against him. “Life could be worse,” you murmur. “Definitely. But I don’t think it could get any better.” Your lips meet. Eyes close. Time slows. And once again, you’re reminded that even in this broken world, you’ve found something whole.

・❥・

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Taglist: @lixisoul99

#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 6 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: angst #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: fluff #g: sci-fi #g: smut #r: nsfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Oh, this is just 🥺💗🥺💗🥺 (I am aware that for a writer, I’m terrible with words lol)

I shall be waiting patiently for the next part!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ In that instant, he understands exactly what you’re doing. ” they know each other so well 🥺

“ Satty appears in an instant, licking your face gently with concern. ” what a good girl 🥺

“ A scream pierces the silence—a woman’s voice, raw with rage. ” did she kill him?! Woohoo! (the slaver who hit her I mean, not wonwoo)

“ Several of his nails are missing—just torn, raw skin left behind. ” ouch

“ “So you two were the rescue party for this tall drink of water?” ” I snorted omg

“ You snort. ” snap! Hehe

“ “Hi lover.” ” oh, the face I just pulled at that, why did I find that so fucking cute omg

Under the Orange Colored Sky - Chapter 5: Crazy He Calls Me

Summary: You're truly in the middle of the rescue mission now, and it's undoubtedly a game of high risk - high reward.

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 1,4k for this chapter chapter: 5/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

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Chapter 5: Crazy He Calls Me

Using the current confusion as an edge, you nimbly unhook one of the frag grenades from your belt.

Your thumb finds the pin, and you start to pull.

Wonwoo catches the motion out of the corner of his eye. His gaze snaps to yours. In that instant, he understands exactly what you’re doing.

"Drop the bat," his tone is still grounded and calm.

Marty scoffs, still clutching the weapon.

The pin clinks to the ground, the men behind you seemingly still oblivious about the danger they’re in.

You grip the handle tight—one slip, and it’s all over.

Heart hammering, you shut your eyes and fling the grenade backward, over your shoulder.

You don’t look. You don’t breathe. You just pray it flies far enough to spare you, Wonwoo, and Satty from the blast.

Wonwoo fires. The grenade detonates.

You keep your eyes shut as you clamp your hands over your ears. The shockwave hits you.

You're launched forward. Your body crashes onto the roof of a tent; the tarp sags beneath you, absorbing the worst of the fall like a net.

Silence.

You blink up at a sky glittering with stars, breath shallow, ears ringing.

“Boo!” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back. He appears below. “Are you okay?”

He grabs your leg gently, easing you toward him.

“Shit,” he hisses, flinching.

You manage to push yourself upright just enough to meet his eyes.

“There’s something sharp in your leg. Let me get you down carefully.”

Something stings in your left leg, the ache gradually increasing.

You slide toward him, and he catches you, lowering you to the ground.

Satty appears in an instant, licking your face gently with concern.

Propped up on your elbows, you scan the aftermath. One tent is ablaze. Pieces of what used to be people litter the ground. The three slavers are gone.

There’s sounds of a commotion nearby, but your mind is too frazzled to process it.

Wonwoo crouches beside you, lifting your injured leg with care. Blood oozes around a jagged shard of metal embedded in your calf.

You study his face, searching for a reaction. He seems stoic and calm.

“I’m wrapping the wound,” he says softly. “Hold still.”

You nod faintly. He unwinds the checkered scarf from your neck, binding it tight around your leg. Pain shoots through you, and you flinch.

“I bet it hurts like hell, I’ll do my best baby,” he murmurs.

You offer a shaky smile, trying to be brave. He cups your face with one hand, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I have to check on the rest of the camp,” he says. “Satty will stay with you.”

“Wonwoo—don’t leave me,” you whisper.

He nods reassuringly. “We could still be in danger. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

And then he’s gone, swallowed by the dark.

Satty presses close, nuzzling your cheek. You stroke her soft fur.

“You were amazing today my girl,” you whisper. She stares back, eyes reflecting the firelight.

You lie still, leg throbbing, breath shallow. Everything glows in flickering amber tones.

A scream pierces the silence—a woman’s voice, raw with rage.

Then, nothing.

You’re drenched in cold sweat, some of it pain—some uncertainty of what’s happening in the midst of the campsite.

A shadow returns.

“It’s me,” Wonwoo says softly. You exhale, only now realizing you'd been holding your breath.

“They’re gone,” he continues. “The slavers are dead. We got them all.”

You’d almost forgotten about the other captives. Of course they fought back. They wanted freedom too.

“I can’t believe we made it,” you whisper.

The relief is overwhelming. Tears stream down your cheeks, and then the sobs come.

Wonwoo sits beside you and wraps his arms around you, rocking you gently.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.” You bury your face in his chest.

Then you notice his hands.

Several of his nails are missing—just torn, raw skin left behind.

“What happened?” your voice trembles.

He hesitates. “They figured it’d stop me from untying myself. Not their worst idea, to be honest.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing.

“You must be in agony,” you whisper. The tears start again.

“I’ve had worse,” he says gently. “Trust me.”

Satty perks up, ears twitching. You both turn.

A woman steps into view—the same one from before.

“Hi again,” she says cautiously. Wonwoo offers her a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” she says. “We couldn’t have done it without you.” She glances down—first at Wonwoo’s hands, then your leg.

“There’s a stash of meds here. I’d figured we could share it.”

You nod. You’ll need more than just your stimpaks for this.

“What’s your name again?” Wonwoo asks.

“Lily,” she replies. “And you?”

“Wonwoo. This is Boo, and that’s Satty.”

Lily smiles. “Nice to meet all three of you.”

She crouches, letting Satty sniff her hand. Satty licks it approvingly.

“I’m from a sanctuary,” Lily adds. “It’s in a grove, hidden. We’re kinda primitive—no fancy technology or turrets, but we’re safe.”

Wonwoo glances at you—hope flickering between you.

“Is it open for newcomers?” he asks.

“Oh for sure, especially a capable pair like the two of you.”

You cry again. Lily and Wonwoo both smile.

“My brother and I were ambushed while scavenging. I don’t think the slavers knew where we lived though,” she adds.

A loud moo cuts through the camp.

“Oh, and we’ve got two brahmin left—you can take one. She needs to lie down, I’m sure.”

“We’ll take it,” you say quickly. “Do you have a medic at your settlement?”

“We do. Let’s hurry before your injuries worsen.”

Wonwoo scoops you up bridal-style. You wrap your arms around his neck as he follows Lily into the camp.

A young man rifles through the dead’s pockets nearby, carrying an unmistakable likeness to Lily.

“Oh hey, I’m Joshua,” he greets, then nods toward Satty. “So you two were the rescue party for this tall drink of water?”

You snort. It’s been too long since you’ve laughed. Wonwoo chuckles as well.

“I guess so,” you reply with a tired grin.

“Well hell yeah! We wiped out every last one of those bastards.” He raises his fists in triumph.

Lily rolls her eyes but can’t hide her grin. They're siblings alright.

“You coming with us to the grove?” Joshua asks.

Wonwoo nods. “She needs a medic, and we need somewhere safe to stay while we get our bearings.”

Joshua grins. “Then let’s haul ass. I don’t want to be here when something mutated comes sniffing around.” - - - You're resting in the back of a makeshift cart, tarp overhead. Lily’s guiding the brahmin while you, Wonwoo, and Satty recover in the shelter.

Daytripper, which could be described as a recreational drug to put it lightly, pulses deliciously through your veins, numbing the agony.

Wonwoo unwraps the scarf around your leg, bathing his hands in antiseptic.

“It has to come out, Boo. We can’t risk lead—or worse, uranium—in your bloodstream.”

You nod vaguely, words slurring from the chem. “Yeah, whatever... do it.”

He chuckles softly and your dazed state, then yanks the shrapnel free in one smooth motion. You barely react.

He pours antiseptic into the open wound, then wraps it tightly in gauze.

“Easy peasy!” you grin. He’s stunned at your mild reaction, and does a deep inhale and exhale.

He then binds his ruined fingers with the remaining gauze, pops a pill and scoots closer.

Satty curls at your feet.

He slides an arm under your neck, pulling you into him.

“Hi baby,” he whispers.

“Hi lover.” You touch the nape of his neck, your fingers stroking him lovingly.

“I’m actually glad you followed me—even if it ruined my masterful escape plan, all ready to be executed flawlessly mere minutes before you arrived.”

You snort.

“Oh, tragic. Wanna go back so you can finish it properly?”

You’re both laughing now, the tension bleeding out of the air. He leans in, your noses brushing briefly.

Your lips meet in an incredibly earnest and soft kiss.

The world around you falls away, and it’s just you and him in the tender moment.

You’ve been through hell and back yet another time, and you'd do it again in an instant.

You revel in his closeness, the way your skin ghosts against his, as your kiss deepens.

Your thumb stroking the back of his neck, as his arm is placed across your back.

It's a kiss of hope. A hope that you’re now on your way to something better, something safer.

A place where you have time to be together. To get to know each other more without a constant danger pressing you. To nurture something beautiful together.

Lily’s voice calls from up front. “One more hour and we’re there!”. She’s completely unaware of the two of you being utterly entangled in each other in the back.

You both pause the kiss, letting your foreheads rest together.

You made it. That bond is truly unbreakable.

・❥・

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Taglist: @lixisoul99

#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 5 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: angst #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: fluff #g: sci-fi #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Ahhhhhh a cliffhanger! Gotta go read the next part immediately!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ you know you need to get free to get your bearings. ” gotta go save your pretty boy!

“ Bending down, you see something familiar. Wonwoo’s flashlight. ” ooh, breadcrumbs

“ The dog tilts its head, watching you with innocent eyes. ” NEW BESTIE!!!

“ One slaver slaps her for being “too slow,” ” kill him

“ Then Satty flies in, teeth sinking into the shotgun-wielding man's throat.” get ‘im, girl!

“ But he doesn’t know, you have an ace up your sleeve. ” 😮

Under the Orange Colored Sky - Chapter 4: Headin' Down the Wrong Highway

Summary: He wanted you to make him a promise, but you already knew it was one you couldn't keep. This is when the wasteland rescue mission begins, and you make a new friend?

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 2k for this chapter chapter: 4/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

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Chapter 4: Headin' Down the Wrong Highway

You snap back to reality at the sound of the carriage rolling away, still reeling from what just happened. Wrapped tightly in a burlap sack like a straitjacket, you know you need to get free to get your bearings.

After some struggling, you manage to shimmy out of it, vision finally clearing.

You’re right by the gas station entrance. There are no immediate signs of a struggle around you.

Shielding your eyes, you search the horizon for the carriage—but it’s already gone. Dusting yourself off, you slap your cheeks a few times to snap into focus. “I need to find him—and fast,” you mutter, realizing you need a plan if either of you is going to make it out alive. You climb through a hole in the ceiling to reach the rooftop, hoping to find anything useful for your new rescue mission. As you emerge, you gasp. The bodies of three men lie nearby, bleeding out from what looks like shotgun wounds. You wonder what kind of plan Wonwoo had—if any. Maybe he panicked. It would make sense, considering his past trauma. He was just trying to save you. You exhale shakily as you search their pockets, gathering any meds or ammo you can find. One of them even has a backpack still in decent shape, and you start filling it with supplies.

So far, you’ve got:

3x Canned Dog Food

2x Salisbury Steak

1x Sugar Bombs

4x Bottles of Boiled Water

3x Stimpaks

2x Fragmentation Grenades

1x Molotov Cocktail

A handful of bullets and arrows

Near a tarp, you spot a scarf—black and white checkered, made to protect your face from the desert heat. As you press it to your nose, Wonwoo’s scent hits you. Tears well up in your eyes, the love and fear nearly overwhelming. You want to sob into the fabric, but you have to lock in at the rescue mission at hand. With renewed determination, you wrap the large scarf around your head and move out. You can’t let the carriage get too far. Maybe you’ll even catch the tire tracks before the sand buries them again. You follow the direction where you last heard the carriage, still able to trace it through faint tire tracks. There’s no gas left in the wasteland anymore, but people still use rubber tires on brahmin-pulled carts. Your eyes stay locked on the ground, but your stomach churns with nausea and worry. You hope he’s unharmed. Slavers would want their “product” intact for auction, right? Hours pass as you walk south. The tracks begin to fade, and soon you’re standing at a crossroads. You figure they’re headed to a settlement or a market—but you don’t know the area well. You hesitate, unsure whether to keep going straight or turn left. As you spiral, a glint of light reflects into your eyes. You turn toward it and walk left down the road. Bending down, you see something familiar. Wonwoo’s flashlight. “I found it. I know what you’re trying to tell me,” you whisper, wishing you could somehow reach him and let him know. You pocket the flashlight. A surge of hope and determination fills your chest. You move on, following the new path. - - -

Your arrow strikes a buzzing bloatfly. They’re not deadly on their own, but their neurotoxic stingers can leave you incapacitated. You pull your arrow free from its cracked chitinous shell, stomach growling. You’ve been pushing your limits in the search, but you won’t last much longer without rest. The road is littered with remnants of buildings and abandoned vehicles, but there’s no sign of civilization—or even raiders. You stop by a burnt-out campfire and manage to spark a small flame using leftover kindling, warming a can of dog food. It’s not something you’d ever consider eating back in the vault, but out here, it’s one of the most reliable meals you can find—loaded with fat and protein. Suddenly, a strange sensation crawls up your spine. You crouch, scanning the surroundings. A furry creature approaches slowly, tongue lolling from its mouth. You recognize it almost instantly. “Hi there. Are you friendly?” The dog tilts its head, watching you with innocent eyes. You’ve never seen one in person, but you’ve read about them in books, seen them in films. You figure this one must be a Schäfer. It looks at the can in your hand, then back up at you. “Oh, you’re hungry?” You scoop a bit into your palm and reach out. It eagerly devours the offering, licking your hand clean. You scan her—definitely a she. She lies down beside you at the fire, as if deciding she’s found her human. You stroke her fur, trying to mimic what you’ve seen in the old TV shows and movies. “You’ll need a name, girl. Let me think.” Dusk creeps in, the sky darkening. You glance upward, struck by a memory. “I’ll name you after a magical moment. My Satellite,” you say, and her amber eyes meet yours. “But Satty for short.” Satty yawns, settling beside you in the sand. You run your fingers through her fur, comforted. “So this is why you’re called man’s best friend.” - - -

It’s full dark now, but you won’t stop. You’ve vowed to keep moving until you find another sign of Wonwoo. Satty pads beside you, and you’re grateful you’re no longer alone. As you approach a long-abandoned Slocum Joe’s café, she nudges you. “What is it, girl?” She bolts ahead, and you follow, climbing up a ridge behind the café through sand and scattered rocks. She stops just before the top. You crawl up and peer over. An encampment sprawls below—tents, people, carriages. A couple of fires burn, and an armed man patrol the outskirts. You scan the group, desperate to spot Wonwoo. Most are ragged slavers, laughing and shouting around the fires. Then you hear it—Marty’s growly voice. Your blood runs cold. He stands near a fire, a spiked bat on one hip, a pipe pistol on the other. You count quickly. Nine slavers, including Marty, and a couple of slaves—cooking, scurrying, backs hunched. A woman pours drinks for the slavers. One slaver slaps her for being “too slow,” and rage simmers in your chest. You whisper to Satty, “He has to be in one of those tents, right?” She listens intently. You begin transferring your supplies to your vest and cargo pants—molotov in the back pocket, grenades on your belt, crossbow strapped across your back, arrows in your pocket. You take a small switchblade—just in case he’s tied up. “Stay here, okay?” you say, patting her head before sneaking down the ridge. The men are already drunk, their laughter rising. That’s your opportunity. You slip to the back of the first tent and carefully cut a hole. Pitch black. You can’t see a thing. “Wonwoo?” you whisper, barely audible over the camp’s drunken noise. No answer. You move to the next tent, heart pounding. You cut another hole, and peer inside. This interior is dimly lit by a gas lantern. You squint at the shapes inside, trying to make out anything living. You wince as you hear a faint cough. A man. “Wonwoo?” your voice trembles. A beat of silence. “Boo?” Relief floods through you. “Boo, baby, what are you doing here? It’s too dangerous!” he whispers harshly, panic in his voice. “I’m getting you out of here, dummy!” “Oh no, you’re not—” A rough hand clamps around your neck from behind, a foul, drunken breath hitting your nostrils. You elbow the stranger in the solar plexus, like they taught you in class. He stumbles but doesn’t let go. Suddenly, he’s knocked sideways—Wonwoo’s slammed into him through the tent’s fabric, tied hands and all. The man drops. You slice open the tent wall, pulling Wonwoo through. You’re so relieved to see his face, but there's no time for a reunion. Your attacker is still squirming in pain below you. You meet Wonwoo’s eyes, and it’s all there—the worry, the hope and the love. You think fast though, and put your hand on his shoulder to turn him around so you can cut the ties. “Marty! He’s escaping!” The man on the ground yells, before Wonwoo gives him a sharp kick in the abdomen. You try to cut faster, but the blade is dull and the ties are made of a thick type of plastic. “F-fuck, it’s so tough,” you’re stuttering. “You can do it, there’s still time.” But not enough, as one of the slavers appears in front of you with a shotgun aimed right at Wonwoo’s face, with Marty and two others behind you—his spiked bat raised, ready to swing. You failed. These are the last seconds you’re alive. At least you’re with him.

Then Satty flies in, teeth sinking into the shotgun-wielding man's throat. He screams as she mauls him, the gun clattering to the ground. You cut through the ties—finally. Wonwoo’s free. “What the hell is that thing?!” one slaver yells, stunned by the bloody chaos. Wonwoo dives for the shotgun, elegantly swooping around until he’s down one knee—shotgun aimed straight at Marty’s face. He freezes, now at gunpoint. He raises his hands slowly, but he’s not letting go of the bat. “One of us’ll drop her before you drop all three of us. Drop the gun, son.” You’re pinned between three armed slavers, your lover holding a shotgun, and your dog standing triumphant over a corpse. “Checkmate,” Marty sneers. But he doesn’t know, you have an ace up your sleeve.

・❥・

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Taglist: @lixisoul99

#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 4 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: angst #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: fluff #g: sci-fi #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Damn, just damn, I better hurry and read the next part!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ “please undress me Wonwoo.” ” we really do love manners in this house

“ “yeah, just like that, I can’t wait to make you moan even louder.” ” it’s always good to have goals

I’m real awkward at commenting on smut and stuff so im afraid you have to deal with my dumbass personality really shining through rn 🥴

“ “You’re the light in all this darkness, I’m never letting you go.” He squeezes his eyes shut, tightening the embrace around you. ” 🥺 precious babies

“ You’ve forgotten all about the sandstorm and the troubles outside, it’s like you’re in your own little bubble with just you and him. ” nothing like a good boink to forget your worries

“ You’ve forgotten all about the sandstorm and the troubles outside, it’s like you’re in your own little bubble with just you and him. ” made me laugh

“ There’s no way you’re making that promise. ” damn fucking right! Time to save the pretty boy!

Under the Orange Colored Sky - Chapter 3: Uranium Fever

Summary: From strangers to lovers.

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 2,4k for this chapter chapter: 3/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

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Chapter 3: Uranium Fever

His fingers weave through your hair, while his other hand glides along your side in a slow, deliberate path. He lingers at your waist, brushes over your hip, and comes to rest on your thigh.

He pulls back from the kiss briefly, and you respond with a low whimper at the loss of his lips on yours.

“Tell me what you want,” you’re drowning in his hooded and heavy eyes, “I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest—a sense of safety settling deep within you.

“I want this, I want you,” he bites his lip at your words “please undress me Wonwoo.” He groans at your words, and doesn’t hesitate. His fingers make quick work of your arm bracers, throwing them away somewhere in the small space.

Your vest is next, leaving you in your thin cotton shirt. He places his hands back on your sides now, realizing that you’re not wearing a bra.

He slides his thumbs across your chest, finding two stiffening peaks beneath the fabric.

“Can I take your shirt off baby?” The new nickname makes your head spin.

“Please, take everything off.” your voice is breathy.

He pulls the shirt over your head, settling his hands on your back. He pulls you towards him now—his lips finding one of your peaks. He kisses it with small kitten licks, shifting over to the other one giving it equal attention. Your body is tensing up with pleasure now. The sensation of his soft lips and tongue on you is overwhelming in the best way possible.

You whimper as his teeth grazes your nipple carefully, one of his hands now rolling and pinching the other one.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” his words send a shiver through you, and you let out a helpless whimper in response, “yeah, just like that, I can’t wait to make you moan even louder.” You thread your fingers through his damp hair, the heat curling low in your belly at the weight of his words. When you tug at his shirt, he understands instantly.

His own bracers and sweater are off within seconds, and you place your hands at the top of his bare shoulders now.

He exhales deeply as he leans his head back against your chest, his cheek resting in between your breasts. You can feel yourself tearing up at the heavy emotions in the room. It’s not just lust—it’s relief as well.

There’s a bond between the two of you strengthening with every touch.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve won the lottery, finding someone like him among all the suffering.

“You’re the light in all this darkness, I’m never letting you go.” He squeezes his eyes shut, tightening the embrace around you.

You embrace him back, holding him closer to your chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, it’s you and me now.”

He looks up and his lips find yours again—the kiss is immediately deep and intense.

You can’t help but buck your hips against his lap, revealing a hardness straining against his stiff cargo pants.

Wonwoo groans in your mouth, as you slowly start grinding against him. Your fingernails find the back of his broad shoulders, scraping gently against his skin.

His hands are on the top of your jeans now, fumbling a bit as he unbuttons them.

“Let’s get out of these.”

He lifts you off of his lap, and you both stand up on the mattress. He pulls both your jeans and your panties down to the floor, and you step out of them.

His hands are on your behind in an instant, kneading it as he kisses you again.

“You’re gorgeous baby.”

The sound you make is half-whine, half-breath, and his smirk tells you he heard every bit of it

“Take off yours as well.”

He’s not hard to ask, and he pulls off his own pants and shorts, revealing how hard and ready he is for you. You gasp at the size of it, as the palm of your hand strokes it from its base and slowly upwards.

You wrap your fingers around it in a loose grip. Wonwoo leans down to you—his breath hot against your ear as he moans in pleasure.

“Let’s lay down.” He whispers in your ear, grabbing your hand and pulling you down with him on the mattress again.

He positions you with your back against the mattress, and slides over you until your chest is flush against his.

He settles between your thighs, his solid weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. Your lips find each other again, and you can’t help but grind your hips up against him. His lips move down to your neck now, kissing and sucking gently at your pulse points. He dips lower, mouth closing over your chest as his hand travels downward. The rough drag of his fingers against your belly draws a tremble from you, your skin prickling in response.

His hand ends on the inside of your thigh, where his thumb draws small, teasing circles. He kisses you down to your belly button, rounding it as he continues downwards.

His fingers slide against your slit now, and you gasp at the sensation.

He lets his fingertips ghost against it, gradually applying more pressure. His thumb finds your bud at the top, and he starts rubbing it, looking up at you to gauge your reaction.

You arch instinctively, but his hand presses firmly to your lower belly, holding you in place.

“Does it feel good baby?” You can feel his hot breath against your core now.

“Yes Wonwoo, I need more.” You whimper.

“What do you need, tell me.”

“I need you inside me.”

He bites his lip, keeping his thumb on your bud as his index finger finds your entrance, and easily slides inside.

“You’re so wet already,” you thread your fingers through his hair now, “can I taste you?”.

All you can muster at this point is a soft plea.

He removes his fingers, replacing them with the flat of his tongue.

He lets it swipe against your wetness from the bottom to the top, savoring every second.

You can feel your thighs trembling now, as you moan in pleasure.

You let your fingers thread through his hair, holding him gently against you.

He’s sucking at your bud now, as you wriggle under his arm wrapped across your abdomen.

“Wonwoo, I really need you to fuck me,” you whine desperately, as he hums in amusement against your wet skin, doing some light kisses against it.

“As you wish.”

He kneels back smiling, eyes dark with lust now, as he’s aligning himself against your entrance. As he pushes gently in, he slides back down to your face, and stays still.

You gasp as he glides further into you, his eyes studying your reaction intently.

“Are you good baby?” his hands cup your face now—your eyes locking in with the intensity and intimacy of having him inside of you.

You kiss him, giving him a hum in acknowledgment.

He starts to move, keeping the pace slow at first.

You’ve forgotten all about the sandstorm and the troubles outside, it’s like you’re in your own little bubble with just you and him. He starts thrusting into you faster now, leaning back up from your lips to make it easier. When you whimper at the loss of his lips, he lets his thumb slide into your mouth. You immediately close your lips around it, sucking on it as he’s pounding into you.

He moans at the feeling of your tongue licking his finger, as he keeps his pace steady in and out of you. He pulls his thumb out, placing it back down on your sensitive bud, matching the rhythm he’s pounding you in.

“Yes, right there!” You whine at him, and he keeps going.

“Come for me baby,” you arch your back as you can feel your body winding itself up, ready for release, “I’m going to fill you up so good, but you have to come for me first.”

Your toes curl as his filthy words push you over the edge, sending waves throughout your body.

“That’s it… you look so beautiful like this, all soft in my arms.”

You lie flat again, trying to catch your breath. He leans down and gives you a deep kiss, wiping away some of the sweat on your forehead. He’s still hard inside you.

“Please move again Wonwoo, I want more, I need you.”

He pushes away some of the hair that’s stuck to your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I want you from behind now baby.” His hands find your hips, as he flips you around, your chest now against the mattress.

You can feel him slide down against you, his mouth on your ear—chest against your back.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He breathes in your ear, and you can feel a tingle run down your neck.

“I will, just hurry up please.” you whine.

He leans back up, placing one hand on the nape of your neck, gripping you lightly. The other hand at your hip.

He’s kneeling in between your thighs now, using his knees to spread them out.

You’re shivering in anticipation for what comes next, as you feel him against your entrance again.

He thrusts into you, going into an almost animalistic pace, holding you down at your neck as you arch your back up against him.

Your chin rests against the mattress now, as you’ve given yourself to him completely.

“I’m close,” you can feel his pace getting erratic, and you clench even more around him, “that’s it baby, that’s it.”

He groans as he spills into you, still holding you down in a firm grip. His hips buck against you a couple of times more, and you can hear him panting above you.

As he’s pulling out, he lets go of you and gently strokes your butt, giving it a playful smack.

You giggle, and he slides down beside you, and your faces meet. He smiles back, stroking your hair.

“Are you okay? Was it too much?” He looks at you with concern.

“You’re definitely freaky, but I’ll just have to deal with it I guess.”

You’re both laughing now, and he’s pulling you closer.

“I have a blanket here somewhere.” You fumble in the dark, finding your blanket rolled up against the wall.

You unravel it and pull it over the both of you.

You relax in a warm embrace, still recovering from the intensity of what just transpired between you.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, giving you small pecks on your lips. It doesn’t take long until you’re both asleep, holding each other close. - - -

A couple of hours later, you awake from your nap. The worst of the storm seems to be over, and you’re only hearing a faint breeze outside now.

Wonwoo’s still asleep in your arms, his head resting on your chest now.

You’re stroking his hair softly, closing your eyes again.

You wish you could stay longer in this bubble, but you both have to survive as well, and there’s an endless list of things you need to get done.

“Wonwoo?” You whisper against his hair.

He hums, signaling that he’s waking up. “The storm is over, I think we better get packing.”

He hums again in acknowledgment. You stay like this for a little bit longer, but then start to untangle.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

You interlace your fingers with his, holding his hand.

“It won’t. We’re together now.” You press a gentle kiss to his forehead, then rise from the mattress, guiding him up with you.

You give each other one last kiss before you start pulling your clothes back on.

You return to finishing packing the bag, Wonwoo illuminating the room with his flashlight.

When you’ve got everything of value, you’re realizing that the bag might tear under its weight now.

You grab your blanket and put some of the cans in it, wrapping it up in a makeshift pouch. You decide to return to fetch the mattress later. - - -

You’re walking back towards the gas station with the bags around your shoulders, staying close to each other—hand in hand.

As you round the corner of the building, you feel a sudden constricting darkness around you. You scream as a fabric envelops you, and you can’t move your arms.

“Shut the fuck up, or we’ll knock you out.” A man’s voice.

It’s not someone you recognize.

Your mind races as you’re trying to keep your breath steady. Someone’s grabbing your arm harshly through the canvas, hindering you from legging it.

You suddenly hear Wonwoo raise his voice. “You’re slavers right? I have a hidden stash. I’ll give it to you if you let her go.”

Your panicked state instantly increases.

“Wonwoo no, please don’t.” You’re tearing up at the thought of being separated from him. The person’s grip tightens at your arm, and you whimper in pain.

The slaver is quiet for a while, probably considering Wonwoo’s proposal.

Slavers might be brutal, but they’re more intelligent than your average raider.

“Alright, but no funny business.”

You’re being forced to the ground, and you kneel in the sand.

You can hear sounds that correlate with Wonwoo being freed.

“Okay, follow me to the roof.”

You hear several pairs of boots move around you now, wondering how large their group is. Every second that goes by feels like an eternity, and you can feel your pulse ringing in your ears.

The air is pierced with the sound of several gunshots from the roof, and you freeze in terror.

“Wonwoo?” You scream out, but there’s no response.

You struggle against the canvas bag, as the grip on your arm lets go.

“If you get any closer, I’ll blow your girlfriend’s face off”, a growly man’s voice says beside you.

“I’ll drop my weapon. Just take me and leave her here.” You sigh in relief at the sound of Wonwoo’s voice.

“Marty, help me grab him.” You hear another man’s voice now—it’s strained.

You deduce that there’s two men left, as Wonwoo probably has taken out several of them.

You’re surprised at the sound of a brahmin’s moo, concluding that the slavers probably have a carriage with them.

“Boo, you have to promise you’re not coming after me.”

His voice is soft, pleading—thick with worry.

“Shut it, Romeo. Let’s go,” the man called Marty growls.

You’re frozen in place, fear locking your limbs. Your throat is dry, your body trembling.

There’s no way you’re making that promise.

・❥・

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#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 3 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: angst #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: fluff #g: sci-fi #g: smut #r: nsfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

I’m really enjoying seeing their chemistry and ease together!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ His story is like most stories in this hellscape. Brutal. Filled with loneliness and survival. ” dang

“ “so we better stay close to each other, for warmth.” ” 😏 how close, huh? 😏

“ “I’ve seen you before by the way.” ” stalker

“ His face is peaceful, and you just lie awake and take in his features for a while. ” that is so understandable

“ “Good morning, is your back okay?” there’s real concern in his voice. ” aw, what a sweetheart

“ “Oh I’ll let you know if it’s a tight fit.” You say with a mischievous tone. ” omg I snorted 😂

Oh, I love their little playful banter there. Their chemistry is so good!

Oh and here comes the smooching!

Under the Orange Colored Sky - Chapter 2: A Good Man is Hard to Find

Summary: As the sun sets over the wasteland, you and Wonwoo share stories of survival—yours marked by isolation, his by loss.

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 2k for this chapter chapter: 2/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

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Chapter 2: A Good Man is Hard to Find

An hour or two passes, as you talk about life in the vault. Wonwoo shares stories about his own solo travels across the wasteland.

You learn that he was originally from a civilian settlement protected by the Brotherhood of Steel—providing them with corn, tatos and brahmin milk. When the Brotherhood decided to relocate, the settlement was swiftly overrun by super mutants, and most of the residents were slaughtered, but Wonwoo managed to escape.

His story is like most stories in this hellscape. Brutal. Filled with loneliness and survival.

As the sun starts setting, he lights a small gas lantern that he places in the far corner under the tarp.

“We don’t want to draw attention to the roof. Light discipline.”

You give him an acknowledging nod. He pulls off his leather bracers, cargo pants and boots, only wearing a light cotton shirt and long breeches now.

You take your goggles and bandana off, as well as your vest, camo pants and boots. You’re also wearing a thin long sleeve and a pair of mens long johns.

You suddenly hear Wonwoo laugh.

“Couldn’t find your size?” he’s looking at your rather ill fitting bottoms.

“Yeah, the selection at the mall has been rather lousy lately.” You giggle back.

Wonwoo unzips his sleeping bag all the way down, turning it into something that can cover you both. He’s luckily found rubber mats to cover the metal roof, acting as a mattress.

“It’s been a clear day, so it’s going to be a clear and cold night,” you can already feel a slight chill in the air “so we better stay close to each other, for warmth.”

“Yes yes, of course.” You feel your cheeks blush at the implication, as Wonwoo seems to keep himself occupied with adjusting the mats and the sleeping bag.

You crawl down under the tarp, sliding yourself under the cover. Your bag with your discarded clothing serves as a pillow, and Wonwoo has his backpack for the same purpose.

He crawls up next to you now, and you can feel that he’s trying to avoid the two of you touching together.

It’s completely dark now except for the flicker of the little lantern. He turns it off to conserve the rest of the gas.

As you gaze up, you can see a sea of stars dancing across the sky. The moon is crescent, barely giving off any light. You suddenly see a moving light above you.

“Look Wonwoo, a shooting star.” You’re trying to point it out to him.

He looks in its direction. “It’s actually a satellite.”

You turn to look at him, lying almost face to face now.

“A satellite? Sounds made up.”

He laughs.

“You probably didn’t learn about them in the vault. We sent them up there before the bombs fell. They’re made of metal, and they sent TV and radio signals to Earth. Some of them probably still do actually.”

Your eyes widen and you marvel at the moving object above you, your mouth hanging slightly open.

“I’ve seen you before by the way.”

You snap out of your stargazing and turn to meet his eyes.

“You have?”

“Yes, I mean, through my scope. You suddenly appeared about a week ago.”

You’re silent. It initially feels a bit odd that he’s been observing you, but it somehow feels reassuring as well.

“I see. Well it certainly paid off today.”

“Yeah,” he exhales, “well goodnight Boo, I hope you don’t snore.”

You giggle.

“Goodnight Wonwoo.”

You’re out like a light.

It’s only been a couple of hours when you wake up. Even though you’re getting pretty used to uncomfortable sleep, you can really feel the hard metal roof through the thin layer of rubber underneath you.

The cool desert night air also has you shivering slightly, and you inch closer to Wonwoo.

His face is peaceful, and you just lie awake and take in his features for a while.

His chest slowly rises and falls as he exhales.

You wince as a low groan escapes him, and he stretches an arm underneath the covers. It lands on the small of your back, and he pulls you closer, still asleep.

You tuck your head gently underneath his chin, feeling more of the warmth of his body.

You take a long and slow inhale, and close your eyes again. His skin on yours, his arm around your waist—it’s comforting. It feels right.

- - -

You wake up to the smell of fresh coffee—it's a heavenly scent you haven’t smelled since you lived underground, and you can feel your eyes tearing up at the brief memory of safety, which you haven’t felt in ages now.

Wonwoo is singing softly as he crawls around on the roof, preparing breakfast.

It sounds like a different language, which you can’t identify.

You push yourself up from the yoga mat with a groan—rubbing the small of your back. Wonwoo is squatting by the gas cooker again, heating some canned ham with thermos of coffee by the ready.

“Good morning, is your back okay?” there’s real concern in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ve just been spoiled with a dirty mattress lately, maybe we can fetch it later?”

Wonwoo nods at you, filling a cup of coffee and handing it to you.

“Here you go, there’s sadly no complimentary pastries.” You smile, grabbing the hot mug carefully.

“That’s okay, I’ll just close my eyes and imagine the crunch of a Fancy Lad cake.”

Wonwoo laughs, “you had cakes in the vault huh?”

You nod.

“I’ve only eaten pre-war food from cans and the ones that are still dry, like yesterday’s instamash—I guess our lives have been pretty different.”

It’s quiet between you now. His eyes look pained.

You feel a tinge of guilt as most of your life was spent in the peaceful confines of a vault. But it was a vault nonetheless, with all the rules and regulations that followed.

You don’t sense any jealousy or animosity from him though, just an acknowledgement that the two of you have very different pasts, but your roads still crossed in the end.

“So what’s today’s agenda?” Wonwoo perks up at your question.

“Let’s go to your hideout and see if you have anything useful there, I think it’s best if we consolidate our resources.” You nod in agreement.

He seems to hesitate for a bit, then asks “Boo, what’s your long term plan?”

You’re a bit taken aback by his question. It almost feels uncomfortable sharing what’s probably a pipe dream.

He might just give you a reality check, which would be sensible.

“Well, you might think this is stupid,” he gives you a careful smile, “but I want my own homestead, maybe even some animals and crops.”

He lifts his eyebrows slightly.

“That’s not stupid at all,” you exhale with relief, “if that’s what keeps you going out here day after day, then cling to it. Don’t stop dreaming, it will kill you.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sentiment, as you take a long sip of coffee.

In a world of chaos, dreams are precious.

- - -

You’re both outside the gas station now, fully clothed and with your weapons at the ready. Wonwoo had some leftover armor pieces that you’re now equipping.

“Let me just tighten it properly, and we’re on our way. Tell me if it's too tight though.”

He says matter of factly, grabbing the belt on your arm bracer.

“Oh I’ll let you know if it’s a tight fit.” You say with a mischievous tone.

Wonwoo shakes his head, but he can’t help but grin at your innuendo.

“Is this supposed to be vault rizz? It’s worse down there than I thought.”

You slap his thigh playfully, as he finishes fastening the second bracer.

You were hoping for another clear day, but the wind is definitely picking up now—you just hope it’s not becoming a fully fledged sandstorm.

You’re leading the way towards your hideout, which is only a few hundred meters away. There’s still traces of asphalt underfoot, which probably made out a residential road before the bombs fell.

There’s holes where the lampposts used to stand—surrounded by dead and dry trees which could be parts of someone’s gardens.

You approach the foundations of what was once a large home, now covered in sand and debris. The old garage still stands though, and that’s where you’ve been camping for the past couple of weeks.

The garage door is rusted shut, but you have a makeshift entrance in the back of the small structure.

You lead Wonwoo around the corner, showing him the sheet metal that covers a relatively small hole in the brick wall.

He gives you an acknowledging thumbs up, mimicking the all too famous Vault Tec mascot, and you grin back.

You start to pull at the sheet, and he quickly steps in to help you remove it safely.

The wasteland is littered with sharp debris and garbage, and you have to be careful to avoid infections and tetanus.

You crawl through the hole and Wonwoo follows right behind you.

You both enter a small and musty space. The air is stale but much cooler than it is outside. You’ve managed to cover a hole in the roof with some clear plastic, which allows a small stream of light to creep in. It’s still quite dark in the garage.

“Charming, is this the woman’s touch you’ve been bragging about?”

You snicker at his sentiment, as you reach for an empty bag.

Wonwoo pulls out a tiny flashlight from his pocket, and starts going through your stash.

You can hear the metal sheet roof creaking now from the wind outside.

“It’s really getting worse out there, we should probably hurry?”

He nods at you, concentrating to identify the different cans and labels.

You start to fill the bag with the most important things first—water, food and meds.

You don’t notice at first how the darkness is creeping up on you, somewhat hidden from the light that the flashlight provides. The plastic plate covering the hole in the roof is now almost completely covered in sand.

“Shit, Wonwoo—it’s already so much worse.” You’re grabbing random things now.

“Let me check how bad it is.”

He removes the metal sheet carefully, and you can hear the roar of the wind now, as sand forces its way into the small space. He quickly pushes it back into place, placing some of the broken bricks against it to support it against the wall.

“We can’t go back out there now, it’s too dangerous.”

Sandstorms could escalate quickly, and you weren’t even sure if it was at its worst yet.

“Alright, we’ll just have to wait it out then.”

You sit down on the mattress now, dropping the bursting bag back on the floor.

Wonwoo crawls towards the sound of your voice, settling next to you on the mattress.

“Isn’t it strange how much waiting you have to do in this life. Waiting, walking, planning.”

He sits back against the wall, pondering.

“Are you getting philosophical again?” You nudge his side teasingly.

He looks down at you now, as you’ve leaned against the wall next to him. Your eyes meet, and you’re half prepared for a witty retort.

Instead, he reaches a hand up to brush your cheek. You instinctively hold your breath as you feel his rough fingertip against your skin.

“Eyelash.”

His hand lingers on your cheek now, sliding down to cup your face.

The small space suddenly feels warmer, heat rising between the two of you as the wind howls outside.

You lean closer to him, and he’s not letting go—his thumb gently tracing along your jaw, ending up on your lower lip.

“I can’t believe I found you out there.”

His tone is low and hazy now, his gaze shadowed with something you ache to explore.

“Wonwoo, please.”

You give him a pleading look, and something electric hums beneath your skin.

He removes his thumb, and replaces it with his lips.

It’s a soft kiss—an attempt to see where your head's at.

There’s no hesitation in your answer, leaning in to deepen the kiss, your hand sliding to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer.

With a low groan, he grabs your waist and draws you over him. You’re straddling him now, and you’re wrapped in each other.

・❥・

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#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 2 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: fluff #g: sci-fi #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

I don’t know shit about Fallout but something about this draws me in every time I scroll past it so I’m giving in and reading it. I’m excited.

I wrote ^that^ before I started to read and oh, I am now invested! I love this kinda vibe and you’re writing it so well! I don’t usually read incomplete series because I forget what happens very quickly, so I need to binge read stuff but I’m going to read all of these chapters available and excitedly wait for the final one!

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ stimpaks ” ngl, I thought I misread this word at first lol. I googled it though and ooh that would be very useful

Please excuse any potential weird commentary of my learning process in regard to Fallout 😬

“ Ultimately finding a cat or a dog to accompany you. ” yes, yes agreed! Very important

“ “We’ll be taking that bag, or else we’ll gut you like a pig.” ” damn, how rude. Manners go a long way you know, fella, damn

“ “God damn it Frank!” ” yeah, damn, Frank!

“ It’s just a dummy, but it has saved you several times already. ” ooh, smort

“ Megaton ” 100% read that as Megatron at first and was like “damn, poor Megatron getting gutted and his shell used to house people” 😂

“ Frank is back. ” dammit, Frank!

“ “Hey,” you hear a man’s deep voice from above, and gaze upwards “goggles and mask off please.” ” he used his manners! What a good boy

“ and he’s suddenly got his hands on you. ” 😏

“ “Or snacks!” You giggle, and he turns to you. ” okay that made me giggle too

“ “I’m [Y/n], but my friends used to call me Boo.” ” cute!

“ “You have friends? Lucky.” ” fr fr

“ “You did save my life after all.” ” ~friendsss~ (please imagine that said in a really weird borderline creepy voice, thanks. Hehe)

Under the Orange Colored Sky

Summary: Worn down by years in the wasteland, you’re a lone vault dweller surviving on scraps, instinct, and the fading hope of finding safety in the cruel wasteland—a chance encounter hints that not all is lost.

‿‿‿‿

I miss Jeon Wonwoo a lot (I'm sure you can relate), so here's a six-parter set in the Fallout universe. I'm posting a chapter every day, so buckle in babies. It's starts out relatively chill, but it doesn't last 🔥

pairing: non!idol Wonwoo x fem reader genre: fluff, angst and smut (the holy trinity) + Fallout (the video game) AU ☢️ word count: 2,3k for this chapter chapter: 1/6 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings for the whole fic: soft dom! Wonwoo, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pet name (baby), slight breeding kink + violence, gore, hints at tor*ure.

divider by: @cafekitsune

Masterlist / Next >>

Chapter 1: Right Behind You Baby

Two bottles of purified water, three stimpaks and one can of dog food—that’s it. You would usually be thrilled about the amount of stimpaks, but you’re in dire need of food this time around, and this Super-Duper Mart turned out to be cleared out already.

It’s been 807 days since you exited the vault, and you have yet to meet a friendly face.

On the contrary, raiders have been making your life a living hell, fitting enough for the barren wasteland around you.

You have put up a decent fight though, benefiting from your martial arts lessons in the vault.

Your days consist mainly of traversing the landscape scavenging, but the dream is to find a place where you can actually grow things to eat. Maybe even get a power source going and dig a well. Ultimately finding a cat or a dog to accompany you.

You close the buckle on your bag, and make your way to the exit. It’s clearly lit up by the scorching hot sun outside, contrasting the stuffy and dark interior of the abandoned supermarket.

Pushing the door open, the hot and dry air hit your face like a blow dryer.

“I might become a ghoul just from the sun damage alone, good lord.” you tell yourself, instinctively shielding your eyes with your hand from the bright light.

You remember that you have a pair of goggles wrapped around your head, and you pull them down—your surroundings now dimmed through the dark glasses. A gust of sand stings your cheeks, so you pull up your bandana as well, making it cover the lower half of your face.

“We’ll be taking that bag, or else we’ll gut you like a pig.”

As you were occupied with preparing for the trek back to your base, you hadn’t noticed the two raiders sneaking up on you, now only a few meters away. You wince at the voice, and register that the pink-haired woman in the back has a crossbow, and the grimy man in front of you a machete—ready to pounce on you.

In a split second, you pull a grenade from your vest pocket and pull the pin with your thumb until it’s barely holding on.

“If you get any closer I’m letting it go, so you better use your peanut brain for once and walk the fuck away.” You try to give the raider in front of you the most menacing gaze you can muster, and you can see that he’s getting flustered.

“Shit Bonnie, what do we do?” He turns his head back at his partner, who’s equally confused about the situation.

She’s grimacing, but starts to lower the crossbow slightly.

“God damn it Frank! She looks ragged so she probably doesn’t have anything good anyway, let’s just head back.”

Frank starts to back off, as you demonstratively keep your hand with the grenade raised in front of them. Cursing under their breath, they disappear around the corner of the supermarket.

You huff, as you push the pin back in and pocket the grenade. It’s just a dummy, but it has saved you several times already. Raiders aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed after all.

You try to shake off the tingle of anxiety in your body, as you set course for your current hideout.

This area has mostly been fruitless, but you’ve heard of a larger settlement, Megaton, that should be around here somewhere. You’re hoping there’s prospects for trading or at least some odd jobs you can do for caps.

The sky is relatively clear today, and you can feel the sun beating down on you.

Days like these are the hardest to survive, the constant thirst and your skin drying up, but they make for the prettiest nights with even the Milky Way on display above you.

That’s what you’re living for now. The rare magical moments when you’re reminded that there’s still beauty in the world, despite the destruction and violence of the wasteland.

You spot a Red Rocket gas station in the distance—your hideout in its vicinity.

As you round the wreck of a yellow school bus, a sharp blade hits your throat—grazing your skin.

“I couldn’t let you humiliate me like that I’m afraid, any last words little girl?”

A rotten breath hits your nostrils. Frank is back.

You can hear a woman snicker above you, Bonnie squatting on the top of the bus observing you below.

“Why don’t you both just fuck o-”

A sharp sound cracks the air and you drop to your knees.

Frank collapses in front of you.

He’s got a dime sized hole exiting through his eye—a projectile must have entered in the back of his head.

“Frank! What did you do to him?” Bonnie shrieks in agony above you.

“I-ugh, I didn’t do anything?” You retort, as it sinks in that you’re out in the open, vulnerable to whatever struck Frank.

You start to crawl behind the bus again, as Bonnie jumps down to Frank’s corpse.

Another crack rings out, and it’s suddenly silent now. You can’t hear any of Bonnie’s vailing anymore.

Your mind races.

Who’s shooting? Super Mutants aren’t really known for their precision with rifles, and it’s been ages since you’ve seen anyone from the Brotherhood out here.

It could be a rivaling raider group, but why would they waste precious ammo on a couple of low lives like them?

You can hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, as adrenaline pumps through your veins.

You’ve got your back against the bus now, with what’s likely to be two corpses piled up on the other side, with the gas station about 3-400 meters away.

You go through your options.

You could stay here shielded and wait, but for how long? Is 10 minutes enough? An hour? All night? It ultimately feels like a gamble, and the fresh blood and guts is bound to attract all sorts of abominations.

You didn’t survive twice today just to get eaten by a feral ghoul or a swarm of stingwings.

There’s really only one option—it’s still a gamble, but you reckon you’re dealing with someone who’s got more than half a brain in this situation, so it might just pay off.

You round the corner of the bus with your arms raised.

Your pulse quickens.

“Please please please”, you mutter under your breath, hoping you’re not taking your last breaths as you speak.

Nothing happens.

You quickly gaze down and see a patchwork of bright pink hair spread all over the ground. Bonnie’s head had exploded like a watermelon.

You gag from the sickening display, but you keep walking forwards. You must be dealing with skilled snipers.

You’re starting to believe that they’re letting you live now, as you’re walking uphill towards the gas station. They have to be located somewhere straight ahead of you, judging by where Frank’s head first was pierced.

You’re almost standing outside the Red Rocket now, your arms starting to ache from their upright position.

“Hey,” you hear a man’s deep voice from above, and gaze upwards “goggles and mask off please.”

You can’t see him, as the bright sunlight hits you directly in the eyes.

You slide your goggles back up on the top of your head now, and pull your bandana down to your neck, exposing your face.

There’s a beat of silence between you.

“Wait there.” He’s gone before you can reply.

It feels a bit odd to be commanded by a stranger, but you’re not taking any more chances today, and decide to stay put.

The glass door in front of you opens, and a tall figure materialises.

As your eyes adjust to the absence of the goggles, his face gets clearer. His hair is dark brown and tousled, his eyes hooded complimented by a wide and sharp jawline.

You notice that you’re holding your breath, clearly taken aback by a handsome face after having grimy raiders all up in your business for ages now.

He stands right in front of you, with a rather unanimated look on his face. You hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but still.

“I need to search you, okay?” His request surprises you, but it makes sense.

“Yes, of course.” You reply dryly, and he’s suddenly got his hands on you.

He grabs your shoulders first, patting along your arms out to your wrists.

You focus on his face, and he seems to be concentrating on the task at hand.

“I need to touch your sides as well.”

He looks at you and tips his head slightly. You give him a nod of permission.

He places his hands on the sides of your torso now, his thumbs brushing along the outline of your chest. You realise it’s been a really long time since a man touched you like this, even though there’s several layers of fabric between his palms and your skin, but you still feel a blush bloom in your cheeks.

He pats you downwards meticulously, landing on your hips. You feel his hands linger there for just a second longer than he needs to, but he quickly clears his throat continuing down your legs.

He pats up the insides of them as well, ending on your inner thighs in a relatively respectful distance from your crotch.

“Good. One last thing though.”

He’s back up now, leaning his face towards yours. You take a sudden intake of breath as you can feel the warmth radiate off of him on your skin. You feel his fingers on the back of your neck, snaking up into your messy bun.

His touch makes your skin tingle. He tangles them in your thick hair, searching around for any hidden items.

“You never know, you could hide a little switchblade up in there.”

“Or snacks!” You giggle, and he turns to you.

He raises one eyebrow quizzically.

You look at him with a timid smile, wondering if he’s the type of guy that can appreciate a dry joke.

“I’m Wonwoo by the way, and you?” he says in a deep voice.

“I’m [Y/n], but my friends used to call me Boo.”

“You have friends? Lucky.”

You giggle at his response.

“If they’re still alive, but I doubt it.” There’s a silence between you again, the gravity of your reality creeping back in.

You both stand in silence now, taking each other in.

“So Boo, why should I keep you around?”

You furrow your brows.

“Keep me around? Why do you think I want to be kept around?”

Wonwoo smirks, and crosses his arms.

“Well I just saved your life, so it seems like it's in your interest to be honest.”

You take a moment to reflect on his words.

He’s not completely wrong—he’s pretty much onto something.

Every day has been a struggle in the wasteland, and you can’t deny that luck has been on your side several times now, what if it runs out?

“Fair enough,” he chuckles “well, I’m trained in hand-to-hand combat,” he raises his eyebrows “and I’ve got some medical training as well.”

He actually looks impressed.

“Really. Where did you learn these things?”

You decide to be honest.

“In the vault.” His eyebrows lift even higher now.

“A vault dweller, of course. I should’ve known judging by your complexion alone.”

You can feel his eyes study your face.

“Thank you, I guess?”

He snickers, and you suddenly feel a pang of shame. You didn’t want him to think that you’re shallow.

“Alright Boo, you better stay the night and we can plan further tomorrow morning—you probably have a stash around here somewhere?”

He opens the door now, and you’re on his heels.

“I do. There’s not much, but I have water, cans and chems.”

A large plank leading up through a hole in the ceiling appears, and you climb up behind Wonwoo.

You exit on the top of the gas station, where he’s drawn a tarp across some of it, probably to shield himself from the sun. A bunch of tires and planks line the edges of the roof.

A massive sniper rifle is situated in an opening, with several rounds of ammo spread around it.

He’s even got a gas stove setup, as well as a sleeping bag under the tarp. His hideout is exposed, but only for flying creatures. It’s quite genius actually.

“Nice setup you have here—it needs a woman’s touch though.” You grin at him, and he can’t hide his amusement.

“Anyway, are you hungry?” He’s reaching down to open an old cooler, pulling out a box of instamash.

“I’m starving,” you unbuckle your bag and pull out the can of dog food, “here’s some protein as well.”

He grabs the can, nodding in approval.

It stays silent between you for a while, while Wonwoo lights the gas cooker and starts preparing the meal.

You can feel the exhaustion from the day hit you, as you slide down on the roof next to the stove. You exhale, and watch as he stirs the small pot. You half expected it to be awkward between the two of you, but it’s not. The silence feels natural—it’s even comforting.

You can’t remember the last time you relaxed next to another person. Maybe back in the vault? Your mind drifts, all the faces of your classmates appearing in front of you. Running in the hallways. Blissfully unaware of the devastation outside.

He’s filling up a bowl now, handing it over to you.

“Thank you, it actually smells pretty decent.”

You both dig in, and the silence continues as you’re scarfing down the food.

When you’ve finished your bowl, you grab one of the purified waters you picked up earlier, and hand it to Wonwoo.

His eyes widen a bit at the gesture, these bottles are hard to come by.

“You did save my life after all.”

・❥・

Masterlist / Next >>

#chee chats about: under the orange colored sky 1 by missgraylock #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: dark #g: dystopian au #g: fallout au #g: fantasy #g: sci-fi #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us!

“ one of his hands leaving to grab your phone. He unlocked it using his birthdate ” damn, reader’s a simp

“ All the while his fingers continued their pace inside of you. ” we love a man who can multitask

“ "See her getting split open by my fingers in the back of my car on some dirt road." ” well, what else are you supposed to do on a dirt road

“ Watching Josh take his clothes off was always something that had you drooling, eyeing as his forearm muscles worked, muscles flexing and veins bulging. ” okay, understandable

“ You were going to have to clean the seats, you faintly realized as your juices gushed from you. ” that made me snort ngl

gentlemen do it in cars

joshua hong x female reader

summary: joshua decides to take you in the car after you bring him home to meet your parents.

wc is approx 2k

genre: smut, established relationship. minors do not interact. not edited bc i love to reread it later and see all my errors

warnings: reader has female anatomy. pet names (good girl, baby), use of slut (not derogatory). car sex (magical car seats that are big enough). fingering, finger sucking; unprotected sex. "gentleman" joshua vs dom josh. slightly mean joshua.

"Aw," Joshua cooed, one of his hands leaving to grab your phone. He unlocked it using his birthdate, reading off the message that had just pinged you. "It's from your mom. 'We absolutely loved having Joshua over and can't wait to see the two of you again! If you ask me, he's definitely a keeper. It's nice seeing you with someone who knows how to treat you right.'"

Joshua chuckled, tossing your phone back up front. He leaned back over you, his hand returning to where it had been fisted in your hair. All the while his fingers continued their pace inside of you.

He fingered you tortuously with long, perfect thrusts that hit you in all the right spots. The drag of his fingers against your walls had your toes curling, fingers scrambling against the seat for some sort of hold.

Josh brought his face down to your neck, running his lips over your skin. His voice was low when he spoke, but no less melodic, filling your ears and sending fluid from your cunt. "What do you think, baby? Think I know how to treat you right?"

He accentuated his words by thrusting his fingers into you in one swift movement, brutally hitting that spot inside of you that had you whining in his ears like a whore.

Josh mouthed along your skin, teeth skimming and sending your nerves on edge in anticipation for his bite.

It was so hot. He hadn't unclothed you all the way, your hoodie hanging off of one arm to reveal your torso, your pants pushed down around your ankles. Josh was completely dressed still, only his hair mused from where you couldn't help but sink your fingers in whenever he kissed you.

Josh laughed as you let out a high moan, arching your back into his hands. He began picking up the movement of his fingers, the pace becoming hurried, abusing your g-spot relentlessly.

"If only they could see their perfect little girl," he hummed, nose brushing along the tendon in your neck. Josh pressed an open-mouthed kiss there before trailing his mouth along your collar. "See her getting split open by my fingers in the back of my car on some dirt road."

Josh removed his fingers from you, a long, high whine of protest escaping your lips. Josh shushed you, pressing a kiss to your mouth. He settled his hand back in your cunt, skimming circles over the hood of your clit. "Settle down, baby. Just need you to cum for me before I fuck you, okay? You know how hard it is for me to fit if we don't."

You nodded, panting as his thumb expertly maneuvered to your clit. Josh's lips returned to your neck, kissing and sucking.

"Josh," you whispered, your throat refusing to allow your voice to go any higher. You repeated his name, trying to lift your hips.

"Let me handle it." Josh swiftly shoved his fingers back into your cunt. You clenched around them greedily, eager to have something filling you again. His thumb settled on your clit, finally, and you couldn't help but grind your hips against his digits.

"Easy, baby," he laughed, eyes bright as he watched you grind against his fingers desperately. "If you calm down I'll do all the work for you."

Once you were settled, Josh went about making good on his promise. His fingers hit your g-spot with every single thrust; his thumb grinded down on your clit in time.

You tossed your head back against the seat, eyes shutting. Your panting rose in volume as he continued his attack, your body constantly searching out his hand. It felt so good, heat and pressure building.

It sounded so lewd. Your cunt sucked him in audibly, squelching around his fingers. You could hear his mouth working against your neck, the way his breath seemed to get heavier with every passing second.

"Josh, Josh, Josh --"

He breathed against your neck, warm air making you shiver. He hummed, tongue leaving his mouth and running along your breast. Josh began to suck a hickey into the plush flesh there, ignoring the little sob that left you.

"Josh, Josh, please."

Josh laughed pityingly. "Okay, baby. You can cum now."

His fingers were fast and harsh, his thumb never leaving your clit as he played with it meanly. It was so much, it was all so much. The feeling of heat trapped between the two of you, the pressure building and mounting, the electricity that seemed to come from his thumb as it bullied your clit.

Then Josh was biting down on your breast, teeth sinking in. You let out a loud moan, back arching into him, the tension in your gut snapping and sending a flood of release out of your cunt.

Josh worked you through your orgasm, humming softly and pressing kisses against your sweaty temple. Once you settled, chest heaving, he slowly brought his hand from your cunt.

When you whined he laughed, obviously pleased at your neediness. Josh's fingers settled on your lower lip, tugging. "Open up."

Obediently you parted your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth. You loved the weight of them on your tongue, loved how they filled up your mouth and made you constantly work your throat in an attempt to take them both.

Sucking, you drank in your juices and clean off his fingers. Josh's eyes, which were normally so soft and sweet and kind, were hooded and dark, watching you with satisfaction.

Josh took his fingers from your mouth, though you attempted to follow them. Josh laughed then, and not able to help himself, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "So needy, aren't you, baby? Don't worry, I'll give you something better than my fingers."

He pulled away from you, kneeling on the seat. You watched, entranced, as his long fingers worked at the button and zipper of his jeans. Watching Josh take his clothes off was always something that had you drooling, eyeing as his forearm muscles worked, muscles flexing and veins bulging.

Josh shoved his pants down to his knees, moving back between your thighs. He lifted your lower half, one of his hands tugging down your sweats as he went. You lifted your hips, helping him. Once your pants were off, his large hands settled on the small of your back. "Okay baby, you ready?"

At your nod, Josh slowly began to push inside of you. Your cunt was still loose from his fingers, but that didn't stop Joshua's dickhead from catching on your hole. You winced at he continued to push, your hole protesting.

Then your cunt gave, his cock sliding in. You let out a soft whine, feeling it stretch out your walls. Immediately you were met with the delicious feeling of being full. It was like something had been missing all this time and it was Joshua's cock that cured that feeling.

Joshua stopped once his hips were flush against you, his dick settled inside of you. His dickhead brushed against your g-spot with every shift, drawing little whimpers out of you.

"That's it, baby," Joshua murmured. His eyebrows were furrowed, jaw tight in an effort to keep himself still as your cunt stretched itself around his dick, getting used to the intrusion. "Good girl."

Your mouth parted at the praise, your hips involuntarily twitching, pussy clenching. Joshua let out a low swear, his fingers digging into you.

"Josh," you whined, trying to wiggle your hips against him in an effort to get Joshua to move. "Please move, Josh."

Slowly Joshua began to pull out of you, the drag of his cock against your walls making your cunt clench around his dick in an attempt to keep him nestled inside.

"Fuck," Joshua swore. "Your cunt's so tight."

Once his dickhead caught on your rim, Joshua adjusted. His hands settled on your hips, holding you up. You braced your feet against the seat, trying to help him.

Then Joshua snapped his hips forward at the same time as he dragged your hips towards him, impaling you on his dick. You couldn't help but let out a cry, back arching and toes curling.

Each thrust was met with him dragging your hips, using his strength to manipulate his body to his will. He used you like a toy, like a sleeve, nothing more than a means to an end.

His fingers dug into your flesh, nails catching. Every time his hips met cunt you clenched, fluid gushing from your cunt. He harshly fucked into you, the head of his dick abusing your g-spot, hitting it with the expertise of a man who had long memorized your body.

Joshua leaned over you, releasing your hips. He pulled out of you entirely, and immediately your eyes narrowed in on his cock. It slapped against his stomach, tall and angry, glistening with your juices.

His hands returned to your hips, and you allowed Joshua to turn you over and onto your knees. You pressed your head down onto the seat, huffing, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath.

His dick slid into you easily, your cunt thoroughly stretched. Joshua draped himself over your back, putting himself flush against you once more. It was hot, too hot, especially with his body trapping the heat between you two.

You said nothing, however. You just listened to the sound of his pants as he filled you, tilting your neck when he began pressing kisses along it. Joshua's lips trailed over your shoulder blades, moving to follow along your back.

Then Joshua lifted himself off of you, his hands settling on your hips. With less urgency than before he began to slide into you with long, careful thrusts that had you softly crying out, rocking your hips back into him.

It felt delicious the way his cock hit your core, the drag of his length against your walls. His hips slapped against your ass, the sound of skin hitting skin just as lewd as the noises of your cunt.

You were going to have to clean the seats, you faintly realized as your juices gushed from you.

Joshua huffed, moving again to place a foot on the floorboards. When he began thrusting it was powerful, intentional. Every thrust was planned and calculated, Joshua seeking out your release alongside his own.

"Gonna cum in my car, baby?" He cooed, one of his hands moving from your hips. His fingers skimmed along your skin as he moved his hand around, trailing across your stomach as he set out for your clit. "Gonna soak my car seats like a desperate little slut?"

You nodded against the seats, eyes squeezed shut. When his forefingers pressed against your clit you couldn't help the little scream that left you. You could faintly hear Joshua chuckle. "What a good girl you are, letting me fuck you like this. You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Nodding, you let out a soft little moan. Joshua's fingers began rubbing against your clit furiously, his hips picking up pace as he drove into you. He was almost harsh with it, the way he used you.

"Say it for me," he murmured, voice nearly lost to the squelches of your cunt, the slap of his balls against the back of your thighs. "Say it, baby."

"'m a good --" You broke off, mouth involuntarily parting at a particularly good thrust. With a gasp, you continued. "'m a good girl."

"Yes you are." Joshua took your clit between his fingers and squeezed, your body jolting at the roughness. You were cumming before you realized it, however, heat rushing through you and blinding you.

When you came back, Joshua was holding you on his lap. You could feel his cum leaking from your hole, combining with your own orgasm and leaving your thighs soaked.

Both of his arms were around you, your head on his shoulder. Joshua was humming softly, hands gently carding through your hair.

"Joshie?" At his little noise of acknowledgement, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat, eyes slightly tired from the sex. But still he smiled gently, as if he hadn't just fucked your cunt in a car.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He raised a hand, brushing the hair that had stuck to your face from sweat away. "Doing okay?"

You nodded against him, moving to press a kiss to his neck. You let him continue holding you, his soft little song filling your ears.

#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: gentlemen do it in cars by cheolism-archive #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: hong jisoo x reader #g: smut #g: established relationship #r: nsfw #wc: up to 5k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 1 month ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

This was so heartachingly beautiful that I truly do not have the words to explain the feeling in my chest right now. I admit, I was wary to read this because I don’t do great with angst and sad/open/ambiguous/anything but happy endings, but this was worth every second.

You handled every aspect of this story so well. There’s often a sort of theme amongst religious focused fics to highlight the bad in religion, which is obviously fine if that’s important to the story, but this didn’t do that. I’m not religious in any way but I’m actually really glad about how you handled Joshua’s belief in this without turning it into something negative for the sake of his feelings.

I feel like I have a lot to say about this story but there’s nothing coming out. I think it’s all just sort of strange feelings I have right now, in a good way, and I’ve always been bad at talking about those kinds of things on a personal level and explaining how I feel, so I’ll just stop here before I ramble even more.

Thank you so much for writing this genuinely beautiful masterpiece, Trixie, and sharing it with us. I think everyone should give this story a chance, I don’t think they’d regret it.

“ he didn’t look up at her, choosing to stare down at his hands instead while he twirled the friendship ring he shared with you around his pinkie finger. ” NO WHY DID READING THE FRIENDSHIP RING PART JUST HIT ME SO HARD THAT’S SO CUTE I WANT FRIENDSHIP RINGS

“ his mom has always been supportive of him, always allowing him the space and freedom to make his own mistakes and learn from them—or not. ” I love that 🥺 I was genuinely worried she was gonna be all strict about it

“ and he can’t do that. ” you know, my automatic reaction was “oh no�� but then a second passed and I think it would be worse to change entirely who you are as a person for the sake of another. I’m not religious in anyway and question a lot of religious ideals and such, but I think that love shouldn’t change a person’s beliefs if there is no harm to them. To change something harmless for the sake of another just seems wrong. and i apologise for that little uhh whatever you wanna call my mini ramble there lol

“ he can’t lose himself to you. ” as he shouldn’t

“ joshua leaves his mother’s house knowing one thing is for sure: it’s time to let this dream of having you go. ” poor baby

“ even though he’s secretly and unfairly relieved every time you throw someone else to the curb ” made me giggle ngl

“ but then, you meet kwon soonyoung. ” SOOONYOUNNGGGG MY BABIE!

“ because either way, he knows he’ll be devoted to you until the day he dies; he might as well have had you by his side all this time. ” poor baby :((

“ “remember when you were both 14 and she learned what lent was? she tried giving up soda and ended up crying, begging me for forgiveness when she forgot and accidentally had coke with her school lunch.” ” oh, precious child

“ and you’re okay with that. you hope he is too. ” I kind of want to scream. That ending hits (I mean that in a positive way btw)

if you saw me reblog this blank and then immediately delete it, no you did not. (i did a dumb dumb and accidentally pressed reblog while i was working on adding my review 🤡)

‘til god breaks this spell

joshua's devotion to you rivals his devotion to his god.

♫ spell by niki pairing: joshua x fem!reader word count: 4.6k cw: a lot of religious reflection (catholicism) tags: childhood best friends, angst, not the happy ending you probably want sorry, the one that got away, joshua is a good catholic boy, reader is atheist a/n: the very first fic i wrote was a bts jinkook fic that was inspired by la la lost you by niki. seems fitting that i start my svt writing journey with another niki inspired song hehe. other than that, idk what compelled me to torture myself (and now you) like this. also, this was written in one, flustered go so it's barely edited oops!

“mom, what would you do if i married someone who didn’t believe in god?”

joshua’s mother immediately set her novel down, glasses slipping down her nose as she frowned at her one and only son. he didn’t look up at her, choosing to stare down at his hands instead while he twirled the friendship ring he shared with you around his pinkie finger.

“married?” she repeated. “i wasn’t even aware you had someone in your life.”

he shook his head quickly, frowning down at his open palm as he began to massage it nervously. “i don’t. i’m just… curious, i guess.”

it might be silly to be as worried about this as he is, seeing as things haven’t progressed into a relationship yet, but he’d rather figure this out now and say nothing than risk it, go all in, and then cause unnecessary pain later on.

his mother stays silent long enough that he forces himself to look at her. her eyes are no longer on him, instead seemingly zoning out on the space straight ahead. he follows her gaze and grimaces when he realizes she’s staring at the wooden carving of the last supper hung on the wall.

“i wouldn’t do anything,” she begins carefully. “you’re a grown man, after all. but i would worry that marrying a partner who didn’t believe in god—any god at all—would make you stray from your own faith.”

it’s a diplomatic answer and he expected it; his mom has always been supportive of him, always allowing him the space and freedom to make his own mistakes and learn from them—or not.

“so you’d prefer i marry catholic?”

“i mean, of course, but that’s not what i said, was it?” his mom retorts, giving him a pointed look. she knew joshua had a way of misunderstanding a lot of the things she told him. “i would prefer you marry catholic the way i would prefer you marry at all—nice to have but if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world.”

joshua nods, feeling a little bit of the tightness in his chest dissipate.

“i would just hope you think about it long and hard enough to know that you won’t compromise any of your own beliefs for someone who lives without a god,” she emphasizes.

joshua mulls that idea over. is his faith strong enough to withstand a lifelong partner who didn’t share his belief and love for god?

he wants to say yes. it’s you—of course he wants to say yes. you’ve been friends your whole lives, and he’s been in love with you for most of that time. of course he wants his answer to be: yes, my faith will survive a relationship with an atheist.

but he thinks about the conversations you’ve already had years ago, and the tightness in his chest returns tenfold.

is there anything that could happen that would make you believe in god?

probably not. it just seems too convenient that there’s someone out there in charge of everyone’s lives.

would you marry someone religious?

i don’t know. i guess it depends on the person. i don’t think i’d participate or convert or anything if i did, though.

what about kids? would you baptize them if you did marry someone religious?

dude, what’s with the interrogation? i don’t know! if it’s important to my partner, maybe? but i’d be most comfortable just letting my kids figure it out themselves. can we watch a movie now?

and each time you answered his question, instead of accepting that maybe there was a major incompatibility between the two of you, joshua would find himself thinking of the things he could compromise on.

okay, sure, he doesn’t need you to convert or participate; he’s already been going to church his entire adult life so far without anyone accompanying him. and if you didn’t want children baptized, that’s fine too! adults go through catholic confirmation later in life all the time! so what if you thought that the idea of a “big guy” controlling everyone’s lives was weird? he could just refrain from talking about that around you… or correcting your line of thinking because it’s a bit of a gross oversimplification of catholicism.

and as he sits there, his mother already back to her novel, he realizes his faith isn’t strong enough to survive you. because his love for you has become somewhat of its own religion to him, and if it came down to a question of his faith to you or his faith to god, he has to be honest with himself and admit that his mother’s fears are valid. he would put it all on the line if it meant being with you.

and he can’t do that.

he’s committed all kinds of sins by now. he’s been flexible in his beliefs—supportive and progressive in areas where other catholics have been unforgiving and in his opinion, outdated and bigoted. he’s compromised a lot at no cost to him or his god. but he can’t completely lose everything he’s known and loved for you. he can’t lose himself to you.

he can't forget that it isn't fair to you either—to have to try and appease him and his religion. he'd be doing you both a mercy, letting this spark die before it ever really takes flame.

joshua leaves his mother’s house knowing one thing is for sure: it’s time to let this dream of having you go.

the end is short and uneventful.

you two had only kissed once, and things hadn’t gone far enough for either of you to confess your feelings—whatever they were. so when joshua told you he thought it was better to stay best friends, you took it like a champ and agreed, smiling and hugging him tightly, promising him that nothing would change.

the end was short and uneventful, yet somehow the most devastating thing joshua has experienced. he had you. you were right there. he had a whole life with you in his palm, and he let it go.

he hates himself for it, but he saw it all. the moment his lips met yours, he saw hands intertwined together, late nights, car rides with his hand on your thigh, hugs from behind while he cooked for you, a suit and a white dress, a small, innocent face that looked like the both of you—your smile, his eyes.

and he feels like maybe you saw it too.

because when you both pulled away, you looked up at him like this was it—like you had just run a marathon and you had reached the finish line. like you’d grabbed his hand and crossed it with him. you smiled widely, wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, and caressed the skin there as your foreheads met. and you fell asleep wrapped up in each other like it was where you were both meant to be.

maybe you saw it too. and now he’s the reason it’ll stay a dream.

you stay true to your promise. joshua is almost saddened by how easy it seems for you to revert back to being only friends. every time he sees you, hears you, brushes up against you, he feels like his heart is cracking wide open and the world might just end at that very moment. it’s dramatic but he can’t wrap his mind around any other way to exist.

it hurts for a while, but the years pass a little easier.

he watches you date, and even though he’s secretly and unfairly relieved every time you throw someone else to the curb, he takes it well. he meets some of them and welcomes them warmly, agreeing to hang out with you and whoever you’re dating any time you ask him to. he even thinks one or two of them could give you a good life; he can live thinking of you with these ones forever. but you inevitably leave them behind and he hates that it makes him happy to watch you shake off a good guy that isn’t him.

just as he planned, joshua’s faith remains strong. he goes to church. he volunteers with his mom and her bible study friends. he sings and plays guitar on the praise and worship team from time to time. he meets a a catholic woman he thinks could be a match for him. he never asks her out. he politely declines when she musters up the courage to do it herself.

he thinks this could be fine. maybe he’ll be single forever and maybe you’ll find some average guy he can stomach, and his love for his god and for your happiness will keep him warm enough at night.

but then, you meet kwon soonyoung.

you’ve never been one to fall and tell; most of the time, joshua doesn’t know you’re dating someone until you decide it’s time to get his stamp of approval. he knows soonyoung is different from the jump.

your time starts to get tied up. it starts with only seeing him sporadically throughout the month instead of almost every day. it becomes rescheduling all your hangouts until you’re only seeing each other briefly at mutual friends’ events. it ends with missed calls and ignored texts.

he’s driving himself crazy wondering what’s going on, and when you post a photo on your story of a dinner date with a faceless man, he understands what’s happening. you’re falling in love. and he knows it because you never have—not truly—and this is what it must look like.

you don’t fall and tell, but joshua knows you too well to pretend it’s anything but this. he doesn’t try to take up any more of your time out of respect, and you don’t reach out.

you prove him right when a few months later, you bring soonyoung to a friend’s dinner party, and you introduce him as your boyfriend. it hits joshua like a truck. you’ve never introduced someone to him as a boyfriend. he’s always met the people you’ve dated before it progressed that far. he also had the privilege of meeting them privately, not with the rest of the friend group, none of who are privy to the way his heart collapses in on itself when he watches the way you lean into soonyoung all night. the way you laugh with him. the way his eyes disappear from how fondly he smiles at you. the way he seems to fit right into your life so perfectly.

you hug joshua tightly that night before leaving, and you tell him you miss him so much and you two need to catch up soon. neither of you follow up, though, and a year later, you’re engaged.

the week before joshua is due at your wedding as a guest—not your “man-of-honor” the way you’ve always planned your entire life—he gets completely shit-faced drunk.

he’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of a puddle of his own vomit when you quietly sit beside him, slipping your arm around his shoulders. he doesn’t know why you’re there. he doesn’t know if he’s hallucinating. he smiles anyway.

“hey, you.”

“hey, shua,” you whisper, smiling at him sadly. “what are you doing?”

“oh, y’know,” he shrugs, grinning at himself pathetically. “just hanging out.”

you hum, nodding.

“what are you doing here?” he asks.

you look at him with an inscrutable expression. “i just wanted to see you,” you answer. “i wanted to see my best friend.”

“am i?” he asks, looking up at the sky. the moon is covered by clouds tonight. “your best friend?”

“of course. you always will be.”

he smiles at the thought. he’s too drunk to realize there’s no possible way that’s true, not since soonyoung came into your life. he’s too drunk to remember there’s no room in your life for another man who’s just as hopelessly in love with you as your fiance is.

“say, do you believe in god yet?” he asks suddenly.

you raise an eyebrow at the suddenness of the question. “um, i haven’t thought about it lately.”

he nods. “okay.”

“joshua, what are you doing here?” you ask again. “what are you really doing here?”

he doesn’t remember what he tells you. what he does remember is waking up in the room he grew up in instead of his apartment, with his mother at the foot of his childhood bed, tears welling in her eyes.

“was it y/n?” she asks.

he frowns. “what?”

“when you asked what i would do if you married someone who didn’t believe in god all those years ago,” she explains, sniffling a little as she does. “were you talking about y/n?”

he doesn’t answer.

the events of the previous night catch up to him, and he remembers where he is—where his life is. he’s a handful of days from watching you marry someone else. he’s a handful of days from losing the one person he’s ever fallen in love with to someone else.

and all joshua has to show for it is his goddamn faith, and suddenly, for the first time since he asked his mother that question, he’s not sure it was worth it. because either way, he knows he’ll be devoted to you until the day he dies; he might as well have had you by his side all this time.

he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. when he fails, he can’t help the sobs that begin to rack his body.

he buries the heel of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

“she’s marrying him,” he groans through his sobs. “she’s marrying him, mom.”

“oh, joshua. i know.” he feels his mom’s hand squeeze his leg. “oh, baby, i’m so sorry.”

“i can’t do this. i can’t do it,” he wheezes, feeling like his lungs are collapsing under the weight of his ribs. “why did i do this? i can’t do this.”

she doesn’t try to convince him he can do this. she doesn’t try to argue that he didn’t do anything wrong. she doesn’t tell him to calm down. she collects him in her arms and she holds him, comforting him the way only a mother knows how to.

when he starts to calm down, she kisses the crown of his head.

“the pain you must’ve endured all this time. i’m so sorry, joshua. if i had known who you were talking about, i would’ve said something entirely different.”

he untangles himself from her embrace to look at his mother. “what do you mean?”

she wipes at her own tear-stained cheeks before cupping her son’s face. “oh, sweetheart. it’s y/n. you grew up with her. i know her like i would my own daughter.”

his mother shakes her head and joshua feels like he sees all his regret mirrored in her face. she pulls him to sit against the wall his bed is pushed up against, joining him as they both stare out the opposite window.

“there are some people who lead godly lives without even knowing it,” she informs him. “you say she doesn’t believe in god, but i don’t believe you.” his stomach lurches. “that girl has lived as godly a life as you and i have. she doesn’t need to be catholic to do that, baby. you know her. there isn’t a single universe where that girl would’ve led you away from your faith.”

joshua stammers now. “but… i…”

“all the sundays she tagged along for mass with us because she just wanted to be with her best friend when she could’ve been out on the playgrounds,” his mother begins listing. “she always respectfully bowed her head when we prayed before meals even though we both knew she wasn’t praying.”

his head is reeling now. is it possible he rewrote his own memories? could he have created his own narrative of what life with you would look like?

“remember when you were both 14 and she learned what lent was? she tried giving up soda and ended up crying, begging me for forgiveness when she forgot and accidentally had coke with her school lunch.”

his mother’s shoulders shake with nostalgic laughter.

“you would’ve thought i was god the way that girl wailed,” she reminisces. she sighs in the silence that follows. “joshua, my son. some people… they show you they love god in a way different than we do, and it’s my fault i never properly taught you that.”

he turns his head to look at her but her gaze remains trained on the window. he sees now that it’s not his regret she mirrors but her own.

“i think i was too preoccupied with ensuring i raised you to be a good, catholic man—too preoccupied with making sure you didn’t become anything like your father.”

he breathes in deeply and returns his focus to the window.

“but i should’ve made it clear. i should’ve shown you that god exists in all the little acts of love we give and receive. i should’ve shown you that organized religion isn’t the only marker of faith.” she pauses, taking a shaky breath. “maybe then you would’ve recognized y/n as a woman of god. maybe then you wouldn’t be so hurt now.”

the words are enough to make joshua even more nauseous than his hangover is already making him.

“y/n… she shows godliness in the way she respects you and your beliefs. she shows it in the way she supports and loves you through every season of your life. it’s unfair to say she isn’t good enough for you because her faith lies in a different place.”

“i never thought she wasn’t good enough for me,” he interjects quickly. his mom doesn’t argue that, simply nodding. “she’s perfect. i just… i thought we were incompatible.”

“and maybe you are,” she agrees.

she doesn’t need to say it out loud; they both know what comes next. but now you’ll never know.

“i just wanted to apologize,” his mom tells him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “i feel like i’ve failed you.”

“you haven’t, mom,” he says quietly. “i failed me.”

“we’ll agree to disagree,” she announces, making him smile a little. “but i’m sorry anyway. there are a lot of things i’d change now if i could.”

he feels the familiar tightness in his chest. it’s his companion at this point, the heartbreak. “me too, mom. me too.”

joshua played with your hair from where he was laying on your couch. you were sitting criss-cross in front of him on the floor, clicking through netflix and trying to find a movie you both wanted to watch.

"is there anything that could happen that would make you believe in god?" he suddenly asked you. you frowned at the abrupt question, setting the remote down on the floor.

"that's random."

"just curious," he murmured softly, like he was so relaxed he was about to fall asleep.

"hmm," you hummed in thought, resting your head back so you could stare at the ceiling. he adjusted your hair so it fell over his lap. "like what, some kind of miracle that can only be explained by god?"

he shrugged. "sure. whatever."

"probably not..." you answered with hesitation. "i can't really think of a kind of miracle that would have me questioning god, though."

"like, if someone you loved were given a terminal diagnosis—three months to live. and suddenly, their illness clears up with no explanation. even doctors are astounded. what would you think?"

you shrugged. "i would be too happy they're not dying to question how it happened." he blew out a breath of exasperation. "okay, okay," you laughed, trying to figure out a more definite answer for him. "no, i don't think there's anything that could happen. it just seems too convenient that there's someone out there in charge of everyone's lives."

he nodded along but said nothing. you fidgeted in the silence. the quiet wasn't something the two of you ever shied from; it was always comfortable with joshua. for some reason, you felt awkward. so you kept talking to fill the silence.

"i think i could be open to believing something, though," you admitted honestly. "i just don't want to get to a place where i would blame this... thing or person for the things going wrong in my life. but that's just me. i still love that people believe so strongly in it. faith is a beautiful thing."

joshua taught you that. faith withstood a lot of things, and your best friend was the prime example. nothing was quite as beautiful as his love for his religion, his god, his spirituality. even if it scared you sometimes—even if it unintentionally made you feel too small to be someone lucky enough to have joshua's heart—you knew it was still precious.

"would you marry someone religious?"

you snorted. "where are these questions coming from?"

"indulge me."

you sighed, closing your eyes and enjoying the way his fingers carded through your hair. "that's so hard to answer without knowing who it is. it depends on the person. i can't make a decision based solely on how religious they are."

"okay, i guess that's fair." he paused. "would you ever convert for someone?"

"i don't think so?" you said, hating how unsure you sounded answering all of these questions. "but who knows? i really can't say for sure without knowing who it is, shua. how about you? would you marry someone who wasn't religious?"

your heart pounded at the silence that followed.

"it depends on the person," he finally said with a playful tone.

you rolled your eyes. "exactly."

"alright, what about kids?"

"shua, why are you interrogating me right now?"

he snickered. "i'm having a conversation with my best friend. is that not allowed?"

you lifted your head and turned to glare at him, your hair slipping between his fingers. he dropped his hand now that he had nothing to play with. he raised his eyebrows at you slightly.

"of course it's allowed," you scoffed. "it's just... so out of nowhere."

"well?" he prodded, ignoring your comments.

"okay, what about kids?" you relented.

"would you baptize them if you did marry someone religious?"

you laughed. "so much religion talk tonight."

he didn't dignify that with a response.

you groaned, again having no idea. if you took all these questions and made them about joshua, they would be a million times easier to answer. but he wasn't asking about himself, he was asking about some faceless, nameless nobody, and you weren't invested enough to answer accurately.

"i don't know... if it's important to my partner, then of course i would consider it," you finally said. "but i guess i'd be most comfortable just letting my kids figure it out themselves."

"that's wise," he remarked.

"mhm, sure" you hummed. "can we watch a movie now? i'll even let you choose an anime if you stop asking questions that make me sweaty."

he smirked and nodded. "okay, come up here, though."

you joined him on the couch and you spent the rest of the night binging anime episodes. you wouldn't be able to say what you watched, though, because the entire time, your mind was stuck on what the answers would've been if they were about joshua.

the end is long and beautiful.

you marry kwon soonyoung in front of all your loved ones, and you do it knowing full well this man will give you the happiest life. you spend the night eating the food you both painstakingly chose together, dancing to songs recommended by your guests on their RSVPs, and laughing so hard, tears stream down both of your faces.

and when you sidle up to your best friend as he leans on the bar, waiting for his drink, he has the strength to look happy for you. you’re sure he isn’t. at least not quite all the way.

“i’m happy you’re happy, y/n.”

you smile. “thank you, shua.” you pause, tilting your head a little in thought. you add: “for everything.”

“what’s everything?” he asks, smiling in confusion.

“for everything... for being my best friend all this time. loving me like you did. letting me love you," you list, ignoring the way his eyes widen at you. "most of all, i guess i just want to thank you for everything you gave up so we could be here,” you finish before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. you pull away, cupping his face, and smiling. “i’ll never forget it. thank you.”

you’re swept back onto the dance floor by your bridesmaids. it was a short exchange, but you know it was enough.

you’re not dumb. you knew what joshua had to give up so you could be here, happy, in love, and with the man perfect for you.

everything. he had to give up everything. he chose his devotion to god over his devotion to you, and you never faulted him for that because you knew it was a decision that would destroy him, and maybe it did at one point, having to bury his love as deep as he did.

you didn’t believe heaven was real, and still, he chose to love you until it hurt like hell and you knew it. there might have been a younger version of you that was heartbroken he couldn’t possibly imagine a life with you where you were capable of supporting his beliefs wholeheartedly regardless of yours. because you would have. you would have done everything in your power to make him feel loved while keeping his door to his god wide open.

there might have been a younger version of you that would’ve hated him for this.

but tonight, as you slow dance with your husband, feeling the safest you’ve felt in your entire life, all you can do is thank joshua hong for all the choices he made without asking you first.

ironically, because of him, you can see god now. you can see god in the way soonyoung holds you like you’re the most precious person in his life. you can see god in his patience and care. in his kindness. in his dedication to making you smile and laugh.

you’ve never seen god in a clearer light.

you think back to your last, honest night with joshua, on that deserted street, when he drunkenly called you.

“what are you really doing here?”

“i’m mourning,” he answered. “i’m mourning the life we could’ve had.” he frowned as tears began to fall down your face. “don’t cry. i don’t want to make you sad. i’m okay, i promise. i’ll be okay. i’m just letting you go now... for real this time.” he hiccuped. "for real, for real."

“you didn’t have to, you know,” you whispered.

“i think i did.”

you got him to his mother’s home that night, not wanting him to wake up alone with the weight of his sadness. you didn’t exchange many words, but you knew she knew. she hugged you, told you she was happy for you and soonyoung, and she looked at you for several, long seconds. you felt like she could see right through you because she probably could—she always did.

“you’ll always have him.”

“and he’ll always have me.”

“i know.”

the end is long and beautiful, and it’s simultaneously the best and the most devastating night of your life.

but your lives go on, and you and joshua both find what keeps you warm at night, and you hold onto it for as long as you can.

and you’re okay with that. you hope he is too.

#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: til god breaks this spell by joshujin #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: hong jisoo x reader #g: angst #r: sfw #wc: up to 5k #trixie 💗

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 2 months ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

This was such an enjoyable read! I love how you write! And this truly felt like Chan all over, you really did him justice, sweetheart.

Thank you for writing this wonderful story and sharing it with us!

“ is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days. ” that would make me incredibly happy too. Beachy holiday sounds great rn

“ “But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.” ” emotional transparency? sounds like hell

“ That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room. ” ahahahha

“ “I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.” ” yes, Chan will let you top him any day!

“ that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks ” I read that as “moan over him” and I was very alarmed for a second there lol

“ “I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.” ” I am cackling

“ “I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.” ” now I am wheezing omg this is brilliant

“ “But I would heavily adviseagainst mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.” ” booo! Let him know you wanna go full freak on his ass from day one! He should know what he’s getting into, after all 😌

“ “Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses. ” 😂

“ “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!” ” there’s nothing for it, just going to have to get on top of Chan in another way. It’s the only option, what a shame

“ Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes. ” ah, bestfriendery

“ “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.” ” now, call him sir and watch him have a mental breakdown in the middle of the store 😈

“ and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches. ” grab his peach 😈

“ “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.” ” relatable

“ “Nothing will cure you,” ” also relatable

“ You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck? ” lol yeah, pretty much tho

“ First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today. ” time to get a shark costume

“ “Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective. ” you just got called a giant flaming dumbass of a clueless human in two emphatic words, how do you feel

“ “You?” you say. “I would never mind.” ” ayyyy

“ If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. ” omg I literally snorted

“ “It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” ” boo, how dare she be wise and sensible about this

“ “You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?” ” no, together. Save water and all that

“ On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling. ” cute

“ “No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.” ” 😏

“ smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you. ” cute

“ smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!” so understandable

“ The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching ” boo, damn him for being respectable

“ he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy ” absolutely precious

“ “What would you do if I came onto you right now?” ” screeching! That’s me, not how I think he’d react btw. Though thinking about it, probably him mentally too

“ Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment. ” that’s so rude of it

“ But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing. ” love a good hand hold moment

“ Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.” made me laugh

“ He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. ” 🥺

“ They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause. ” 😂

Not So Loud || LC

banner by @itaeewon <3

Not So Loud lee chan x afab reader || fluff smut baby angst || f2l, only one bed trope NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: You've been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years, despite his rejection seven months ago. When you're impossibly coupled up on a friendcation, you're determined not to make it everyone else's problem. Of course, you weren't expecting to have to room with him, and you certainly weren't expecting only one bed...

wc: 16.6k

warnings: language, recreational drinking, sooo much pining, baby misunderstandings, kissing, breast play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv sex (no protection mentioned either way), reader on top, mentions of shower sex

request by @eoieopda:

yes my fearless leader you may have even two crumbs of lee dino getting laid at the beach, i hope you enjoy every single second of it <3

“This,” you sigh blissfully, “is the happiest I may ever be.”

The sun is shining. Upbeat pop music runs like an undercurrent below the sound of the highway from the stereo of your best friend’s junky, decade-old sedan. Your iced coffee - light and sweet, but not too much of either - tastes like heaven. And the best part, the part that makes this day the best even if you didn’t have iced coffee or sunshine or Ruby or happy music, is that you’re less than an hour away from the beachfront house you and your friends have rented for the next five days.

All six of you had collectively been saving up for a full year and a half to make this happen, and there were times during the wait when it seemed like it would never come together between scheduling and money and rental availability. But now you’re here, racing down the highway to keep up with the flow of traffic, the ocean beckoning you closer.

“Now, now,” Ruby, the aforementioned best friend, scolds lightly. “What about your wedding day?”

You blow a raspberry. “What wedding day?” you shoot back sourly, but then you take another sip of caffeinated, iced perfection and your mood buoys immediately. It’s gonna take a lot to keep you down, today. Still, you rationalize, “I can’t even get to a third date.”

It was true. Your last third date had been almost two years ago. Since then, everything fizzled after one or two. Embarrassing. Something only Ruby - and, by proxy, her boyfriend Mingyu - would know about you.

“Because you compare them all to Chan,” Ruby says sagely.

The beams of sunlight are glaring. The pop music grates on your nerves, too boppy and much too happy. You set your coffee in the cup holder, your hand suddenly smarting from the bite of cold.

Coincidental to the third date thing, you’ve been in love with Lee Chan for almost two years. Another embarrassing Ruby-and-thus-Mingyu-only tidbit.

“Stooo-ooppp,” you whine. “If you’re going to spend the whole time making it weird about him, I’m going to find a way back home! I will walk there, just try me!”

“Now, now,” she says again, mildly. Your dramatics are nothing new to her. “I’ll behave. But I keep telling you - it would be significantly less weird if you’d just tell him you have a thing for him.”

You narrow your eyes at her. A thing.

An every problem I’ve ever had melts away and my soul floats three feet above my body every time your smile crosses your face kind of thing. A hearing your laugh makes me laugh even if I didn’t hear the joke kind of thing. A finding your gaze across a loud room makes me feel like no one else is there but us kind of thing.

A he doesn’t feel the same way, and he never will kind of thing. He made that super clear, about seven months ago.

And it gets worse.

You’ve had a week to accept your fate on this trip - a week since she’d called to tell you that the original rental had fallen through. To tell you that the replacement place is almost better (closer to the beach! a huge deck! a private pool!) except for the number of rooms. That since the other four people attending are made up of two couples, you and Chan would have to share a room.

(“The rooms are huge,” she’d assured you. “And the third room’s got bunk-beds! I bet will Chan will let you have top bunk if you want it - he’s a nice guy.”

You didn’t say, even though it is very true, that bunk-beds are really only a selling point if you are ten years old. But there were more important arguments to make. “I know he’s a nice guy,” you’d bit out. “He’s the nicest fucking guy I’ve ever met in my life, actually!” Hence the thing.

She’d paused and then pointed out, “You’ve met Seokmin, though.”

And, yeah, maybe on paper Seokmin is nicer but looking at his smile doesn’t feel like being filled with sunshine, so the point is moot.)

Anyway. You’ve had time to accept the fact that you have to share a room with the guy you’ve been in love with for over a year and a half. You’ve had time to accept that he might hear you snore, will see that you’re messy, that you’ll have to get changed in the bathroom for the whole trip, that you’ll have to get really good at pretending not to moon over him every time he speaks.

“I think,” you tell Ruby mildly, “that telling him that I want to lick his body from top to bottom and then get married might actually make things more weird.”

“I would just like to say,” Ruby’s boyfriend Mingyu pipes up from the backseat, his voice weary and long-suffering, “that this is an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for me.”

In your defense, you’d thought he was asleep.

Ruby descends on him like a swarm of locusts. “Don’t you think she should tell him she’s in love with him?”

“I actually do,” Mingyu says, covering his eyes with his hands as if he can’t bear to see what a disaster you are. “But I would heavily advise against mentioning the licking. Or the marriage.”

“It’s hyperbole,” you defend, flapping a hand in his direction. But, yeah, noted.

Excitement bubbles in your stomach, despite the rooming situation, when Ruby flicks on her turn signal and moves to exit the highway. Already, the smell of the air through the open windows has turned salty, and the thick tree-line along the highway has given way to cloudless blue sky and the occasional palm tree. It had been almost hazy when you’d set off at the crack of dawn (Mingyu had taken the back seat so he could stretch out and sleep a little longer) but now the sunrise has burned away all of that haze and given way to a perfect morning.

It takes only minutes for Ruby to navigate through the small, coastal town and to a row of vacation homes. You lose yourself in a daydream of waking up to take coffee on a sunlit balcony, listening to waves crash in time below you. In your daydream, across the balcony someone stretches their arms above their head, a sliver of belly peeking out for only a second, then turns to give you a sleepy smile, thinly-wired glasses perched on his nose.

Someone.

You shake yourself free of the fantasy; part of you feels like Ruby can read your mind, like she’s seconds away from calling you out for placing Chan in your seaside fantasy life.

Ruby, however, is too focused on finding the house to read your mind, and she slows the car and turns into a driveway, chirping, “We’re here!”

You all start grabbing luggage to carry in; the sun feels amazing on your skin, the sea breeze cool almost to the point of chilly and so salty it makes your nose twitch. You three aren’t even done emptying your car when you’re startled by a beep-beep-beepbeep-beep from the road behind you.

“That’s Soonyoung,” Mingyu says without even turning to look.

He’s right - it is. The second car, which carries Soonyoung, his girlfriend Lara, and Chan, pulls into the driveway next to you.

Chan greets you with a wide, happy grin (that, yes, makes you feel full of sunshine, whatever) and a quick, one-armed hug as he comes around the front of the parked car. Your moronic heart lifts, stupidly hopeful - until Soonyoung does the same thing. Your heart deflates again with the reminder that they’re just like this - nice, affectionate with their friends. It doesn’t mean anything. Chan’s attention to you is just as platonic as Soonyoung’s - which is to say, entirely.

You all manage to gather the luggage from both cars, and Mingyu follows the rental app’s directions to work the keypad at the front door. You all ooh and ahh as you step inside - the place is roomy, well-lit from sliding glass doors and windows that face the ocean, and decorated with (what else?) a kitschy, nautical theme.

You kick off your flip-flops onto a mat with an anchor on it (per the theme), and follow the others further into the house.

You head straight back through the house - the living room gives way into a dining room that ends with the sliding-glass doors. In tandem with Ruby, you press your face to the glass of the door and peer outside. You’re delighted to see that the ocean is right there, beckoning you to come play. Gulls swoop and call, loud enough that you can hear their cries from inside. Further down the beach you can see colorful umbrellas and tents that other beachgoers have set up. Below the deck, you can see just a strip of the private pool.

You pull yourself away from the back door and head into the adjoining kitchen, where Lara is standing at an open cupboard, examining its contents.

“We’re going to need to do a grocery run,” she muses, looking over at you. “I think all Soonyoung packed was ramen and soju.”

“What else could we possibly need?” he jokes from down the hall, his voice echoing.

“Coffee,” you say immediately.

“Beer,” Mingyu says seriously.

“Meat? Vegetables? Stuff for breakfast? Something to drink that isn’t alcohol?” Lara suggests.

“Who invited the Capricorn?” Soonyoung (the person who invited the Capricorn) grouses.

“Without me,” she tells him seriously, though the corner of her mouth twitches, “you’d be malnourished at best, and at worst? Dead.”

“Probably true,” you say, giving her a conspiratorial nod, and then you hear Ruby call your name from upstairs. Her voice sounds strained, and a little alarm bell goes off inside your head.

“Yes?” you answer loudly, hoping your voice will carry up to her.

“Can you come up here for a minute?” she calls down to you. Yes, there is definitely an edge to her voice that you don’t like. “Now?”

“Oh jeez,” you mutter, starting to make your way towards the stairs at the front of the house. You take the stairs quickly, calling Ruby’s name as you navigate the unfamiliar house.

She and Chan are both standing in the hallway, open doors all around them. Their faces mirror each other - disbelief, anxiety.

“What?” you ask, a little breathless both from the stairs and from anticipation. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s, uh,” Ruby stammers. It’s very unlike her to lose her confidence, and the unease in your gut churns again.

“What?” you say again, and when she doesn’t answer, you turn to Chan, who looks stricken. “What is it?”

“No bunk beds,” he manages, finishing Ruby’s sentence and gesturing to the room behind him.

You’re pressing forward without making the decision to move, without answering either of them, crowding Chan’s space so you’re chest to chest, peering over his shoulder. His hands hover near your elbows, like you might overbalance and he’s ready to steady you.

The room behind him is huge - as Ruby promised - complete with an ensuite bathroom and the balcony straight out of your daydream in the car. It also, as Chan pointed out, does not have bunk-beds. Instead, one king-sized bed is centered against the far wall, flanked by wicker nightstands with lamps on each and an old-school radio alarm clock on one.

You say nothing - you just back out of Chan’s personal space and swivel, heading for the other doors. Surely that was just the wrong room - one meant for one of the couples. Surely they just didn’t look hard enough, didn’t check the other doors, didn’t find the room with two beds that you’d been promised.

You find a full bathroom, a linen closet, one door that remains locked, and - to your dismay - two identical bedrooms, neither of which hosts more than one single bed.

Realization trickles through you slowly, building up higher and higher as you check the doors a second, and then a third, time. Ruby and Chan stay frozen in place in the dimly lit hallway, watching your frantic, pointless searching.

“Oh, my God,” you say hollowly. Then, turning, you narrow your eyes. “Ruby,” you growl. “You promised. Where is my top bunk?!”

“I don’t know!” she squeaks. “The listing said four beds!”

“Call them,” you demand flatly.

Beside Ruby, Chan’s eyebrows scrunch as he frowns. He says your name quietly, holding up a hand as if to calm you. “We don’t need to move houses,” he says gently. “I’ll take a couch. It’s not a big deal.”

You feel yourself shaking your head immediately. “I will feel like shit if you spend your vacation sleeping on the couch because of me,” you tell him.

He and Ruby exchange a long look (something that you don’t like very much, but no one is asking you) and then she tentatively says, “Could we work it out later? Maybe one of the couches pulls out into a bed or something? Or do you really want me to try and get us a different rental? This is already our second one, I’m not sure there are even other options still available…” She trails off, eyes wide.

You sigh, eyeing the ceiling above you as if it has answers. “Fine,” you say, because you can’t stand the thought of being the one who’s causing problems, ever the people-pleaser. “We’ll figure it out later.”

You head back down the hall, tromping down the stairs in silence to get your luggage.

Chan tries to take one of your bags for you, but you shrug him off and he lets you. You follow him back up the stairs, to the large room you’d looked at a few minutes ago. You both stand in the middle of it, looking around. You’re unsure if you should even unpack in here if there’s a chance you’ll end up moving to the couches.

“It’ll be okay,” Chan says, and it startles you out of your thoughts so badly that you flinch.

“Mhm,” you manage, because you don’t want to lie to him by agreeing.

“Hey,” he says, a little insistently, and you look up at him. He’s looking at you openly, his expression an impossible mix of concern and optimism. It disarms you immediately, in a way nothing else ever has.

There’s something always so earnest about Chan, one of your favorite things about him, and you can’t help but believe him when he continues to speak. “It will. We can, like, take turns with the bed or something. It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t let this ruin your trip. Okay?”

You nod silently, thinking about this. He’s right - there’ll be a solution. “Okay,” you say, managing to give him a little smile. “You’re right.”

The grin he gives you is mischievous. “I usually am,” he quips - and you love that about him, too: the way he’s playfully cocky, something ironic in the way he displays it, like you’re all in on the joke and he’s happily his own punchline. He disappears into the hallway, where you hear him heading down the stairs.

You wait for the tornado of butterflies in your belly to calm back down and then you look around the room. You finally decide to just leave your bags in a pile near the dresser, and head back down to find the others.

Everyone is standing around the kitchen table, where it seems like a grocery list is being split into Things That Can versus Things That Cannot be bought at the local liquor store.

“We can take one car and handle the drinks,” Mingyu is saying as you walk up and lean your chin on Ruby’s shoulder from behind. She absently reaches up to give your head an affectionate pat as you both listen. “Then the grocery team can take the second car, and whoever is handling the rental office can just walk.”

“Rental office?” you ask. “What for?”

“Just to grab our passes for the beach,” Lara answers you. “They’re like little tags. It’s part of what we paid for.”

“The rental’s under your name,” Soonyoung reminds her, “so we should probably handle that.”

“Yah, you just want the easy task,” Mingyu complains.

Soonyoung grins, guilty as charged not at all sorry about it. He grabs for Lara’s hand and heads for the front door. “If we aren’t here when you get back, we’ll leave your passes on the table!” he calls, and then the door slams shut.

“Asshole,” Mingyu grumbles affectionately.

The four of you look at each other in the resulting quiet. Then, Ruby asks, “Anything you want to add to our list?”

You lean further around her to read her phone screen, scanning what drinks had already been requested.

“Nope,” you tell her. “I’m good with that. Does this mean I’m on the grocery team?”

Chan looks up from his phone when you ask this, waiting to hear the answer.

Ruby and Mingyu meet gazes, seeming to have a silent conversation. Then, she gives you a sheepish look, almost a grimace. “Yeah - sorry, but I kind of wanted to go with Gyu on the drinks run, if that’s okay?”

You’ve been best friends with Ruby for a long time. You know her in and out, and you know this: she’s not like this, not sweet and apologetic. If it was just you two, she’d just say what she wanted. The act is for a reason.

You blink at her, trying to figure it out. “Of course it’s okay,” you say slowly. “If you and Mingyu are handling the drink run, then I’ll handle groceries with Chan.”

Ah. That was Ruby’s game - she paired you with Chan on purpose.

Meddler. Pain in the ass. Angel. Light of your life. She contains multitudes.

His eyes drop back to his phone. “You don’t have to,” he says, not looking at you. “If you want to go with them or catch up with Lara then I can handle it by myself.”

You frown. “It’s not really a one person job,” you observe. “And I don’t mind - really.”

“So it’s decided!” Ruby says brightly, moving to rest her hand on her boyfriend’s forearm. “We should beat you back, but we’ll wait for you guys so we can help unload the car.”

“Thanks,” you say, meaning it. For everything.

Ruby and Mingyu head out, and you meander closer to Chan. You’re not alone together very often - you’re pretty much always in a group setting.

You’d met through Ruby and Mingyu, years ago. You and Ruby were a very packaged deal, and Mingyu had a crew of friends that filtered in and out of your social events like they kept a scheduled rotation. When Soonyoung had settled into a serious relationship with Lara, the two of them became pretty permanent fixtures with Ruby and Mingyu, and Chan usually went where Soonyoung did. So then you were six.

How perfectly even. How serendipitous. How nearly fated.

If only he saw it that way.

But he doesn’t, he’s made that clear. It was Lara’s fault, actually. That night is burned into your brain, an unpleasant memory custom-made to slither into your brain when you’re trying to sleep before a big day.

The six of you had been bar-hopping on a Saturday night about seven months ago. It had been cool - late autumn teasing winter, and you’d been shivering as the six of you rowdily made your way up the block to your next stop. Laughing at something Soonyoung had said, Chan had reached around your shoulders sloppily, pulling you tight against him.

“Cold?” he’d asked you, as you tried to keep walking - a challenge because of both the alcohol in your system and the alarm bells going off in your head over his hand on your arm.

“Definitely chilly,” you’d managed to reply, looking up at him sideways. His profile was sharper than you’d realized before, and it sent a wave down your core, sinking like a weight through your stomach and into your lower belly and he grinned down at you.

You never wanted him to let go. Never, for the rest of your lives.

“You two are cute,” Lara had said drunkenly, the words a little slurred, as she leaned heavily on Soonyoung. You’d flushed, a little embarrassed, but Chan’s reaction had mortified you. His eyes had widened and he’d gone so far as to retract his arm from around you as quick as lightning, moving sideways to put inches between you again.

It left you frozen, a block of ice.

“No - we’re - we’re only friends,” he had said emphatically, and Lara had apologized, her hand over her mouth. Then, Ruby had tripped on the sidewalk and ripped the knees of her jeans, and the whole incident was forgotten.

Not by you, though. Never by you. This was the moment that floated up like the ghost of Christmas past whenever Ruby urged you to confess to Chan, which was more frequent than you’d like. The rush of cold in the absence of his arm, the way he’d stuttered in his hurry to refute the misunderstanding.

Message received, Lee Chan. Loud and fucking clear.

Didn’t change a thing about how you feel, though.

Presently, you try to push this out of your head - the fact that there’s no social buffer between you, no Ruby or Soonyoung to hide behind - before it can trip you up. “What’s on the list?” you ask. He hands you his phone, lets you scroll through everything he’d typed up.

“Okay,” you say, handing it back. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Yeah,” he says, a little absently, then starts patting at his pockets, eyes scanning the tabletop. “Yeah, I’m ready. Aish, Lee Chan, where did you put the keys?”

“They’re by the door,” you offer, remembering the small table you’d all dropped them on as you came in.

He shoots you a grateful smile. “Thanks. Let’s go?”

You nod, grabbing your sunglasses from the table and following him to the driveway out front.

It’s less than ten minutes to the nearest grocery, not even enough time for three whole songs to play through the car’s stereo, half-drowned by the roar of wind and sea through the open windows. Chan grins sideways at you as he parks, running a hand through his messy hair before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. You shake yourself from your daze and hurry to follow.

“What’s the game plan?” you ask, as you step out of the summer sun and into the fluorescents and air conditioning. Your skin prickles instantly upon the change. “Divide and conquer?”

He pulls out his phone and brings the list up. “I’d rather just stick together,” he says, looking at you sideways, his voice a bit thin - like he’s nervous you’ll reject the plan. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” you say, shrugging easily.. “I’m just following you. I’m the assistant. You’re in charge.”

Something flashes across his face - a shooting star of an expression, gone before you’re sure you saw it - and then he’s pushing the cart into the produce section, calling over his shoulder for you to go grab some peaches.

You wind your way together through the store. Each time he stops the cart, you each dart after something else from the nearby shelves then reconvene to look at the list again, shoulders pressed together as you squint at the small font.

It thrills you each time that he doesn’t pull away, each time that he doesn’t hurry to put space between you again as he had back in November.

Don’t make it weird, you beg yourself as you load a few cases of soda into the cart. Keep it in check.

A few rows over, the cart a third of the way full, you pause at a row of sauces. You step back, scanning the labels, then drop into a crouch to read those on the bottom shelf. Chan drops beside you, his knee gently bumping yours as he reaches for one of the jars, bringing it closer to scan the label.

“This one’s my favorite,” he says, and there’s something low in his voice that makes you look over at him. Your fingers overlap his for a second as you take the jar from him, turning it over so you can see which one it is. The moment feels staticky, charged with something.

You chicken out, shuffle back on your heels so your knees no longer touch. “It is a good one,” you agree, putting it back in his hand and pressing your palms to your knees as you rise again. “Get a few - I think Ruby likes that one too.”

He nods, looking away again, dutifully reaching to grab a second jar. You move on to the next aisle in silence. You almost feel like his energy seems… disappointed. But that wouldn’t make sense at all.

Turning the corner to the first row of freezers, you feel your body react instantly to the cold and you immediately fold in around yourself, goosebumps rising up your arms.

“Oh, it’s cold,” you complain. “Let’s hurry. Please.”

Chan doesn’t respond, but you can feel his eyes sweep over you, heavy, before he starts pushing the cart past you at, yes, a quicker speed. You shiver once, violently, before you hurry after him.

When you’re done, stepping outside into the sunlight feels like being released - like leaving school on the last day before summer break, like leaving work before a vacation, like stepping outside for the first time after rain has kept you inside for days on end. You let it warm you, happy, as you help Chan load the bags into the car.

You drive the few minutes back to the house in silence. As Chan makes the last turn, you wonder out loud, “Do you think Ruby and Mingyu finished before us?”

“Definitely,” Chan says, and he’s right - as the house comes into view, you can see that the second car is already parked.

True to their word, Ruby and Mingyu greet you at the door to help carry everything in and put it away.

“Lara grabbed us a spot down on the beach,” Ruby informs you, as you both stand at the back of the car, scanning for the lighter bags. “As soon as we’re ready we can head down.”

You let out a happy sigh. “I think an afternoon at the beach will cure me.”

“Nothing will cure you,” she deadpans, then literally stops mid-stride to correct herself. “Actually, something could. And it’s here, and available, and sharing your room.”

“I hate you a lot!” you tell her brightly, pushing past her with an armful of groceries and heading into the relative dark of the house, praying Chan hadn’t overheard her bullshit.

You hurry through the rest - getting the groceries away, getting changed for the beach, throwing the things you need to bring into a tote. Downstairs, the others wait for you by the back door. Chan is wearing Mingyu’s dumb-ass sunglasses and is clearly in the middle of an old-man bit, his voice reedy and sarcastic. Ruby cackles as Mingyu shoves Chan’s shoulder playfully, reaching to get his eyewear back. You can’t help the wave of affection you feel for them, your goofy friends.

You all step out into the sand, eyes adjusting to the sun. You follow Mingyu’s shadow on the ground as he makes his way towards the spot Soonyoung and Lara saved for you. You drop your tote in the sand and help Ruby spread out a blanket, using your shoes and bags to hold down the corners. Mingyu and Chan settle a small cooler off to one side, filled to the brim with ice and drinks.

You pull your cover-up over your head and toss it in the direction of your tote bag and stretch out, closing your eyes happily and letting your body relax under the warmth of the sun, the sound of breaking waves rhythmic and soothing. You’re startled by the sound of music and open your eyes again to find Ruby setting up a bluetooth speaker near the cooler. She looks at you sheepishly and hurries to lower the volume.

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Didn’t mean it to start so loud.”

To your left, Chan is pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Your eyes widen and you look away as fast as you can, catching Ruby react exactly the same, her eyes comically large.

You both turn your backs to the boys, and she mouths at you, what the fuck?

What the fuck is right. You’re used to being around Mingyu, who has an admittedly perfect body, and even Soonyoung is shockingly cut under those baggy t-shirts and cropped hoodies he sports. Chan’s always been the little one, the most normal, the most obtainable in his regular-ness.

Something’s changed since the last time you were all swimming together. He’d always had a nice body, but this…

You close your eyes against the bright summer sun, as if you can block out the curve of his pecs, the shadowed lines hinting at abs. None of those had been there last summer.

That motherfucker. First, he rejects you, then he gets hotter? You hope he gets eaten by a shark today.

You push yourself to stand.

“Where are you going?” Ruby hisses.

“I need a beer,” you tell her flatly. “Actually, maybe ten beers.”

“I’m not holding your hair today,” she warns you flatly, and you flip her off and make your way to the cooler. It’s going to be a long day.

You manage to get a few hours of peace and sanity by laying out with Ruby and Lara, just enjoying the music and occasional chitchat. Further down the beach, the guys run around with a volleyball but no net, making their own asinine rules.

“I still say you should tell him,” Ruby grumbles, after catching you watching Chan from behind your sunglasses for the ninth time, and you shoot her a warning look. But the damage is done - Lara latches on, her eyes sharp.

“Him… Chan?” she guesses. You feel your face heat.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” you murmur reproachfully.

“I mean,” she says uncertainly, looking to Ruby as if for backup, “I think you both are? If it helps?”

“Both?” you repeat flatly. “I wish.”

She exchanges a look with Ruby again, a silent conversation that you aren’t part of.

“He’s not into me,” you say, easy, like the words don’t cut at you. The salty air hits the wounds and makes them sting. “He’s been clear about that.”

Ruby’s brow furrows; you’ve never actually articulated this in front of her before.

“He has?” she asks, her voice suddenly gentle and almost sorrowful. “You never told me-”

“You were there,” you protest, then look over at the guys to make sure they hadn’t stopped yelling and running. “You both were, actually. That night when you tore your knee open outside of Ivy and Ivory?”

“Yeah,” Lara says slowly, her eyes on you, “I remember that night. That was… kind of the first time I thought he had a thing for you? Like, I know it was a while ago, but -”

“A thing for me?” you echo, working hard to keep your voice quiet. “When you called us out he was so horrified he couldn’t even touch me - he acted like it burned him -”

“Honey, no,” she says seriously, leaning forward. She looks incredulous at your perspective.

“Bestie,” Ruby says, giving you a please believe me, your best friend, who would never lead you astray look. “He was terrified that you’d get spooked.”

You press your mostly-empty beer can to your chin, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

“He wasn’t embarrassed at the idea of being coupled with you,” Lara whispers, her eyes on the guys, whose game has drifted only minutely closer to your blanket. “It was one of those like, shut up or you’ll scare her away moments. He wanted to kill me.”

“Literally, if he’d had a cartoon thought bubble, it would have said shhhh, not so loud!” Ruby adds. She peers at you. “Did you really take it like that this whole time? You thought it was a rejection?”

“He practically pushed me into traffic!” you hiss defensively, and both girls explode into laughter.

“That is not what happened,” Lara insists, and then heads to the cooler, leaving you, Ruby, and your very confused thoughts.

You look at her. She looks at you.

“I thought you knew,” she says finally, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “I had no idea you took it that way.”

You can’t respond - the boys return at this exact moment, Mingyu flops dramatically next to Ruby, panting heavily, sweat running down his face.

“Jagiya,” he gasps like he’s dying. “Water. Please.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, but a water bottle lands next to Mingyu’s head before she can get up. You turn towards the cooler and see Soonyoung standing with his hands on his knees, also panting, while Chan digs around for presumably another water bottle.

“You need anything out of here?” he asks you over his shoulder.

You shake your head. “Thanks, though.”

You rise, brushing errant sand from the backs of your thighs, squinting at the water. The waves are breaking evenly, and there’s room to tread further out past the breaking point. “I think I’m gonna go in,” you announce to whoever is listening.

Lara shakes her head, reaching one hand up to tug at Soonyoung, obviously wanting him to sit by her. Ruby flaps her hand at you as if to tell you go on. She’s never been a big swimmer, more of a giant unicorn floatie kind of girl.

You stop when you’re ankle-deep, letting a few waves break and rush over the tops of your feet, adjusting to the temperature. You start to wade in, the water rushing around your shins, when you hear your name called breathlessly behind you.

Chan jogs up, his hair pushed back, a thin silver chain bouncing against his collarbones. You look away before you can get caught. Ruby and Lara’s words race through your brain. Have you been wrong about him this whole time? Have you misread every signal over the last three years, viewed it through the wrong lens?

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” he complains, face twisting in exaggerated suffering.

You laugh. “Can’t stand being the fifth wheel, huh?”

He shakes his head, smiling, still trying to catch his breath from volleyball and then the jog over here.

“You coming in?” you ask him. “I was gonna go out and tread for a while.”

He nods. “You don’t mind if I join?”

You look at him appraisingly, new information starting to process inside your mind, shifting the rules you’d followed for months. The sea air makes you bold. “You?” you say. “I would never mind.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction; you step further into the water, hitting just above your knees when you reach the spot where the waves are breaking. You stumble a little as a wave hits your thighs, and Chan’s hand finds your elbow, firm but unassuming, helping you steady yourself again.

When you reach waist-deep water, you eye the spot just ahead where the waves reach their tallest point as they gather on their way to shore.

“We’re gonna have to go under that,” you tell Chan. He actually looks nervous, which makes you laugh. “Want me to hold your hand?”

The smile he sends you is both self-deprecating and relieved, like he can’t believe his answer is yes, but yes, and he’s so glad you asked.

“Come on,” you say, laughing again. You hold out your hand and he takes it, and when the next ocean swell rises before you like a mighty wall you hold your breath and tug him under. It’s an act of faith, dipping below the roaring ocean, hoping you time it right. You keep his fingers tight between yours and let your body sink.

You surface on the other side, in an area of relative calm. Beside you, Chan wipes at his face with his spare hand, which makes you realize you’re still holding the other. You release it gently, treading water easily. Chan can probably just touch sand if he stretches.

You tread together quietly for a few minutes, less than six inches apart. The sun glints off the water around you, dancing and sparkling as the water moves. You wish you could ask him about that night, years ago, confirm Lara and Ruby’s interpretation of the events. You could - you just aren’t brave enough.

You look at him, familiar and beautiful and - until today - unobtainable. What if you swam closer, what if you pressed yourself close and kissed him, right here in the ocean?

If it ruined everything, you could just let yourself drown. And if it didn’t… well, you could let yourself drown a different way, then.

You chicken out. You chat about inconsequential things instead - his upcoming trip with his family, a work project you’d recently wrapped up that you’d been talking about for months, what the plan will be for dinner when you all get tired of the sunshine.

It’s easy to talk to Chan - it always has been. He’s quick with a joke or a bit, but always open and earnest. He watches you quietly when you talk, accentuates his stories with his hands when it’s his turn. Eventually, Ruby joins you. Mingyu stands at the edge of the water, one hand shielding his eyes, watching her go.

“He’s not coming in?” you ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t want to get his hair wet. God, the water feels great. Anyway, we’re thinking of heading in soon, to get showers and stuff before we figure out dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Chan says.

“I’ll be right in,” you say, and beneath the water you grab at Ruby’s hand. Stay.

Chan gives you both a wave goodbye and heads towards the beach. You both watch as he steps onto land, approaches Mingyu, and shakes like a dog, spraying water all over his friend. You can hear Mingyu’s shout of protest even from here, and Ruby’s maniacal laughter echoes around you.

“How’s it going?” she asks you slyly, when she’s finished laughing at her man. Like she knows the answer already.

“Nice of you to ask!” you cry. “Actually! I’m kind of having a meltdown! Because for nearly eight months I thought he’d told me unequivocally, irrevocably no, and now I am finding out that he… I don’t even know. What does it mean? That was ages ago, surely even if he felt something then…”

“Only one way to find out,” Ruby says, way too sensibly.

“That’s not helpful,” you grumble.

“It is helpful, it’s just not easy,” she says sagely. You splash a handful of water towards her head and she shrieks, swimming further away from you.

“That’s enough of you,” you tell her, and start heading in towards the sand.

Back at the blanket, the boys and Lara have mostly packed up. You pull your rolled up towel out of your tote and dry off briskly. When everyone is accounted for, you all collect your things and head back up the walkway towards the house.

You put everything away - leftover drinks in the fridge, wet towels in the washing machine, etc - and the couples disappear into their rooms, doors closing and locking up and down the hallway.

Which just leaves you and Chan.

You follow him to the end of the hall and into the large room you’ll be somehow sharing. He turns on one of the bedside lamps and stops to plug his phone in, then looks over at you.

“You wanna shower?” he asks, tossing his phone lightly onto the bed. You can only stare at him, short-circuiting, until he clarifies. “Do you want to go first?”

“Oh,” you utter, quickly trying to recover. “Yeah, if you don’t mind?”

He waves his hand graciously towards the dark bathroom, as if to say, be my guest.

Showering turns into a reprieve - a locked door between you allowing you to jumpstart your brain again as you feel the hot water remove all the hidden bits of sand clinging to your legs and back.

While Chan takes his turn after you, you escape outside with a cold soda from the fridge. The beach beyond your rental’s deck is still pretty busy, but the crowd has thinned a bit since you all packed up. The sun descends behind the house, which means the sunrise tomorrow morning will come over the beach.

Mingyu seems to be preparing the grill, and Ruby bustles around, bringing out ingredients and setting them close to the grill. On one of the cushioned benches, Lara drapes her legs over Soonyoung’s legs and talks with him quietly, both of them giggling.

Since it seems like your help isn’t needed anywhere - you’ll help set the table when the food is almost ready, as is your usual job as a non-cook - you sit with your cold drink and watch the waves break, lost in thought.

Lara and Ruby seemed so sure that you’d misread Chan that autumn night. There’s a small part of you that’s still doubtful, but at the end of the day you do trust their judgement. So, assuming they’re right, Chan had been interested in you. That was over six months ago, though. It doesn’t mean anything now except that… well… if he was interested in you once, there’s a possibility he could be again. Or still.

Your move, it seems, is to figure out if that’s the case. Chan hasn’t done anything recently to indicate that he’s disinterested, but he also hasn’t done anything to indicate that he is. He - like you - has played it very safe. It isn’t until now that you’ve questioned if it’s because he actually sees you platonically, or if he thinks that’s what you want.

One of you is going to have to push the boundary, to test the waters.

When Chan emerges from the house, freshly showered and hair falling over his forehead nearly to his eyes, you look up from where you’re sitting and watch him thoughtfully. He pauses at the grill to ask Mingyu something, then passes by the mess of limbs that is Soonyoung and Lara, then drops onto the seat next to you.

“Mingyu says it’ll be another twenty minutes or so until everything’s done,” he informs you.

“Guess I should get the plates and stuff,” you sigh, leaning forward to set your drink on the table.

“I can help you,” he offers, and follows you inside, where you both open cabinets and drawers in the unfamiliar kitchen until you find everything you need.

He heads outside ahead of you, his hands loaded with utensils and condiments, and you pause, watching his dark silhouette against the evening sunlight. Your heart tumbles, and you jerk back into motion, following him into the light.

You all stay on the back deck until well after sunset. As the sky sinks into deeper and deeper blues, you rise and plug in the string of lights that weave through the beams above the deck, casting everyone in a nearly-orange glow. Mingyu sets up the tabletop fire pit, but you end up chilly anyway as night takes hold.

You shiver once, and you notice Chan looking sideways at you.

“Cold?” he asks, and the wave of deja vu you get is almost dizzying.

You shake your head instinctively, more against the memory than actually answering the question. “I’m fine,” you say, even though you do have goosebumps rising along your arms.

He gets up anyway, heading into the unlit house without a word. You rise a beat later and head across the deck.

Ruby calls your name like a question, and in answer you point at the cooler tucked behind the grill, where you’d all stashed beer and water bottles. She gives a quick “ah” of understanding.

“You need one?” you ask her, as you shuffle behind the grill and pull on the cooler’s lid.

“I’ll take a beer,” Mingyu answers for her, and you dig through the bottles and cans until you find his preferred brand, reaching to pass it to him over Soonyoung’s head. Then you turn back and look at your options, trying to decide if you want a can of spiked seltzer or if you want to go inside and mix something a little harder.

While you’re deciding, the glass door to your left slides open, and Chan steps quietly back onto the deck. He’s in a baby blue hoodie that he hadn’t been wearing before, and he carries a bundle of dark material in his hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, holding it out to you. “It felt weird to dig through your luggage, so I grabbed one of mine.”

You take his offering silently, fighting a tiny smile. “Thanks,” you say, equally quiet, like you’ve both agreed you want to keep this moment between you, not call the attention of the others. You shake the dark hoodie out and pull it over your head, slipping your arms into the sleeves and fixing the hood so it’s not inside-out. The hem falls almost past your shorts, and the sleeves reach past your fingers.

Chan bends to grab a beer from the cooler, then heads back to where he was sitting before. You reach for your own drink, settling on a seltzer after all, and when you turn to head back to your spot you can’t help but notice him watching you through the flickering fire pit, something unreadable on his face.

“You good?” you ask him as you settle back into your spot.

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice that makes the goosebumps rise on your arms again despite the new layer of warmth you’re wearing. That smells like him. You tug on the edges of the sleeves to pull the shoulders tighter and curl up on your chair, tucking your legs into the baggy material and locking back into the conversation.

The night moves slowly, the constellations rotating centimeter by centimeter above you, everything made comfortably fuzzy by the drinks and the firelight. Sometime before midnight, Ruby suggests a walk along the beach.

You go in bare feet, the cool wood of the deck stairs giving way to sand as soft as silk. Mingyu and Ruby take the lead, the rest of you trailing behind. At some point - long after the house disappears from view - Lara stops, pointing up at the moon - a sliver above the undulating sea.

The four of you stop and look for a minute. Down the beach, you can hear Ruby and Mingyu but they’re out of sight in the dark.

“We should probably catch up with them,” you say, looking in the direction of their disembodied voices.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the house, actually,” Lara says, looking up at Soonyoung to gauge if he agrees. “We’ll leave the back door unlocked for you all?”

They say their goodbyes and head back hand in hand, leaving you alone with Chan and that sliver of moon. For a minute, the night seems to expand around you, growing bigger and bigger and leaving the two of you so small within it. Chan looks at you silently, as if he’s waiting for something, one side of his mouth quirked into an almost-smile that makes your stomach swim with the desire to cause a real smile, to push that little almost into something fully-formed.

Then, Ruby calls your names loudly from further up the beach, and the spell is broken.

“Guess we better catch up,” Chan says wryly. You both turn and start walking in silence, nearly shoulder to shoulder. As you walk, the back of your hand brushes the back of his just once, and your entire body prickles at the contact. You almost shift away, give him a little more space, but something urges you to hold the line. You want to see what he will do.

You keep walking, close enough that you can hear him breathing, hear the sand slide each time he takes a step. The back of his hands brushes yours again, warm. He doesn’t react, so neither do you.

You carry on, knuckles occasionally bumping his, until you find Ruby and Mingyu. They’re standing watching the moon, Mingyu wrapped around Ruby’s back like a giant, love-sick koala.

“Where’re Soonyoung and Lara?” Ruby asks, when she notices you.

“They headed back,” you say, stopping a few feet away.

“We should, too,” Ruby muses, eyes on the moon. “But it’s so pretty here.”

“It is,” Chan murmurs from beside you and you glance sideways at him, trying to read him. He’s staring out at the dark sea, the stars flickering in and out above it, giving you his profile. Ruby’s eyes flick to you, one eyebrow quirked. You look away, not wanting to get caught in this silent conversation, but you can feel the heat on your face, the smile tugging at your mouth.

The house is dark when you all return, and you let yourselves back in quietly, just in case Soonyoung and Lara are actually sleeping. You bid Ruby and Mingyu goodnight in whispers and head to the end of the hall. Chan closes the door and you flick on the bedside lamp, casting a low yellow light through the room.

Wordlessly, Chan begins to rummage through his suitcase, transferring items to a small pile - a pair of loose shorts, a toothbrush, his phone charger. It occurs to you, suddenly, that he’s gathering what he needs to leave - to go sleep on a couch.

“Chan,” you say. You don’t even know what you want to say next. You just know you don’t want him to go, don’t want him to sleep on a couch, don’t want to be here alone.

He pauses, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

What do you want to say? Stay? You balk, suddenly chicken again.

“I can take the couch tonight,” you say instead. He shakes his head, but you press on. “We can switch tomorrow.”

“Nope,” he says easily.

“Chan,” you say again. He keeps rummaging, his back to you.

“Chan,” you repeat, insistent. He turns fully, still crouching, and raises his eyebrows as if to say, yes?

“Do you want to just stay here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from shaking. It feels like a moment of great enormity.

He shakes his head, and the rejection stings enough that you feel your breath catch.

But then he says, “No, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch. I’m trying to be a gentleman - quit fighting me.”

You realize, slowly, that he misunderstood what you were offering.

“No,” you say. “I meant… like… no one on the couch.”

He stares at you blankly, his hands open like he forgot he was searching for something.

Embarrassment licks up the back of your neck like flames. “The bed isn’t that small,” you say, a little defensive. “We could just, like, stay on our own sides.”

The blank look on his face slowly transforms. His brows come together, his mouth tucking into a rare frown. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask something, but nothing comes out. His eyes flick to the bed and then back to you.

“I don’t…” he says, and the heat of embarrassment heightens. He clears his throat and tries again, “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he says slowly.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t okay with it,” you point out.

He nods slowly, then pushes himself to stand. “Are you extremely sure?” he asks, peering at you. “This isn’t a High Noon decision, is it?”

You laugh, the tension dissipating a little. “No,” you assure him. “I just… feel bad putting you on a couch… and I don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch either… and I think we can… not make it weird?”

“We can,” he says, like a promise.

You second-guess your decision the whole time you get ready for bed - as you brush your teeth, as you change into pajamas, as you settle into the side of the bed by the balcony and plug in your phone. You’re nervous you won’t be able to keep it not weird - nervous that you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, that the magnetic pull to touch him will be too strong.

But when Chan climbs into the other side of the bed and clicks off the light, illuminated only by his phone screen, his warmth seeping into the blankets around you, it isn’t your hands that inch towards him. It’s your words. They claw their way out, desperate to reach across the six inches of darkness.

Chan, I’m actually really into you.

What really happened that night, when we were walking from bar to bar?

I’m in love with you, probably. I think.

Are you interested in me? At all?

You fight them all back, hold them all in. You don’t relax until Chan’s clicked his phone off and placed it on the nightstand, whispered goodnight to you, until you hear his breathing deepen. Just in case. Just in case the words get out the second you unclench - you need him to be asleep first so you can be sure he won’t hear them. You fall asleep with your face buried in the crook of your elbow, one last line of defense.

You wake up with your face buried in the crook of Chan’s neck instead of your own arm. You realize it instantly, body freezing like you’re about to get caught stealing, your whole body tight with panic. Like if you don’t move, you won’t wake him, and he won’t know that you cuddled him in your sleep.

Mortifying.

He’s mostly on his back but sort of tilted towards you, and you have one arm over his ribs, your nose pressed into the juncture of his shoulder. But, you realize as you stay frozen, his arms are around you. This was a mutual cuddle. Your legs are touching, too, one of your shins between his.

You try to breathe as shallowly as possible, fight the urge to stretch or roll or scoot away. You don’t want to alert him, pop this bubble, make the moment end. Chan is holding you as the sun rises over the ocean outside. It feels like another daydream, too good to be true. You never want it to end. You wish it was more real than this.

Slowly, you relax, one limb at a time, letting your muscles unclench and inhaling deeply. His skin, warm against your cheek, smells good - still a bit salty from the ocean, even after showering. But it’s only moments later that he stirs, his arms tightening around you and then loosening again as he makes a satisfied, low noise in his throat.

Then he goes still. You freeze back up, watching him for a reaction.

His mouth moves first, quirking sideways, and then he cracks one eye and peers down at you. A laugh bubbles from him and the cuddle is disintegrating around you as he shifts himself backwards and up on his elbows, still chuckling.

“Sorry,” he’s laughing, “sorry. I didn’t - that - I did not expect to do that in my sleep.”

You can’t help your own sheepish smile in return. “Me either, but it was actually comfy,” you admit. Now disentangled, you feel kind of cold and a little sad. But he’s acting like it was a funny goof, your bodies clinging to each other the second your brains turned off, so you’ll go along with the joke.

He rolls over and rummages on his nightstand, returning with his phone in hand and pushing thin-framed glasses up his nose. You look away, heart clenching. You love him in those; combined with the bedhead and his smell in your nose and the warmth of his skin not yet evaporated from yours and the feeling of his arms around you… it’s all a lot.

“I’m gonna… get dressed,” you say, reaching for your own phone. Chan hums a response and you vanish into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting ready as slowly as possible. When you come out, the bedroom is blessedly empty. You close your eyes and exhale. It’s going to be a long day.

When you finally head down to the kitchen, Lara and Chan are chatting easily at the table, steaming mugs in their hands. He’s still in those damn cute glasses.

“Good morning!” Lara greets you brightly. “There’s coffee!”

“God bless you,” you tell her seriously. You open a cabinet in search of a mug, but you’re faced with only plates and glassware instead. Chan appears at the cabinet next to you, reaching up and offering you a white mug with a cartoon seagull on it.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling weirdly shy considering you just woke up pressed against him. Once you fix the coffee how you like it, you take the seat next to Lara at the table. “Everyone else still asleep?” you ask.

“Soonyoung is, but I have to go wake him up in a minute,” Lara says, clicking on her phone screen to check the time. “We have a snorkeling thing at ten.”

“Ruby and Mingyu are out already,” Chan tells you. “Sunrise yoga. She texted us.”

“God,” you say, horrified. “Mingyu’s gonna hate that.” You realize at the mention of her text that you’ve left your phone upstairs.

Chan laughs. “Right?”

Lara rises, presumably to go wake up her boyfriend. “Her text said they’d be out until around four,” she tells you as she moves back into the kitchen to rinse out her mug. “I think they’ll beat us back, but not by much. Maybe we can go grab dinner when everyone’s back?”

“Sure,” you say, shooting a look at Chan to see if he has any opinions on this plan. He shrugs - no opinions to be found. You’ve always loved the way he could just go with the flow, happy to be along for the adventure.

You and Chan are still sitting at the table, coffees dwindling, when Lara pulls a bleary-eyed Soonyoung through the front door with a shouted goodbye, the sound of the car’s engine reaching you from outside. You look at each other, left alone together.

Again.

He gives you a flat, unamused look that he definitely picked up from Seungkwan or Vernon. “Are they doing this on purpose?” he asks, and a jolt goes through you. He’s said it. It’s like a curtain being pulled, shedding sunlight on something that had been shadowbound until now.

“Doing what?” you say, even though you know. “Leaving us by ourselves? Probably. Ruby likes to fuck with me.”

Chan laughs, and you’re filled with shaky relief that the moment isn’t weird. You both knew what this was, apparently, and facing it has put you on the same team against it.

“I thought it was to fuck with me,” he admits, still smiling.

“Two birds with one stone,” you muse. “For the sake of efficiency.”

But you wonder… why would it be fucking with him if he wasn’t interested in you? Is he admitting something?

“Well,” Chan says, stretching his arms above his head, fingers linked, “by all means, you can do your own thing today. You don’t have to babysit me. But it’s supposed to storm later, so I was thinking I’d use the pool a bit this morning while we still can, and then maybe go into town for lunch.”

You consider this. “That’s very pragmatic of you,” you observe lightly.

“That’s one of the first words I’d pick to describe myself,” he tries to deadpan, but the smile is too quick, telling on himself.

You let him get changed first, and when you make your way out back to the pool he’s already in the water up to his waist. You toss a towel onto one of the chaises.

“How’s the water?” you ask him, as you move to sit on the edge, preparing to let your legs dangle.

“It’s great,” he tells you, smiling easily, like he’s happy - happy you’re here, happy to be here with you.

You wonder if that’s the case, as you slowly lower your legs in, the water coming to lap a few inches below your knees.

“Feels cold,” you tell him. It doesn’t, really - way warmer than the ocean you played in yesterday, but you want to tease him a little.

Suddenly, his hands are on your ankles, holding you firmly. His hands are on your ankles.

“You should get in quickly,” he tells you, trying - again - to pretend to be serious, despite the smile he can’t combat. “Like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Lee Chan,” you warn, but a giggle rises up in you. “Don’t you dare. I will get in when I am good and ready!”

“I’m just trying to help,” he says, pretending to be hurt. His fingers are still pressing against your skin, your brain impossibly aware of the exact spot his thumb presses, as if there’s a beacon illuminating the place.

He gives your legs a playful tug, too lightly to actually move you. You squeal anyway, reaching down to splash water towards him. “Chan!”

He releases your ankles, taking a step back to avoid the splash, laughing. “Be careful,” he warns. “If it’s war you want -” He holds his hand like a knife above the water, ready to retaliate the splash.

“Oh my God, you menace. I’m getting in!” you cry, gripping the lip of the pool and sliding in, staying on your tippy-toes as your body adjusts to the temperature.

“Come on,” he goads, backing away from you, bobbing towards the shallow end. “You have to go under or it doesn’t count.”

“You’re a menace,” you repeat firmly, and he laughs, enjoying that his teasing has worked you up.

You eye the expanse of water between you - you’re at opposite ends of the pool now. “Do you think I could make it across in one go?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “Like, underwater? I don’t know - how’s your lung capacity?”

You laugh. “Maybe not good enough,” you admit wryly. “But I’ll try.”

You take a deep breath of salty sea air, only minorly marred by chlorine, and slip down below the surface. You let the bottoms of your feet find the flat cement wall of the pool, and you give a hearty push. It’s hard without being able to see how much farther you have to go, but you hate getting chlorine in your eyes, so you kick and pull blindly until your lungs start to burn. When your natural buoyancy pulls you upward, you don’t fight it.

Your hands find something warm and solid before you surface. Surprise causes you to rear your head, fucking with your balance, and your feet find the floor of the pool. You stand up unsteadily, blinking water out of your eyes.

Chan comes into focus, his expression tight, and you realize that your hands had found his stomach, centimeters above his belly button.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, pulling away.

It’s like ever since last night, you can’t stop touching, your bodies fighting to come together even as you both dig in your heels and try to stop it.

“No worries,” he says just as quickly. You try to cover the moment by wiping water out of your face, but you feel warm all over, the cool water useless against your heated skin as you try to push away how his muscled stomach had felt under your fingertips.

You spend a good hour just floating and splashing around. Sometimes you chat and sometimes you lapse into comfortable silence. At one point you hear him singing lightly under his breath, his voice surprisingly clear but frustratingly quiet.

Eventually, your stomach growls. “I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell him. “You up for lunch in town, maybe? I’d just need to shower super quick first.”

“Sounds great,” he says easily, and you both head for the single runged ladder at the deep end. Chan climbs up first, standing by the ladder, dripping onto the concrete. You grip the metal handles firmly and find the bottom rung with one foot, pushing heavily to hoist yourself up.

And Chan helps you up - his fingers finding the dip of your waist and guiding you until you’re steadily on the pool deck, something protective in the touch.

Your entire body thrums, electric, cells vibrating. You hurry to your towel and wrap yourself up, hiding your face in the material - pretending you’re just chasing droplets away from your eyes, but actually smothering the urge to scream, if you’re going to touch me then get over here and do it properly!

“Did you know there’s a hot tub under the deck? Was that mentioned in the listing?” Chan asks, and you uncover your face.

“Huh?”

He’s pointing, and then you see that he’s right - tucked beneath the deck is a decently-sized jacuzzi, the lid on and straps fastened shut.

“Oh,” you say breathlessly. “Well, I know what I’m doing after dinner.”

Chan laughs, and you head inside, careful not to drip a trail of pool water through the house.

The rest of the morning passes pleasantly and without any touching; you shower and get changed and go on foot into the small beach town. You find a cute open-air cafe and order lunch, the iced coffee absolutely divine under the warm summer sun. The company’s not bad either.

After you’ve paid and left, Chan pauses on the sidewalk and gives you a mischievous smile. “Up for a little adventure?” he asks.

You frown. “What level of adventure?” you ask cautiously. “Like, on a scale of jumping out of a plane being ten to laying on my towel in the sand being one, what are we talking here?”

He laughs. “Like a three,” he assures you. “We just have a bit of a walk - maybe twenty minutes?”

The walk is pleasant - you don’t even get too warm, as there’s a constant breeze off the ocean and clouds pass overhead, pitching you momentarily into shade between longer bouts of sunshine. When you turn a bend and see the lighthouse rise against the sky in the distance, you actually gasp.

“Can we go up?” you ask, delighted.

“That’s the plan,” he tells you, and for once you can read his face perfectly - he’s pleased that he’s surprised you, pleased to have made you happy. Something warm simmers under your skin, affection and happiness and something else.

It takes forever to reach the top. You have to stop and rest more than once, your calves burning and protesting the many stairs. A few families pass you on their way down, one mother telling you cheerfully that you’re almost to the top. This motivates you to continue, and you press on until you reach the final landing and step through the metal doorway.

The view is absolutely worth it. The beach and the ocean stretch out before you, the town in the distance behind you. Alone at the top, you feel like you’re in your own little world, surrounded by sunlight and the calls of gulls, just you and Chan.

You stand, holding the railing, watching the waves undulate far below you for a long time. “Chan,” you say, and then falter. You don’t know what you were going to say. Some part of you thinks maybe you’d been about to confess, or to finally ask him something to shed light on his feelings.

When he looks at you, expectant, you say only, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

And maybe you did confess something, because he reaches over and squeezes your hand, just once.

And then, he looks over your shoulder and utters, “Uh oh.”

You spin, following his gaze, and echo, “Uh oh.”

Dark grey clouds gather to the west. You remember him saying it was supposed to storm later; it looks like rain will be rolling in soon, ushering in the storms behind it.

“We’d better head down,” he says regretfully, and you follow him back inside.

You make it down and outside before the rain comes, but the sunshine of the morning has gone and left gloomy grey in its wake.

“You think we can make it back to the house?” you ask breathlessly.

Chan checks the time on his phone, already walking brisky back towards the direction of town and your rental. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”

You barely even make it into town; you aren’t even back at the cafe where you’d had lunch before the sky opens. It happens exactly like that - one second it’s not raining, the next second you’re drenched, hair plastered to your face, shirt sticking to your back, spluttering breaths through your mouth like you’re being sprayed with a hose.

You let out a cry of surprise, and then Chan is grabbing your hand and tugging, pulling you off of the sidewalk and into a nearby doorway. You don’t even manage to see what the doorway belongs to - Chan is already pulling it open, his hand still in yours as he leads you inside.

It’s dark, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust as you wipe rain away from your eyes and shake droplets off of your arms. Beside you, Chan is doing the same, running a hand through his soaked hair and huffing out a noise of disbelief.

“That,” you say, “was bonkers.”

You seem to be in a dimly-lit dive bar, the kind that only locals go to. It’s pretty empty, since it’s early afternoon on a weekday, so when Chan raises a soggy, questioning eyebrow at you, you shrug and follow him towards the bar. Why not?

You take a seat wearily, and pull out your phone.

“We’ve got almost an hour until everyone is supposed to be back,” you inform him.

“In that case,” he says, and when the bartender meanders over, he orders you a row of shots to share.

You clink shot glasses for the first one, but after that you turn it into a game.

Chan narrows his eyes at you, mock-thoughtful. “What would you do if you woke up and your hands and feet had switched places?”

After answering (use my toes to order an Uber to the hospital), you volley with, “What would you do if aliens invaded tomorrow?”

Back and forth the game goes, punctuated by shot glasses being emptied and returned to the bar. What would you do if you woke up married in Vegas? … What would you do if you woke up one day and could only speak in rhyme? … What would you do if you were suddenly allergic to your favorite food? … What would you do if you were forced to join the circus?

You’re both laughing deliriously. Chan is wiping under his eyes in mirth, and you’ve hunched over so far that you find yourself with your hands on his knees, using him to stay upright on your barstool. Your surroundings have faded into colors and muted sounds with the alcohol in your system. All you can focus on is Chan, warm and solid under your palms, his eyes on you, the sound of his laugh cutting straight through the fog.

Then his next one isn’t so funny. “What would you do if you found out you only had a day to live?” he asks, and despite the seriousness, one last chuckle rumbles through his chest, like an aftershock.

Tell you. Tell you the truth.

You swallow. You take your hands off of his knees - you’re not sure he even noticed them there - and flex your fingers. And then, filter demolished by both alcohol and the sheer amount of time it’s been keeping you in check, you break.

Instead of answering, you fire back your own. “What would you do if I came onto you right now?”

Chan blinks at you, eyes as wide as you’ve ever seen them. He blinks twice more, and then his mouth opens. Your heart pounds.

“I’d - I - I guess, I’d probably kiss you,” he says, voice suddenly hushed, as if he’s a little unsure if he’s supposed to be honest or if the game is still a string of jokes.

You stare back. The two of you are frozen, both a bit wide-eyed, like neither of you is sure how you ended up like this.

Then, you breathe, “Okay, then do it.”

He nods immediately, breath coming sharply, and shifts closer on his seat. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waiting. Tentatively, he reaches up, brushes your jaw with his thumb.

Beside you, your phone blares to life on the bar. You both jump, startled out of the moment.

“Ruby,” you tell him hollowly. His hand still hovers near your face, but he nods, pulling it away. You feel like you can barely breathe as you slide your thumb to take the call.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, your eyes on Chan.

“Hey,” Ruby says, “where are you guys? Our thing ended early because of the rain so we’re back at the house.”

“Oh,” you say, trying hard to focus on her voice in her ear and not what just almost happened. “We’re in town. At… a bar? We came in to get out of the rain.”

“Perfect,” Ruby says. Across from you, Chan is rubbing his hands down the tops of his thighs, like they’re sweaty. You wonder if he’s nervous. “We’ll get changed and come get you guys in the car, and then we can go grab dinner together.”

You agree and hang up, then repeat the plan to Chan, who nods. He looks how you feel - a bit shell-shocked, a bit uncertain.

“We need to sober up,” you say. “Or, at least, I do.”

“No, me too,” he says, shaking his head. He sighs, and he might as well have said, goddamn Ruby. You hear it all. Then he seems to give himself a shake, orders you each a water, and asks to close his tab.

“They’re just up the street,” you tell him when Ruby’s text rolls in a bit later.

He nods, uncharacteristically quiet. You wish you could peek inside his brain and see what’s going on in there.

“Hey,” you say, and his eyes snap to you, that open look you know so well on his face. Your voice softens, and you resist the urge to reach out and touch his hand when you continue. “Here’s what I don’t want to happen - I don’t want Ruby to sniff out that something’s going on and interrogate me before we can… talk, ourselves. So let’s pull it together, and get through dinner, and then we can…”

We can what? Pick up where we left off?

He nods anyway, even though you’d left the thought unfinished. “You’re right,” he says.

And, somehow, you do. You both pull it together, rush through the pouring rain from the bar to the open car door. You smile and tease and laugh through dinner, like nothing had happened at all.

You feel relieved, in the back of Ruby’s car, as you all make your way back to the house. You did it - you got through dinner unscathed. Now you can go inside, and have some privacy, and talk and maybe figure out -

“Did you guys know the rental has a hot tub?” Chan asks, and you turn to look at him, baffled.

“It has a what?” Ruby gasps.

“Yep,” he says cheerfully, like he hasn’t just shattered your dream of getting a moment to yourselves. “It’s under the deck. Which means - hey! - it’s covered! We could totally go in, we wouldn’t even be in the rain.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Lara muses.

You say nothing, but when he catches you looking sideways at him, Chan sends you a wink, quick as lightning. You feel your face go puzzled, and he smiles and looks away, giving you no answers.

You’re somehow the first one to get changed and outside; it’s still pouring rain and you cover your head with your towel as you make your way down the steps and under the deck where some drips make it through, but you’re mostly out of the rain. A quick sweep of the area with your phone’s flashlight shows that there’s a string of the same lights down here as above on the deck, and you hurry to plug them in. Now that you can see, it’s actually kind of cute under here.

You unsnap the first strap for the lid, and jump when a pair of hands reaches next to you for the second one. You hadn’t heard Chan approach, but you silently accept his help as you push the lid up and off. You watch him out of the corners of your eyes to see if he’s going to say anything, address it at all. When it seems like he’s not, you turn to climb up the little set of steps, resigned.

His hand closes around your wrist, stilling you. He gives the tiniest of tugs and you relent, turning around. He gives you another tiny tug - you could resist if you wanted to, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t. You let the tug pull you closer and look up at him, waiting. He kisses you quickly, firmly, close-mouthed for now but sure, his hands forming loose loops around each of your wrists as if he might want to tug you into place again.

The sliding glass door above you slides open and you step away, heart racing.

“Later,” he says quietly, and then you don’t get another second alone, Mingyu and Soonyoung’s voices bouncing through the space as they clamber down the deck stairs.

You climb into the warm water and choose a spot. Chan follows and sits a few solid feet away from you. You try not to look guilty when the other guys round the corner.

“Brought you a beer,” Mingyu says, reaching the extra can towards you.

“You are a legend,” you tell him gratefully.

Chan frowns, and for a crazed second you think maybe he’s jealous that Mingyu did something nice for you, but then he whines, “You didn’t bring me one? Hyung.”

“Calm your ass down,” Mingyu says, climbing into the water and finding a seat. You’re instantly more crowded, just from the sheer amount of space his long legs take up. “Soonyoung has yours.”

You snicker a little, and Chan gives you a light kick under the water. Above you, you hear the door slide open again, and a minute later Ruby and Lara appear beneath the deck, sheltered from the rain by Ruby’s towel.

“Oh,” Ruby says, surprised. “It’s not bad under here!”

“It’s cute, right?” you agree. “Still getting a few raindrops, though.”

“Eh, we’re in water anyway,” Soonyoung says easily, reaching up a hand to help steady Lara as she climbs in.

It’s crowded, and Chan’s two-feet-away doesn’t last. Instead, you’re crowded together, just inches apart. Ruby leans over the edge and turns on the jets, the top of the water creating a frothy layer.

“This is nice,” Lara says happily, closing her eyes and leaning against her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“It is,” you murmur, sipping at your beer. Under the cover of the jets’ bubbles, something touches your hand. Someone’s hand touches your hand. Chan’s hand touches your hand.

Your heart lurches. You beg your face to behave and give nothing away. And ever so slowly, you turn your hand over.

He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes on Soonyoung, who’s telling a story animatedly on the other side of the jacuzzi. But his fingers lace between yours, and his thumb brushes along the back of your hand, slow and tantalizing.

You’ve never been so undone by hand holding in your life.

You try to breathe. You sip casually at your beer and interject into the conversation when you can. You laugh at the jokes and look at whoever is speaking. You have no idea what the conversation is about. You hold onto Chan’s slender fingers like he’s a lifeline, like if you let go he’ll slip away, again and for good.

Later, he’d said, and his voice echoes in your head as you pray for later to be now. And finally, blessedly, Lara finally yawns, loud, and starts making moves to get out and head in. Which means so does Soonyoung. Then Mingyu lifts a hand from the water and examines his fingers, complaining, “I’m all pruny.” Chan gives your hand a squeeze and lets you go, reaching for his beer nonchalantly, watching Ruby and Mingyu carefully. You know you’re both waiting, impatiently, for them to leave you alone.

Leave, you silently beg, still trying to appear as casual as possible. Leaaaaave.

“You staying a little?” Ruby asks you, pausing halfway out of the hot tub.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to force your voice to stay casual. “I slept pretty late this morning - I’m not really tired yet.”

“Not all of us got up for sunrise yoga,” Chan says dryly, and Mingyu laughs, reaching for Ruby’s hand, clearly wanting to get inside.

“Okay, then,” Ruby says, her eyes still on you. “See you in the morning then.”

“Bye,” you tell her, and you have to fight the giggle out of your voice. You can’t help it - you feel giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement. You and Chan have been skirting the brink of something all day and you’re finally standing on the cusp of it, toes curled over the edge, ready to dive.

The second you hear the sliding door above you close, Chan’s hand is on your wrist again, pulling much more insistently than he had earlier in the day. Surprised, you let him tug you onto his lap, settling with your thighs bracketing his own, his hands wasting no time in finding your hips and pulling you more firmly against him.

His mouth is on yours, as insistent as his touch. You answer him readily, nearly sighing into his mouth as you get something you’ve wanted for years. You skate your hands up his chest and bring your arms around the back of his neck. He tips his head back a little, his hands sliding up your back, and the change in angle makes you sigh again.

“Thought they’d never leave,” he mutters against your jaw, and you let out a quick huff of a laugh before your breath leaves you entirely as his teeth nip a line down your neck, tongue and lips soothing behind each quick sting.

You chase his mouth, wanting him back, and he groans quietly when he realizes - like you wanting to continue kissing is just as good as actually kissing. But nothing is as good as the kissing, not if anyone asks you, nothing is as good as his tongue against yours, his teeth gentle on your lips, his hands clutching at your back and your arms and your hips like he can’t pick a favorite.

His hands roaming your body ignite you. You become only aware of their migration as they map the width of your shoulders, survey the dip of your waist, skate over your ass, then repeat the expedition. Your fingers have found his hair, curled up and held tight. He takes your hips in his hands and shifts you on his lap, causing you to tug slightly, and his exhale holds just the slightest hint of a whimper. You almost unravel, right there.

The shifted position also makes it absolutely unignorable that Chan is hard beneath you, and you can’t - don’t even try to - stop yourself from pressing yourself closer, your hips rolling almost involuntarily as soon as you feel him. Chan gasps at the sudden friction, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, like he’s already going under. Then his hands - frozen on your hips while his brain rebooted - come back to life, slipping up your ribs to cup both of your breasts over your bathing suit, giving one slow knead to both in tandem. You moan, low, unable to stop it, and he responds almost instantly, letting out an audibly shuddering breath.

He surges upwards to kiss you again, one thumb still rubbing circles against your hardening nipple, the other hand trailing back down your side and gripping your waist, holding you in place. You continue to move against him, his mouth hot against yours, the water bubbling around you and surrounding you in mist.

Chan’s nimble fingers leave your chest and work their way down between your bodies, pausing at the edge of your bathing suit bottoms. He looks up at you, pupils blown, panting out controlled little breaths like he’s fighting to keep himself in check.

Eyes unwavering on yours, watching your reactions closely, he slips his fingers between your legs, pressing the material against you, sliding down your slit and back deftly. His cock kicks beneath you when you whine. His gaze on you feels charged, almost like a challenge.

And then you’re blinded by a flash, followed almost instantly by an alarming crack of thunder.

“Fuck,” Chan hisses, twisting to peer out towards the ocean, his hands finding your hips again as if by instinct. “The storm.”

“Guess we have to head in,” you say, and it comes out wispy and breathless. Your legs feel like jelly and he’s barely even started.

“Yeah,” he says, the single syllable tight. He adjusts himself as you vacate the water, the rain beyond the safety of the deck seeming to redouble its efforts. You both hurry to turn the jets off and replace the cover, then stand at the edge of the dry space, looking out at the raging rain.

As hot and heavy as things were only a minute ago, you feel oddly still now, staring out at the storm. Chan places your towel over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, looking sideways at him.

“Ready?” he asks you, and you think he means ready to brave the storm. But your heart is answering another question - are you ready to continue, ready to move forward with him, ready to give life to something that has remained only a daydream in your mind?

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.

He slips his hand into yours. “I’ve got you,” he promises.

You move quickly but carefully through the rain, eyes on your feet as you take the slippery wooden stairs up the deck and towards the house. Chan doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re inside, sliding the door shut behind you. The house is dark and quiet, lit only by a single light above the kitchen sink. You both stand near the door and try to dry off, but your towels got soaked by the rain and don’t do much good.

“Come on,” Chan whispers. “There are fresh towels upstairs.”

You follow him through the house, up the stairs and down the darkened hallway. Chan pauses at the linen closet, pulling out two fluffy towels. You lead him into your shared room, closing and locking the door behind you as he clicks on one of the lamps.

Chan comes back into your space quietly, wraps you both in his towel, the spare forgotten on top of your dresser. You’re pressed tight together, warm in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of your head, leaving them resting there, just holding you. The moment is soft, heavy, a stark contrast to the lightning physicality of what happened outside. Something about the intimacy of it makes you feel hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling away a little to look at you.

“Yeah,” you breathe back. Your heart is racing. But it’s Chan. It’s Chan with his arms around you, and Chan who was kissing you and touching you, and - it all feels like something you aren’t allowed to have. “Just… maybe we shouldn’t?”

“We don’t have to,” he says immediately, shifting backwards and loosening his arms around you, giving you the option of pulling away if you want it. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. If you want to just go to bed… or if you want me to take the couch tonight, I can -”

“No,” you say quickly, because that’s the opposite of what you want. “No, it’s just… Chan…”

He seems to hear your uncertainty in your voice, his face softening and his arms pulling you back in. “What is it?” he asks quietly, and you slip your arms around his middle, giving in.

“I think I want this a lot more than you do,” you whisper, glad you don’t have to look at him while you say it.

He laughs, and you step back, looking at him quizzically. You’d been afraid of his reaction - of making him uncomfortable, of pushing the line too far. You hadn’t expected laughter.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he tells you, and you just stare at him, not comprehending. He reaches up, fingers still clutching a corner of the towel wrapped loosely around his back, and brushes a thumb along your jaw. You feel your face warm, but you wait him out. He adds, “I want this… a ridiculous amount. I’ve wondered for a long time if we could… be more.”

He says it like a confession. He says it like he’s embarrassed about it.

“Well,” you say, a fire - a hope - coming back to life behind your ribcage, “maybe we should find out.”

And there it is, that smile that makes the whole world melt away.

The towel drops to the floor, forgotten, and his fingers are at the back of your neck, tugging on the knot that ties your bathing suit top in place. When the material falls away he makes a satisfied noise in his throat as he moves to kiss you again, walking you back towards the bed.

You’d both been eager, but when the mattress hits the backs of your thighs Chan lays you back slowly, almost reverently. He kisses you sweetly, tracing your jaw again, and then lets out another little laugh.

“What?” you breathe, smiling despite being clueless. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. It’s not,” he says, but he’s still smiling, eyes tracing over your face and body. “It’s just… hard to believe this is real. That it’s you.”

Your breath leaves you. It’s exactly how you’ve felt.

“I know what you mean,” you whisper, and you kiss him again. This time he doesn’t hesitate when his hand slips between your legs, brushing right past your bathing suit and pushing the pads of his fingers into the wet mess he finds there. You shudder an exhale into his waiting mouth as he presses one finger and then a second deep into you, his eyes on you as you arch into the touch.

You let your eyes drift close as he pumps them slowly, and outside the room there’s another flash of lightning chased by the crack of thunder. For a little, there’s only the sound of rain beating against the windows as Chan works little whimpers and half moans out of you.

He switches his angle, something snagging behind your navel, everything beginning to tighten. You gasp his name, and you’re answered by his too-familiar huff of a laugh again.

“What?” you demand through your own smile.

“You say my name like that again and I’m gonna bust,” he tells you seriously. Then he brings his attention back to where his fingers disappear inside you, and his gaze sharpens. “These are in my way,” he murmurs, pulling out of you and reaching for your bathing suit, which had been pushed to the side.

“Yours too, then,” you object playfully, lifting your hips for him as he slides the damp material down your legs. He smiles at you indulgently and shuffles backwards on the back, standing long enough to tug at his swim trunks, letting them drop unceremoniously before crawling back up to you, pressing his mouth to yours and cupping your jaw with one hand, like he’d missed you in the seconds he’d been gone.

“Chan,” you whisper, because you need more of him, because this isn’t enough.

He slides lower down your body, his chest brushing against yours, his lips mapping a path down your sternum, down your belly, pausing near your navel. He looks up at you, all glinty-eyed, that million-dollar smile going slightly sideways, a little mischievous.

“Can I? Please say yes,” he says in a rush, pushing his nose into your lower belly and caressing your inner thighs with his thumbs.

You lean up on your elbows so you can look at him better. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing for a minute. He’s going to give you a cardiac event. “If you want to,” you tell him.

He laughs again, so quiet. “You have no idea,” he says, shaking his head, and then he’s attaching his mouth to you and your arms give out. You eye the ceiling, a strangled moan working up your throat as Chan’s tongue delves into your heat. You squirm, trying to push him deeper. He loops his arms under your legs and then reaches over, his hands pulling you tighter against his chin, both of you working to the same goal.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time imagining how Chan might eat pussy, but you’re surprised that he dives right into fucking you on his tongue, determined and rhythmic. You’d have pegged him for the type to go slow, draw it out, tease and taste and work you up little by little. Instead he grunts in satisfaction, pulls on you hard enough that you wonder if he’ll leave little bruises from his fingertips, and spears his tongue in and out of your hole with abandon, his nose bumping your clit every few thrusts.

You’re a whimpering mess, fighting the urge to roll your hips into his face, one hand slapped over your face to muffle the sound. He shifts, lips working their way up to your desperately pulsating clit, and you feel your whole body seize with the change of sensation, a long, low groan emanating from your chest. He suctions his lips around your clit and sucks gently, then a little less gently, and your feet scrabble against the sheets, trying to find purchase.

His fingers enter you again, his spit and your wetness giving them the perfect slide, and it’s exactly the extra stimulation you need. He only has to pump his wrist twice, that delicious suction steady around your clit, before you’re grasping desperately at him - one hand sliding into his hair and the other finding his wrist and holding tight, which doesn’t stop him at all from pistoning his fingers into that spot on your front wall that has you unraveling faster than you ever have before.

“Fuck, fuck, Chan -” you gasp. Your eyes squeeze shut and your grip on him might actually be painful, a belly-deep ahhhhh ripped from you as the onslaught of sensation sends conscious thought spinning away.

“Shhh,” he soothes, fingers slowly but continuing to work you through it. You whimper, gasp for a breath, the room coming back into view. “Not so loud, baby.”

“God, Chan,” you groan, releasing your hold on him, flexing your fingers.

He grins at you, lightning quick, then kisses the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl.”

You peer at him, boneless. “You up for more?”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, the triumph not completely melted from his face yet. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he promises. “You’re calling the shots here.”

“Excellent,” you joke. You reach towards him, barely stop yourself from making grabby hands. “Come fuck me.”

He damn near scrambles to obey. He comes up to kiss you, deep and heady, and you hook one of your legs behind him, pulling him closer. The head of his cock slides along your slit and you tilt, trying to get him where you want him.

You look up at him, feeling like he hung the stars, and whisper his name. His answer is a bite of a kiss as he pushes himself into you, stopping only when his hips are flush with yours.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he breathes, eyes closed for a second, as he holds himself over you.

“Please move,” you beg, needing more.

“God,” he groans. “Okay. Okay. I got you.”

And he does. Chan fucks like he moves - quick and precise, each motion purposeful. His eyes have narrowed with focus, brows slightly furrowed with exertion as his hips snap. He slides one hand under you to help lift you, the angle changing just slightly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, desperation lacing your voice. “There.”

The drag of him is delicious, and so is the feeling of his body under your hands, and so is the sound of his ragged breath mixed with occasional gasps and groans. It’s the fact that it’s Chan driving you even higher.

A crack of thunder sounds directly overhead, and Chan takes the moment to roll you over, laying back and letting you straddle his lap without even slipping from inside you. You whine as the new position drives him deeper than he’d been before, your hands splayed over his pecs. He’s breathing rapidly now, struggling to keep his eyes open as he continues to fuck you from below.

“I-I’m - so -” he pants, “close. Really close, baby.”

You lean down to kiss him, his arms coming up around your shoulders to pull you chest to chest until his strokes grow sloppy and his hands tighten on you. You kiss along his jaw sweetly until he releases you with a sigh. He kisses you once more before he pulls out, and then again when he returns from the bathroom with a damp cloth.

“I might need to actually shower,” you muse.

“Yeah, okay,” he says easily, nodding. “Maybe I’ll go after you. I smell like chlorine.”

You shrug. “Might as well just join me. If you want.”

He grins. He follows you into the bathroom, waits with you while the water heats up. And then he fucks you again, against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

Later, back in bed, you face each other through the dark.

“I should have said earlier,” you whisper. “But I’ve liked you for a long time, too.”

His smile makes you feel full of sunshine, even when it’s shy, even when he’s asking what you want to do about it. Especially when he’s asking you, "What are you doing next Saturday?"

Tonight, the decision to cuddle is made while you’re awake. When you wake up in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows, Chan wastes no time in reaching between your legs, finding you ready, and rolling over top of you, pushing between your thighs before he even has his eyes all the way open.

When you both emerge from your bedroom, stomachs growling and with the beginnings of a caffeine headache, your friends are all sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with the evidence of a breakfast come and gone. They begin a slow clap, eventually lauding you in a mostly sarcastic but still loving round of applause.

“It’s about time,” Mingyu grouses. “You two have been circling each other forever.”

“Shh,” you tell him, as Chan slips his arm over your shoulders with a grin. “Not so loud.”

thank you for reading!!! <3

#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: not so loud by daechwitatamic #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: lee chan x reader #g: angst #g: fluff #g: smut #g: friends to lovers #r: nsfw #wc: 10k to 20k

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nothoughtsjustficrecs · 2 months ago

Text

Review Written for The K-Fic Collection.

Tomo! This was such a wonderful read! I enjoyed every moment of it.

Thank you for writing this wonderful story and sharing it with us!

First of all, before even getting into the story, love the banner, Tomo! It’s so fun and creative!

“ You don’t think anyone in fifth grade should have the ego Wonwoo has. ” I have no idea how old fifth grade is, but I agree! Kids shouldn’t have big egos. I mean, nobody should but especially kids

“ Kumon ” I have no idea what this is either (I assume it’s extra classes/tutoring/study sessions etc) but now I’m thinking about Kumamon and imagining having to go and regularly sit with a giant bear mascot for some weird reason 😂

“ Seungkwan sighs, “I forget you can’t read sometimes.” ” okay the laugh I let out though omg

“ “I knew my score wouldn’t ever get that low.” ” asshole! This calls for sabotage! 😈 (im kidding, I’d never actually do that)

“ 2. He’s blind as fuck. ” why did that make me laugh so much

“ You underestimated your strength when you’re angry that you knock him off and he faceplants into the ground, earning him a bloody nose. ” omg, but also, ha!

“ It took you two quarters but you eventually end up at the top of the honor roll instead of Jeon Wonwoo. ” I don’t think we even have things like honour roll and stuff here tbh, I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever heard anyone here mention it, but it does sound like a very pressuring thing ngl. I would’ve hated it. Which is entirely irrelevant to the story, my bad 🤡

“ Worst of all, he always calculates the count offs to teams so he could be in yours. ” dang, boy’s so obsessed

“ But somehow with your crush around, you forget all basic electrical engineering and simply count how many times you got him to smile at you or how his hands looked so pretty with how deftly they worked. ” I too would be highly distracted with Taehyung in front of me

“ the muscles around his eyes and nose scrunch ” oh, I am weak for a nose scrunch, it’s so fucking cute!

“ You’d think he could be an idol in another life and if he auditioned to be one, you’re sure he would make a successful celebrity. ” this made me giggle

“ And you’d rather be out of breath and dry heaving than be asked to give a five minute monologue as punishment. ” you know what? That’s so fucking relatable

“ There were a group of boys behind him, eyes flickering up to you then amongst each other, mumbling amongst themselves in a peeved tone. ” perverts!

Sweet babie Wonwoo silently protecting her 🥺

“ Yet anytime you looked back, his eyes remained fixed on his steps and he never gave you any reason to feel unsafe. ” 🥺

“ During games held in your school’s football field, there’s always a free spot right next to him, just reserved with his messenger bag. And the moment you step into his row, he’d wordlessly move it away, leaving the space free for you to sit. ” im going to scream

“ Something ugly settles in your stomach because it felt like you were witnessing him watching his dreams crumble. ” :(( poor babies

“ The parting gift you carried with you remains at the back of your closet and in your next closet as you move out and head to college.

A bittersweet reminder of a boy that meant more to you than you ever knew. ” Hello??? Do you want me to cry???

“ And he’s still blind as fuck. ” made me laugh, yet again

“ a cat named Bear ” genuinely love that

“ “Would you…mind showing me instead?” ” ahhhh!

“ “Would it be so bad?” ” AHHHHHHH!

“ 7. He’s such a lame dude. A hot lame dude. ” he truly is. I genuinely think that’s part of the appeal though, how much of a giant dork he is

“ It makes you feel ridiculously giddy, knowing he’s waiting so he could explore with you rather than with anyone else. ” cuuute

“ pressing a fleeting kiss on your forehead ” damn, he missed

“ “I missed.” ” ahahahahhahahahha, told you!

“ You grin broadly when he starts kissing your cheeks, your temple, anywhere he could.

“Why’d you stop?” he grumbles. ” cute 🥺

“ Holy shit he looks so good like this, soft with sleep, shorter strands of his hair sticking in odd directions, barely coherent and ridiculously cheesy. ” so true

“ “I was trying to impress you,” he deadpans. ” omg, he really is a giant fucking loser omg

“ 10. You can’t stand being without him. ” oh, what a sweet and perfect end 🥺

A Comprehensive List of Why You Can't Stand Jeon Wonwoo.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x afab!reader

w.c: 13k (i just love jeon wonwoo ok)

genre: romcom, childhood rivals to lovers, idiots in denial, tsundere x tsundere

warnings: swearing, petty fighting, blood from rough play as kids, misunderstandings, mentions of drunk people and perverts

synopsis: You had no idea when your mutual hatred with Jeon Wonwoo started or what started it. If anyone were to ask why you hate him, you could give them a comprehensive list of everything you can’t stand about Jeon Wonwoo. But as the saying goes: there’s a fine line between love and hate.

a/n: its finally doneeeee omg. this is for the lonely hearts cafe collab hosted by @camandemstudios!!! Please check out the rest of the collab as they have your favorite writers~ thank you to my betareaders: @svtiddiess @welcometomyoasis @miniseokminnies <3 thank you for keeping me sane! i hope you guys enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated! p.s i love all u cancer signs its just part of the plot.

a/n 2: AND THANK YOU @starlightkyeom for sprinting with me and encouraging the yapping. Thank you @etherealyoungk and @highvern for helping me with the banner and encouraging meee <3

collab m.list || m.list

No Age Indicator/Minors/Blank blogs/Serial Likers will be blocked!

You had no idea when your mutual hatred with Jeon Wonwoo started or what started it. But if anyone were to ask why you hate him, you could give them a comprehensive list of everything you can’t stand about Jeon Wonwoo.

1. He’s a cocky bastard.

You don’t think anyone in fifth grade should have the ego Wonwoo has. Kids your age should be more worried about being wise with who to trade lunches with or who had the latest nintendo. Not Wonwoo.

It started with receiving your quiz results from Math being handed back to you, you took one look at the score with wide eyes and an excited kick of your feet. It had been higher than you anticipated, maybe the weekly torture of going to Kumon was working out after all. You were over the moon, excited to show your father how well you’ve been doing. Maybe he’d let you attend Kumon less or maybe he’d let you have a sleepover the weekend at Seulgi’s.

It wasn’t after the fourth period when you’re eating lunch with Seungkwan when you realized what exactly was in your hands.

You proudly wave the test paper in front of him that merely squints at you with a questioning stare,

“Why do you have Wonwoo’s quiz?”

You frantically flip the paper towards you, paling and burning all at once when you do see that it was your classmate’s name on the paper indeed.

Seungkwan sighs, “I forget you can’t read sometimes.”

You’re already in the worst of moods when you approach Wonwoo in the last period, begrudgingly tapping his shoulder and handing him his quiz. He looks up from his seat with a disinterested but surprised look before he takes the paper from you.

Realizing it was his, he makes a quiet ‘hm’ sound before he shuffles over his own books to return yours. You wonder why he didn’t realize the switch up too and why he doesn’t offer any other emotion than disinterest. He hands you your test papers and you double check it to indeed find your name scrawled at the top. He thanks you but it comes as an insult when he says,

“I knew my score wouldn’t ever get that low.”

Your nose flares and you have the immediate urge to deck his jaw. Nevermind that he’s the class heartthrob and you’ll get some nasty glares from the girls. But when you see a certain handsome boy, Taehyung, enter the classroom from your peripheral, you simply clench your fists, huff and storm away to avoid tainting an unruly image in front of your crush.

2. He’s blind as fuck.

One of your earlier memories was in the nurse’s office. You can’t help that he was infuriating, near sighted, and shorter than you. He had been assigned to your team in dodgeball during Physical Ed. He moved too slow, hesitated too much for your liking and ignored any of your cries to dodge. Frustrated over having lost the game, you had stormed towards him, harshly reprimanding him. He receives this with an unimpressed stare and a roll of his eyes—a gesture you absolutely loathed. The minute he turns away from you, you grab the nearest ball and chuck it towards his head. You underestimated your strength when you’re angry that you knock him off and he faceplants into the ground, earning him a bloody nose.

You felt pretty bad about it, realizing that it just might be that you were simply ahead of him in the athletic department.

But just as you were about to apologize to him, with your head bowed low from reprimand and guilt, he waves it off and deadpans,

“Hope the P.E grades make up for your Math grades.”

Your homeroom teacher clicks her tongue at him and you’re about to bust his lip too but a stern stare from her stops you. With a sharp inhale, you once again clench your fists at your side, red from embarrassment and anger. You channel all your hatred into that one glare you send him, begrudgingly vowing to do better in your Math class to prove a point.

3. He can be petty.

Which means he’s quickly become competitive.

And that was too bad because you’re short tempered and you hate losing.

You wondered if it was that incident at P.E but whatever it was, Wonwoo triggered something in you that just made you want to crush him at any academic, theatric, and physical game he played. Your father dubbed it being your competitive nature but you were only competitive where it concerns Wonwoo.

You ask your dad if he can sign you up for more Kumon classes extending to the weekend. He regards you with a disbelieving stare at first, but nothing delights a strict parent more than their child volunteering to study more. He lets you even if exponents, variables, and negative numbers haunt your dreams.

It took you two quarters but you eventually end up at the top of the honor roll instead of Jeon Wonwoo.

You take satisfaction at his stone cold face when the teacher announces him second in Math.

Being third while he stands fifth in English was just a bonus.

You think this will somehow earn you some respect from him but he works even harder and not only with his study habits but with his intent to make everyday your living hell.

Wonwoo is reserved, mostly keeps to himself and intimidates others with his unreadable stare. You don’t expect him, however, to be annoying quietly. He knows when you’re leaving school, purposely walking ahead of you to chance bumping your shoulder roughly. He knows you’re go-to drink from the vending machine then makes 10 purchases before recess so there's nothing left for you. Worst of all, he always calculates the count offs to teams so he could be in yours.

From then on, Wonwoo was simply and unfortunately everywhere till you’ve reached highschool.

You’ve been unluckily grouped together for a science project with him but luckily with Taehyung.

4. He's fucking moody.

You thought you’ve seen moody when the majority of the girls in your class simultaneously got their first periods within a year in sixth grade. But nothing had prepared you for the kind of moody Wonwoo was in highschool.

Taehyung made you nervous but he was much more pleasant to be with in comparison to Wonwoo. While Wonwoo took every opportunity to make jabs at your academic abilities, Taehyung eased you with his boxy smiles and helpful remarks.

The task was to build a simple electric motor, it only involved a few steps and low cost materials. But somehow with your crush around, you forget all basic electrical engineering and simply count how many times you got him to smile at you or how his hands looked so pretty with how deftly they worked.

“You’re supposed to sand only half of the insulation on the other end,” Wonwoo reproves Taehyung for the third time.

“Oh really?” He lifts the wire closer to his eyes.

“Yeah, what part of the written instruction can’t you read?”

You scoff, “Why don’t you do it if you have something to say at every step?”

“Why don’t you actually take notes instead of drooling like a bulldog all over the desk?”

You flush at that, self consciously snapping your mouth shut and glaring at the boy across you. Just as you make a comment buldak induced farts, Taehyung cuts you both off with a strained chuckle,

“It’s okay, I’ve got another roll of wire here.”

He’s so thoughtful, you think, mooning over every little action the boy makes.

“No, he just has the list of materials,” Wonwoo quips, tapping on Taehyung’s notebook.

You said it outloud and your ears begin to burn while your crush carries on the first two steps unbothered.

The rest of the project goes by without any instance of you going after Wonwoo’s throat. By the time the last bell rings, you’ve only got cleaning up to do and going over your notes for the presentation in two days. Taehyung sighs in relief, flexing his hands in front of him and popping the kinks in his neck. You internally cringe at the sound but you smile and shyly congratulate him for doing a good job.

Wonwoo audibly tsks at that and your calm streak instantly vaporizes.

“Who pissed on your Cheerios today?” you snap, voice tight in irritation.

Wonwoo does not respond, instead he rolls his eyes and starts packing his things. Your brows dip in mild concern, because Wonwoo always had something to say or he’d get back at you another way. But he ignores Taehyung’s question and gets up to leave.

You’ve pushed Wonwoo’s temper further than this and you don’t understand why this makes you feel a little bad though it was technically his fault for negating every little thing being discussed. Anytime you’re paired or grouped up, so long as it involved his grades, he would cooperate in silence and a daunting glare. Yet this was different and you don’t question it further.

But you do.

You wonder if he just had a bad day, recalling the times you’ve been snippy with someone simply because you weren’t having a great day. You don’t care about Wonwoo’s day, he could wake up on the wrong side of any bed everyday, but you do start to wonder what it is that makes him tick— that isn’t you, that is.

In fact, you don’t know anything else about your academic rival other than his annoying habits, his unhealthy consumption of Monster and Buldak, or that he’s in the chess club with your friend Minghao, and that he’s consistently building the list of reasons why you can’t stand him.

That thought then leads you into mild curiosity. Curiosity of what kind of person Jeon Wonwoo truly is. You know how you can make him tick, but you don’t know what makes him happy.

It’s when you lose, that’s most likely it, you conclude, absentmindedly tapping on your desk, taking a sip of your favorite juice. You’re unconsciously watching Wonwoo with his friends. The seniors don’t often hang around near their juniors but Wonwoo’s friends do. Choi Seungcheol sits on his desk, keeping a boy a year younger than you in a playful headlock. It typically would alarm you but with how often the older boy comes with some other seniors to hang around, you know they’re being harmless albeit scary.

Wonwoo smiles, then he starts laughing at something you can’t make out. He claps his hands in amusement and the muscles around his eyes and nose scrunch in a way you’ve never noticed before. In fact, you don’t think you ever saw him smile. Most days he throws an infuriating smirk, unimpressed stare or a roll of his eyes in front of you, but you realize you’ve never truly seen joy in his features.

Given that you only purposefully look at him to gauge his reaction with his grades or your overachievement, you don’t actually know what Jeon Wonwoo looks like outside of contempt.

Wonwoo doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, content on listening to Kwon Soonyoung’s animated storytelling and nibbling on his sweet rice bun in small pieces.

He looks…small.

It's strange watching him like this, like you were watching a TV show of someone else.

Then he laughs again, the kind that's silent but palpable with his broad grin and claps of his hands while the other boys erupt in a fit of roaring infectious laughter.

A small smile unknowingly quirks up the corners of your mouth. You’re quick to push it down but without any success so you turn away to look out the window instead.

A happy Jeon Wonwoo didn’t seem so bad.

You lay off intentionally getting on his nerves the rest of the week, secretly hoping to see more of that Wonwoo you just witnessed. So long as he doesn’t perceive you, he seems to be just your typical quiet nerd. During recess, he reads a book he brings with him to school or simply hangs out on the bleachers to watch his best friend Mingyu play on the field. He minded his own business, never really calling attention to himself.

You’re not truly present, a little lost in thought even if you leave class with Taehyung together and head for the lockers.

You wonder if you could have been friends with Wonwoo if you didn’t meet the way you both did. He didn’t seem as bad as he was with you. Maybe you took it too far, maybe it should have stopped in fifth grade, maybe—

There's a rough jostle on your shoulder and you stumble on your feet with a startled gasp. With a curse at the tip of your tongue, you whip your head to reprimand the offender.

It was Jeon Wonwoo without looking back.

All your initial maybes dissipate and give way to remind you that you can’t stand how he’s fucking moody.

By the time you reach your junior year of highschool, your rivalry with Wonwoo mellows out into a subdued intensity. Not on purpose, but because you’ve both taken a different academic strand towards the end of your year. Which worked out, you think, the pressure only coming from finishing at the top of your class with high enough grades to get you into the university of your dreams. Without Wonwoo around as much, the frustration was manageable.

It doesn’t mean that you don’t see him anymore and that's when you do see him around are times where you remember why you can’t stand him.

Because it seems like you’ll never get rid of him.

5. He never truly leaves you alone.

You see him during homeroom and in the halls. His growth spurt sends him towering above you in the last year. Hence, you could no longer make gibes on how he was much shorter than you. That also meant that anytime your eyes meet in the hall, he’s literally looking down on you which aggravates you more than anything else. It doesn’t help that he naturally has a cold stare and he doesn’t say a word.

Sometimes Seungkwan nudges you when he notices that same sharp stare focused on you from across the cafeteria and he doesn’t even look away when you catch him. On days you’re in a particularly bad mood, you flip him off. Wonwoo’s brow would only furrow in mild irritation but he ignores you.

There are few subjects you both share apart from your homeroom like English, Social Studies, Performing Arts, and History. And in those subjects, he could still be annoying simply by sitting in front of you, effectively blocking the board. Sometimes he’d get the mintiest copy of the literature book you were to read that week just before the distribution reaches you.

You particularly hate sharing Performing Arts with him because it's the only subject you can admit to yourself that he’s better at than you are. It came to you as a surprise because he never put himself out there but he had a lovely singing voice and he could pick up any dance routine with ease. You’d think he could be an idol in another life and if he auditioned to be one, you’re sure he would make a successful celebrity.

It’s the only subject where you deliberately make yourself smaller and subdued to avoid embarrassment. You actively avoid looking at his reaction anytime you’re called to rehearse a line or sing a chorus. It’s a subject you dread every week not only for those reasons but because they were being held on the seventh floor. You hate climbing those damn stairs in your skirt. Especially when your homeroom is on the ground floor and you've only got five minutes in between periods. It always leaves you breathless and sweaty once you’ve reached.

You’re rushing up the stairs again today, loose papers in your arms threatening to spill over from your jog. Your homeroom teacher had to have a few words with you regarding a scholarship you might be interested in which only gives you about two minutes till you reach the next class. If Ms. Kang was a more forgiving teacher, you know she’d give you grace, but she doesn’t. And you’d rather be out of breath and dry heaving than be asked to give a five minute monologue as punishment.

You’re on the fourth floor when an arm shoots from behind you and nudges you to the side, away from the railings where the momentum for your speed was. You growl in annoyance, thinking someone would shove past you but you’re confused to see Wonwoo following closely right behind you.

Your irritation increases tenfold.

You’re about to shove him back and side step back to where you were but he pins you with a strange gaze that leaves you no room for argument. There were a group of boys behind him, eyes flickering up to you then amongst each other, mumbling amongst themselves in a peeved tone.

Still, you frown, glancing back at him as you climb up the stairs, “What the hell, Wonwoo?”

Then Wonwoo clasps the back of your uniform blouse and you’re surprised you slow down for him as the boys walk past you, one even sending you both a nasty glare.

He doesn’t respond, instead he gestures to you to keep going after they’ve gone ahead. He’s intentionally one step behind you and focusing his gaze on the steps ahead of him.

Confused and irritated at the same time, you keep glancing back at him, as if expecting him to explain or that he’d rush ahead of you like some childish race. But he doesn’t say a word, looking down at his shoes until you’ve both reached the top.

You’re spared the class punishment that day— but you’re not spared from the same antics of Wonwoo the following weeks after.

It didn’t matter if you were headed to the seventh floor with Seungkwan or your other friends. He made that his routine. He never explains and even when you attempt to defy him and rush up the stairs, he stops you with a firm hand. His head is always bowed and he’s always there, right behind you. Your friends would shoot him a strange look before teasingly wiggling their eyebrows at you.

You’re always irked each time you’re up the stairs but by week six, you just pretend he isn’t there anymore. After all, he doesn’t seem to make his presence known. He just makes sure you're ahead of him, his head bowed and that you’re away from the railings.

It wasn’t until he missed school for a week that you understand why.

Seungkwan was ahead of you, rushing while simultaneously trying to keep you updated on the latest news of a cancelled Youtuber. He’s out of breath but he keeps going and you egg him on to keep going.

“But that doesn’t stop there because apparently—YAH! What are you doing?!” he sharply yells and halts to a stop.

“What?” you abruptly stop and the boys following behind you begin to scramble up the stairs.

Seungkwan may be shorter, and a little less intimidating than they are but his offended glare sends a chill down your spine. As the last boy jogs up, your best friend delivers a heavy slap on his thigh earning the boy a yelp.

“Perverts,” Seungkwan grumbles.

“What happened?”

He doesn’t respond immediately,instead he turns back to you, glances at your skirt in thought before he steps behind you.

“Hey, do you think you could like….” he vaguely gestures to your skirt, “Maybe pull your skirt forward and walk?”

You’re still confused but you let him demonstrate, tugging most of the fabric to your front so the back side was taut.

“You could be wearing shorts, but let's be safe.”

You wordlessly nod.

“I’ll be sure to report them,” he squeezes your shoulder in comfort and nudges you forward with a strained smile.

Then it clicks.

Some boys had been grabbing the chance to look under your skirt this whole time—Wonwoo was just trying to protect you. The realization leaves you distracted the whole day, partly angry with whoever took the chance to be perverts and floundered that Wonwoo noticed and protected your dignity this whole time.

Without ever explaining or expecting you to thank him.

You wonder if its because he knows you have the potential to throw a fit and grab those boys by their hair, tainting your good student record or that you’d forever be in a pissy mood when you climb up the stairs.

You don’t know why he did it. When you’ve hated each other for as long as you have, you tend to forget the possibility that Wonwoo could be a decent person. You’ve been telling yourself he’s just an asshole to you–but this time he wasn’t.

You suppose you can’t fully hate him for always hanging around.

That single event had unconsciously changed the way you started looking at Jeon Wonwoo the way you reconsidered him after count 4. The less you paid attention to how much he annoyed you, the more you saw how he wasn’t.

He still keeps his routine of following closely behind you in the stairs any time you both headed the same direction. Sometimes you’re in between thanking him or randomly teasing him that maybe he was being the pervert. Yet anytime you looked back, his eyes remained fixed on his steps and he never gave you any reason to feel unsafe.

When it came to class presentations in English, in spite of him being in the infamous backrow, Wonwoo keeps still, eyes trained on you in that intense way he does. It doesn’t matter if his row and the row before him were mumbling and giggling amongst themselves, his focus was zeroed in on you and what you had to say.

During games held in your school’s football field, there’s always a free spot right next to him, just reserved with his messenger bag. And the moment you step into his row, he’d wordlessly move it away, leaving the space free for you to sit. It was a nice gesture, and by the third time he’s done it, you consider it your spot.

In turn, he becomes a nuisance by using the hem of your sweater to clean his glasses.

Even long waits at the bus stop becomes a routine for you both. Unlike most boys his age who fuck around after school or head to the nearest barbecue place, you routinely find him at the bus stop the same time as you.

Wonwoo always being around eventually allows you to be casual enough to hold a conversation with him though it mostly ends in banter.

You’re not friends–but you’re not exactly acquaintances.

But by the time you’re in the middle of senior year, you both have each other’s Kakao Talk contact.

You don’t contact each other often. Your messages span from silence for weeks to some questions about notes.

You wonder if the rivalry died in between, but you don’t let up from aiming to graduate top of your class. You heard that Wonwoo intends to do the same too, shooting for a scholarship that could land him in the university of his dreams.

So you spend hours after your after-school academy retaking some mock tests. You sacrifice a social life in favor of renting out a cubicle in a twenty four hour study cafe. Your dad would much rather have you study at home but you tell him you’ll only fall asleep in your room. So he agrees, so long as you share your location and let him know if you need him to pick you up.

By the time your exam weeks roll around, you discover you’re not the only one with the same idea. Because to your shock, you find the very boy who has a high chance of thwarting your plans, settled in your self proclaimed cubicle.

Wonwoo’s dressed in an oversized hoodie, headphones in and two cans of that damn green Monster beside a stack of books and notes.

Miffed, you tap his shoulder aggressively. He looks up, a ghost of irritation on his face until they contort in surprise. You’re sure you look run over with your own loose sweater and sweats but it doesn’t matter. It matters that you get to that top 1% of your class in peace.

“That’s my spot,” you tell him plainly.

“I don’t see a name.”

He was right but you just hated your routine being disrupted. You glare at him but Wonwoo makes no move to leave. So with an aggravated huff, you loudly plop your bag and books beside him.

Shaking his head, he turns back to his notes and reads in peace. You always thought that Wonwoo was naturally smart, you rarely ever see him studying this way—at least in school. But then again, you’re reminded that he’s nothing like you.

You begin studying and flipping through your flashcards in silence. It feels different knowing your competition right next to you, looking effortless, and smelling nice. Shaking your head of those thoughts, you try to zero in your notes.

About two hours in, you feel your hunger begin to settle in. Glancing at your phone the time reads 9:12 PM, and you decide that you need a break and a snack. Straightening your back, you stretch and pop your shoulders which lets you glance over at your seatmate between the divider.

You tap his shoulder and the words leave you before you could even think about them and what they meant,

“Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head so you stand up, grabbing your wallet and phone, “Watch over my stuff.”

“Where are you going?”

“Convenience store.”

He starts closing his books and unplugs his phone before he stands up, rolling out the kinks in his neck.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?”

“It’s late,” he simply tells you, gesturing to the wide window panels outside showing you the city’s nightlife. “Then we can review each other when we get back.”

You think you can do without the company and help, especially his. He’s already made a permanent residence in your everyday life even if you tried to escape him. He was everywhere and that's one more thing you realize about Wonwoo that you can’t stand.

6. He assumes you need him.

You don’t.

That's what you stubbornly think as you both walk the short distance to the convenience store. You only let him so he can clear whatever conscience he has about you walking alone at night.

When you arrive, you know exactly what you want, zooming straight for the ramen section and corndogs. Wonwoo wanders around until you find him by the beverages, eyeing another can of energy drink. You already notice his fingers have tremors when they reach for the handle. You’re quick to clasp his hand, feeling yourself jolt with the chill of his fingers.

“You’re going to send yourself into cardiac arrest if you drink anymore,” you scold, and you don’t know why you care. But you’d rather not panic and haul your classmate into an ambulance if something were to happen to him.

He blinks at you wearily, “I’m getting sleepy.”

You sigh, feeling the muscles of his fingers jump beneath yours. You keep your hold, willing the tremors to stop and his skin to warm under yours.

“Try matcha instead, or apple juice.”

You don’t have any reason to suggest them other than they were better alternatives. Wonwoo stares at you for a while, the evidence of exhaustion plain behind his glasses. But he nods, reaching for the adjacent fridge for a box of apple juice. You let out a breath of relief, releasing his hand and ignoring the tingles that crawled up your skin.

Once you’re sitting at one of the corner tables, Wonwoo settles one seat apart from you. You feel a little conscious at the choice but then you remember, you’re the one who purposely avoids him anyway. So you consume your snacks in silence, speeding up a little to avoid the awkward silence. But you suppose there's only so much you could do with a steaming bowl of ramen.

“What are you planning to do after graduation?”

“Leave,” he answers without a glance at your direction.

It’s very like him to answer that way but it still leaves you stunned. Most of your friends dream of a bigger world outside the city you’ve always lived in and that’s valid. But it makes you wonder and doubt if you’re dreaming big enough. When all you’re aiming for at the moment is to finish well, finish high, and be close to a place that’s become your home. Maybe one day, you’d get the confidence Wonwoo has but not now.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, glancing at you, “My family is already planning to move to where dad is. I think I need the challenge of something new too.”

You retract what you thought of his confidence earlier, because you recognize the hesitancy and the nervousness ever so subtle in his eyes and the tapping of his fingers against the juice box.

“There’s a scholarship that I-”

“I know,” you cut him off, bitterly reminded that you’re both vying for a spot for one. Wonwoo looks back out the window quietly. Sure, you have thought of scholarships, but the ones that appealed to you most didn’t require of you the way you are of yourself.

Wonwoo on the other hand…

You decide you’ve lost your appetite and begin clearing away your things. Your companion follows suit, grabbing a tissue to wipe down the surface before following you out the doors.

Just as you both round the corner to a narrow street leading back to the study cafe, you hear the unmistakable loud laughter and drawls of drunk men from the other end. You instantly feel yourself on edge, unconsciously shuffling closer to Wonwoo.

Without another word, he eases you to his right side, away from the incoming group of men, seemingly leaving a nearby barbecue place. They’re stumbling in their steps, aggressively arguing then cackling at each other’s slurred words. They see you both, eyes lingering on both of you before carrying on staggered steps when Wonwoo looks straight ahead with broad shoulders.

You don’t realize how you’ve been holding your breath and Wonwoo’s elbow till you see the quaint study cafe just right across the street. Your palms are sweaty and while nothing had happened to you, knowing that Wonwoo was right with you and pushed to accompany you is enough to send you on your knees to thank the heavens that he assumed you needed him.

Because maybe you did.

And you no longer protest when he begins pulling out his notebook and quizzes you on your subjects.

Or that you meet him regularly in the same cafe after school hours and your dad sends you a knowing look when Wonwoo begins dropping and walking you to your house after.

There were many things people your age looked forward to as the end of the school year drew near. A new city, university, and the freedom that came from being eighteen and out of highschool.

You were holding your breath for the announcement of the class’ top 5. You’re ringing your hands at the assembly, exhausted but on edge with each droned out speech from your school director and principal. Seungkwan nudges your thigh, assuring you that you’ve worked hard and it would surely be rewarded.

“The fifth highest ranking is awarded to…Kwon Soonyoung!”

There’s loud cheering, and you glance over and grin with the same shocked expression as Soonyoung as he vibrates in his seat. The rest of the assembly remains with their jaws on the floor. You always knew Soonyoung was smarter than he let on, lots of people tend to overlook how hardworking he was in spite of the reputation he’s built.

You don’t hear your name or Wonwoo’s for the next two awards that draw nearer to the top 2. It leaves you on edge, wondering if your name is there at all and you simply expected more for yourself.

“Finishing with an outstanding 3.90, this year’s second highest is awarded to…”

You hold your breath, clasping and squeezing Seungkwan’s hand.

“Jeon Wonwoo!”

Your jaw drops. Mixed emotions follow, inexplicably happy for Wonwoo’s recognition but guiltily relieved that it meant he wasn’t—.

Then you remember his dream of getting a record for the scholarship he wants and how he had worked hard the same as you did. Suddenly, you’re not sure what to feel as you slowly freeze mid clap. Then you dare steal a glance at his direction.

He’s at the other end of your row, face unreadable as his seniors and seatmates clap his back in congratulations. He’s still, nodding wordlessly and mumbling what looked like a ‘thank you.’

Something ugly settles in your stomach because it felt like you were witnessing him watching his dreams crumble. Even if this was a point to celebrate.

Second never really felt great. You once told him in sixth grade that second was just first place for losers.

“And finally, finishing with a GPA of 3.93!”

A three point difference.

And the director calls your name.

You sit still, blood rushing in your ears while your classmates cheer and start shaking your shoulders in excitement.

Achievement never tasted this bitter.

You never imagined yourself chasing after Wonwoo after avoiding him for so long. He has his bag slung over his shoulder, like he was intending to leave and not attend the next class. For someone you crushed at sport, he was fast, agile and slipping through the sea of students leaving the hall as you were dismissed.

“Wonwoo!” you call out but it falls on deaf ears.

You don’t let up, shoving shoulders until you eventually catch him leaving the exit to the football field. The doors slam shut behind you and you’re breathless as you call his name one last time.

Thankfully, he turns around, just at the bottom of the steps. He looks at you expectantly, eyes empty while a dark cloud hangs about him. Your lips part but nothing leaves you.

You don’t know what to say that wouldn’t rub salt on the wound.

Well done? You worked hard? Sorry? Hey, cheer up! Your GPA passed the requirements to your scholarship?

You’re frozen, watching him and suddenly, you could feel tears begin to nip at your nose and burn behind your eyelids. An overwhelming realization crashes over you. This would be your final two weeks with Wonwoo. He told you he’s moving the week after graduation. You hate him, you’re sure you do. But since fifth grade you’ve been pushing, chasing, and grinding because of Wonwoo. There’s nothing you’ve done that wasn’t because of Wonwoo. All you knew your whole childhood was Wonwoo.

You know it's the same for him. It's impossible that those years don’t mean anything to him like it did to you. You don’t know if you’re friends but you know he’s part of you. Wonwoo was not a sore loser to anyone except you and you wonder if it's because of the same reason too.

It feels like you’re losing him, while he looks up at you, impatience creeping into the silence.

You stutter and fumble for words but he speaks for you.

He bows his head, deep with respect but his words carry a weight that settles bitterly in your stomach.

“Congratulations.”

“I…” you trail off, “Thanks.”

Then Wonwoo walks away, taking the path that leads to the back of the field, you know where students go to cut classes.

You watch him leave till the silhouette of his figure is but a speck and disappears behind the fence. You stand there with shaky knees and a blurry gaze, even when the bell for your next period rings.

You don’t see Wonwoo again after that.

Your family and friends celebrate with you, commending you for your hardwork and telling you how excited you must be. You receive them all with an automated smile and “thank you.” It’s not how you expected to celebrate being the top of your class.

Even as you deliver a speech on your graduation, there’s a gnawing emptiness in your chest when you see the vacant seat meant for Jeon Wonwoo. You overheard earlier that he’s missing graduation since his family started moving yesterday. You never got to say goodbye, or apologize.

Your dad embraces you with a proud and wide smile. He asks you where Wonwoo was, and teases you for a photo and dinner with him. But when you regard him with a watery gaze, his face softens in confusion and he lets you silently cry in the car on the way home.

The parting gift you carried with you remains at the back of your closet and in your next closet as you move out and head to college.

A bittersweet reminder of a boy that meant more to you than you ever knew.

College felt different to you. It went by slowly, and you felt like a baby lamb at first. Competing no longer mattered. Ending the semester with a healthy stomach and a decent enough grade was all that mattered to everyone. Strangely, you found yourself not as motivated as you were in highschool. You wonder if it's the absence of a certain someone you don’t want to think about.

Your grades don't define you the way they did when you were back in grade school and highschool. You were happy with just a 70 in Calculus and that you got at least 6 hours of sleep.

Some nights you wonder if it was worth it—losing a friendship over academic status.

But it was finished. You were content seeing how well Wonwoo seemed to fare in university with his occasional instagram posts. At a point in your third year, you found that he landed himself a date or girlfriend based on a re-shared tagged story.

It’s silly of you to feel a sting at that but then you accept it because it was what it was—stupid.

You delete the app and realign your values and goals.

By your fourth year, you don’t think of Wonwoo as often, only when you see him in some of Mingyu’s stories or some other mutual friend. And that's when the obsession of seeing your highschool classmate’s stories and posts began.

It's only human for you to begin comparing where they are now and where you are now. You suppose the competitive nature never died. So you get yourself a boyfriend at your worst just before you speculate that Wonwoo and his girlfriend broke up once you see the pictures of them together gone.

Once again, you delete the app and ground yourself into the present.

By the time you’re out of college and working, you’re single, and content with enough time to volunteer at your highschool’s library. It’s nostalgic working there, and while most you know have gone to different cities and states, you learn to be content where you are.

You’re undisturbed, mellowed out, and happy to have enough time and resources to be able to do what you can.

Until you receive an email, inviting you to a highschool reunion for your cohort. The thought of seeing people from your younger days both excites and unnerves you at the same time. It sends you back into those days you loathe yourself and where you are in comparison to your classmates. But you figure that in order to test your contentment and peace, you should show up. Besides, you’d be happy to reunite with people you’ve missed for five years.

Five years later, you don’t expect to see Jeon Wonwoo again in the same place you last saw him—at the steps leading out to the open football field.

Sure, you follow his instagram account but he rarely posts photos of himself. You only see him through glimpses of Mingyu’s instagram stories and occasionally Minghao’s. Wonwoo had always been handsome, but nothing had prepared you for the real thing.

He’s grown much taller, trim at the waist and his shoulders have filled out deliciously. He’s only in a white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and blue jeans but no one should look as criminally good in something as basic as that.

Suddenly, you don’t know what to do.

You both didn’t exactly end on a good note.

Though that was years ago and you’ve both matured, you’re anxious about how this reunion would make him feel.

He doesn’t seem to notice you yet, his eyes swooping over the vast field and immersed in his own thoughts. Maybe you should turn around, walk back into the gym and get dragged into another conversation about engagements, babies, doctorates, and families. Maybe you should wait until he notices you? You’re not too sure but in your indecisiveness, Wonwoo turns his head and does spot you, standing there dumbly without a coherent thought formed in your mind.

He tilts his head and squints behind his glasses.

That makes you smile.

And he’s still blind as fuck.

You offer him a shy “Hi, Wonwoo.”

You’re self consciously twisting your fingers behind your back, wondering if he even remembers you or what you should say if he doesn’t.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, I broke your nose back in fifth grade and oh, I took your coveted spot of being top of class.

But then he says your name, his lips curling into a smile around the syllables, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, when he steps towards you. “You’ve grown.”

An odd thing to tell an adult but he doesn’t miss a beat, “And you didn’t.”

“Still an annoying asshole I see.”

He smirks, dangerously deceptive with his soft wavy hair and glasses. “I don’t know. Still can’t spell ‘serendipity’?”

Then you both break into contagious laughter, finding humor and an easy cadence impossibly fast.

The bitter parting, the gap of the years, and wonder—all unseemingly mended in that one shared laughter.

He gestures with a nod to his head towards the field, a silent invite to walk with him.

You both catch up, you’d think that Wonwoo would be a little shy and reserved the way he could be around people who didn’t know him. But do you count? Even after five years apart, were you friends turned strangers indulging in friendly conversation?

Yet you both fall into easy conversation. You talk about how your families are, where you went to university, what current jobs you are in and what you are looking into for the future. Then comes the mundane, how is it living in Wonwoo’s city? How different has this place become since he left? What keeps you both busy nowadays? Were you seeing anyone?

The last question felt odd to have naturally come into your conversation yet you too, wanted to be sure you weren’t disrespecting a supposed partner’s boundaries. You’ve yet to understand how that makes you feel until Wonwoo tells you he isn’t—and neither are you after a nasty break up last year.

You try not to think about the relief that fills you at that.

By the time you’ve both made three rounds around the field, your feet are aching. Wonwoo suggests sitting at the bleachers, picking the spot you distinctly remember sharing with him.

You wonder if he does too or it was merely a coincidence.

“Everything’s the same and new at the same time,” he mulls, leaning against his palms.

You hum in agreement. “I know it's a little too late to be asking but, I hope I’m not keeping you from catching up with anyone?”

He shakes his head, locks of his hair brushing against his eyes, “Don’t worry, I think I’ve caught up with those I wanted to.”

You wonder if you’re part of those.

“I didn’t take you away from a good time did I? Though I doubt it with how you wandered out on your own,” he chuckles.

You laugh in agreement, “If I hear another conversation convincing me having a family has changed their lives for the better, I will scream.”

He shakes his head, “It sometimes does feel like they are convincing themselves than you.”

“Exactly,” you grin, nudging his shoulder and leaning back on your palms, “Though it was nice seeing everyone else and where they are now.”

“Yeah.”

“I am not going to lie to you, I did feel a little anxious coming to this,” you admit, observing how a plane flies overhead, lights blinking against the dark canvas of the sky.

“How so?”

“Well, I was looking forward to seeing everyone else but I also knew I’d probably be feeling a certain way about where I am, you know? Mid to late twenties is such a weird age.”

Wonwoo keeps silent, glancing at you once in a while and humming in encouragement as you speak.

“Some are heading back to school, others settled abroad, some are on their third child, others are getting engaged,” you take a deep breath, “And I’m still figuring it out.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond but you know he heard you. His silence makes you feel a little self conscious that you’re baring your thoughts open for him when you’ve just met again after so long. You study his profile from your peripheral, his face is thoughtful, dark eyes trained on the stars above.

“I understand,” he says quietly, “I sometimes feel that way too. But I also learned that we’re exactly where we should be.”

It's awfully cheesy and if you were who you were back in grade school you would have guffawed at his statement. It’s cheesy yet it was the truth.

You distantly wonder if this is where you should be.

“Yeah,” you breathe, gazing at him in wonder, “I guess so.”

By the time you both decide to call it a night, Wonwoo asks how you got here. When you tell him you took your car, he offers to walk you to your parking lot. You don’t know when you’ll see him again, but for some reason, you’re not ready to say goodbye yet. So you offer to drive him to his airbnb.

Music plays softly through your radio as you both converse. You count the hours in your head of how long you’ve simply been catching up and talking to Wonwoo. You’re impressed you’ve been talking for nearly five hours.

In that time you learn that he’s only here for a week, that he’s been doing well as a part of the IT Department at a business company, that he has a cat named Bear, and he drives a Yamaha R1. The thought of Wonwoo being a biker while having a fluffy cat waiting at home shouldn’t make you blush the way you do but it does. And he learns about your hobbies outside of work and that you volunteer some hours at the local library. You tell him how you’ve always wanted to adopt a cat but they were banned from your apartment building so some days you simply hang out at Seulgi’s place for her cat.

Conversation is easy, light, and you laugh in between.

You can’t stand how easy it was. How unpredictable he was and how unpredictable this was.

By the time you reach his airbnb, he thanks you with a wide smile. He tells you that his number hasn’t changed and to text him when you’ve reached home safely.

You: hey, i made it home!

You pause for a brief moment before tacking on.

You: It was nice seeing you again.

Wonwoo: good.

Wonwoo: thanks for the company tonight. we should catch up while im still here.

It leaves you agonizing that night whether he meant that for real or that he was simply being polite. And while you overthink about how you should respond, you settle with reacting with a heart to his message.

Thankfully, you don’t have to hatch a plan to see him again because you do, two days later, he shows up at the library.

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you look up, holding in your surprised gasp when you see Wonwoo.

“That’s my spot,” he tells you with an amused raise of his brow.

And suddenly you guffaw with how lamely he delivered that inside joke, thankful that you’re the librarian so you don’t get scolded by anyone else.

“Hey,” you smile, patting the seat next to you, “How have you been? Looking for something?”

Wonwoo glances at you, “Not too bad, and yeah, just a good book to tide me over this week.”

“Bored of this city already?”

He shakes his head, “I intend to go around and read a book while I’m at it.”

You don’t know what it is but the idea of Wonwoo re-exploring his home city while taking time to read sends flutters in your stomach.

“Well,” you begin opening your instagram, “I do have a few places I recommend. What are you looking for? Cafes? Galleries? Hidden gems?”

There’s a brief pause and you look up to find Wonwoo staring at you, a veil of uncertainty over him while his fingers discreetly twist on the table. You furrow your brows, “You good?”

His gaze flickers to your lap and your eyes, “Would you…mind showing me instead?”

You tilt your head with an amused raise of your brow, “You asking me on a date, Jeon Wonwoo?”

Laughing nervously, he rubs his palms against his jeans, “Would it be so bad?”

Your gaze sweeps over him, and you try to recall the list you had since meeting him and decide to add just one more thing you can’t stand about Jeon Wonwoo.

7. He’s such a lame dude. A hot lame dude.

You grin broadly, “Not at all. I get off at 12.”

You spend the rest of the week showing Wonwoo to your recommended places. Your go-to brunch owned by a Greek couple, the newly renovated park, the arcades he’s curious about, and galleries you both never took notice of growing up. And each day he finishes a bit of your book recommendation while he waits for you to get off for lunch and to finish work.

It makes you feel ridiculously giddy, knowing he’s waiting so he could explore with you rather than with anyone else. He even posts a story of your meal while you sit across from him, distracted with the menu. You calm the stupid organ in your chest, reminding yourself that there’s nothing going on.

Which only fails because an hour after Wonwoo posts, Seungkwan sends you a screenshot of the story followed by “call me when you’re home.”

Seungkwan is convinced Wonwoo likes you as he asks every minute detail of all your ‘dates’.

“So the man waited for you? To get off for lunch?”

“Yeah…” you smile into the phone remembering how he had waited outside your work building in his baseball cap and sweater.

“And who took care of brunch?”

“He did…actually he took care of everything.”

“So it was not only one date? What else did you do?”

“We went to the art exhibition on the other side of town. Then we went to the roller skating rink. We take walks in the park in the evening sometimes.”

“Sometimes?! So not just once?!”

“Yeah.”

“Why am I finding out about all this from one post of the ever mysterious Wonwoo and not from my bestfriend?”

You sputter, “I’m sure it means nothing! He just wanted to go around.”

“Uhm, hello? Seungcheol lives here? He’s his friend too?”

The insinuation makes you blush, “You know Seungcheol’s busy! Especially with how his business is going…”

“And you? You work a 9-5? And volunteer on top of that?”

“He asked me to bring him around…”

“He asked you?! This dumb…” you hear Seungkwan’s annoyed sigh, “How are you top of the class and still miss the signs?”

“Okay, fine,” you huff, “What if it is a date? It’s only been a week. Nothing could possibly-”

“Oh please, you’ve known each other for so long, what’s a week?”

“Kwannie, please,” you groan, “You can’t make me reconsider this whole thing means.”

Seungkwan says your name slowly, in that serious but gentle tone he takes on when he wants to lay a hard truth on you, “Do you like him? Actually, that’s stupid, I know already. Would you ever be okay with the idea of Wonwoo doing this for someone else?”

The image of Wonwoo, smiling the way he does with his scrunched nose and crinkled eyes, at someone else—leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. The idea of someone else who gets to hear his lame jokes, who sees the adorable way he tilts his head in question, who gets to watch how his energy drains mid way through a conversation with someone else, who gets to listen to him coo over his cat and show you pictures—you don’t want it to be anyone else.

And the thought leaves you devastated.

Wonwoo picks where you get to eat dinner tonight, and he brings you to the Italian restaurant you mentioned wanting to try in passing. It warms you to realize he remembered such a detail said once. It's even funnier that after your meal, he brings you to the same convenience store you both constantly venture in during your senior year.

You’re full, happy, and blissfully walking alongside him at a nearby park. You distantly wonder and think that maybe you could get used to this.

“I fly out tomorrow.”

Your gait falters, “Tomorrow?”

He hums in confirmation, walking steadily beside you until he realizes you've fallen behind.

That’s right. He said he was only going to be here for a week.

Wonwoo casts a questioning tilt of his head and you suddenly feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. You don’t know what that meant and you don’t know what to say. So you simply shake your head and catch up to his steps.

He brings you home with a soft smile and goodbye. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and yet you move on autopilot– thanking him for the wonderful evening, wishing him a safe flight as you close the door.

You’re restless by the time you settle in bed.

You can’t remember your childhood to adolescence without Wonwoo and while your university and graduate days were without him, he’s wedged himself back effortlessly into your life and routines.

It's only been a week but you’re faced with the daunting realization that you can’t settle with being without him again.

And in one last attempt to tide over the quiet separation anxiety, you send him a message.

You: hey, so how are you getting to the airport? Is chan bringing you?

Wonwoo: oh you’re still up?

You: haha yeah

Wonwoo: same…and no, chan had some family emergency so ill just take uber.

You: i see…

You hesitate as you type out your next words but you think you’d rather suffer the embarrassment than the “if onlys”.

You: i’ll bring you.

The message goes on “read” and you fumble for an explanation.

You: i mean its your last ride leaving home after so long. Gotta make sure you don’t cry in the uber or something

Wonwoo: haha i won’t and i won’t say no to that offer either.

You: cool, pick you up at 6?

Wonwoo: perfect. Thanks alot

You don’t respond, wary of seeming too attached than being seen as a concerned friend.

Because that’s what you are—friends.

You arrive at his Airbnb at exactly 6AM, groggy but sleepless. You don’t want to think about how long it took you to pick an outfit that was presentable and does not scream that you’re trying too hard. The last time you cared about what Wonwoo thought was in highschool. Though judging by the quick sweep of his eyes from your jacket to your jeans and his soft smile, he might think you look pretty even in your rattiest sweatpants. You repress the urge to delude yourself with that thought.

You pop the trunk open and he hauls his luggage in. Just as he steps back and lets it close, a gentle hand winds behind your neck and covers the top of your head in caution, leading you back and away from the door closing over you. It nearly feels like an embrace, with his bicep cushioning the back of your head and his chest pressed against your shoulder. He doesn’t pull away and neither do you, even though the trunk is nearly closed. There’s a shift in the air, something that lingered since his return. It’s palpable, it's there and it's real— yet you don’t acknowledge in hesitancy of the unknown.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your ear.

“Don’t worry about it,” you step away, before he could feel the heat spreading through your body.

You get in the car, wordlessly adjusting your seatbelts and fumbling unnecessarily with the rearview to buy time. You only have an hour between now and the airport then you're hit with an unreasonable drowning sense of sadness.

“Ready?”

If Wonwoo hears the croak in your voice, he makes no comment. He glances out the window, cataloging his home for the past week, and what was once his home from childhood.

“Yeah.”

The rest of the ride is filled with periodical silence broken up by occasional questions about what you both are going to do come Monday. Those short conversations remind you that you both live lives separate from each other now. During the quiet lulls, you fear that turning the radio on would give way to how self-conscious it makes you feel. The last time you were here, you found out how simple it was to get Wonwoo to laugh and how satisfied that made you feel. The banter was easy and the silence was comfortable.

You wonder how different it would have been if you spent your youthful years as friends and how ironically drastic it is that you’ve come to know Wonwoo in a week rather than eight years.

You’ve known him all your life. It didn’t matter if it were from your ill intentions, curiosity, and wonder. You’ve known Wonwoo in ways only you could.

Wonwoo knew you in ways only he could.

Because there's no way he could effortlessly read you and mold into your life if he didn’t know you the way he did. It didn’t matter that there was a five year gap or that you’ve grown from your feisty competitive teenage self.

Your mind works overtime to make logic out of it. If he knew you because you were still that girl at your core, or that he was observant. And if you flip the question and ask why you know him the way you do, it was because you wanted to and it was so easy to be enamored by him.

The realization knocks the breath of your lungs, clarity washes over you, and your breath stutters.

You wave off Wonwoo’s concerned question, blaming it on remembering something you forgot about at home. Because what were you supposed to do with all these feelings? You’re pulling up the airport’s parking lot, and he’s flying back to his city, to his apartment, back to his job and routines he’s long established without you in it. What were you going to do with the longing building in your chest? You’ll go back to your own home, tend to your house chores, and get ready for work on Monday without Wonwoo in between or in all of it.

Hands in your pocket, you’re quiet as you walk up the departure gates and Wonwoo rolls his luggage beside him. You avoid his gaze and you wonder if he said something in between the parking lot to the gates while blood rushes to your ears. Airports are always bittersweet, a portal between something new, scary, precious to return to, or a routine. A man rushes in through the automatic sliding doors, a girl waves goodbye to a car that drives past, and there's a family in a tight embrace as they let their children go.

While you—stand stiffly beside Wonwoo.

“Well,” he sighs, lips pursed into a tight smile, “This is it.”

It sounds like an ultimatum and it hurts to think about what it means. But you mutely nod, still up in your head as you glance at him. You expect him to thank you and leave but he lingers, pining you with his stare.

He startles you with his amused chuckle, “What’s that look for?”

“What look?” you frown though you both know damn well, you do have a look.

Shaking his head, he reaches an arm out to pull you to his chest. You forsake your surprise in favor of relishing his embrace for the first time…and what would feel like the last time. You wind your arms around his lithe waist, taking in his warmth, his scent, his presence–him.

“Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll see each other soon,” he comforts with teasing lilt to his tone.

“I won’t,” you grumble with a weak punch to his side but you don’t pull away.

A breathless laugh leaves his lips, and he squeezes you one last time before pulling back to look at you.

You know Wonwoo to be shy in spite of how confident he truly is, but he makes you shy when he regards you with his vulpine gaze. You feel vulnerable, open, and just like last time, you lose the urge to hide. His eyes are searching, and whatever he was looking for, he finds it.

The corners of his lips quirk up softly, pressing a fleeting kiss on your forehead, “See you.”

Biting your lip, you nod as a burning flush creeps up your neck and face, “Text me when you land.”

He hums and pulls away.

It’s finished, just like that. And you stand there dumbly, watching his broad back as he steps through the glass doors.

Nothing seems to fully process, even as he disappears behind those doors. You still feel the ghost of his lips on your forehead and you’re firmly planted where he had embraced you. The sound of a lady’s soft “excuse me” while she wheels her cart full of suitcases snaps you out of your reverie. You step away with a muttered apology, blinking at the pavement and trying to remember what you were supposed to do, what you’re supposed to feel, and where you should go.

But when you look up, you’re startled to see Wonwoo jogging back out the doors and abandoning his suitcase.

You frown, “Did you forget something?”

He nods and there’s a bright confidence and resolve to his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your hand absentmindedly fumbles for your keys, but you’re stopped when you feel Wonwoo’s hands on your shoulders, drawing you closer.

Then he smiles, cheeks stained pink, “I missed.”

He cups your cheeks, his big hands cradling you so tenderly. His eyes flicker over to yours for a brief moment, softening when your longing mirrors his own. Then he leans down to kiss you, the plushness of his lips lovingly caressing yours. You think you can hear a pleasant symphony as you let him.Your eyes flutter shut, and you bring a hand to his neck, the other anchoring on his wrist.

You never imagined your first kiss with Wonwoo. But you couldn’t imagine it being here, out in public where busy bodies are rushing in and out those gates.

It doesn’t matter because it’s perfect. He was.

You part for breath but Wonwoo chases your lips before you even could even breathe in. You giggle against his lips at his eagerness and it makes him smile too. Wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, he keeps leaning in for more—sighing in bliss and playfully nipping your bottom lip.

You could kiss him forever.

You carefully pull away from him, nudging his nose when he follows you.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. You grin broadly when he starts kissing your cheeks, your temple, anywhere he could.

“Why’d you stop?” he grumbles.

You huff out a laugh in disbelief, “Your flight leaves in an hour, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard three people excuse themselves past us.”

He huffs, dropping his head on your shoulder and just holds you for as long as time would allow him.

You’re tempted to ask him to miss his flight and stay.

But he’s got a life to get back to.

Before sadness and a cloud of doubt hangs over you, Wonwoo kisses sweetly one last time and tells you, “I’ll call you when I land.”

And while you watch him walk through those doors a second time, you quickly realize another thing you can’t stand with Jeon Wonwoo.

8. You can’t stand when he leaves.

Wonwoo does call you when he lands, only ending the call when he gets to TSA and calls you again once he’s through. You can’t remember what you talked about, and you know you didn’t even talk about the kiss. You only remember that you liked hearing the sound of his voice, hearing what he has to say now that he knows you’re both on the same page.You let him go when you run out for an errand and you think he wouldn’t drop the call if you didn’t.

The calls and texts become frequent and by the time (which wasn’t long after) he calls you baby or sweetheart, you add a heart to his contact on your phone.

Everything fell naturally it should have alarmed you but Wonwoo doesn’t give you a reason to and you don’t think you should worry either. While he does make your heart soar, there aren’t butterflies in your stomach—just peace and calm.

It's unconventional how you’ve known each other for so long yet this romance with him begins long distance. Some days, while he does make you happy, you wonder if he’ll change his mind and realize it was just a honeymoon phase.

But then you don’t worry because three months later, you’ve received five flower deliveries from him just cause. You’re the first one he texts when he wakes up and just before he sleeps. He doesn’t mind abandoning his streak mid-game just to pick up your call. And the moment he tells you that he plans on taking his next leave and spending it with you, you tell him that you’d go to him instead. So you file for a personal leave and fly over to his city.

It isn’t too fast, not when falling into his embrace and affection is as easy as this.

Your second kiss is sweeter, knowing that this is real and this is something you’d want over and over again. It's much quicker though, Wonwoo becoming shy because it's much more crowded than it was in your first kiss. You don’t mind, you want him comfortable and you squeeze his hand as he leads you out of the airport and into his life.

Never would you have thought of leaving your city for anyone, much less were you not graced with the curiosity of what it would be like away from the places you always knew. With Wonwoo, you’re filled with wonder and confidence because he always had that effect on you like that.

He brings you to his place, and you tease him that he must have cleaned up last minute because you were staying over. He responds with a roll of his eyes and pinch to your side as he shows you around. It’s quaint, simple, and minimalistic–exactly what you expect from him.

It takes a while, but you finally meet Bear, dashing beneath Wonwoo’s couch and peering at you from the corners of the hall with his strikingly blue eyes. He’s all white and grey fluff that you’re tempted to just pick him up and squeeze from cuteness aggression. Wonwoo tells you that he takes time getting used to strangers and he’s a shy cat.

“Like his dad,” you smile cheekily.

And the moment he takes you on a ride on his bike around the city, a certain thrill and excitement fills you. He brings you to his favorite spots the way you did when you brought him around your city three months ago. He takes you to a diner, an antique store, and he hates sweets but he swears by this gelato stand near the farmer’s market. You love every bit of it, love every bit of his life and you kiss his shoulder each time you think about how lucky you are to be loved by him.

You’ve only got a week and a half off, but Wonwoo tells you with a chuckle that you’re quickly making his place your own. Especially when his room starts smelling like you, and you’re leaving mementos of places you’ve been—mismatched coasters from the thrift store, a polaroid of you both stuck to his PC desk, and your lipstick stains on his coffee mugs.

“You’re making it harder to be without you,” he says, winding his arms around your waist, pressing your back to his chest while you wash the dishes from breakfast.

You grin, leaning back to peck his jaw, “Maybe that’s the plan.”

“It’s going to suck but I wouldn’t mind if it's you.”

A bright blush creeps up your cheek, “Okay, Casanova.”

“I think it should be, ‘babe’.”

You roll your eyes, leaning your head back to look at him, “You’re so lame. Wonder what all those girlies crushing on you since sixth grade think about their cool and nonchalant crush.”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. What do you think?” he quips with a twinkle in his eye.

Holy shit he looks so good like this, soft with sleep, shorter strands of his hair sticking in odd directions, barely coherent and ridiculously cheesy.

“I think,” you dry your hands and twist in his arms. Resting your arms on his neck, you coo, “That my boyfriend is a loser trapped in a hot man’s body.”

Wonwoo shakes his head in amusement, eyes gooey in affection as he leans down to press a long kiss on your forehead.

Your arrangement like this carries on in your long distance for the next six months now. It’s been blissful but it didn’t mean it was also easy. There were days where you’re reminded why he was your childhood rival when you pick fights. It's uncomfortable at times but you’re thankful that Wonwoo was patient and calm. While he disliked confrontation, he always made an effort to communicate with you which reassures you even more that you’re with the right person.

And as you both enter your first year together, you begin reconsidering serious decisions for the future. So the next time you’re in Wonwoo’s city, you start to be open to the idea of moving. Granted that you could find a job here before you do.

One afternoon, Wonwoo comes home unusually quiet. He finds you on the couch, Bear comfortably nestled on your legs while you type away at your laptop. He drops a kiss on your forehead before trudging to the bedroom. You’re polishing up your resume, adding in your skills and experience, and arranging its format. It gets a little frustrating when the margins don’t line up the way you expect them to, so you get up and head to the bedroom to ask for his assistance.

“You’re top of the class, you should know this,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket.

You catch the shift in his tone. It sounded more like a grumble than a tease. It makes you feel a little miffed. It used to be hard to remember Jeon Wonwoo outside of the rival you’ve made out of it. Ever since this began, you found it difficult to remember why you hated him. Up until this very moment where you remember the first five things on your list and the ever familiar flare of irritation licks your veins.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Are you still hung up over that? It’s been years, Wonwoo.”

He scoffs, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t. You won’t explain!”

“That narrow three point difference could have landed me a better deal with scholarship.”

“But you still got the scholarship and the university you wanted!”

His brows furrow, jaw visibly flexing and you suddenly remember something about your list and how this would have counted.

9. He holds grudges.

With narrowed eyes, you huff, “Is that what you’re upset about? That being second doesn’t look good in your record?”

“And that wouldn’t have bothered you if it were you?”

Your mouth parts in protest but you quickly snap it shut because you’re sure you wouldn’t have taken it as well. It explains why you didn’t see Wonwoo at graduation and never took the honor of walking up that stage to give a speech. After all, you once told him second place was just first place for losers.

Wonwoo’s eyes are trained intensely on you, teetering on the edge of fight or flight. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, chest puffed as he takes deep breaths. Crossing your arms, you mirror his action, inhaling deeply then releasing. You run a hand through your hair, trying to remember how the escalation was relevant to the conversation.

Wonwoo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his face.

“What am I doing?” he mumbles through his fingers.

You let out a dry laugh, realizing how ridiculous this all was.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head, stepping closer to you and gently tugging you into his arms.

“It did back then,” he kisses your hair in a quiet apology, “But it doesn’t now.”

You hum against him, feeling the slight sting of guilt from years ago. But like he said, it doesn’t matter now. You pet his chest, feeling his heartbeat jump then study at your touch. Leaning back, you tiptoe to press a kiss on his jaw before meeting his lips in a kiss.

“You know,” he says after a beat, holding you close to him, unwilling to let the moment pass. “I never understood why you hated me back then.”

“You hated me first!”

He blinks and pulls away to look at you in genuine confusion,”What are you saying? I thought you were cute.”

“I-,” you sputter, “That’s not true! The first time I talked to you when we had our tests switched, you literally talked shit about my grades!”

Wonwoo tilts his head, “Really?”

“Yeah you said something like you knew your grades couldn’t be as low as mine or whatever.”

“I was trying to impress you,” he deadpans.

You fumble for words in disbelief, “No way!”

“Yeah,” he grins crookedly, “But it got your attention either way, didn’t it?”

You groan, gently slapping his chest, “You’re so annoying! If you wanted my attention you could have been…I don’t know, normal?”

“You’re so cute when you’re angry though,” he nudges your nose and kisses your pout.

It might not have been part of his plan, but it didn’t matter—if you didn’t meet the way you would, you don’t think you could ever have this.

“You’re telling me that you purposely pissed me off?”

“How else was I going to get your attention?”

“Wonwoo,” you whine, slamming your head against his chest, “It was so funny to you meanwhile I was building a list of what I can’t stand about you.”

“Oh?” he lifts his head in curiosity, “What was on that list?”

You built that list most of your life and you can’t remember more than half of it. Somewhere between count four or five, it became harder to find what you hate about him than what you love about him.

With a cheeky smile, you rest your chin on his collarbone, “Make me dinner first.”

He sighs, “Baby, I had a long day and you know how I am in the kitchen. How does a take out sound?”

You nod, feeling sympathetic and disappointed with yourself for reacting so quickly earlier, “Of course, babe. Sorry to hear about your day. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“No, don’t apologize. It was stupid of me to bring up,” he assures you with a kiss to your temple.

You hold each other tightly for a while, just grounding yourselves in each other's presence. You think about the future and how you’re sure you’d have moments like this. You wonder if you both should just hug each other while arguing. The thought makes you giggle quietly.

“What?” Wonwoo mumbles against you.

“Just thinking about how we should just hug each other like this when we fight in the future.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“But you know we will, right? C’mon we’ve fought since like what…fifth grade?”

“You picked fights.”

“Did not.”

“Right…” Wonwoo chuckles, pulling far enough to clasp your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s scary.”

He shushes you sharply, though his smile tells you otherwise, “Since you’re moving here…what do you think about…forever?”

The question knocks the breath of your lungs and you look at him with a watery gaze.

“Are you proposing?”

Wonwoo smiles at you crookedly, cupping your cheek.

“This isn’t a proposal…yet. But it's been on my mind and I wonder if it's in yours too.”

Of course, it has.

You answer him by pulling him down in a searing kiss, pouring your soul into that one kiss. Because it's his. Your whole being is his as much as he’s made his yours.

After dinner, when Wonwoo asks you again what’s on your list of things you can’t stand about him—you can only give him one:

10. You can’t stand being without him.

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#the k fic collection review #chee chats about: A Comprehensive List of Why You Can't Stand Jeon Wonwoo by tomodachiii #svt rec #svt fanfic #f: seventeen #p: jeon wonwoo x reader #g: comedy #g: fluff #g: friends to lovers #g: rivals #r: sfw #wc: 10k to 20k #tomo 💗

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