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sailorsoons · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: Alpha!Seungcheol x Omega! f.reader

SUMMARY: A heatwave in your city makes dealing with your hormones more difficult than usual. Getting locked in a lobby at work for an hour with an alpha makes it ten times worse. Thankfully, Seungcheol is there to help you - and maybe a little more.

WC: 18,512

AU: Omegaverse, Coworkers to Lovers

GENRE: Smut, A bit of Fluff, the barest hint of angst

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.

TEASER WARNINGS: Mix of traditional and nontraditional Omegaverse dynamics in terms of heat cycles, social statuses, and body chemistry but this fic doesn’t really dip into it very heavily - including no knotting or any of the traditional lore. There are brief mentions of social discourse and discrimination across all three subgenders. Reader has some internal back and forth and moments of feeling embarrassed and frustrated with her body and hormonal fluctuations. Some internal stresses/anxieties on reader’s part about what comes after with Seungcheol. Seungcheol is a touch possessive in parts. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content including very gratutious smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting, a lot of spit/slick/fluids mentions, nipple play, vaginal fingering, lots of praise (use of good/good girl/baby often), not explicit dom/sub dynamics but more alpha/omega dynamics, no use of a condom as in - I just never wrote one in and they never talk about it tbh I just forgot lol - reader experiences some highs and lows through her heat emotionally… I think that’s mostly it. Please tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N: I don’t know how I ended up writing so much of this, but here we are. Reader’s struggles as an omega are inspired directly by my struggles with PCOS, especially living in a very hot climate and constantly having fluctuating hormones and just having to exist!!! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it.

A/N 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for beta reading this - I love u thank u hehe.

MASTERLIST | ASK | NOW PLAYING: BAMBI BY BAEKHYUN

SWEAT TRICKLES DOWN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK AND THIGHS. Irritated, you wipe at the back of your neck for what feels like the hundredth time before pulling at the collar of your shirt, fanning it in hopes of cooling the rest of your body off. It’s unseasonably hot, a heat wave sweeping through the city and turning your office cubicle into a toaster oven.

The small fan on your desk whirs pitifully, barely offering any sort of respite. Adjusting in your seat does nothing but remind you how uncomfortable you are, the scratchy grain of the chair digging into the back of your sweating thighs, the underwire of your bra digging into your ribs, the heat rash forming where your underwear digs into the creases of your hips.

Unbearable.

A message pings on your computer and you open it, growling in irritation as you see a message from Wonwoo in the cubicle behind you.

Jeon Wonwoo: Ever heard of suppressants, diva?

You: IT’S FUCKING HOT IN HERE

You: Tell this company to BUY SOME FUCKING AIRCONDITIONERS

Jeon Wonwoo: Irritable… sweaty… irrational…

You grab the nearest pen and whip around in your chair, launching it at the back of his head. It hits with a satisfying thwack. He flinches, cursing as his hand flies up to rub the spot where you nailed him. Wonwoo turns in his seat, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder.

You meet his glare with a stuck-out tongue and a very deliberate middle finger before turning back to your screen, face flushed, partially from the heat, partially from embarrassment.

He doesn’t get it. You know he’s just teasing, but it still stings. That old, familiar insecurity curls in your gut at his jest, no matter its innocence. Being an omega is hard enough. You’ve spent years unlearning shame, of trying to accept this part of yourself you never asked for. And you’ve gotten pretty far with that.

But then something as simple as a heatwave hits, the rise in temperature turning your body traitorous, unable to accommodate for a little bit of humid air and heat.

Of course, Wonwoo doesn’t understand - can’t conceptualize the level of difficulty it is to maintain a baseline for you. Betas don’t have to deal with this kind of hormonal chaos. Sure, they’ve got their own issues - media erasure, medical neglect, in general being left out - but it’s not the same. Not when your body actively works against you, not when your biology fights you.

You sigh. There’s no point in going down the rabbit hole and comparing omegas and betas. You’ve traveled that road since your subgender presented itself in your freshman year of college. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s also an endless torture device.

Your thighs rub together uncomfortably when you get up. You swipe your water bottle, unscrewing the cap as you duck out of your cubicle, head down and steps fast. You’re pretty sure Wonwoo is attuned to your scent more than others, having been one of your closest friends and cubicle-neighbor for the better part of five years. But still, you’re nervous about it, hand snaking up to touch the translucent patch on the side of your neck, meant to dampen the smell from your glands.

No one pays you much mind. You breathe a sigh of relief to find the break room empty. You make a beeline to the water cooler in the corner, sliding the water bottle under it and pressing the tap. As it fills, the air conditioning kicks on, the vent right above you.

Cool air hits the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter, a shiver of relief slithering through you. For a moment, you lose yourself, letting the cool wick away the sticky sweat, the first time you’ve felt a little relief all day. A small sound escapes your mouth, half whimper and half plea.

Someone clears their throat and you flinch, losing your grip on the water bottle. It crashes to the ground, water splashing up your legs but more importantly, all over the floor. You squeak in panic, diving to pick it up in an attempt to stop the outflow of water.

Hands dripping, you pivot on your heel, scanning for paper towels only to find them being offered. You blink in surprise, body going rigid as you become acutely aware of who is offering them.

Choi Seungcheol watches you with quiet concern, dark eyes steady behind his glasses. He keeps a respectful distance, arms extended with a roll of paper towels, waiting for you to take them. But you don’t move. Your pulse pounds in your neck as your gaze drops from his face to his hands, large and patient.

He has pretty hands, you think absently, staring a beat too long.

For a moment, all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. Then, he steps forward without a word, crouching down to wipe the water pooling around your feet. You jerk, startled, a sharp sound of protest escaping you as you drop down and snatch more paper towels from his hands. Apologies tumble out, disjointed and breathless, your thoughts scattered.

He doesn’t back away. Instead, he methodically dabs at the wet tile while trying to avoid soaking himself in the process. His proximity is overwhelming, his spicy scent nearly knocking you over. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw, irritated. He’s not supposed to affect you like this - never has before.

Seungcheol is always mild. Unassuming. He’s worked here as long as you have, one of the few alphas on your floor, and one of the most reserved. He keeps to his office, always dimly lit, always quiet. He greets you politely. Never lingers.

It surprised you when you first met him. Seungcheol looks like the type of alpha who is the opposite of quiet and shy. There’s a gravitas to him that you haven’t quite figured out and a body made to ruin. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a voice deep enough to rattle through your spine even on your best days.

Yet somehow, he’s never once made a pass on a single omega at work.

Which, he shouldn’t. You respect that about him, which feels ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to be flattered by the bare minimum of respect, shouldn’t need to be surprised when an alpha is able to be normal. To treat you like a human being.

You mumble a quiet thanks, focusing on the mess. It’s the only thing tethering you right now. It shouldn’t feel this intense, but the goddamn heat is getting to you. It’s baking you from the inside out, turning your cube walls suffocating. It makes you tired. Irritable. Prone to throwing pens at Wonwoo’s head.

“Thanks,” you mutter when you stand. You toss the soggy paper towels into the bin, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry again.”

“No need to apologize. I’m sorry I startled you.”

Seungcheol stands slowly. You don’t move, watching the way he wipes his damp hands across his slacks. You hate that you notice how the fabric pulls over his thighs. As soon as you have the thought, you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but him, afraid that he’ll see the embarrassment or the way your body reacts without your permission.

“It’s been a long week,” Seungcheol offers, voice soft. “You alright? I know Jeonghan had you working on that insane report.”

You swallow past the dry patch in your throat. “All good. Just tired. It’ll probably keep me here forever, but what can you do?”

“Mhmm. Don’t forget it’s Friday - cleaning locks the office and will trap you inside.”

“Sounds like you’re intimately familiar.”

His smile is soft, cheeks flushed. “Cannot confirm or deny.”

“I see.” You gesture to the watery floor. “Thank you, again. And sorry for being a bit clumsy.”

“No problem.”

You slide away from him, hoping that he can’t tell that you’re leaning, trying to avoid catching his scent again. He doesn’t seem to notice - or has the decency not to make it obvious - and you slip away from the break room, all but running to your cube.

Inside your little haven, you rip open one of your drawers, grabbing a pheromone damp nasal spray. You all but shove it up your cranium, putting it as far up your nasal passage as you can manage before squeezing and shooting a blast of medical grade dampener up your nose, inhaling sharply.

It helps a little, settling your nerves and erasing the lingering scent of Seungcheol. You breathe out a sigh, calm and collected. Carefully and quickly, you peel the suppressant patch off your neck and swap it for a new one. It tingles when you apply it, the microneedles that embed into the skin to deliver suppressant a cool sensation at first.

When you settle, you feel much better. It isn’t until you turn to start knocking out the rest of your report that you realize you never refilled your water bottle after dropping it, making you lean back on your desk and groan.

Working for Yoon Jeonghan comes with its challenges. He's incredibly sharp and a natural leader, but he tends to be a bit forgetful and brings a touch of chaos wherever he goes. Jeonghan is the reason you’d started working at this company, though, admiring that there was an omega in charge, defying the long-standing social norms that omegas could not lead.

It’s a silly stereotype, but you’ve been fighting stereotypes your entire life, unlearning your own and reminding yourself that there are still inherent biases to unlearn.

Like right now, when you're mentally cursing Jeonghan for tossing a last-minute report your way, even though he had multiple reminders in his inbox and just forgot he'd opened them. You only blame him a little. Work’s been nonstop, keeping him up at all hours, and if there’s one thing that truly makes Jeonghan unbearable, it’s sleep deprivation.

Jeonghan doesn’t have an assistant, but you’re the closest thing to it, one of the few people in the office he trusts to get things done. So when he’s on vacation and starts spamming your email that he dropped the ball, it’s on you to cover for him, like he’s done for you in the past.

The consequence of competency, he’d told you over the phone, the sound of the ocean in the background. I’m sorry, I owe you, please don’t quit.

You weren’t going to quit. Despite your irritation, you like working for Jeonghan, and despite the unbearable heat burning in your cubicle, you like being able to focus on pulling and building reports, inputting data into a spreadsheet and setting pivot tables and charts.

It makes you forget about the world for a little bit, including the oppressive office air and the way that the building’s air conditioner barely keeps up with the raging temperatures outside. Makes you forget about the incident in the breakroom, and about everything else, including the passage of time.

Above you, the lights go out. You flinch, looking up in surprise. Rubbing your eyes, you blink until your computer screen comes back into focus, looking at the time. You groan. It’s past seven, far later than you meant to stay at work. But you’re done with the report, dragging the attachment to your email to fire it off to Jeonghan with a less than happy emoji pasted in the body of the email.

Exhaustion weighs you down when you stand. Your joints pop and everything feels hot and itchy again, all of your irritations flooding back to pester you now that you’re not locked in on your work. You flip off the fan, lamp and computer at your desk. Immediately without air circulation, your cube is sweltering, the dress sticking to you, fabric itchy and clinging to your skin.

A sudden wave of dizziness makes the room tilt around you. You steady yourself with deep, measured breaths, trying to stay grounded. A spike in temperature is normal. You can deal with it. It’s manageable. Sure, the heat triggers a surge of estriolase, the hormone that kicks in during Stage 1 of an omega’s heat cycle. And sure, it leaves you flushed, restless, skin prickling with irritation, and-

“You’re still here?”

You shriek, whirling around, heart hammering as your hand flies to your chest in terror. Seungcheol takes a cautious step back into the hallway, hands lifted in surrender, quiet concern etched into his features. For a moment, the air between you is thick with silence, broken only by your uneven breathing, still reeling from the rush of epinephrine and cortisol.

Being an omega means constantly walking a tightrope of hormones. One shift sets off another, like dominoes toppling. Fear bumps into instinct, instinct stirs something deeper, until your body is a storm of tangled biochemistry.

Now, your body is caught in a storm of fear, annoyance, embarrassment and interest, each one fighting for dominance. You swallow thickly and lean off your desk, ignoring the way your body flashes between hot and cold, fear and something else.

“Just finished Jeonghan’s report.”

“Ah.”

Something passes his face. It’s unreadable, but he’s focused. Your skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare, watching as his mouth tightens at the corner.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. His gaze flickers briefly, so fast that you’re not sure you track the movement correctly, but you swear it drops to the patch on your neck, dampening your scent. His jaw flexes once before he offers you a tight smile, gesturing.

“Mind if I walk you out? It’s late.”

Your heart hammers. “Sure.”

You’ve walked out of work with Seungcheol before. He offers to walk anyone out when it’s after hours, even if he himself isn’t leaving yet. It has nothing to do with your subgender and everything to do with him being kind, a sort of stoic office guardian.

Grabbing the rest of your things, you follow Seungcheol in silence. The building is quiet, both of you the only people still around on a weekend. The lack of sound amplifies everything else: the sound of your own quickened breathing, the warmth pulsing under your skin, the spicy scent of Seungcheol as he steps onto the elevator, lingering at the threshold to hold the door open for you.

You murmur a thank you as you pass by him. You can’t help the shiver that snakes through you as you pass. You clench your fists, angry and willing yourself to calm down. This has never happened around Seungcheol, and you blame the fucking weather for the way your body overrides you now.

The forty five seconds spent in the elevator are borderline hell. Neither of you says anything. You’ve pressed yourself in the corner, trying to remain nonchalant, like your entire world isn’t spinning, like there isn’t a dull ache in the pit of your stomach, like there isn’t saliva pooling at the back of your tongue.

Seungcheol smells warm. Grounding. Something that lingers, sharp and clean with a bit of a bite. You breathe in, trying to figure it out. Perhaps bergamot and cardamom, spice touched by sweetness, a hint of earth.

The elevator dings and Seungcheol is halfway through the lobby before you realize it. You push off the elevator wall after him, steps stilted and uneven. It’s even hotter in the tiny lobby of your office building, making a bead of sweat trail down the back of your neck. You adjust your dress, licking your lips in an attempt to relieve the hot flash threatening you.

Seungcheol pushes on the glass doors at the front, but they don’t budge. Both of you stand and stare for a second before he curses low under his breath, voice like gravel. You ignore what your stomach does at the sound of it as he turns to look at you, expression wary.

“Remember what I said in the break room?” You definitely remember the break room, but not anything he said. “The cleaners come on Friday evenings and they lock the doors.”

“Oh.”

Seunghecol walks back to the elevator and swipes his badge at the scanner and presses the button. The metal doors do not open again, and the button doesn’t light up. He curses again, pinching the bridge of his nose right beneath his glasses.

“Badges don’t work after hours.”

“They don’t?”

“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck here, unfortunately.” He adjusts the strap on his bag and pulls a cellphone from his pocket. “Thankfully I have security’s number saved for exactly that reason.”

Seungcheol’s words do little to bring you relief. He paces a few steps away from you, dialing a number on the phone. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting for security to pick up. His free hand is stuffed into the pocket of his slacks, thumb tapping idly. You stand a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to focus on the sterile, white glow of the lobby lights instead of the way your skin feels like it’s humming.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds loud, making you twitch. “Yes, I’m locked in the lobby again.” He glances at you. “I’m with another coworker as well. The badge isn’t working to get us back up. Can you come let us out?”

You barely register his words. A flush is working its way up from your stomach to your chest, your chest to your shoulders, shoulder to elbows. You feel it unfurl, the slow-burning petals of a flower blooming. The air feels thick and heavy, almost damp, and no amount of focused breathing seems to help with the pulse you feel throbbing in your neck.

Seungcheol’s voice momentarily pulls you from your daze. “They’re sending someone from central security. Might take about an hour, though. They were in the middle of a shift rotation.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Alright.”

“Are you alright?” Seungcheol asks quietly, eyes fixated on you.

You open your mouth to say yes, but the word dies in your throat. Because you’re not. Not really. There’s a heat curling deep in your belly now, slow and insistent, and your clothes feel too tight, your skin too sensitive. You press your palm against the marble wall behind you, trying to ground yourself with the coolness of the stone.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding and giving him a thumbs up.

You’re anything but. It hits you slowly, but when it does, it locks into place with terrifying clarity: the dizziness, the temperature spikes, the way everything around you sounds sharper, smells sharper, the bergamot and cardamom.

Your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of heat, triggered by the unbearable temperature spike across the city and the unbearable proximity of the alpha standing across the lobby from you.

You shift your weight, arms tightening around yourself, every nerve ending suddenly too aware of Seungcheol’s presence. He’s not even close, but you can feel him. Or maybe it’s just your scent receptors going haywire, both just as likely.

“You’re flushed,” he says after a moment, eyes not quite meeting yours now. “You sure you’re not getting sick?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “I don’t think it’s that.”

Seungcheol’s brows pull together, not believing you but not sure what to make of it. He shifts his weight, gaze scanning you, trying to figure you out. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking up at the lobby lights that are too bright, making you squint. But you can feel him watching you, his gaze intense.

“You look uncomfortable.” He shifts a little further from you. “I apologize if-”

“It’s not you!” You blurt, a little forceful. “It’s just hot in here. It’s… hard on me.”

When he doesn’t answer, you dare a look at him. Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, like he doesn’t believe you but won’t push it. He nods, leaning against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes track the way his biceps flex, the way his shirt compresses across his chest and your mouth goes dry.

He studies you carefully now, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in suspicion, but understanding. Something settles in his expression, the faintest flicker of recognition behind his eyes. Fuck. Fuck. He knows. He knows and the embarrassment is so overwhelming you nearly fold over and start crying.

Still, he doesn't call you out. Doesn’t voice what you’re sure he knows, what his instincts are telling him. Doesn’t corner you with it.

Instead, he says, “Tell me something you enjoy.”

“What?”

He watches you, eyes soft. “Anything. To pass time. I only know the basics about you. Tell me something you’re passionate about.”

Something you're passionate about? A million things run through your mind. You grab the first thing you can think of, a single subject that you’re well-versed in.

“There’s a theory that the Tyrannosaurus Rex didn’t roar.”

He looks confused. “The dinosaur?”

“Yes. Like you know in the movie how they… rahhh.” You imitate the noise, immediately wanting to smack yourself for the ridiculousness of it. He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He nods and gestures for you to continue, dark eyes focused only on you. “So it’s a total myth. Scientists think they made way lower sounds, like… you know when crocodiles do that weird purr?”

“Crocodile purr?”

“Yeah you know when they…” You hunch your shoulders. “Do that weird water rumble thing.”

“I think I follow.”

You nod rapidly, grateful for the distraction even as your heart beats way too fast. “Yeah, like a subsonic hum. They think it was more intimidating that way. A sound that could vibrate through the chest cavity of its prey. Honestly, it’s kind of genius.”

He watches you with quiet amusement, one brow raised but not mocking. “I didn’t know you were into dinosaurs.”

“I was obsessed as a kid,” you admit, shrugging, eyes still fixed on the security panel like it’ll spark to life if you ignore it long enough. “Used to correct people all the time. I was that kid. I got in trouble once for lecturing my cousin while playing with dinosaurs because Stegosaurus and a T. rex never existed at the same time. They lived millions of years apart! And he was trying to tell me they were best friends.” You scoff. “As if.”

You hear a soft chuckle across the lobby and you look up to meet his face. Your pulse flutters again, reminding you why Seungcheol asked you to distract yourself in the first place.

As though he can sense where your thoughts are going, Seungcheol asks, “So are you one of those people who thinks the Jurassic Park raptors were too big?”

You huff, a flare of irritation licking through you. “Well yeah. They were too big, thank you for asking. Plus, Alan Grant pointed out in the first movie that they were the size of turkeys, and then they get to Isla Nublar and they’re fucking six feet tall! And they were supposed to have feathers!”

“Not very intimidating.”

“I mean, I feel like a giant bird of prey is pretty intimidating.”

Seungcheol grins and you feel another shiver threaten to pulse through you. His grin is beautiful, turning his face from intimidating to soft in seconds. “I’m never going to be able to take them seriously again, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s quiet again. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared, but something in the air feels different. Sweat fills the creases behind your knees, beads on the small of your back, gathers on your thighs. Your rambling had made you forget about it all for a moment, but now it’s back, the awareness of the way your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of your heat.

If security gets here soon, you’ll be okay. It’s the lightest phase of the cycle, manageable with some effort and focus. But it’s unpredictable. Sometimes it lingers, sometimes it crashes into the next stage without warning. And while your body usually keeps a steady three-month rhythm, outside stimuli can trigger an early onset.

Like being trapped in an overheated lobby with an alpha just a few yards away. One who’s quiet, watching, aware.

Still, it’s not unmanageable. You’ve handled worse. If you can get home in time, the meds waiting in your cabinet will ease you through the worst of it, keep you from slipping into second and third stage alone, unprepared.

If not…

No, you can’t think about that. If you stray too far to the second stage of your cycle before getting home, your options are limited and grim.

You don’t like any of them.

You shift your stance again, ankles crossing and uncrossing, arms hugging your waist like that might hold everything in place. But it’s not helping anymore. Your skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t fit right on your body. The heat is building now, no longer a low thrum, but a steady pulse radiating from your core, licking up your spine and sinking into your limbs. Your breaths come shorter, faster, and there’s a dull ache beginning in your lower belly, something deep and hormonal and utterly beyond your control.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, causing you to look at him. His face is soft. Concerned. “You still with me?”

The way he says it, soft and gentle, makes things worse. Makes you want to whine and cross the lobby floor to him, to let him pull you in tight and tell you it’ll be okay. To comfort you. The desire is so bad that you realize you’re much farther into Stage 1 than you thought.

Panic starts to nip at your heels. You’re unsure what to do. There’s nothing on you besides your nasal spray and your patches to help you out, but those aren’t what you need. Your patches protect others from your scent and the nasal spray protects you from others - from Seungcheol.

You try to answer, but your voice catches in your throat, coming out thin and shaky. “I’m okay.”

“Are you in prodrome?” he asks quietly, voice pitched low and careful.

You flinch when he finally says it out loud, letting the acknowledgement ring in the lobby. You close your eyes for a moment, your silence an answer in itself.

Seungcheol sighs and pulls his phone back out of his pocket, dialing as he lifts it to his ear. “Yeah, I know. Look, you need to expedite. My colleague needs medical assistance and we’re still locked in the lobby. No… no.” Seungcheol glances at you. “She’s experiencing prodrome. Can you please expedite? Yes. Thank you.”

He hangs up and turns back to you, stepping slowly so he doesn’t overwhelm, arms loose at his sides in a show of calm. “They’re sending someone now. Shouldn’t be long.”

You nod, but your breathing is uneven, shallow now. You can feel the sweat dripping down your spine, the pressure behind your eyes. Everything smells too sharp, too thick. Especially him. Spice and warmth and safety. It’s awful.

Seungcheol stays where he is, a careful distance between you, but his voice is steady when he says, “Tell me what you need. What I can do to help.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean it. If you need space, I’ll back off. If you need something cold, we’ll figure it out. Just don’t… don’t try to pretend this isn’t happening. Let me help you.”

The kindness in his voice cracks something in your chest. No judgment, no pressure, just him, steady and solid, offering help while your body betrays you one symptom at a time.

You swallow hard. “I just need to get out. I just need to make it home before it gets worse.”

Seungcheol nods, no hesitation. “Then we’ll get you home. I promise.”

Time moves like molasses. The silence between you thickens. You give up on standing, sitting on the cool tile floor. It only offers momentary respite until you’re panting again, struggling to maintain your grip on yourself.

It’s not working. Your entire body is pulsing, tingling, burning in waves that crest and fall without rhythm. Your skin itches with hypersensitivity, every shift of your clothes unbearable, your breath slow and ragged. It feels like you’re melting, burning up from the forge in your chest.

You can feel Seungcheol watching you from his assigned corner. He says nothing, keeping a respectful distance. You steal a glance at him through bleary eyes. He’s just leaning against the wall, hands clenched and jaw tight. He’s doing his best to appear calm, but you see signs of irritation. His throat works and your eyes linger on the way his Adam's apple bobs for too long. You think about sinking your teeth into his neck, tasting him-

His scent, normally warm and grounded, spikes. You sense the shift and it makes you squirm, pressing yourself further into the wall. You look away from him, hiding your face in your shoulder while you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave of cramping crashes into you.

Seungcheol’s irritation is sharp. Shame floods you, thick and fast. Of course he’s annoyed. Today has gone from bad to worse. He’s now stuck in a lobby with an omega in prodrome, a liability that he now has to be responsible for, and you’re barely holding it together, shaking like a live wire. You’re stuck, and he’s stuck with you, and-

The lobby doors beep and hiss open. You don’t even lift your head. Don’t even hear the first few words from the guards. You only feel cool night air and the sudden shift in pressure, making you keen and melt into the tile.

Seungcheol appears at your side, his scent fading from acrid to soothing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, crouching down to your level. It’s the closest he’s been to you all day. You feel the heat of him, the nearness overwhelming. “They’re here. We can go.”

You don’t move. The thought of moving suddenly seems like an insurmountable task. Your world is tilting, your ears ringing. Your limbs feel detached from your brain and your body is locked, curled in on itself. Heat prickles across your skin like static.

Worst of all, you’re starting to panic. Fear sets in, stabbing deep. You don’t know how to get up and take the train home. Don’t know how to get yourself up the stairs and into your apartment. To the cabinet to take a suppressant. To the fridge for water.

Seungcheol’s voice sharpens. “Hey. Look at me.”

It’s a command. You blink up at him, barely able to focus. Something flashes behind his eyes and he’s on the phone again. “Hi, I need emergency assistance for an omega. She’s in heat prodrome and she’s deteriorating fast. No, she’s conscious. She’s overheating, but having trouble standing and struggling to focus. I have no idea what to do.”

You barely hear the voice on the other end of the line, but Seungcheol does. His expression shifts, each word they say tightening his jaw.

“She’s a coworker - we were locked in a lobby at work but I can take her to an omega hospital.” You whimper and shake your head vehemently, whining. He softens. “They said they can give you a heat inhibitor on-site.”

“No,” you pant. “It hurts.”

He nods. “I can’t do that, she doesn’t want to go.” The operator says something else and he nods. His eyes tighten at the corners and he glances at you. “I can take you to a service clinic. They can assign you-”

“Home,” you plead. “I just need to get home. I can- I can deal with it.”

“I don’t know… do you have, um. Do you have an alpha you usually…?”

“No.”

Tears well up fast and hot, blurring your vision, sliding down your cheeks in silent streaks. Your whole body feels wrong, like you’ve been unraveled from the inside, trembling and raw.

“I just want to go home,” you whisper, folding in on yourself. “I have my meds. I can manage if I can just get home. Please.”

He repeats what you say into the phone. They say something and he shakes his head and hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Okay. Alright. We’re going to get you home, okay?”

He helps you to your feet slowly, carefully, arms braced around you like he’s afraid you’ll break. You lean into him, weak and unsteady, but there’s no judgment in his touch, just quiet strength and a protective kind of focus that makes your throat tighten all over again.

The lobby fades behind you. The night air hits your overheated skin like salvation. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word as he guides you into the passenger seat of his car, buckles you in, and throws his jacket over your lap for warmth. His hands are shaking as he starts the engine.

“Can you give me directions?”

You mumble them. You’re not even sure that he hears you. He has no idea the bomb he’s given you, tossing his jacket over you. Your fingers curl into it, greedy. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself drift as he drives, the hum of the engine lulling you into a half-daze. The smell of Seungcheol is overwhelming, but comforting. Steady. No longer a threat, but something you want. Need.

It isn’t until Seungcheol’s hands are gently shaking you that you realize you’re at your apartment. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes. He looks down at you, glasses a little askew as he asks you a question. His words are garbled and you don’t understand, shaking your head in confusion as he gazes at you.

“Come on,” he sighs, unbuckling your seat for you. His chest brushes across you as he does, bergamot and cardamom hitting you so hard that it knocks the senses out of you. You’re near catatonic for a second until you feel his hands pressed against your forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up. Can I carry you?”

You must nod, because he bends low and scoops you out of the car. You jostle against his chest as he carries you bridal style toward the stairs. His scent is mind numbing. Your face is too close to his neck and he doesn’t have a scent blocker on, pheromones doing insane damage to your self control as he climbs the stairs, you in his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing.

Gently, Seungcheol places you on your feet. He slides an arm around your waist, keeping you upright and pinned to him as he unlocks your door. You have no idea where he got your keys, must have fished them out of your purse at some point.

Seungcheol guides you into your dark apartment, helping you to the couch like you’re made of glass. You collapse onto it, dazed. He crouches, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are devastatingly soft, touch featherlight.

“Let me call a doctor.”

“No.” Your voice is hoarse but immediate. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital again. I don’t want to do this strapped to a bed, surrounded by strangers and white lights and IVs. I can’t.”

He exhales, hands flexing. “Okay. Okay. But—then what? Do you have anyone who can help you through it? Any alpha you-”

“No. I just do it alone with meds. They’re in my bathroom cabinet. If you could just get them, I can do this.”

“I don’t think meds are going to help.” His admission is soft. Regretful, almost. Like it pains him to tell you this.

You think he’s right, but you don’t know what else to do.

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. You watch the internal war play out on his face, concern and hesitance and something harder to name. His throat bobs as he swallows. “If… look, if there’s no one else. I can try to help.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I can try. Only if you want. Only if you need. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage, I just… I don’t want you to suffer. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m here. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

A fresh wave of tears hits you, shame curling hot in your chest.

“You don’t want to,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad. And I feel awful. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to put you in this position-”

“Hey.” His voice is firmer now, but not unkind. He shifts forward, his hands finding yours, wrapping them gently between his palms. Your skin tingles where he touches you, a fresh wave of heat licking through you. “Stop. Look at me.”

You do. Barely. His face is open and honest, his eyes warm. He’s so pretty like this, looking at you like you’re something he cares about - someone he cares about.

“I want to help you. Not because I pity you. Not because I feel obligated. Because I care about you. And you’re in pain. And I can do something about it.” He takes a breath, then adds, softer, “Even if that means the more intimate parts.”

Your face crumples, fresh humiliation rising, but he keeps holding your gaze, steady and calm.

“Only if you want to,” he says. “Only if you’re lucid and safe and sure. If you want me to sit on the other side of the apartment all night and just be here, I will. If you want to go to sleep and pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow, I’ll follow your lead.”

“I don’t want you on the other side of the apartment,” you admit. “I just feel embarrassed by what I need.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially for something out of your control. Your body isn’t your enemy.”

You press your lips together, fighting the emotions building in your chest, but it’s no use. A soft sob slips out before you can stop it, and Seungcheol is there in an instant, wrapping his arms around you with careful strength, cradling you against him like he’s anchoring you to the moment.

His scent hits you more fully now, warm and earthy beneath the sharp spice, like cinnamon bark and sun-warmed cedar. It fills your lungs and settles into the frantic edge of your nerves like balm, and it’s… comforting. Not invasive. Not overwhelming.

Just Seungcheol.

“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “Whatever you need, we go slow. I’ll follow your pace. You lead.”

“Even if it’s more than you expected?”

“Even then.”

Seungcheol helps you sit back, propped with cushions on the couch, still watching you like you might unravel again, but not because he doubts you. Because he cares. Because he’s listening to every breath you take like it matters.

“I’ll need… a few things,” you say, quietly. “If this really goes into the full cycle. I have suppressants, but they won’t help much unless I can get them in the next hour, and I don’t think I have that kind of time anymore.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need.”

You breathe in. “Water. A lot of it. Heat spikes dehydrate fast, and I’ll probably get a fever if we don’t keep me hydrated. Heats are a game of chess except sometimes the board blows up.”

“Funny. Got it.”

“And blankets,” you add quickly. “I’ll feel cold, even if I’m burning. Like weight and softness. Like nesting.”

“Like a bird… or dinosaur.”

You scowl at him and he grins, dimples appearing in his cheek. It makes you want to lean forward and bite him, to sink your teeth in and never let go.

“What else?” He asks.

“I’ll need food eventually. Simple things. Broths, carbs. My body’s going to want to burn through everything at once.”

“Easy.”

“And proximity.” You hesitate here, voice wavering. “I’ll need closeness. I haven’t had a heat partner before, but probably a lot of sex. It uh - comes in waves but it helps. Obviously. So there’s that.”

“I can do that.” There’s no hesitation. Just firm dedication. “It’s not a problem. What else?”

You look at him, something stirring in your chest, still unsure how to express the storm of emotions bubbling beneath your skin. “What have you done for your omegas in the past? During heat? This is sort of new to me.”

He pauses. “I haven’t. I’ve never spent a heat with an omega.”

“What?”

“I’ve never been with an omega at all, to be honest with you.” The gravity of his statement makes you panic. You start to sit up, protests bubbling to your lips but he hushes you, eases you back down. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t totally sure.”

“Why offer at all?”

“Because it’s you,” he says simply. “And I’d rather learn how to help you than let you suffer alone.”

A beat passes.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he echos. “Let’s get you settled.”

Seungcheol stands, giving you one more lingering gaze before he sets himself to the task of readying your apartment. He sends you to your room to change into a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt before he lets you settle on the couch, sweaty and shaking.

Seungcheol moves through your space like he’s been here before, like he knows where everything is even when he clearly doesn’t. He opens cabinets and drawers gently, always looking back at you as though he’s seeking permission. You nod each time, endeared by his hesitancy.

You don’t know what to make of his admission of never being with an omega before. In your experience, most alphas would loathe to admit that, finding something wrong with it. But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind, admitting it as a simple fact, neither good nor bad.

You like that about him, his self-assuredness.

When he finds your largest pot, Seungcheol fills it with water and sets it over the stove. He pulls out ingredients for simple foods: rice, pasta, anything with carbs like you’d said. He hums under his breath as he moves, a soft, low sound that vibrates in your bones.

It’s soothing. Almost domestic. But every second that stretches between you builds like static, his very presence buzzing along your awareness like an exposed wire.

Seungcheol brings you a cool glass of water and kneels to hand it to you, his fingers brushing yours when you reach out to take it. You try not to flinch at the bolt of electricity that jumps up your arm. His eyes linger on your face, reading you. Not pitying. Not worried. Just seeing.

“You’re doing okay?” He asks, but by his tone, he knows you are. You nod, but your throat is dry again, so you take a few gulps of water, nearly emptying the glass. He laughs and reaches for it when some spills over, running down your chin. “Careful.”

Something in his voice changes. The softness of it ripples down your spine and you look at him over the brim of your glass. His scent is warmer. Closer. Still under control, but pressing at the edges of your awareness like velvet, his alpha instincts responding to your body chemistry, the need of your hormones begging for him.

Seungcheol rises, keeping a respectful distance, and yet his gaze burns where it rests on you. He takes the glass from you, fingers brushing yours again before heading to the kitchen to refill it.

It makes you unravel, every part of you unspooling wildly as you watch him in your kitchen, the muscles under his shirt flexing. He rolls his sleeves as he turns the stove off before coming back your way, forearms bare, veins throbbing.

Arousal unravels inside of you. You feel the tip from Stage 1 to Stage 2, your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your hands shaking more. When Seungcheol offers the glass, you don’t take it. You stare at your hands, willing yourself to stop, willing yourself to stop wanting him. The fear of making him uncomfortable is so sudden, a wave crashing into you.

Seungcheol notices. He drops to his knees immediately, putting the glass of water on the coffee table. This time, he doesn’t hesitate when he touches you, putting his palm to your forehead, his other resting on top of your wrist, his thumb tracing back and forth soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is like velvet. “What happened?”

Your lips part, but no words come. You try again. Nothing. You don’t know how to shape the words, don’t know how to tell him that a second ago, you thought he was domestic and sweet, and now you’ve strayed into dangerous territory, thinking that you’d like nothing more for him to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t feel anything but him anymore.

You don’t need to tell him. Seungcheol inhales and you see the shift happen, a shiver rattling through him. He closes his eyes, inhaling again. A knowing, almost pained sound grumbles in the back of his throat and you squirm in response. He drops his hand from your head to your shoulder, fingers squeezing.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes snap open and he looks up at you, deadly serious. “Hey. No shame. Not with me. You told me to help, didn’t you? Let me do that.”

You nod, small and shaky. He lingers for a second longer, like he's giving you a chance to back out, then slowly rises, curling an arm around your back. You lean into him instinctively, your body already seeking contact, and he lifts you with ease.

Your bedroom isn’t far, but the walk feels endless, every footstep echoes with your racing pulse. You can feel his scent thickening around you, not overpowering, but present, comforting. It keeps you tethered, grounded. You cling to him in silence, your skin flushed hot, thighs pressing together in search of friction, your heart betraying you in its longing.

He places you gently on your bed, kneeling down beside you. For a long moment, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches, reading your every breath, every twitch of discomfort.

At first, you don’t do anything but stare at him. Seungcheol is so beautiful, with a plush mouth made for kissing, long eyelashes that frame gentle eyes, a dimple that appears each time he smiles. You’ve always noticed him, this quiet and soft alpha in your office. You’d never imagined you’d be here, looking up at him with want in your gut so strong that you can barely stand it.

Seungcheol senses it, because of course he does. He surges forward, catching your mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and uncertain at first, hesitating to see if you pull away. You don’t pull away at all. Instead, you keen, a whine slipping between your mouths that makes him groan in response.

He deepens the kiss slowly, reverently. His lips are soft but sure, his hands careful as they frame your face. He tastes faintly of cherry chapstick, your omega running wild as you lean into him and lick into his mouth, eager to taste him.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, panting as he breaks the kiss. He’s leaning onto your bed now, pressing his nose against yours. You feel him pant against you, barely contained. You nod, unable to speak. “Even if this goes further?”

“Please.”

That one word seems to break him. He climbs up into your bed, hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. You let out a sound of appreciation as he settles, his mouth meeting yours again. This time, there’s heat in it. One hand roams you carefully while the other is planted by your head, keeping him looming over you. Every touch eases the ache and stokes the fire in equal measure.

You can’t get enough of him, running your hands over his stomach and around his waist, pulling at him, desperate. It feels like you’re burning up, both suffering and relieved at the same time as his tongue finds the warmth of your mouth, drinking you in.

His scent is rich and spicy, unmistakably alpha. It makes your omega instincts claw at you, urging you to submit, to bare your neck. You tilt your head, exposing the sensitive skin, and Seungcheol growls low, his lips brushing the pulse point before he nips gently, not enough to mark but enough to make you shudder. Your slick pools between your thighs, the air thick with your arousal, and he groans again, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“Fuck,” he growls, burying his face in your neck. It might be the first time you’ve heard him curse. “The sounds you make… fuck.”

Seungcheol’s tongue darts out, sweeping against your scent gland. His head snaps up and he frowns, realizing there’s a scent blocker on your neck. His lip curls like he’s offended, and he gently peels the pad off your neck, soothing the sting as the adhesive tears off with his warm, wet tongue.

His tongue directly against your neck nearly makes you catatonic. Your eyes roll back, breath catching as he mouths at you before pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses up and down your neck.

“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

His hand slides down your body, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping as his fingers find your slick-soaked panties. He teases you, fingers circling slowly, pressing the fabric of your underwear into your messy cunt.

“Please,” you pant.

There’s that word again. It seems to make him malfunction, makes him bend to your will. He nods, peppering your collarbones with butterfly-light kisses as he pulls your underwear to the side. His fingers drag up and down your cunt and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your arms circle around his neck, clinging to him for dear life, hips canting as he leisurely circles your clit, applying subtle pressure.

“Feel okay?” He asks, breathing the words into your ear. His teeth nip at your ear playfully and you gasp, making him chuckle deep in his throat. “Do you want-”

“Please.”

He kisses your jaw. “Got it.”

Seungcheol presses a finger into your heat, wet and slow, aided by the arousal dripping from your entrance. The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling just right, and you gasp, hips bucking against his hand.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt. He hums in response, pleased at your reaction. He slowly starts to pump his fingers, restricted by the waistband of your sweats. His thumb swirls against your clit and you hurtle toward an orgasm from the barest stimulation, already too worked up, too fucked out on him and his fingers and the hormones.

Your body sings under his touch, heat coiling tighter, your omega keening for more, for him, for everything. His lips find yours again, mouths clashing as he slips another finger in, working you open until you’re shaking in his grasp and coming around his fingers. You hear the wet smack of his hand against your pussy, the way his fingers squelch.

You don’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by it. Instead, you’re floating in a fucked out haze, the world dulling. There’s just Seungcheol’s lazy tongue in your mouth and the smell of bergamot and cardamom. The weight of him on you feels safe, setting you in a trance.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. You make a noise of protest but he hushes you with a gentle kiss. You feel a little more aware as the orgasm subsides, the ache you’d had a few moments ago dulled by the satisfaction. You know it’ll get worse and you’ll need more, but for now, you’re okay.

You open your mouth to give a shy thank you when you’re stopped, entranced by the way Seungcheol brings his fingers, shining with your cum, up to his mouth. Your lips part in shock as he pops them past his lips, sucking generously. He hums, eyelids fluttering shut as he licks them clean.

Never had you imagined that, imagined him like this. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are dilated. Starving. Feral.

“Taste so fucking good,” He murmurs, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss. You taste yourself on him, different but not unpleasant. “Can’t wait to taste you properly later.” That makes you whine and you reach for him, but he smiles and kisses your nose before standing up. You pout and he laughs. “Water. You need water.”

Seungcheol leaves your room but he leaves the door open just in case. You nuzzle into the bed, fisting the jacket he’d given you earlier as you nuzzle into it. You wish the bed smelled more like him. Right now it just smells like you, with bits of Seungcheol laced in.

You close your eyes, letting your body melt into the sheets, muscles pleasantly sore and mind hazy with velocetin, a neurochemical that heightens arousal and reduces pain perception during Stage 2 of an omega’s heat cycle. The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the AC and the faint creak of the floorboards as Seungcheol moves through the house.

When he comes back, Seungcheol is holding a bottle of water in one hand and something else in the other. A bowl of mac and cheese. He brandishes both proudly before sitting on the bed next to you. You prop yourself up on the pillows, looking at him through your lashes.

"Figured you might need both,” he says.

You shake your head. “Just water.”

“You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He levels a look at you. Switches tactics. “It would make me feel better if you did,” he urges gently. He puts the water on the nightstand, bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along your bottom lip. “Please.”

That word hangs in the air between you, both a pleasantry and a weapon. You feel the way he means it, the way it would make him feel better if you ate. You nod, sitting up with his careful assistance until you’re leaning against the headboard.

Seungcheol stabs some of the pasta and lifts his hand before pausing, realizing he was about to feed you. You both flush, averting his eyes and handing you the bowl awkwardly, you trying not to put it down and jump him at the thought of him wanting to care for you this way.

Instead, you bite into the mac and cheese. It’s a little salty, but it’s good. You eat the entire bowl in comfortable silence, Seungcheol holding out the bottle of water for you in exchange for your empty dish. You trade and you chug some of the water, letting it keep you cool.

“I guess I didn’t realize how much of an appetite I had,” you note, sagging into the pillows. You feel good. Far better than you ever have when dealing with your cycle alone.

He grins, cocky and unrepentant. “Guess I fixed that, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too. “Shut up.”

“I could,” he says, climbing back into bed beside you, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you whine like that.”

You flush at the memory, at the way your body still responds to his voice alone. He notices, of course he does, and his smile softens. One hand finds your waist, tugging you closer until you're nestled against him again.

“Take a nap,” he murmurs, leaning back into the headboard. “You need rest.”

“What about you?”

He smiles softly. “I’m good right where I am.”

You wake to the sound of voices. For a moment, you're disoriented, wrapped in sheets that smell faintly like Seungcheol and sweat and a myriad of other scents familiar to you from years of heat cycles. It’s still dark in your room, only the glow of a neon sign outside slipping through your blinds a source of illumination.

You roll over instinctively, reaching for Seungcheol and you freeze. The spot where he was when you had fallen asleep is now vacant. Cold, like he hadn’t been there in the last hour.

Panic lances through your chest, so painful that it feels like a physical blow. You all but fall out of bed, heart hammering when you realize he left. He’s gone and you’re alone and you don’t know what to do, terror working its way up your throat.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe everything he said was just talk. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to silence the rush of doubt, of fear- until you hear it again. Voices. Voices that had woken you up in the first place, momentarily forgotten by a hormone-addled brain and sleep.

The door is shut to your room but you reach for it now, cracking it open. Dim light floods through the gap. All the lights in your apartment are off, but the single bulb over your stove is burning, a warm golden glow filtering down the hall.

Sticking your head out, you see Seungcheol standing at your door. It’s mostly closed, just enough for him to block the gap with whoever he’s talking to. His broad back is facing you and you cock your head, puzzled. You can see the tension rippling through him, the way his hackles rise and the rigid way he stands, like he’s barring entry to something important.

“Yeah, you’ve been really helpful,” Seungcheol growls. There’s a low, dangerous edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. It sets the hairs on your arm standing.

“Relax, man.” You don’t recognize the voice on the other side of the door. It’s playful, distinctly male. “I brought you your shit, didn’t I? You’re acting like I came to steal her.”

Seungcheol bristles. “Out, Soonyoung.”

“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung - whoever that is - says. “Message received. You don’t have to piss on the doormat, Cheol.”

“I just might.”

You can’t help the small sound that escapes you, half laugh, half sigh of relief.

Seungcheol’s head whips around at the sound, eyes immediately softening when they land on you. “Hey,” he says, voice gentler now, but still tight with emotion. “You should be resting.”

You pad down the hallway toward him. Each step closer makes the fire inside of you return. You feel the throb come back, needing more, subtle but growing. “I thought you left.”

His entire expression changes, and he’s at your side in an instant. “No. No, baby,” he says, cupping your face with both hands. “I just went to the door. I called Soonyoung for some clothes and stuff. I wasn’t leaving. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

Baby. He says it so naturally, so unconsciously, that you’re not even sure he realizes it slipped out. But it hits you like a warm wave, softening every edge of panic still clinging to your chest. Your knees wobble slightly, and he notices. His hands slide from your face to your waist, grounding you there, steady and sure. He pulls you closer, and you melt into him, breathing him in.

Not gone. Not alone. He’s right here with you, like he said he would.

“Sorry. I just panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should have known you’d wake up.”

A throat clears behind him.

You both freeze, and then Seungcheol stiffens, the muscles under your hands tensing like a drawn bowstring. His eyes narrow behind his glasses as he turns his head, keeping you tight against him, chest to chest, like a shield. A low, warning growl rumbles from deep in his throat.

“Soonyoung was just leaving,” Seungcheol asserts.

“Soonyoung is leaving, but also says he hopes your cycle goes well!”

Carefully, you peek around Seungcheol to see Soonyoung in the doorway. He’s standing in the doorway with a duffel slung over his shoulder, unbothered and grinning. His dark hair is long around his ears, and his eyes curve into soft crescents when he smiles. He waves at you, the gesture so sincere it makes you falter, like he’s genuinely happy to see you, even though you’ve clearly never met.

“Nice to meet you!”

Another warning growl vibrates through Seungcheol’s chest. You feel it more than hear it.

Soonyoung just rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, relax.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender as he backs away. “Let me know if he starts brooding in corners or being unbearable. Happens when he doesn’t get enough attention.”

“Bye, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol grits out.

Soonyoung flashes one last wink and manages to pull the door shut just before Seungcheol fully turns to kill him. He exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath.

You look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Territorial much?”

His ears flush instantly, color blooming down to his neck. He chews the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping. “I apologize,” he murmurs, stepping away. “I know I’ve overstepped and-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, reaching to pull him back, hands curling into his sides. “I liked it.” His brows lift, uncertain. You offer a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before. You’re usually so calm. Quiet. Kind of unassuming. Not very…”

“Not very alpha.”

“Not in the way people expect. But that’s not a bad thing.” He studies you for a moment, searching your expression, and something in his shoulders loosens. “I like the way you are. And the possessiveness…”

You shiver and he grins, cockiness returning to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

His hands slide back to your waist, gripping just a little firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have told me that. Now I’m not going to be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to. Please.”

Seungcheol forgets all about his bag by the door. He scoops you up in his arms, taking you back to your room. You let out a soft sound, something almost like a purr, keening under him, excitement and arousal flooding you overtime.

He notices, groaning when he catches the change in your body chemistry. He places you down on the bed gently, crawling over you, hand skimming up your t-shirt as he does. His fingers are warm and light, playful. You don’t want playful, though. You want greedy. Hungry.

The buzz of anticipation curls low in your belly, heat blooming under your skin like wildfire. You arch into him instinctively, hips twitching. “Don’t play with me,” you breathe, reaching up to fist the fabric at his sides. “Please.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Recognition, you think. Like he sees the hunger gnawing inside of you and he recognizes it as his own. You want it, want that fire in him. You want to dive in head first and never come up for air. You want him so bad it hurts, a physical pain manifesting between your legs as your thoughts drift away and your instinct takes over.

“Please,” is all you can whisper.

That’s all it takes. The control he’s been clinging to snaps like a thread pulled too tight. He crashes his mouth onto yours, swallowing your moan as his body presses down, heavy and solid, every inch of him demanding to be closer. His kiss is nothing like the ones before, this one is rough, consuming, all tongue and teeth and need. His hands slide up your sides, pushing the shirt higher, until the fabric is bunched at your ribs and he can finally touch bare skin.

His palms are searing, dragging up your waist to your ribs, brushing just beneath your breasts before he groans deep in his throat, your scent thick in the air now, laced with heat, need, you.

“You smell so fucking good,” he growls, mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down your throat. “It’s driving me insane.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again, his hips pressing into yours, and you gasp at the hardness you feel through his pants. He’s still in his work clothes, though they’re wrinkled and sweaty and a mess. You tug at them desperately, whining, trying to get them off.

He growls again, low and possessive, and then he’s kissing you hard, his body rolling against yours in slow, grinding movements. His thigh slots between yours, pinning you in place, and the friction makes your back arch, chasing more.

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters against your mouth, one hand cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your bra, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Anything.”

There’s that nickname again. Baby. It sounds sinful on his lips, like he’d do anything for you, like he would give anything for you. It makes you dizzy with gluttonous power and you pant, pulling him as close as you can get him, a button popping on his shirt.

“I want you. Now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken, pupils blown, and he pulls back just enough to kneel above you. His gaze rakes over you, flushed, trembling. He makes a sound, something pitiful, hands trembling slightly as his fingers work the buttons of his shirt.

He shrugs his shirt off, the fabric catching on broad shoulders before it falls, revealing hard planes of his chest, skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. His muscles flex when he moves, every line of him radiating strength. Your mouth waters, arousal pooling between your legs, screaming to touch him, to taste him.

He doesn’t rush, though. His fingers linger on his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal loud in the charged silence. Your hips shift, impatient. He tuts at you, narrowing his eyes and you still immediately, falling into line, eager to please. His mouth twitches and he drops a hand to give your thigh a squeeze as if to say good job.

It makes you want to pass out.

Seungcheol slides his belt free, letting it drop, and when he unbuttons his pants, the sound of his zipper is tortuous. You want him immediately, you want him now, but he seems dead set on doing this at exactly his pace. So you let him, letting the ache peak inside of you, shivering at what you know he’s going to give you.

He carefully shoves his pants down, kicking them alongside his briefs in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum. Your core clenches at the sight, a fresh wave of slick dripping from you, and he groans, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, voice low. He peels your sweats down your legs, shaking his head as he goes, overwhelmed by the sheer need for him, to your body's reaction. “Fuck.”

He crawls back over you, hands skimming your sides, sliding up to peel your shirt off of you. The air is cold but Seungcheol’s touch is burning you up. He deftly removes your bra, tossing it somewhere behind him. He pauses, eyes locked on you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, cannot fathom what’s in front of him.

Seungcheol shakes himself as if from a daze and then his mouth is on you, lips trailing fire down your throat, over your collarbone, until he reaches your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling, and you moan, back arching to press closer.

His worship is meticulous, unhurried. He lavishes attention on your other breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, while his hand slides down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You’re trembling, omega instincts in overdrive, and when his fingers finally find your slick-soaked folds, you cry out, hips bucking into his touch. He groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, and pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice scratchy. “So wet for me.” His fingers tease, spreading your slick, circling your clit with maddening slowness. “All for me?”

“Yes. Yours.”

Hearing you say it makes something snap in him. His pupils dilate, fucked out and filled with an intensity you didn’t know was possible. He dips lower, kissing a path down your stomach, nipping at the soft skin above your hips. He settles between your thighs, spreading them wide, and the sight of him there, all broad shoulders, dark eyes, and lips parted, makes your core throb.

He doesn’t tease this time, reaching up with one hand to rip off his glasses and toss them to the corner of the mattress. He drops down and his mouth finds you, tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line through your folds, and you moan, loud and broken, as he tastes you. Relief floods through you. You feel yourself go boneless, the pain that was ebbing in you a moment ago dulling again as Seungheol leisurely tongues at you, groaning while he does.

Seungcheol is relentless, worshipful, every lick and suck a testament to his need to please you. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, then harder, and you writhe, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard. He moans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and doubles down, tongue flicking with precision, lapping up every drop of slick. His fingers join in, two slipping inside you, curling against that perfect spot, and the stretch, the pressure, is overwhelming.

You gasp, hips grinding against his face, chasing the building heat in your stomach. He hums, pleased, and the sound pushes you closer to the edge. He’s messy, slick coating his chin, his lips. He doesn’t care. He seems drunk on it, one hand pressing your thighs to further open you up, pressing his face further into your cunt to drink you in.

His fingers thrust in time with his tongue, every curl and suck calculated to make you unravel. You shiver under him, your limbs unable to keep up, thighs twitching against his hand. It feels maddening, better than anything you’ve ever felt up until this point.

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, dragging you under until you’re gasping for air. Your thighs clamp around his head and he lets you. He laps at your entrance as it drips, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until you’re whimpering and overstimulated.

Even overstimulated, you want more. Need more.

Seungcheol pulls back, lips glistening, eyes wild. He pulls his fingers from you and crawls up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is filthy, desperate, and you moan into it, pulling him closer.

“Need you,” you gasp, hands roaming his back, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips, your nails cramping. “Need you inside of me. Please.”

He nods, unable to respond. He lowers his waist and drops a hand down to peel your thighs open. You feel how wet and messy you are but you don’t care. Seungcheol seems to appreciate it, swearing when he looks between your bodies to fist his heavy cock and line himself up with your entrance.

The anticipation makes you tremble. He pushes in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, and you both groan, the sensation overwhelming. He’s big, filling you completely, and your walls flutter around him, slick easing the way.

“Fuck,” he grits out, dropping his forhead against yours. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Seungcheol fights to keep still, fights to let you adjust around him. You’re stretched tight, gripping him like a vice, your breathing hitched as you struggle yourself, near ready to come from just this alone.

You manage to hang on, tangling your fingers in the damp hair at the base of his neck. You need more - always more. You start rocking your hips, urging him deeper. It feels so good you see spots in your vision. He moans and thrusts hard on instinct, bottoming out.

The pace builds, his hips snapping, each thrust precise and deep, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. The pressure builds so fast you barely register it, chasing your high and whatever he’ll give you, your omega instincts screaming for it.

He can tell. He quickens his pace, trying to get you there faster. It does the trick, because you come around him without warning. You pulse around him and he slows down, grinding his hips against you, letting you gush around him until your shaking subsides.

Seungcheol is still rock hard, cock throbbing. Your forehead rests against his forearm, Seungcheol leaning over you, caging you in.

“Can you take more?” You nod but he shakes his head, nosing your temple. “You have to verbally tell me.”

“Can take more.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He kisses your temple and picks his pace back up.

It’s slower, but more defined. Deep. Seungcheol’s stroke is slow and deliberate, one of his hands slipping under your thigh to hike it up around his waist. That makes you whine, high-pitched and he loves it, mouth catching yours, drinking in all the sounds you make.

You’re close again, the pleasure building faster now, amplified by the way he watches you, eyes never leaving your face, like he’s memorizing every gasp, every moan. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, still swollen from his mouth, and he rubs tight, relentless circles.

“Want you to come again,” he murmurs, voice raw. There’s a bit of a command in his voice, laced with something you swear is devotion. “Wanna feel you, baby. Give it to me.”

His words and the relentless drive of his cock are too much. You whimper, nails digging into his back and he leans down, lips brushing against your neck. Not biting - that’s far too advanced for whatever this is - and his fingers press harder, circling faster.

The coil in your belly snaps and your second orgasm crashes through you, sharper and more intense. Your body locks around him, walls pulsing as you come again. He groans, low and guttural, pleased by the way you clench around him. But he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it.

You’re shaking and oversensitive, but he’s not done. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, keeping you tethered.

“So good for me,” he praises, kissing your sweaty forehead. “So fucking perfect. You did so good.”

The praise makes your omega sing, and you cling to him, breathless, as he chases his own release. His hips stutter, breaths growing ragged, and with a final, deep thrust, he comes, spilling inside of you. He groans, dropping his forehead against you, shaking in your arms as he comes down from his high.

Finally, he collapses over you, careful not to crush you. You stay like that, a pile of tangled limbs, panting. His lips find your neck, kissing softly, soothing spots he’d nipped.

“You okay?” He croaks, voice hoarse with disuse.

You’re only slightly coherent, somewhere stuck between a dreamlike space where your omega is satiated and reality. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Good.”

“I’m gonna grab water, okay? I’ll only be gone for a second. Just gonna get water and then we can sleep for a little.”

“Mhmm.”

Seungcheol is hesitant this time when he gets up, no doubt worried about what happened the last time you thought he left. This time, you’re too out of it to really register how long it takes him to get water. One moment he’s out the door and the next the bed is dipping under his weight as he cradles your head to feed you water.

It’s cool and you come back to life a little, opening your eyes as you gulp, greedy. He admonishes you to be careful not to choke, tilting the glass so that the water isn’t gushing into your mouth. When you drain the glass, he smiles and kisses you.

“Good,” he hums, happy. That makes you beam at him, thrilled that he’s pleased. “More?”

You shake your head. “Tired.”

“Okay. Let me change the sheets - don’t move. I’ll work around you, okay?”

Somehow, he manages to. With a careful series of rolling you to the side and lifting you to slide new sheets under you, Seungcheol executes an impressive sheet change without really bothering you. He disappears once more to throw the spent sheets in the wash.

Upon his return, you’re barely awake. You reach for him anyway, buried somewhere underneath piles of blankets that smell like him. Finally.

Seungcheol lets you pull him into bed, sliding across the mattress until you’re flush chest to chest, the beating of his heart against yours. He smells good. Content. Happy. Your eyes blink heavily as you breathe him in, all pain forgotten.

“Sleep,” he mumbles, just as tired. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you wake up again, you’re not really sure what time it is. All you know is that there is orange light burning through your blinds, something like late afternoon. More important, there’s an ache between your legs and there’s sweat on the back of your neck, already restless from whatever dream had woken you up.

The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and Seungcheol’s steady exhales beside you. His arm is draped loosely over your waist. His scent is warm and spicy, grounding you. But beneath that cool calm his presence brings is a restless heat simmering, starting in your core and spreading to your limbs.

You try to ignore it, shutting your eyes and willing yourself back to sleep. It doesn’t go away, an ache growing in its place. A whine slips through your lips, despite your best efforts. The sound is small, but piercing through the stillness and before you can tamp down on it, Seungcheol is stirring, arm tightening briefly before he’s hooking a chin over your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks, voice low and rough with sleep. “You okay?”

His fingers brush back and forth across your waist. It’s supposed to be soothing but it’s almost maddening.

“Feel hot. Need you.”

Seungcheol presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You feel the curve of his smile. “I’ve got you.”

He moves slowly, peeling the sheets back. His hands are reverent, skimming your thighs and parting them as he settles between them. The air feels electric, every brush of his skin against yours sending sparks through you.

Like always, Seungcheol takes his time. His lips start at your knee, kissing softly, then trailing higher, nipping the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You whimper, hips twitching, needy and desperate, and he hums, pleased.

“So needy,” he teases. You’re not embarrassed this time, knowing that with him, there’s nothing to be worried about.

He spreads your legs wider, exposing your warm, wet core. He bites his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh as he groans, like he’s trying to fight himself on diving in and taking what he wants versus giving you what you need.

The first pass of Seungcheol’s tongue is slow and deliberate, a long, slow-soft drag through your folds that makes you gasp, hands fisting the sheets. He hums, the vibration making you twitch. His lips close gently around your clit, giving an experimental suck. You cry out and he grins, dragging his tongue to dip back down to your entrance for a taste.

Seungcheol is relentless, his mouth working you with a devotion that borders on obsession. His tongue traces every inch of you, slow and thorough, lapping up your slick like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He alternates between broad, languid strokes and precise flicks, learning your reactions, lingering where you tremble most. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you open, grounding you as you writhe, the slick coating his chin and lips only spurring him on.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling away for a second. He leans over your cunt and lets a string of spit and cum drip from his swollen mouth to your cunt before chasing it with his tongue. “I could stay here forever.”

He dives back in, tongue pressing into you, fucking you with slow, shallow thrusts of his mouth. Your moans are broken, and he takes it as encouragement, running his tongue in lazy circles, tasting all of you. Just as you start to near a soft high, his fingers join in, pressing in gently, making your vision blurry.

The first orgasm builds fast, your body already primed from the restless heat of your sleep. His fingers pump in time with his tongue, relentless, and when he sucks hard on your clit, you shatter. A cry tears from your throat, hips bucking against his face as slick gushes, your walls clenching around his fingers. He doesn’t stop, lapping through your tremors, drawing out every pulse until you’re shaking, oversensitive, whimpering his name.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You can give me one more.”

You can. He knows it. You know it.

His mouth softens, less intense but no less thorough, kissing your folds gently before returning to your clit with slow, teasing licks. Your body protests, too sensitive, but the heat is already building again, coaxed by his worshipful attention. He’s patient, methodical, every movement calculated to keep you on the edge without overwhelming you. His fingers slide back in, slower this time, curling lazily, and you feel the stretch, the fullness.

Your second orgasm creeps up, slower but deeper, a steady wave that builds as he works you with unwavering focus. His tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around your clit, and when he hums, the vibration tips you over. You come with a sob, less sharp but more intense, your whole body trembling as pleasure rolls through you, slick coating his hand, his mouth. He laps at you softly, easing you through it, until you’re boneless, panting, your omega sated.

Seungcheol’s kisses turn languid, worshipping, cleaning up the mess he made, savouring every drop. Your hands loosen in the sheets and he finally pulls back, crawling back up to the bed, pressing scattered, wet kisses up your body as he does.

“Better?” He asks when he reaches your face, nose brushing against yours.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and settles beside you, pulling you into his chest. His scent surrounds you, grounding, and you feel the bond pulse, warm and steady.

“Rest a little. Then we’ll shower.”

The shower fills with steam and the scent of eucalyptus. Fog covers the shower door as hot water runs over you and Seungcheol. His broad frame stands behind you, hands gentle but firm as he massages shampoo into your hair, working slow circles into your scalp. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.

If only for a moment, it’s perfect. Almost too perfect, which makes your chest tighten with a quiet ache. This is just Seungcheol helping you through your heat, a temporary balm for a fire that will ultimately flare again.

You don’t know how you ever did this without him before. Don’t know how you’re going to manage to do it without him in the future. After just a day, Seungcheol has flipped your scope of the world upside down, changing your heat cycle entirely.

Typically, it’s days of foggy suffering with suppressants to numb you. It’s a listlessness that chases you for days until your hormones are right again, until you can feel the sun on your face and let it make you smile.

Now, you don’t know what it’s supposed to be.

You turn to face Seungcheol. Water is streaming down his chest, catching the sculpted lines of his front. Each droplet clings to him in a way you understand - you want to cling to him too.

Seungcheol is breathtaking, all strength and quiet care. It’s a wonder that someone so powerful can also be so gentle. He’s unlike anything you expected, and breaks the norms of what you thought having an alpha help you through your heat might be like.

You don’t fool yourself into thinking there’s anyone else like him. You already know that this is just him, just Seungcheol. It makes a flicker of fear come to life in your chest, wondering what will happen when your heat fades and the intimacy here dissolves like the water flowing down the drain.

You push the thought down. Gliding your hands over his chest, your fingers chase the droplets of water, feeling the steady pulse of his heart beneath your palm. It makes you ache with need again, an always there need for him coming back to life.

Heat cycles are like that. They’re made up of peaks and lows, moments where the need is so high it drives you insane followed by a near catatonic need to drift and sleep.

Now, you’re approaching another peak, pulse picking up, body thrumming.

Seungcheol senses the shift immediately. He’s attuned to you quickly, but you refuse to let yourself wonder what that means. He steps closer, hands pulling at your waist, dipping his head to brush his mouth against yours in an almost kiss.

His eyes darken with a mix of concern and something darker. “What’s that look?”

He steps closer, pressing you against the tiled wall, water pooling where your bodies meet. The warmth of him, the slickness of his skin, feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake from. You don’t answer, can’t. Your hands dip lower, tracing the hard ridge of his abdomen, and he tenses, breath catching.

“Baby,” he warns, voice rough. There’s no real protest there. Just a playful warning, edged with want.

The endearment hits you like a spark, igniting you. You can’t get enough of it when he calls you that, when he says it velvet-soft and purring, when he says it like you are his baby. His world. His omega.

You sink to your knees, tiles cold and wet beneath you. You look up at him through wet lashes, biting your lower lip, hesitant, wanting permission. His cock is already hard - has been the entire time you’ve been in the shower - and the sight pulls a whine from your throat. You want to taste him. Want to make him feel good.

“Please,” you ask, still unmoving, hands resting on your thighs.

The way he looks at you - everent, undone - makes you feel like you’re everything, even if part of you whispers that this is just your heat talking, just his alpha responding to your need.

Seungcheol nods. He places one hand to brace against the wall as you lean in to press soft kisses to the base of his shaft, lips brushing his warm skin. He groans, the sound deep and raw, and it sends a tremble of excitement through you.

Your tongue traces the underside of his cock, following a thick vein from base to tip. You swirl your tongue greedily around the crown of his cock, tasting the faint salt of him. It’s intoxicating, perfect, and you let yourself sink into it, humming pleasantly.

One of his hands comes down to rest on top of your head, not pulling, not pushing, just anchoring himself as you take him into your mouth. You go slow, savoring the weight of him. He’s big, stretching your mouth painfully to the limit, but you relax, breathing in through your nose.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Shit fuck. That mouth.”

The praise makes your omega preen. You hum again, the vibration making his hips twitch as you build a steady rhythm, head bobbing, tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync.

Water rains down on you, making everything fluid. Your lips glide effortlessly around him, your grip on him firm, squeezing gently as your hand meets your mouth on the upstroke. His groans grow louder, more desperate, hips twitching but never taking control of your pace. His fingers tighten on your head, and yet he remains in control of himself, letting you take what you want.

“Fuuuck, just like that,” He pants, head tipping back. Water falls down his throat in rivulets. The sight of him, vulnerable and unraveling, makes your pussy throb, a wave of arousal running down your thighs and mixing with the water.

You take him in deeper until your nose brushes his pelvis, swallowing around him. He makes a broken sound, half growl, half moan, and his hips finally jerk. You welcome his shallow thrusts eagerly, moaning around him, encouraging him.

Seungcheol looks down, eyes locking with yours. His are fucked out and fazed, the raw edge to his gaze making your heart beat faster. You pull back a little, focusing on the tip, sucking hard, tongue swirling. Your hand pumps faster and his breathing turns ragged, muscles in his stomach twitching. You know he’s close and it makes you grin up at him, mouth full of spit and precum.

“Gonna - fuck - come,” he warns, voice strained.

You don’t pull away. You suck at him harder, desperate to give him this, to hold onto this perfect moment. With a guttural sound, he spills into your mouth. You swallow down every drop, lips sealed until he’s over sensitive and shying away from your mouth.

Easing back, you look up at him, your knees aching. He pulls you to your feet and to his lips, pressing you into a kiss that’s deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. He licks into you, uncaring as he pulls you close to his chest.

“So good,” he murmurs between kisses. “Such a sweet girl for me.”

You grin as he turns you around, walking you forward so that you're pressed against the warm tile of the shower wall. “My turn.”

Soft, neon light filters in from your window, washing your room in a smear of watercolor. You fidget in bed, body coming alive, arousal starting in gentle waves, building the more your body catches up. Seungcheol is already awake beside you, sensing your need. His warmth is a quiet anchor.

Seungcheol’s lips brush your neck, nuzzling and scenting, his gentle possessiveness soothing your omega. You let out a soft sigh, going pliant for him. He hums, pleased at your easy submission, tongue darting out to lick your neck playfully.

He’s tender, peppering your shoulder and neck with soft, wet kisses. Each one stokes the steady fire in your core and chest. The way he handles you is maddening, like you’re spun glass but he knows you can take whatever he gives you. Your omega preens and you shift closer, feeling the heat of him against you.

This is different from earlier. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done this. You’ve lost track of time and the days. There’s just this: Seungcheol’s hand sliding down to lift your leg up for him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, weeping and wanting for him.

Then he slides in, slow and stretching you inch by inch, earning a dreamy exhale from your trembling lips. He grinds his hips against the curve of your ass, deep and languid, easing the ache between your legs. His strokes are measured and intimate, each one dragging against your walls, stoking the flames without rushing.

You moan, breathy, as your slick coats his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies obscene in the silence of the room. His hand slides up, cupping your chest, thumb brushing back and forth over your nipple until it pebbles under his rapt attention. You arch into his touch, whimpering.

“So good for me,” he murmurs against your neck. His voice is rough with sleep, just how you like it.

Seungcheol keeps the pace slow, hips rolling lazily. It builds a steady burn. His lips find the pulse point below your ear, sucking gently, not enough to make tender, but enough to make you shiver, cunt leaking down your thighs.

You reach back, fingers sliding in his hair to tug softly. He groans, low and raspy, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

“Seungcheol,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper. “Cheol.”

He hums, pleased at the nickname. He grinds deeper, the friction perfect and overwhelming as the tip of his cock brushes against the soft spot inside of you, making you unwind.

Your eyes flutter open and you peer over your shoulder at him. The neon light catches the sweat on his skin, making him glow. You marvel at how beautiful he is, a powerful alpha, yours in this moment. Maybe not later, but you don’t think about that now, trembling as he brings you close to your orgasm like he’s done every time before.

His hand slips between your thighs, fingers seeking your clit, slick and swollen. He starts to circle the throbbing bud with agonizing slowness, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation is devastating, punching the breath from your lungs. You rock your hips to meet his, desperate for your undoing, needing to come.

“Come on,” he urges, lips brushing your ear. He presses his fingers hard, circles them faster. Your breath catches and he feels it, deepening his thrusts, becoming more deliberate. “Come for me, baby.”

The words mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his cock makes you shatter, a soft cry spilling out of your lips as your pussy pulse around him, soaking him thoroughly. He groans, fucking you through it, slow and steady, drawing out the full length of your orgasm until you’re boneless and barely there.

But he’s not done. Seungcheol eases out carefully and shifts you onto your back. You blink, starry eyed and warm as you watch him slide down the bed and settle between your legs. Your thighs fall open at the sight of him and he groans, pleased at how you immediately know what he wants, ready to comply with your alpha.

No. Not your alpha. But he is right now and that’s all that matters.

Any fight on that subject vanishes as he kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs. His eyes are dark and burning when he looks up at you, pupils wide.

“Need to taste you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Then, his mouth is one you, tongue dragging through your folds, lapping at the mess left over from your orgasm. It’s filthy, the way he moans into you, lips and chin glistening as he buries his face in your cunt. But it’s gentle, his tongue slow and worshipful, circling your clit.

It’s soothing, the way he moves, tongue tracing lazy patterns, circling your clit with no pressure, just presence. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there, grounding you further. Your fingers find his hair, threading loosely, not pulling, just holding, and he groans softly, the sound muffled against you. The ache in your core softens, not gone but eased, replaced by a warm, liquid comfort that spreads through your limbs.

Seungcheol mouths at you with no purpose other than to soothe and because he can. He doesn’t seem focused on getting you off, isn’t trying to overstimulate you. It builds a soft glow anyway, your breathing hitching as he keeps going, tongue dipping lower to taste your entrance, letting you drift toward the edge without pushing you toward it.

“Taste so good,” Seungcheol mumbles, mouth full of you.

This time, your orgasm comes like a tide, not crashing but rising, warm and steady. You whimper, hips shifting and he holds you steady, one hand sliding up to lace his fingers with yours. You squeeze his hand tight, letting him keep you tethered as you come undone, throbbing softly. He drinks you in, tongue lapping and slow, easing you until you’re limp and sated, the ache finally gone.

Seungcheol pulls back, mouth glistening neon in the low light. His eyes are heavy with something that you can’t read. When he crawls back up, you realize he’s come untouched, spilling his own release while getting you off. It makes your chest tighten, instincts purring at the proof of his want, his devotion to you.

He slides in beside you, kissing your temple before pulling you close.

“Better?” He rumbles, already half asleep.

“Better.”

“You have to eat.”

You huff. “Don’t want.”

You’re curled up on the couch in one of his jackets, inhaling deeply. His scent makes you tired, limbs heavy. You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to make yourself small. The blanket over your shoulders is warm and smells like him, making you sink further into the cushions.

Across the room, Seungcheol watches with thinly veiled amusement. He holds a steaming bowl in one hand, a spoon in the other. You love him like this, hair fluffy and still damp from a shower, glasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose as he glares at you.

“You need to eat,” he repeats gently. It has to be the third or fourth time he’s said it, each time just as gentle as the last.

You grumble and turn away from him, hiding in your blankets. He sighs and pads over to you, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. Shirtless Seungcheol is a weapon in itself, but the way you smell him immediately, can tell he’s using pheromones against you, makes you growl at him. There’s no heat in it and he laughs.

“Yeah?” He teases. “Gonna growl at me?”

“I’m tired.”

“I know,” he coos, voice dropping into that low, soft register that always seems to settle you. “Your body is working hard. But you still need to eat something, baby. For me.”

“Meh.”

“I’ll feed you.”

That sparks your interest. You peek out from your blankets with one eye, peering at him. He smiles, dimples appearing when he sees he’s got you listening now. His scent wraps around you, luring you deeper into his spell.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I’ll start pouting. I don’t care if I’m an alpha, I’m good at pouting.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. The image of him pouting is sweet. His smile grows, triumphant as he stands up to sit next to you on the couch. You sit up, squirming toward him.

“There she is,” he hums, happy. “Open up that pretty mouth for me.”

Blue light flickers from the TV while golden light of the afternoon sun washes the room, peeking through the blinds. You’re curled into Seungcheol’s side, his arm around your shoulders and your legs tangled together beneath the shared blanket. Jurassic Park plays quietly in the background because you asked for something familiar, something comforting.

Your heat is finally starting to fade, edging toward Stage 3. The decline leaves you exhausted, but the full haze of Stage 2 is lifting, leaving you with less thoughts of tangled bodies and tongues. You can feel it in the way your body no longer aches with desperation, clarity seeping in like a slow tide.

With the clarity comes unease. Because… Well, what now?

Neither of you have brought it up, the what happens next. Everything still feels good, but it also feels fragile, like you’re balancing in the quiet moment between inhale and exhale, waiting for the next breath to shatter whatever this little bubble you’re in.

Your fingers fidget lightly against his chest. He notices, as he always does, and his hand smooths down your arm in slow, comforting passes. You lean into him instinctively - you don’t know how you will ever unlearn this - basking in his warmth.

But your thoughts keep spinning.

You don’t know how to voice the big question, don’t know how to talk about it. Don’t know what the best approach is. So you pretend it isn’t there, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes, thoughts burning you from the inside out.

Seungcheol senses it anyway.

“What’s up?” He asks, lips pressed against the top of your head. His eyes are still on the screen, the movie reflected in the lense of his glasses.

“Did you know the stegosaurus had brains the size of walnuts?” You ask suddenly, eyes fixed. “Built like a bus with a very small brain. It was like two ounces.”

“Really?”

You nod, grateful he doesn’t question why you’re talking about dinosaurs again. “Yep. For years people thought they had a second brain somewhere near the anus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m serious. There’s an enlarged area near their hips and early scientists thought it must have been for a second brain because they couldn’t believe something with so much mass could operate with such a small brain. Turns out it wasn’t an ass-brain.”

He huffs. “Ass-brain would have been cool.”

“Right? I always hated that people thought they were docile too. They literally have massive spiked tails as a built in morning star and could beat predators' asses. People need to put respect on them.”

“Hmm. Sounds like we’re talking about more than dinosaurs here.”

You go quiet. Your eyes flick toward the screen, but you’re not really seeing it. He’s not wrong. You chew your bottom lip, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.

Of course it isn’t just about dinosaurs. You’ve always admired creatures like that, misunderstood, underestimated. Not flashy, not predators, not something people are afraid of on instinct, but fierce all the same. Stubborn. Ready to dig their heels in and fight if they had to.

Which is why you liked the stegosaur. You resonated with that. Maybe not the smartest or the strongest, but never easy to push over, always ready to bare teeth when push came to shove. It was why you liked working for Jeonghan, too, seeing a lot of that fight in him.

Which brings you back to thinking about work, and that tomorrow is a new work day, and your heat will most likely be fully complete. And you’ll have to go back to… normal?

You don’t know.

“Why are you so nervous?” Seungcheol asks, bringing you out of your reverie. You look at him, eyes wide. He gives you a soft smile. “What, think I didn’t notice?”

You hesitate. His face is open. Honest. He’s giving you no reason to hold back, no reason to hide from him. But what you have to say is scary.

You take a deep breath and think about the stegosaurus. “Because my heat is fading. And I know things felt intense and - to me - special. I just… what happens after?”

“What do you mean?”

Tears prick your eyes and you curse your hormones for making you emotional. “When my heat is over, what then? We go back to normal? I’m… I don’t know. Having a heat partner is new to me, and I’m not begging you to stay or make you feel bad, I just-”

“Hey,” he interrupts, catching your face in his hands. His eyes are round, gentle. “I’m going to be honest, nothing is changing for me when your heat is over.”

You blink in surprise. See nervousness flicker across his face when he says carefully, “I stayed because I wanted to help you. I - look, I was already a little soft for you. Now that I’m here, I like being with you, heat or no. Even when you’re talking about dinosaur ass-brains.”

That makes you laugh and his smile lights up the room. “Really?”

“Really, baby.”

His thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a single salty tear. “Unless you don’t want-”

“I want,” you insist. “I want so much. I have never wanted this much in my life.”

“Then I’ll stay. I’m yours.”

“Even if I start talking about ass-brains?”

“Even then.”

The air in the room shifts, charged with something warm and unspoken. You move without thinking, surging forward and climbing into his lap where he sits on the couch. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes your thighs as you straddle him, your hands settling on his shoulders. He feels solid and warm beneath you.

Seungcheol’s hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your forehead rests against his, breathes mingling, and for a second, you just stay there. Savoring the intimacy. Savoring his scent, bergamot and cardamom.

“You’re sure?” You ask, voice small.

“Very sure.”

His hands slip upward, slow, under the hem of his hoodie. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your waist, making you shiver as heat pools low between your legs. You lean in and kiss him softly, lips brushing, then pressing, slow and deliberate.

You deepen the kiss, unhurried. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, tasting you, opening you up. You shift, grinding down on him gently, feeling the hardening length of him through his sweats. He makes a sound, soft and low, and it buzzes through your mouth. You feel yourself grow wet against your underwear and he sucks in a sharp breath, catching it.

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are fathomless but warm. His hands push the hoodie up and over your head, baring your chest to him. His eyes flicker and he curses. “You’re so perfect.”

You flush, shy under his gaze. His lips find your collarbone, kissing softly before drifting lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your breast. Your head falls back as the cool air hits you, your eyes closed.

He takes a nipple into his wanting mouth, tongue swirling, sucking gently. You gasp, hips rocking instinctively, grinding harder against him. The friction is delicious. He groans against your skin, sending sparks through you.

Seungcheol’s hands stay on your hips, encouraging your slow, rolling movements. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. It’s soft, the couch slightly creaking under the weight of you.

His mouth moves to the swell of your other break, lavishing it with the same care. His teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. You feel slick drip down your thighs, not as heavily as before, but still just as ready for him.

“Cheol,” you breath, voice shaky.

He hums, lips sealed around your nipple. The wet buzz of his mouth makes you grind on him faster, chasing the heat in your belly.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look up at you, eyes glassy. “Love watching you like this. Love feeling you. Want you like this.”

He pulls back just enough to tug at his sweatpants, shoving them down his thighs, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. You bite your lip, the sight making your core clench, and he catches the look, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth.

Carefully, he helps you kick your sweatpants off. You sit back in his lap, not bothering with your underwear. He pushes them to the side with a careful finger, his knuckle deliberately dragging over the wet heat of your pussy.

“Fuck. Wet.”

You nod as he grabs the base of his cock, helping you sit high on your knees. He rubs the rib through your messy folds, both of you moaning in unison before the head catches your entrance and sticks. You sink down, taking him slowly, the stretch punching the breath from your lungs.

His shirt stays on, bunched where you fist it against his chest. It is work, sitting on him fully. You feel him deep in your stomach, your breath turning ragged. You savor the fullness, hands tangled in his shirt.

Taking a deep breath, you start to move. His hands grip your hips, not controlling but encouraging, letting you set whatever pace you want. His cock drags against your walls, smooth and fluid. His lips find your chest, mouthing at a nipple, sucking gently.

Your nails dig into him through the fabric of his shirt, the wet heet of his mouth, the press of his cock, all of it driving you mad, sticky with sweat as you continue to use him however you want.

He lets you, content to suck and mouth at your chest all the while. The couch creaks faintly, a quiet underscore to the soft filth of it all, your slick coating him, dripping down to soak his sweatpants, the way his shirt clings to his sweat-damp chest.

Pleasure builds, slow and warm, a glow that starts in your core and spreads. You grind deeper, chasing it, and he groans, head tipping back, eyes half-lidded but never leaving you.

“How could I ever wanna leave this?” He asks. “How could I ever want anything but the perfect omega?”

The words, the way he says them, tip you over, and your orgasm comes soft but deep, a gentle pulse that has you trembling, walls clenching around him, a quiet moan spilling from your lips.

The way you tighten pushes him to the edge, and he groans, low and broken, thrusting up once, twice, before he comes, hot and thick inside you. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, and you collapse against him, panting, forehead pressed to his, the fabric of his shirt sticking to your skin.

“Mine,” he assures you, giving you a gentle kiss. “Ass-brain and all.”

“Please,” you laugh.

That single word makes him melt, makes him all soft at the edges. “Anything for you, baby.”

The office feels noticeably cooler when you return, the hum of the air conditioning a welcome sound after days away. Cold air brushes the back of your neck as you step off the elevator, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth on your skin, not from the building, but from Seungcheol following close behind you.

Seungcheol’s presence is unmistakable. And people notice.

Jeonghan is the first. He’s perched near Wonwoo’s cubicle, half-lounging on the edge when he glances up and spots you. His gaze flicks from you to Seungcheol, then back again. His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he immediately points a finger.

“You-”

“Not a word,” Seungcheol warns, voice low as he slides a steadying hand to the small of your back and gently guides you toward your desk. Your cheeks heat, teeth sinking into your cheek to suppress a laugh as Jeonghan starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“We’re just walking, Jeonghan,” you mumble, feeling anything but casual.

“You’re glowing!”

Wonwoo straightens in his chair, peering over his cubicle wall. His brow lifts as he spots Seungcheol casting a warning glance back at Jeonghan, lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk.

“I knew it,” Jeonghan asserts, looking at you and nodding. “He’s always thought you were the cutest omega. Does he know you’re obsessed with dinosaurs yet?”

“Ugh, Jeonghan.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms with a flat grin. “You remind me of a Stegosaur, Jeonghan. Very… you have similar brains.”

You snort before slapping your hand over your mouth in horror.

Jeonghan saints at him. “I don’t get it.”

Seungcheol ignores him, turning to you instead. He brushes his fingers against your arm, and his gaze softens instantly, all gruffness melted into something warm and fond. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, smiling despite yourself as he walks away calm. Sure. Unmistakably yours.

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minisugakoobies · 1 year ago

Text

Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted.

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem.

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you.

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around.

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around.

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous?

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye.

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago.

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him.

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late.

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs.

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back.

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that.

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You: It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me?

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort.

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little.

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is.

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one.

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance.

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response.

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing.

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man.

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible.

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not?

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now.

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide.

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge.

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?”

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back.

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands.

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu.

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon.

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it?

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses.

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.”

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?”

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment.

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now.

“I want what you promised me.”

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.”

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.”

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him.

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can.

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.”

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips.

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face.

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel.

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.”

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want.

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation.

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now.

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?”

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat.

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes.

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.”

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you.

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck.

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly.

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo.

“‘Gyu, please.”

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around.

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?”

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.”

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you.

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up.

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements.

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!”

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.”

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids.

“It’ll be something like this.”

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.”

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over.

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you.

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again.

“Kiss me.”

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.”

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip.

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.”

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands.

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.”

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture?

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.”

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?”

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?”

“I might have some ideas.”

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

#seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #mingyu smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #kim mingyu #fic: cross my heart

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minniesfiles · 7 months ago

Text

“I KINDA MISS BEING SINGLE”

Texting your boyfriend/husband “I kinda miss being single” to see how they respond.

❧ PAIRING; ot13 x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff, humour, smau, suggestive

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; social media au, established relationship, text prank, humour, fluff, swearing, sexual undertones, suggestive

𐚁₊⊹

▍SEUNGCHEOL

▍JEONGHAN

▍JOSHUA

▍JUNHUI

▍SOONYOUNG

▍WONWOO

▍JIHOON

▍SEOKMIN

▍MINGYU

▍MINGHAO

▍SEUNGKWAN

▍HANSOL

▍CHAN

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lololololchips · 1 year ago

Note

OOOOH COULD I REQUEST CHEOL WITH A BOSSY SPOILED BRAT OF A PRINCESS <333

heyyyy:)) i couldn’t be bossy IM SORRY😭😭 but here it is loolz hope u like it!!

Choi Seungcheol || being spoiled by s.coups texts

genre: fake texts, one shot au, fluff

warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, rich ass cheol (are we surprised??), fluffly sigh i need him so bad yall

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hannieween · 5 months ago

Text

gambler | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI) ✧ aus: established relationship, boss seungcheol, gambler cheol, bartender reader ✧ word count: 14.9k

✧ warnings: descriptions of depression. cheol is possessive, mentions of therapy, alcohol consumption, smut with plot, daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, reader is on birth control, big dick seungcheol, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, jealousy, exhibitionism: sex in the workspace, they have a voyeur. dirty talk. pet names: love, pretty, baby, angel (hers) babe, boss, daddy (his)

✧ thank you to @hhaechansmoless and @coupsiedaisee for proofreading this for me ♡

› series masterlist – general masterlist – taglist

✧ author's note: i cannot for the life of me not insert myself into my fics. some of the story beats in this one are too close to my heart. might be the most personal one so far so pardon the angst ? this chapter is an emotional roller coaster if i do say so myself

✧ author's note pt. 2: this chapter is told in a non-linear way. so it has a lot of time skips. you're warned. bye ✌🏻

✧ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

part v

Two years ago

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with. No matter how much effort or heart he put into something, sometimes it still wouldn’t be enough.

But what he could never reconcile, was that he had lost you.

Even though, deep down, he knew that he wasn’t entirely to blame for the breakup, the thought haunted him. He could’ve done more. He should’ve fought harder. He had always feared he would lose you someday, as if something so good was never meant to belong to him.

Still, the day you left felt wrong. He replayed it in his mind ten times, twenty, a hundred. Every word you said, every change on your face, everything leading up to the end. He should’ve done this, he thought, his stomach twisted painfully. He should’ve said that. He fell into an endless spiral of what ifs, mourning the version of his life where you were still in it.

He missed you.

Turning over in bed, he wrapped an arm around a pillow and sighed. He couldn’t even cry anymore.

It was four in the morning. He knew before he even checked his phone. He had become an expert in tracking the time spent in silence, in ignoring the missing calls, and unread texts from friends trying to reach him. None of it mattered.

His eyelids felt heavy, but sleep was no escape. In his dreams, he always found you. Flashes of secret glances across the library tables, the way you’d lift your head just to peek at him—smiling shyly because he always caught you looking. Other times, the dreams turned into nightmares, reliving the abrupt ending of what you had together, the last moments before you walked away.

The pad of his finger hovered over the shared folder on his phone. He swallowed hard, the familiar knot twisting in his stomach.

Apparently, you had forgotten about the folder. The folder where your photos were automatically backed up. Seungcheol never moved a single thing, as though keeping it untouched might preserve his last connection to you just a little longer. Before you noticed and end that too.

One week after the breakup, you erased all the photos of you together. Every trace you had together was erased on social media. But somehow, you had forgotten about the shared folder. Or maybe you missed him too. Maybe you wanted to hold on a little longer.

At first, he avoided his phone entirely, pretending his phone didn’t exist. But then—something happened.

One night, the folder updated.

Seungcheol felt a pain so sharp, he was sure it would kill him. Seeing your name on his screen made the pain in his chest tighter. He stopped dead in his tracks, bringing a finger to press on your name, he held his breath.

Updated a minute ago

His heart had pounded in his ears. He braced himself to see you to be wrecked all over by the sight of your face.

But no. The photos weren’t of you. They were of the sky. A sunset, painted in soft pinks and burning oranges.

That was the first night of his downward spiral.

He almost felt embarrassed by what came next. He didn’t fall to his knees. He didn’t scream or break down sobbing.

Instead, he checked the folder every single night. Waiting. Hoping. Not for the sky. Not for another sunset or sunrise.

For you.

It soon became his addiction, this quiet, but self-inflicted torment. The nights without an update were the worst. Just like this one. The thought of you realizing he still had access to the folder made him sick to his stomach. Maybe you had figured it out, maybe that’s why the updates had stopped.

Seungcheol locked his phone and tossed it somewhere in the tangled sheets.

Were you as lonely as he was?

Staring at the ceiling, he let the memories play again in his head. It was a dangerous game, replaying his own heartbreak like a song stuck on repeat.

Why did he like hurting so much?

If he could only hear your voice again. But he made a promise to himself: no matter how bad it got, no matter how much it tore him apart, he wouldn’t reach out to you. He wouldn’t do that to you.

His hand groped blindly for the whisky bottle on his nightstand, but he met nothing but the empty glass.

The phone buzzed somewhere in the sheets. He went rigid. The vibrations drummed against his ear. He ignored it at first.

But what if it was you?

The knot in his stomach tightened unbearably as he reached for his phone, his heart slamming against his ribs. His fingers fumbled through the sheets, desperate searching.

The aching feeling inside him was soothed at the moment he saw your name on the screen. Relief flooded his chest—you were still there. He even felt rewarded, in some twisted way. You always updated him around this time.

But the relief was fleeting.

The pain returned a thousand times worse.

He shot up too fast, dizziness crashing over him, not just from the alcohol, but from the sheer force of you. Blood rushed to his head, leaving him unsteady.

There you were. Your eyes.

He could read it in them instantly—you were sad. That was undeniable. But there was something else too, something softer. A glint. Catching in the pale morning light that bathed your face. Maybe it was hope.

Seeing your face for the first time in what felt like a lifetime was brutal. The image blurred. His vision swam. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing somewhere on the bed as he pressed his hands to his face. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he repeated, a strangled sound muffled against his palms.

He should have stopped you from leaving.

It was seven in the morning when he finally surfaced from the spiral.

Sunlight leaked through the cracks in the curtains, stabbing at his tired eyes. The bedsheets were tangled around him. Clothes were scattered across the floor—abandoned, forgotten. The whole room was a mess, but none of it compared to the mess inside his heart, his head.

Still, he sat there. A near catatonic state. Eyes open but seeing nothing.

He could not keep living like this.

His chest felt heavy as he reached for his phone. Seungcheol scrolled through a hundred and fifty-seven texts from Jeonghan before typing two words.

I’m fine.

His fingers hovered over the screen. Switching tabs to see your face one more time. And with a pause of hesitation, he opened his phone settings, hitting the hard reset button.

He had to let you go.

It was nine in the morning when he heard an urgent knock at the front door. He had gotten good at ignoring that too. But this time, he went to get it. He already knew it would be.

The door creaked open. “Hi,” Seungcheol croaked, realizing he had not spoken to a living being in days.

Jeonghan’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at the ground. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The way his shoulders tensed, the caution in his every movement, it told Seungcheol everything.

Jeonghan entered the apartment, gaze flitting over the place—the place Seungcheol once shared with you. Your things were packed into moving boxes, stacked in the corner, waiting to be sent back to your parents’ house.

His stuff was in moving boxes too.

Because there wasn’t a single corner of this place that wasn’t haunted by you. So, he had to let go of that, too.

Seungcheol had to take life’s lessons the hard way. Plans do not always come to fruition, yes. But that could also mean that he had the chance to make new plans. Or at least, that is what the therapist told him.

Breakups are hard.

After moving to a different neighbourhood, Seungcheol quit his office job. Then, in what everyone around him thought it was a fit of madness, he purged his entire life of you. He got new clothes. He died his hair, he let it grow. He re-did the piercings in his earlobes. He got a new phone.

If burying his past self meant forgetting you, he’d dig that grave himself.

“Are you sure about this?”

Changkyun leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the money stacked neatly between them.

“I’m sure,” Seungcheol replied, tone flat.

Changkyun clicked his tongue, tilting his head. “It’s a big investment.”

“One I’m willing to make.”

The money had been purposed for something else once. Something permanent. Something that, at one point, had been his future.

It was the money he had saved to start a life with you. Now, it lay before him in neat stacks, repurposed for something else entirely.

“I’ll tell my guy,” Changkyun shrugged, unconvinced. Then, a pause, a frown. “What exactly are you planning to do with the place?”

Seungcheol knew it was a gamble. This plan might fail. This plan might succeed. He did not know for certain. But he wanted to say that at least say he tried it.

With every fiber of his being, he wanted this.

“I’m turning it into a bar.”

Starting a new chapter in his life felt odd sometimes. Even if he had made it forbidden to think of you, he would wonder if you felt the same too.

Breakups are odd.

This new chapter of his life had him rewriting bits of himself that once included you in some way. It was seeing things with brand new eyes.

As the plan of opening a bar was in the works, new opportunities were falling to his lap. Jeonghan decided to take the offer of co-owning the bar, thus absorbing part of the investments too and making it a little bit easier to open it sooner.

Also, it was gaining some traction. People would stop and ask what the old pizza place would turn into.

“I have a friend that might be a good addition to your bar. He’s clever, and made for this, he’s kind of a night owl,” Changkyun mentioned one night in passing, looking around the place with an impressed look on his face.

“Bring him in,” Seungcheol nodded. He had been thinking of putting up hiring ads somewhere, but he kept pushing the task out of procrastination.

However, Changkyun’s friend was a true blessing in disguise. The guy turned up the following day as Seungcheol was putting up the shelves where he meant to display bottles of whisky and rum.

Crossing the doorway with a curious look on his face, he knocked on the countertop to draw Seungcheol’s attention over the loud hammering.

Upon looking at him, he knew it was Changkyun’s friend.

“You are?” Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up.

The guy was about to utter something, but after hearing Seungcheol’s dry words, he just stammered: “Jeon Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol made no follow-up comment whatsoever, the moment dragged on silently, he arched his eyebrows higher this time.

“I-I’m here for the job offer. I’m a friend of Changkyun’s,” he explained, pushing the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Have you ever managed a bar before?”

Jeon Wonwoo nodded his head once. “Yes.”

“Right. Come here tomorrow at five. We can cover all of the details then.”

Seungcheol felt glad he took that leap of faith. Most nights, he would walk around his bar feeling proud to have come this far and have a successful business all by his own.

He felt glad that the pain in his heart was starting to heal.

Breakups are funny. Because sometimes—though not often—he would wonder what you would think of him now. And when he did, he surprised himself. The thought of you didn’t hurt anymore. Seungcheol had nearly forgotten the sound of your voice, the way you used to say his name.

Two years had passed since that night. Two years of nothing but himself. The bar had become his whole world—the buzzing sounds of conversations over loud music, clinking noises, people laughing filling the silence where your voice used to be. The people he met now became small anchors to keep himself afloat and not think of the ghost of you.

He had built something from the ground up, he found something that was entirely for his own.

Even if he dared to think of you, it no longer felt like a punch to the gut. The weight of missing you, the constant need to look for you everywhere he looked was no more. The pain had grown dull, the memory of you something distant. Seungcheol had, at last, moved on.

Or he thought he had.

The busier he kept, the better. That had been his mindset for the past two years, and time had passed in a blur. And if he let himself be honest, he’d have to admit that he was content with his life.

Seungcheol sank into the lounge chair in the living room, a heavy sigh slipping past his lips as he reclined against the soft leather. A glass of whiskey rested on his thigh, his fingers loosely curled around it.

Silence reigned in his apartment, a stark contrast to the loud buzzing noise from the bar, it almost left him feeling overwhelmed. It was three in the morning—the usual time he got home after another long night at the bar. By now, it was routine. Second nature.

He licked his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. It was one of those rare nights when his mind drifted where he didn’t want it to, wandering down a path that always led to you. Were you alright? If so, were you loved?

In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, he saw you. He saw you sitting across the uni library, smiling because he caught you looking at him. His grip tightened around the cold glass, a flicker of something sharp twisting in his chest.

Seungcheol exhaled slowly, opening his eyes to take one generous gulp from his glass. The whiskey burned deeply, it was sharp and smoky, lingering in the back of his throat. He looked at the bottom of his glass, thinking of pouring another to quiet down his thoughts before going to bed.

After all this time, he shouldn’t be thinking about you.

But it was impossible to stop now. He tilted the glass on his fingers very slightly, his gaze unfocused. He remembered the way your fingers used to trace shapeless patterns on his skin, the quiet hum of your voice in the mornings, the way you would giggle in between morning kisses. Seungcheol wondered if you still did that, if someone else was on the receiving end now.

His chest tightened, the pain so hard that he had to take another large gulp of whiskey, deciding to pour another one. He had convinced himself he’d moved on. But nights like this, when the world seemed to stop and his thoughts were so loud they buzzed in his ears, he wasn’t so sure.

Because even after all this time, even after building himself a life in opulence and arduous work, he still thought of you.

He leaned over the coffee table, pouring more whiskey into the glass and the half-melted ice spheres. The apartment was too quiet, too still, so much so that he felt a prisoner to it. Like somehow the stillness was to blame that he was thinking of you.

Seungcheol tilted his head back against the chair, swallowing hard to try to dissolve the feeling coiling around his throat. Staring at the ceiling, the grip around the glass of whiskey loosened, right before he allowed himself to remember.

It was a late night. You were curled up on his couch back at his old, tiny apartment. You were currently fighting sleep while waiting for him to finish looking over something. Seungcheol was working late, going over some accounts from his old office job. He didn’t remember what had him so busy, but it didn’t matter now. What he remembered about that night was that you refused to go to bed without him.

You were staying over at his apartment, he doesn’t remember the reason why. But you were slightly irritated that you were staying over, and he was working on some accounts.

“Just a few more minutes,” he had told you, glancing over the stack of papers.

You had hummed something in response, your eyes already slipping shut.

When he finally had set the papers down, you were already deeply asleep on the couch. Seungcheol sat down beside you, and you had barely stirred, except that some seconds later, you had leaned into him, your body instinctively seeking out for him even in sleep.

Seungcheol had smiled to himself, welcoming you in a careful, but loving embrace. The seconds passed, but he made no move to carry you to bed yet, he enjoyed the peace and quiet moment with you.

It was nothing special. It was just a regular night. And yet somehow, it was everything he ever wanted.

And now, he was sitting alone and in silence.

Seungcheol let out a quiet scoff in amusement, and regret.

Funny, the things you miss.

The next morning, he woke with a sharp inhale. His neck felt stiff from the awkward angle against the headrest of the couch. A deep groan left him as he blinked lazily, the morning light spilling through the window made him grimace a bit.

Running a hand down his face, he groan, his brain feeling sluggish and struggling to catch up with the fact that he had fallen asleep thinking about you.

Seungcheol hated falling asleep on the couch. It always left him feeling unrested, and disorientated, like he’d lost track of something.

The now empty whiskey glass sat in front of him on the coffee table. He wanted to lay the blame on the alcohol, but deep down he knew that he had just gone through a moment of weakness.

The memory of you still clung to him, like an echo refusing to leave his mind. Even out of his life and far away from him, you were still stubborn. Still refusing to leave, branding a mark within him deeply. Irritation flared beneath his skin, making his blood boil. He didn’t have time for this, not today, not ever again.

He pushed himself up, his steps taking him straight to the bathroom to have a shower. Even as the scalding hot water hit his back, the weight in his body refused to leave.

It didn’t matter. He had a job, he had a bar to run. And if there was one thing that he’d learned in the past two years since that, it was that staying busy kept the ghosts at bay.

For now.

The bar was barely active with the first tasks of the day. The kitchen was getting ready, the noise from the staff moving around, the clatter of glassware carried all the way to the front of the bar.

The tables were vacant, everything was tidied and ready for the day ahead. Wonwoo, who was sitting on one of the booths was already active and sorting out what tasks needed to be done before the first costumers showed up.

The bar had a unique smell every morning before opening hours. The low humming noises from the staff gearing up for the day, everything around him felt like home to Seungcheol. Work, it was what grounded him. At least it usually did.

But today, the weight of the restless night clung to him, the ghost of you still following him wherever he turned to.

“Rough morning?”

Seungcheol glanced to the booth that was pushed all the way back. “Didn’t sleep well,” he replied to Wonwoo.

“Yeah, well,” Wonwoo sucked in a breath slowly. “That makes two of us,” he exhaled.

Seungcheol sat down on the booth too, crossing his arms on the table. He rolled his shoulders before sitting back on the seat, brush those thoughts away, he told himself.

“What do we have today?” Seungcheol nodded to the notes sitting beneath Wonwoo’s hands.

“Let’s see,” Wonwoo began, skimming through his notes. “We have suppliers coming in two hours. I have a newbie to show the ropes to. And we haven’t paid the Haze boys yet,” he mentioned aloofly.

“I already did last night,” Seungcheol replied quickly.

“Got it,” Wonwoo said as he checked the reminder off. He lifted his head, looking at Seungcheol, but then something else caught his attention. “Oh, the newbie is here.”

“Hi,” a tiny voice replied in the background.

He should have listened to the alarm bells in the back of his head, the ones screaming at him to pay attention to that voice. But Wonwoo was already moving, an eager smile on his face, Seungcheol, and he should’ve noticed that too.

Seungcheol may have forgotten the sound of your voice. But he would never, never forget your face.

And in that moment, he wished he was seeing a stranger.

Because the way your expression froze, the way the light in your eyes dimmed, told him everything he needed to know.

He was seeing a ghost.

It couldn’t be you. You were on the other side of the planet. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

The shock hit him so hard, it left an echoing pain in his chest, so deep he nearly dropped to his knees. His breath turned shallow. The floor beneath him suddenly felt unsteady, he almost began to think that the entire place around him had turned against him, showing him a mirage of you.

The following moments were a blur. He made up some dumb excuse—he didn’t even remember what he had said—and ran away from the bar, barely registering Wonwoo’s confused look as Seungcheol made his exit to the nearest bathroom.

There, leaning face-first against the door, his hands braced against the cool surface, he had to make a choice.

He could pretend to not know you at all. Accept you in his bar, his safe haven and keep his distance like a stranger.

Or he could refuse. Tell you to look for a job elsewhere.

The first choice meant keeping you close while never going near you.

The second meant losing you all over again.

It was another gamble.

But there was one thought he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried. Why on earth were you looking for a job? His mind reeled uncontrollably, he lost track of his surroundings, his body. Months before you broke up with him, you had taken on a part-time job—but that was different. That had been your choice, something temporary.

This? This felt like something else entirely.

Seungcheol had cut off all contact with you, so he had no idea about your family either. He never imagined that you had been cut off, this time completely.

Even after years of not seeing your face, he could still read you perfectly. One glimpse, and he noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the slight off-color on your cheeks and lips. You were tired. Worried.

When he finally mustered the strength to move, he went back to the bar. And there you were—sitting in the same spot he had occupied moments before.

Something happened. Something baffling.

He felt his heart and mind split between the person he used to be and the person he was now.

For a moment, it was as if time had folded in on itself, pulling him back to the first time he saw you sitting in the library all those years ago. He remembered the way he felt then—the quiet pull of intrigue and fascination, the way he used to watch you from a distance before he ever worked up the nerve to ask you out.

You were the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on.

And God, he had missed you.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to move, to go near you. His fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, to touch you, to prove that you were real and indeed not a ghost. It was almost funny—how the world stopped the moment he saw you, yet in his mind, everything was happening at light speed.

He felt angry at you for showing up in his life like nothing happened. He felt angry that with one look at you, his life came apart.

And then, realization settled deep in his chest.

If he let you walk away now, he would wonder about you every day. Again. And he refused to go through that a second time.

So he took another leap of faith.

Present time

“So?”

“So, what?” you asked slowly as you tied the apron behind your back.

Jeon Wonwoo was leaning on the countertop, elbows planted, phone in hand. “You spent weeks playing me for a fool,” he said with a sheepish smile—one that he didn’t quite hide all the way as he stood upright, rubbing the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

“Listen,” you begun with a light chuckle, eyes flickering around the room in case Seungcheol was nearby. “I was just curious, and-,”

“I get why you did it,” he said, lifting a palm and shaking it dismissively.

“Oh. Then why—”

“I think I am owed an apology,” Wonwoo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“I am sorry,” you said dumbly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. And that I… took advantage of that and snooped a bit.”

Wonwoo tilted his head back slightly, the grin growing on his face. “I don’t want a verbal apology.”

You gaped at him. “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going?”

He pursed his lips—the same look he always had when he was toying with a cheeky idea. “One day I’m going to ask a favor from you. And that is how you’ll repent.”

“That’s blackmail,” you pointed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No different from you playing dumb and ask me questions about your ex for weeks,” he rolled his eyes. “So?”

“Are you being serious, Wonwoo?”

“Dead serious.”

You sighed, looking around one more time. The bar was already in open hours, but it was still early to have a lot of customers, to the exception of the ones who regularly showed up within the hour of opening.

“Fine,” you gritted.

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, returning to his task behind the bar. “I do forgive you,” he said. “But I will ask a favor from you. Soon.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, throwing your arms in the air. “I’m at your disposal, I guess.”

“It’s just something I need help with, no big deal,” he shrugged.

“Is it about… work?” You grabbed a dishcloth, pretending to clean the nearest cup.

Wonwoo tilted his head, considering his words. “Yes and no.” He chuckled lightly, but his gaze lingered a beat too long.

“I hate the suspense,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat.

“And I hate being lied to,” he shot back, though his smile was small, almost amused. “I’m keeping the suspense until I claim that favor.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, knowing full well you were pressing his buttons.

“So you’re not even going to deny it?” Wonwoo’s smirk stretched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would it make a difference?” You sighed, already regretting every choice that had led to this moment.

“Not really,” he admitted, tilting his head. “But I figured I’d give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Is it going to be like this now?”

“Blackmail is suddenly very acceptable now that I found you out,” he said sweetly, but the glint in his eyes told you he was enjoying this way too much.

“Wonwoo.” You shot him a warning look.

“Fine, fine.” He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “But you have to admit, this is a fascinating situation. The two of you, playing strangers while making eyes at each other when you think no one’s looking—”

“We are not making eyes at each other,” you snapped, a little too fast.

“Oh?” His grin widened. “Must I remind you how I found you two out?”

Your stomach twisted. You sent a quick glance around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Look, you wouldn’t understand—”

“Exactly why wouldn’t I understand?” His smirk faded, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the checkered floor. The real reason felt too raw to say aloud. You had spent weeks toeing around Seungcheol’s life without stepping directly into it, and Wonwoo—whether he realized it or not—had been your connection to the pieces of him you hadn’t been brave enough to face. You needed to know how broken he had been before you could allow yourself to be closer again.

“Because I hurt him too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I was scared to come back into his life. I was ashamed.”

Wonwoo studied you for a long moment before exhaling, his teasing demeanor softening. “Why did you come back?” he asked, like he was peeling away the last layer of the truth.

Your throat tightened. The answer had always been simple, but saying it out loud made it feel so much heavier. You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I never wanted to leave.”

His expression shifted completely, the guarded amusement replaced by something much quieter. “I get it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand landed on your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Hey. Don’t worry,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “This doesn’t make me think badly of you.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Thank you,” you muttered, offering a small smile.

Wonwoo winked before stepping away, getting back to his task before opening hours. But something in the way he left made you uneasy. He wasn’t entirely done with this conversation.

And worse—something told you that whatever Wonwoo was holding back also had to do with Seungcheol.

It was a slow day that day, only a handful of customers walked through the door, and the hours dragged on. But with the end of your shift approaching, you found yourself more relaxed than eager to leave.

For once, the guys had behaved. No teasing, no snooping, almost like some rule had been put in place to avoid the subject. You suspected that Seungcheol had something to do with that.

Not that he had much time to show for it. He’d been busy—placing orders, making phone calls, handling payments, coordinating deliveries for the kitchen, and making sure the bar was stocked with everything it needed. And, most importantly, he had taken on the task of training the new hire, Chan.

Chan was in his first week. He was younger than you, bubbly, and had a good attitude. But he’d made one mistake on his very first day. Wonwoo, as a way to get his payback, had decided that Chan would shadow you in some of the complicated tasks, like how to operate the system, or the terminals.

Having him as a shadow was fine. Except for one thing.

“You’ll be shadowing her,” Wonwoo motioned to your direction.

“Hi, there,” you said, offering a quick wave. Then you turned around, resuming to tending your tables.

Chan barely hesitated before muttering under his breath, “Jesus. She’s fucking hot.”

Wonwoo tensed up, coughing lightly. “Shut up,” he muttered, throwing a look over his shoulder.

You thought of turning around and just shut the guy down. But unaware of the silent warning, Chan remained completely oblivious. Especially to the fact that his new boss, Seungcheol, was standing right behind him.

Seungcheol’s jaw was tightly clasped, deciding to say nothing and looking away instead. Chan unfortunately, remained oblivious and exceptionally bad at hiding his attraction to you.

And this shift was no different. Chan remained completely unbeknownst to the fact that he had walked straight into dangerous territory, and even more surprising still, he didn’t realize that Seungcheol had him in his sight.

The moment Chan started following you around the bar, Seungcheol just happened to stick around more. At first it wasn’t as evident, since he was normally in the bar doing inventory, paperwork, making calls, he practically lived here. But today, he was suddenly very hands-on.

“Here, let me show you,” Seungcheol said, stepping in just as Chan was having a hard time learning how to use the shaker. Seungcheol took the shaker from his hands with a practiced ease, his presence instantly noticeable. “Watch carefully. You want to get the grip right, or you’ll make a mess.”

Chan nodded eagerly, completely missing the way Seungcheol’s gaze flickered toward you for a fraction of a second. You did not miss it.

Your stomach tightened, breath hitching slightly. You were sure you saw Wonwoo’s lips curve slightly, what solidified your shame was the gentle nudging of his elbow as you passed beside him.

This battle continued throughout the shift. Whenever you were nearby, Seungcheol was there too—adjusting bottles, correcting a pour, explaining to Chan how things were done. At one point, you reached for a glass at the same time as Seungcheol, your fingers barely brushing his. A brief, fleeting contact, but enough for you to catch the smug look on his face. He didn’t smile, but there was something flashing across his features. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He just raised a brow in silent amusement, using his tongue to brush the smile that was beginning to form on his lips.

And Chan? Completely unaware. It was almost as though he felt proud that it was the boss who was showing him the ropes.

However the most perplexing thing was that Seungcheol made no obvious move to show Chan that you were his girlfriend. Years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to use a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Or he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you love or angel in front of everyone.

Seungcheol loved claiming what was his. So the fact that he was not doing so openly made you feel obfuscated.

“He’s making a point,” Wonwoo said as he walked past you at the bar, muttering just loud enough for you to hear.

You raised your gaze to meet his. “A point?” you asked dumbly.

Wonwoo grinned, motioning with the tip of his nose at situation happening across the bar—Seungcheol was talking with Chan. The conversation happening so far away that it was very difficult for you to hear.

“Oh, this is nothing,” you said, sighing heavily.

Seungcheol spent the rest of the shift hovering. And it became almost funny to you. It wasn’t that obvious, but every time Chan made a move to get close to you, somehow Seungcheol found a way to intervene.

Whenever you bent over to pull out something from the fridges, Seungcheol intercepted Chan’s line of sight smoothly. Or whenever you stood on your tiptoes to grab a bottle from the shelf, Seungcheol would call for Chan, asking a dumb favor like passing him a lime, or changing the song playing on the speakers.

You were turning toward the liquor shelf, reaching for a bottle on the top rack when—

“Careful.”

Seungcheol’s voice came from just behind you, making you freeze instantly in place. His arm was already extending past you, fingers curling around the bottle with ease. His chest pressed against your back and as he retrieved it, you swallowed hard, heart racing at the way his warmth wrapped around you.

“I had it,” you muttered, turning around on your feet.

Seungcheol had a smirk planted on his face. “Sure you did,” he said smoothly, his eyebrow quirking up slightly. “Just wanted to help.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your bottom lip to keep you from smiling at him. “Uh-huh.”

Seungcheol leaned towards you, and you instantly sucked in a breath. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Is that what you’re doing with Chan?” you countered, unable to step away, his whole frame was caging you in.

Seungcheol tilted his head, arching his eyebrow. “I’m doing my job.”

You had nothing to reply to that. Despite Seungcheol engaging in a petty rivalry against Chan, he was doing his job.

Seungcheol noticed, a sly grin appearing on his face as he sent a glance across the bar. Chan was looking your way, dropping his gaze as soon as you locked eyes with him. “This guy,” Seungcheol hissed.

Your face started to heat up. “Seungcheol,” you muttered as he motioned towards Chan.

He turned back, an innocent look on his face. “What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, blinking innocently at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.”

He grinned, slow and knowing. “I’m just implementing a strict focus during training,” he shrugged with ease. “Can’t have the new hire looking at my girlfriend on his first few days when he should be learning the ropes, right?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Seungcheol.”

“Relax,” he chuckled, pushing off the counter. Then, with an absolutely infuriating wink, he added, “Just having some fun, baby,” he said quietly. And just like that, he strolled off, leaving you to wrestle with the fact that he was definitely enjoying this.

And worse? So were you.

The usual end-of-shift routine was unfolding. Seungcheol had actually finished his tasks more than an hour ago, and he could’ve gone home already—if he wasn’t your boyfriend. And your ride home.

Somehow, nobody had thought to tell Chan that you were with the boss. And it was too embarrassing for you to just come out and say it. Besides, a small part of you enjoyed the primal reaction Seungcheol had every time Chan so much as looked your way.

So, instead of leaving, Seungcheol kept himself entertained at the pool table, practicing his shots while sipping a beer. Every now and then, he sent glances around the bar. Casual glances, but noticeable—making sure Chan was keeping his comments about you to himself and his eyes on the task at hand.

You were rinsing out a glass when Wonwoo returned from taking out the trash. “Alright, boss,” Wonwoo called. “We’re clocking out!”

Seungcheol was bent over the pool table, eyes locked on the white cue ball just ahead of his stick. He nodded once before executing a smooth shot. “Alright. See you tomorrow, guys. Thanks.”

The door swung shut behind them, leaving just the two of you in the bar. You set down the last piece of glassware to dry on the rack. Washing your hands, you sneaked a glance at Seungcheol, who was biting his bottom lip as he lined up another shot.

“What?” he asked, sensing your scrutiny.

“Nothing,” you huffed, smirking as he looked far too smug about it.

Seungcheol laughed under breath. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re busy when you don’t want to answer me.”

You exhaled, rolling your eyes before walking around the bar and grabbing a cue stick from the rack on the wall.

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, gathering the pool balls inside the triangle again.

“No,” you replied simply. “But why didn’t you tell Chan about us?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “The topic never came up.”

“You could’ve told him instead of stalking him like he was about to steal your food,” you teased, cackling at your own description.

“It was better this way,” he said easily. “Doesn’t mess with the workflow, and he keeps his cheerful attitude.” He paused, his gaze narrowing just a little. “He didn’t make you uncomfortable, did he?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Please. He barely even spoke two words to me. He’s harmless. While you on the other hand?” you huffed, leaning over the table to line up the first shot. “You glared at him all night.”

Seungcheol smirked, leaning against his cue stick. “I don’t glare.”

You made your shot, sinking a striped ball into the corner pocket. “Oh, you definitely do.”

He hummed, pursing his lips. Then he step closer as you moved to take your next shot. “I was just making sure my bartender didn’t get distracted.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By what?”

“By some new guy staring at her.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “That is a non-issue,” you pointed, refocusing on your shot. “I could’ve told him I’m with someone, call it a day.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, he ran his fingers down the line of your back just as you were bending down, and placed his palm firmly on the small of your back.

You hit the cue ball a little too hard, sending it bouncing off the rails without hitting anything else.

Seungcheol chuckled. “Someone?” he inquired, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Not me?”

You deadpanned at him. “You know what I mean,” you huffed.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “And what do you mean?” he pursed his lips. “Would you have told Chan that you’re with someone instead of just telling him you’re with me?”

Your brows furrowed, straightening up. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one,” he smirked, taking his shot, sinking two balls in quick succession. “You know what, maybe telling him your boyfriend is also his boss would destroy that confidence he has.”

You laughed at him with reluctance. “You’re being kind of a prick.”

Seungcheol didn’t deny it, laughing with you. “Maybe.” He circled the table, standing just behind you now. His voice dipped lower, teasing. “But I think you like it.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back slightly to look at him. “Like what?”

He leaned in just a fraction, enough for his breath to brush your ear. “That you drive me crazy.”

Your throat went dry, breath hitching almost audibly.

Seungcheol pulled back, his smirk lazy and triumphant. “Your turn.”

You exhaled, gripping your cue stick a little tighter. “Take it back. You’re being a huge prick.”

Seungcheol smirked, stepping back just enough to let you focus, but you could still feel his presence lingering close. Dangerously close. “You haven’t denied it.”

Rolling your eyes, you lined up your shot, determined not to let him win. You hit the cue ball, this time sinking a solid with a satisfying thump. You straightened and turned to him smugly. “The answer is no. I don’t like that my boyfriend gets all jealous and possessive as soon as he sees other men glance my way.”

Seungcheol hummed, nodding slowly. “Maybe I should try a little harder, then.”

You shot him a look. “You should try harder… at the actual game.”

He laughed under his breath. “Alright. Let’s make it interesting, then.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

“A bet.” He leaned on his cue stick, watching you closely. “If I win, you owe me something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds like trouble.”

Seungcheol grinned, his heart palpitating with eagerness. “Absolutely.”

You considered for a moment. Winning against Seungcheol was always satisfying, but the path to losing against him… well, that was dangerous territory. “Fine,” you conceded. “But if I win, you owe me something.”

Seungcheol’s eyes glinted with interest. “Deal. What do you want?”

You pretended to think. “An entire week without you messing with me at work.”

He gaped at you for a second. “A whole week?” he huffed, running a hand through his blond hair. “That’s nearly impossible.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. And if I win…” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You have to go on a real date with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “A… real date?” you asked dumbly.

He shrugged. “You know. Something other than stolen moments between shifts or late-night car rides home.”

“That’s...” you arched one eyebrow.

Seungcheol smirked. “What? Afraid you’ll lose to me?” he challenged.

You huffed. “No. Afraid you’ll cheat.”

“I would never,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Babe, we live together,” you emphasized.

“And? We haven’t gone out on a date in…” he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Two years and a half,” he said.

Your heart clenched, realizing he was right. “Fine. Let’s play.”

Seungcheol stepped aside, motioning toward the table. “Ladies first.”

You lined up your shot, focusing harder than before. If you were going to beat Seungcheol, you needed to be unstoppable.

But just as you were about to strike, Seungcheol muttered, “You know, I really should’ve told Chan.”

You hesitated, glancing up. “And what exactly would you have told him?”

“That you’re already spoken for.”

Your grip on the cue stick tightened. “Spoken for? That’s one way to put it.”

He nodded, looking way too pleased with himself. “Now I’m beginning to think it would’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your shot. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. With me. Playing pool. After hours.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at his words and finally took the shot. The ball sank into the pocket, and you straightened, feigning confidence. “And?”

Seungcheol chuckled, moving to take his turn. “Oh, baby.” He leaned over the table, eyes locking onto yours just before he took his shot. “You’re terrible at hiding your emotions from your face.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, again.

“You have a tell,” he said smugly. “You always have.”

You hated that he was right.

And you really hated that you were probably about to lose this game. And not because of a lack of skill, but because Seungcheol was too distracting for you.

The way his sleek black T-shirt clung to his body, the posture he adopted as he leaned on his cue, the way his dark jeans hugged his ass. Not only that, but his fucking attitude was driving you crazy.

“So what?” You placed a hand on the table before leaning over. “It’s not like we’re playing poker.”

“If you’re keeping us a secret, you might want to work on that poker face,” he mused, tone smug. It was then when you should’ve realized his game.

You scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything, Seungcheol,” you said, not fully thinking through how that might sound. Your tone resounded across the table, high and swollen in condescension.

Seungcheol’s smirk deepened, just as you took your shot, only to miss horribly. “Not just bad at hiding your emotions, but bad at pool too.”

He didn’t even give you time to recover. Seungcheol stepped up, leaning over the table to take the final shot, sinking the last ball into the bag. Game over.

Seungcheol straightened, casually planting the cue stick in front of him, both hands gripping the top as he leaned on it slightly. You tossed the cue stick on the table while he just cocked his head to one side, then he smirked.

“Prick,” you gritted, trying not to smile as his smirk widened on his perfect face. You crossed your arms over your chest, going around the table to meet up with him. “You know I wouldn’t hide our relationship.”

Seungcheol turned around, putting the cue stick away back on the rack. “What made you hesitate, then?”

You gaped at him, having nothing to say. You thought about what you told Wonwoo. About feeling ashamed, where did that shame extend to? Did it go so far as to make you feel unworthy of Seungcheol’s forgiveness?

“Mmn?” he hummed, taking one slow step towards you, effectively eliminating the space between you.

“Cheol,” you breathed, bringing a hand on his chest to stop him from pinning your body back against the table behind you.

“What’s happening, baby?” he cooed softly.

You blinked. He wasn’t smirking anymore—just watching you carefully, waiting. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I didn’t think telling Chan about us would matter. So I didn’t do it.”

Seungcheol’s lips twitched into something small and satisfied as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, helping you sit on the rim of the pool table. You were now face to face with him, his eyes scanning the features of your face.

“I think you enjoy it,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy.

“Enjoy what?” you asked meekly, feeling small as his body practically still towered over yours.

Seungcheol dipped his head to meet your lips, except that he didn’t kiss you right away. “Seeing me get jealous,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in the process.

“Yeah. A little,” you replied in the same manner, a light smirk spreading across your lips.

“You know, that’s a dangerous thing to admit.”

Your smirk deepened. “Why? Gonna punish me for it?”

He smiled, finally pressing his lips against your own. The kiss was quiet, quick, but you could feel the immediate need for more. You hummed into the kiss, slipping a hand on his nape to pull him closer—to feel the warmth radiating from him, the mixture of his jealousy and the playfulness of it all.

The world outside was quiet. And something about this moment felt different, but also so familiar. It was as though you both were young again—sharing rushed kisses in the quiet of the library, or making out in secret places.

But the difference was that you didn’t have the need to hide anymore, at least not entirely. Despite you and him being back together fully, there was no fear of you getting caught or not.

Seungcheol pulled back, but just slightly. His breath fanned gently over your lips as he smiled. “You didn’t tell Chan we’re together because you knew it would make me jealous?” he asked, the tone sounded genuine, but tiny.

You made a motion to shake your head. “I don’t know,” you replied, your tone low, almost like a breath. “I just didn’t.”

“Mmn,” he nodded, pressing his lips to yours. Then with a triumphant air, he whispered. “I win.”

You had forgotten that you were playing pool—that you were playing a game at all. You succumbed to the delicious taste of his kisses, pressing his lips to yours lightly at first. Then his full lips slowly locked with yours, creating a wet smacking sound as he pulled back.

“You might’ve won, but I—” you touched the tip of his nose with your fingertip. “—never lose,” you cooed, smiling sweetly at him.

Seungcheol pulled back, biting his lip as he looked at you like he wanted to say some quippy retort. But instead, he switched his hands from your waist to your thighs, pushing them apart and grabbing them so he could scoot you closer to the edge of the pool table.

“You know what?” he sighed with a smile, an eyebrow quirking up. “Maybe you do need a little punishment.”

You smiled, humming in delight. Seungcheol slipped his fingers beneath your chin, holding you gently before giving you a featherlight kiss. “But I really want to fuck you right now.”

Your skin came alight with excitement, making you shudder slightly. A sigh slipped past your lips involuntarily. “What’s stopping you?” you whispered, almost afraid you would break the quiet ambience of the bar—the low humming of the fridges, the buzzing of the neon lights that you’d said you would turn off, but forgot.

His hand left your chin, moving to thread your hair through his fingers. “You tell me, angel,” he replied in kind, an amused grin on his face, he enjoyed toying with you.

He softly pulled on your hair, leaning your head back as his lips trailed down your jawline. Your mouth parted, silently moaning as his lips touched the spot below your earlobe. “Cheol,” you muttered.

“Mmn?” he hummed at the sound of his name leaving your lips. “Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his low and raspy tone pouring into your ears.

You wanted to answer, but words just ceased to exist. All you wanted—all you needed—was his hands on you. And Seungcheol knew it all too well.

His hands travelled from your parted thighs to your butt, squeezing lightly as he sighed through his nose. As he did this, his lips kept trailing down your neck with light kisses, each one more delicious than the last. You felt his smile as he reached the dip of your clavicle, knowing that it would elicit a louder moan from you.

“Here?” you squeaked. You grabbed onto his shirt, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he started to push you back onto the table.

“Yes, here,” he answered, the upper half of his body hovering over you as you lay back on the table. Seungcheol smiled, “Unless you want to wait until we get home.”

“Uuuh,” you closed your eyes. Seungcheol slipped a hand beneath your white tank-top, his touch warm and confident as he hiked the fabric up your tummy. His fingers grazed the line of your bra, making you swallow hard.

“Maybe I should make you wait,” he whispered, close to your lips so you felt his breath on you. “That’s the punishment you deserve.”

“No, please,” you whined, linking your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him closer, he crashed his lips with your own, kissing you harder, fervently. Seungcheol chuckled into the kiss, sending a shiver that nearly vibrated in your bones.

“I need to hear it, baby,” he murmured, creating smacking noises with each ardent kiss he propped on your lips.

His hand moved from the center of your belly to the underside of your torso, and slid under your back to command it to arch for him. You deepened the kiss, outlining his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue before pulling back. “Take me here,” you whispered sultrily, a rush of adrenaline going through you.

Seungcheol paused for a brief moment, making you think that he would follow his plan of punishing you, to make you wait. But he pulled back, a sweet grin painting his beautiful face as he looked at you. Then it hit you—all of the moments shared in the past with him, moments like this, moments that felt like breaking the rules, crossing the line.

But you felt safe, all the times he touched you, or kissed you, you felt like it just made sense.

“Are you ready?” he asked playfully, the corner of his lip curving up slightly when all you could muster was a nod. After getting your silent permission, his hand inched upwards on your back, unclasping your bra with efficiency.

The next moments happened hurriedly. Seungcheol started discarding the pieces of your clothing one by one, kissing your lips like a hungry man, barely stopping for air. You mumbled out some incoherencies about wanting him right then and there, but you were too caught up to actually make sense of your own words.

Seungcheol giggled into your lips, the sound only making your blood dance beneath your skin. He was getting rid of your bra, after he had gotten your tank-top out of the way. The bite of the cool surface beneath you made your skin prickle.

But he just sighed at the sight of you, dipping his head to kiss your collarbones again. His wet lips made a trail of light kisses, from the nook of your collarbones down your chest. He kissed your breasts gently, getting soft moans out of you as each kiss felt even sweeter.

You grabbed his blond hair with one hand, keeping your other hand flatly on his lean back. “Cheol,” you sighed.

Your eyes fell out of focus. The sight directly in front of you was stark compared to the stars and colors you saw every time you closed your eyes. Hanging from the ceiling was a lamp, forming a warm yellow pool around you. It hurt to stare at, but Seungcheol was a far better sight.

He pulled back, standing up right. A sigh escaped him as he started taking your sneakers off without looking away from you. You were half naked, torso bare, your hair forming a halo around your head.

Your sneakers fell on the floor, one after the other and you got ready to push your hips up for him just as his hands approached the waistband of your jeans. “Hurry up,” you mumbled, a playful giggle bubbling in your mouth.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue, slapping a hand down your hip before continuing to undo the button and zipper of your jeans. “Patience, baby.”

Then painfully slow, he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your jeans, grabbing your panties too and then started pulling them both down. You planted your feet on the edge of the table just to push your hips up for him to slide down your jeans and panties altogether, letting them drop to the white and black checkered floor.

You sat up on the table, going to grab for the black t-shirt he wore to tear it off him. But Seungcheol caught both of your hands linking his fingers with yours to keep you from undressing him.

You whined pathetically, to which Seungcheol only replied with a joyful giggle. He closed the gap between his lips and yours, kissing you swiftly.

“Behave.” He said, the word coming out of him raspy. “Behave or this ends now.”

A whiny exhale escaped your lips—a complaint that you couldn’t form properly in time. You knew that Seungcheol was a man that loved doting on you, but you also knew that he could keep his word, specially if it meant to punish you.

He loved it—seeing you all whiny, pouty, and pathetic for him. He loved knowing everything that made you subdue to him, every caress, every kiss, and where to place them.

Without any other word, Seungcheol sank down to his knees, his hands leaving yours to grope around the inside of your thighs, pushing them gently. You leaned back on your hands, parting your legs for him.

Your heart palpitated frantically at the sight of him, his hands keeping your thighs spread for him to bury his face between them. He started slowly, making his way with gentle kisses that he littered all over your inner thighs.

“Easy,” he reminded you, a twinge of playfulness in his eyes as he blinked up to your face. His eyebrow twitched up slightly before he dipped his head to run his tongue on your skin.

The feeling of his tongue so close to your pussy sent you in a frenzy, quickly making you forget where you were. You moaned loudly—lewdly, gearing up for the sweet pleasure that would ensue.

You heard a soft gasp—a smile that painted his lips, right before he licked a fat stripe between your folds. The moment you felt his tongue slide on your wet pussy, you instantly dissolved into pleasure. He started teasing you, licking you up and down, drinking you in, lapping at your wetness eagerly.

Slipping a hand on the back of his head, you tangled your fingers around the soft strands of his blond hair. His tongue reached the top of your mound, stopping before trapping your clit between his soft lips. You moaned louder, indicating to him to continue, but soon the bar filled with the sound of your moans.

Seungcheol sucked lightly at your clit, pressing his tongue on the swollen bud before he started moving it from side to side, very softly, gently, as though he were fearful he might overstim you quickly. But it only made your pleasure higher, making the rest of your body go numb, leaving your mind blank.

You nearly froze in place—sitting down at the edge of the pool table, one hand steading you, the other holding his hair. You tried to hold the angle of your hips for him, for his mouth pleasuring your pussy. His tongue kept the side to side motion on your clit, only picking up the pace but slowly, taking his time with you.

Your moans were soft, airy, and he responded in low hums as though telling you how much he loved your taste, the way you sounded. You imagined then how the scene would look from afar—Seungcheol on his knees, pleasuring you as you sat wholly naked on the pool table of his bar.

“Fuck,” you gritted, closing your eyes as you tilted your head back in utter, sweet pleasure. “Cheol, don’t stop. Please, daddy,” you mewled, not caring how pathetic you sounded—because you were close.

And he knew, he knew that you were toying on the line of your release. But he didn’t switch the pace of his tongue, he didn’t stop sucking lightly at your clit. He only kept going, and going, and going.

It was the steadiness of his tongue on you that finally pushed you to the edge. Your orgasm was sweet, like gentle waves washing over you. And your moans were just as sweet, crying out his name as you came apart on the table, taking deep breaths as your climax reached higher, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You relished the waves of pleasure consuming you, the way they gently subsided, leaving your body languid. You thread back his blond hair with your fingers, just as he gave your pussy a couple of kisses, giggling playfully as you twitched at the feeling.

The next moments happened in silence, fluidly. Seungcheol slipped a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back to plant a kiss on your lips. You parted your mouth for him, just as he deepened the kiss, moving on your lips expertly. He hummed as your fingers searched at his belt blindly, unfastening with one swift move.

Just as you were undoing his pants, Seungcheol broke the kiss, crossing his arms down his belly to grab at the hem of his t-shirt, taking it off in one motion. He kissed you again, as if he would die if one more second passed without his lips on yours.

His breath hitched audibly when your hand reached beneath his boxers, your fingers circling around his girthy cock. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt how hard he was for you, humming into his lips as your hand rolled over the tip of his cock, feeling the wetness of the precum gathering in his slit.

“Hurry,” he echoed, making you giggle lightly.

You pushed his boxers down, getting his cock out. Seungcheol leaned forward, his forehead bumping with yours lightly as you started rolling your hand on his hard cock. He swallowed hard, grunting a little as you scooted closer to him, guiding him to your pussy.

“Baby,” he whispered, a twinge of desperation echoing in his voice.

You whimpered slightly at the feeling of his cockhead nudging in your entrance as you pushed him with your fingers, every inch stretching your walls deliciously. “Seungcheol,” you mewled.

He placed his hands on your ass, holding you in place as he sank inside your walls, exhaling deeply. “I love you,” he mumbled. It sounded as though he’d been dying to tell you those words, as though he’d been dying to feel your warmth.

“I love you,” you replied, your tone merely above a whisper. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him inside you, stuffing you full.

His hand found your cheek, the pad of his thumb slipping beneath your jawline to steal a kiss from your lips. Seungcheol started moving his hips with shallow thrusts, as though he wanted to pair his thrusts with the slow movement of his lips on yours.

But then it soon changed—with a raspy groan, the pacing of his hips took a greedy speed. His hand left your cheek, quickly returning to your ass, where he held you as his hips started snapping against you faster.

You gasped, a hand found his shoulder while the other was flatly planted behind you on the table. You parted your legs more for him, leaning back slightly so he could take all of you—take whatever he wanted. You loved seeing him like this—the carnal desire overpowering him, making him nearly feral.

His jaw was tightly clasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back slightly. “Fuck,” he gritted.

You knew something had shifted in the air. What was once flooded with just your moans alone was now accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin, low quiet groans from Seungcheol, and the squelching sounds of your dripping pussy.

The calculated rutting of his hips quickly took over you, and for a moment, you wanted to get lost in him. Seungcheol was utterly glorious, covered in a sheen layer of sweat from his forehead to his collarbones, a lazy smile spreading on his lips as he noticed the glazed look in your eyes.

You slowly lay back on the table, until your back was pressed on the cold surface. Seungcheol quickly grabbed your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders without slowing down the careless rutting of his hips.

The feeling became addictive, Seungcheol knew exactly what to do to bring you closer to the edge. He placed his hands on the table, at the height of your waist, pressing your thighs to your chest as he bent over. The rutting of his hips became deeper, making you feel the length of his cock, the tip hitting one spot that made you crazy. Quickly your moans became airy, until they were mere gasps.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I need you to come, baby,” he urged with a low tone.

“I’m there,” you sighed. “Fuck, daddy. Please come with me,” you said with an embarrassingly honeyed tone.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, a low grunt coming from him that told you just how close he was too. “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” he asked with fitful breaths.

You let out a whiny sound through your lips. “Yes, yes, please,” you gasped, succumbing to another sweet wave of pleasure. And then, before you could even think your words through— “Put a baby in me, Cheol.”

He gasped, his gaze snapping to your face. “You want that?” he asked breathlessly, his hips buckling against you. “Want me to make you a mommy?”

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so sweet that you could barely talk. You nodded, blinking the tears away from your eyes to see his face.

His mouth parted, a silent moan escaping before the thrusts of his hips went languid. “God, angel,” he groaned helplessly. “I'm cumming,” he whispered, right before the features of his face relaxed, his eyelids fluttered shut, a vein on his forehead popping out as he came with you.

Seungcheol groaned loudly, and you could tell by the depth of his thrust that he was cumming a lot inside you, filling you up. The thought drove you crazy, it nearly made you ask him to go again—to stop only when you were indeed pregnant. A shudder invaded you, making you whimper slightly.

He gave you a couple of sloppy thrusts, easing your legs gently from his shoulders to let you rest. You were both breathing hard, your ears buzzing as you tried to steady yourself. But the realization of what you said started sinking in. Seungcheol sighed, an eyebrow twitching up as he gave you an inquisitive look.

“What?” you whispered innocently, biting your bottom lip to avoid smiling.

“You’re cruel,” he pouted, standing up right so he could pull out of you, placing a hand on your belly as he pulled his hips from yours.

You shuddered at the loss. “Why?” you blinked up at him.

“Because—,” he giggled meekly, avoiding your eyes. “—you know what saying that does to me.”

You responded with a giggle of your own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, sitting up on the table as he handed you your panties.

But then—a loud, metallic snap. The shutting of the back door resounded from the back to where you and Seungcheol were. You winced in alarm, a hand quickly going to grab your tank-top.

Seungcheol quickly backed away, his hands steading you before you could make another move. “Stay there,” he cautioned, tucking himself back in his pants. His demeanor was so final that you had no choice but to ground yourself there.

He hurried to the hall that led to the back door, not bothering to put his t-shirt on. You sat on the edge of the table, with nothing to hear but the loud drumming of your heart. But he came back just as quickly, hand ruffling his hair, and a confused look on his face.

“It was Chan. Apparently he forgot his keys,” Seungcheol explained, walking up to where you sat still.

“Oh,” you uttered, frowning in confusion. “Did he…”

“Hear us? See us?” Seungcheol sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Probably,” he cocked his head to one side then the other. “Most definitely.”

Your gaze fell out of focus. “How long had he been here?” You asked dumbly, but then, realization hit. You narrowed your eyes at him. “You knew he was here.”

Seungcheol’s gaze met yours. “I didn’t know for sure,” he shrugged, hands still parked on his hips. “I heard noises. Only a few of us have the key to get in and I know Wonwoo closed the door on his way out.”

Your mouth fell open. “So he never left?”

He nodded, blinking slowly. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he said, placing himself between your legs again, hands finding the border of the table.

You gave him an incredulous look. “You wanted him to watch,” you said, wanting to muster up the slightest bit of annoyance at him. But his grin made it difficult for you to make any more accusatory remarks at him.

“I didn’t expect him to stay for so long,” he said, starting to chuckle at your expression in utter disbelief. “I thought he would just walk out but eventually I forgot,” he said, his eyes turning into half moons as he continued laughing.

You pushed one of his shoulders. “You forgot?!” you exclaimed, aghast.

“Baby, I don’t think you know,” he said, his tone rising as though he had discovered something.

You rolled your eyes. “Know what, exactly?”

He inched closer to you, taking advantage of your perplexion to grab your face with his hands. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered, his tone gruff and low. “You don’t know how good you sound, how good you feel,” he sighed, his eyes coasting over the features of your face. “All I could focus on was you.”

“So you’re telling me that you just forgot that Chan was just down the hall?” you asked in utter confusion.

“Eh—,” he laughed airily, “kinda?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Choi Seungcheol,” you accused.

Seungcheol smiled at you giddily, bringing a hand to the back of your head to prop a light kiss on your lips. He let out a light sigh, giving you another small kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of those words, a swarm of butterflies dancing crazily inside your stomach. “Okay,” you whispered.

Instead of moving, Seungcheol stayed there, with his forehead pressed against yours. “You owe me a date,” he muttered.

“I do,” you replied in kind, pressing your lips slowly against his.

“How about tomorrow morning?” he asked, laughing lightly at his own urgency.

“You got it, boss,” you said, pulling back to see that smile painting his face.

And for a moment, it was as though you had never left. Or at least that was how that fleeting moment felt.

The next day, morning light filtered through the curtains, painting soft, pale lines across the floor. The faint scent of Seungcheol’s deodorant lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of your shared bedroom. He had just finished showering after a workout at the gym downstairs, just as he always did every morning.

You were getting ready for your date—a quiet breakfast at a place of his choosing. He’d assured you that you’d like it. There was still some time before you had to leave, so you busied yourself with organizing your stuff—the small collection of your belongings you had brought into his apartment.

Right now, you were meant to be figuring out where to put your socks. You’d forgotten about them, still tucked away in your suitcase. After a moment of procrastination, you picked one of the drawers and started placing them inside, separated from Seungcheol’s.

“Baby,” he called from down the hallway. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Mm, yeah. Okay,” you agreed shortly.

It was impossible to ignore the looming feeling that it was odd to be living with Seungcheol. After so many times of wishing to go back to him, you were finally cementing something together.

You opened the first drawer, making space to transfer the clothes from your assigned drawer, carefully arranging his in the process.

That was until your knuckles brushed against—a velvet, square box buried beneath a apile of socks and underwear. At first, you thought to move it aside, to tuck it into a more secure corner of the drawer. But as your fingers curled around the soft fabric, you didn’t really think about what you were holding. Instinctively, you lifted the box, intending to open it.

Then, realization hit.

A sharp breath lodged into your throat, and your hand snapped away from the lid, flying instead to your mouth to stifle an abrupt, overwhelming rush of emotion. A cold shudder ran through your body, weakening your knees, forcing you to stumble back and drop on the edge of the bed.

“Baby?” Seungcheol’s voice drifted down the hall. “What’s wro–,”

But he stopped. Standing in the doorway, his eyes locked onto the small box in your hand. His expression didn’t shift, but the air in the bedroom grew thick and impossibly heavy.

Without a word, he took three steps forward, sinking to his knees in front of you.

“What’s this?” you asked, swallowing your fear, forcing yourself to meet his face.

Seungcheol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flickered between your face and the box, reading every emotion weighing down across your features. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper.

“Did you open it?”

You shook your head. But the weight of the moment pressed down on you, crushing, suffocating. His reaction alone told you everything you needed to know. You knew this box. It resembled the ones he had given you before on anniversary dates or on your birthday. This one was slightly different. The ones before were small, elegant, wrapped in significance. This one was more deliberate. More final.

“Baby, look at me,” he murmured. A warm hand cupped your face, and you choked on a sob at both the tenderness of his touch and the slow, painful realization of what lay inside that box.

For the first time, Seungcheol seemed at a loss for words. You could see the war harboring inside him, the regret, the hesitation, the fear. But his first instinct wasn’t to come up with explanations. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, his hands cupping your face again to ground you, steadying you.

You sucked in a shaky breath. “Seungcheol, what’s inside it?”

Seungcheol’s expression softened, his head tilting to one side when he saw your eyes begin to brim with big tears. “I need you to know something first,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “When I bought this… I never imagined we wouldn’t be together.”

His fingers curled around the box, as though he could somehow protect you both from the truth inside it. As though he wanted to protect you from the pain he went through.

“What is inside it?” you pressed again, unable to bring your voice any higher.

He exhaled sharply, resigned. He locked his gaze to yours, and you slowly got to see how in your eyes he found strength, his breath steadying. His lips parted, but he didn’t need to speak. The answer was already hanging in the air between you.

“Is it a ring?” Your body trembled as a sob tore through you, pain uncoiling in your chest, sharp and almost unbearable. “Please, Seungcheol, if it’s a ring—,”

“Yes,” he replied with a gentle tone, but you could feel the weight of the grief that he tried to keep away. “It’s a ring,” he admitted, watching you, reading every flinch, every breath. He took in all the pain that you showed. “It was meant to be yours.”

Your throat tightened painfully. “When?” the question left your lips before you could stop it, as though knowing the exact moment would somehow soften the burden.

Seungcheol let out a tiny, soft breath through his nose, as though composing himself too before facing the shock that his next words would bring you: “For your twenty fourth birthday.”

Your face twisted as you brought a hand to cover your mouth again, a painful sob tearing through you, ripping through the quiet grief looming in the room. Just days before your twenty-fourth birthday, you had left him. That night, you spent your birthday in a different country, alone.

“Baby, please, listen to me,” he muttered in a raw voice. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he reached to grab your hands. “Everything happened the way it did for a reason. It took me a long time to accept that.”

You could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. The ache in your chest spread through your entire body, making your head pulse. Tears burned as they slipped down your cheeks.

“But we’re here now,” he continued, his voice steadying even as his hand left yours and found your cheek again. “And we’re moving on. I wish things had been different for us, but we weren’t ready.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in a tiny tone. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you knew that if you did, the expression on his face would only shatter you completely.

His breath hitched as he suppressed a sob. “Because I couldn’t let that be the reason you stayed. I couldn’t do that to you,” his tone was shaky, and by the sound of it you knew that he was crying.

His words landed like a punch to the gut. You turned to him then, and the sight nearly broke you. His dark eyes were glassy, fearful. But even through his own pain, his first instinct was to comfort you—to hold you together. That was Seungcheol. Always looking out for everybody else before tending to his own wounds.

“All the time we lost….” You whispered, your throat tightening. “I could’ve stayed. We could’ve—,”

The words caught, breaking apart before you could even finish. Your mind spun, flashing through every possibility. Every what if. If he had proposed, you would’ve said yes. No hesitation. No doubt. Right now, you would be married. Living a different life. No sleepless nights. No endless aching. No running away, no trying—and failing—to forget him.

His fingers curled around yours and the velvet box, gripping it like it was the last piece of a life you had both left behind.

“But we weren’t ready,” he said, his voice was quiet, but firm, steady even as his own emotions still warred inside him. “I didn’t want to keep you here. I wanted you to keep going. To chase your dreams.”

“And what about what I wanted?” Your voice cracked as the question left you. Your mind was fogged under the pain you were carrying for years. It reverted you back to all of the times you said this to him, but now—now it felt like the first time you truly wanted an answer from him.

His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a hard line. He was hurting, too. You could see it in the way he kept his breathing controlled, but deep, like that would dissolve the pain you were also feeling inside your chest.

“Baby,” he whispered, the word soft in his lips, pleading. “We can’t keep letting this be a problem.”

He was right. You knew he was right. But you were stubborn.

“I can’t be here right now–,” you mumbled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand quite harshly. You pushed yourself up from the bed, making him stand abruptly too, his eyes widening. You knew that look. “I need to think. I need some fresh air.”

His stomach twisted painfully when you motioned to the door. “Wait–,”

“I’ll be back, I just...” Your lip quivered, and your tone thickened as the tears kept coming: “This is too much for me. I just need to be alone for a moment.”

Seungcheol stood rigid, watching as you hurried out. The sound of the front door snapping shut sent a shudder through him. And then—everything came flooding back. The feeling that had wrecked him when you left years ago. The pain. The abandonment. The heartbreak. He had sworn he would never feel that again.

But there he was. Breathing hard because the pain made him incapable of doing anything else.

You walked out. You left again.

“Wait,” he muttered, his instincts taking over. In a second, he was making his way towards the front door, and then the elevator, pulse hammering in his ears as he hit the button once, then twice—

“Come on,” he gritted through his teeth. “Come on!” His palm slammed against the button until the doors finally parted to him.

The moment he stepped outside of the building, his world spun wildly. The air felt think, suffocating. His heart stuttering like crazy, he felt dizzy.

Where did you go?

His hand snapped to his pockets, no phone. His stomach dropping when he realized that you hadn’t taken yours either. “Fuck. Fuck!” the words escaped him in a frantic breath as he shoved his hands through his hair. Think, Seungcheol. Calm down.

You could’ve gone to the park, he reasoned. Without another thought, he hurried off, crossing the street without a care. His feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted in direction to the park, cutting through the people strolling down the sidewalk. His chest burned, his mind raced.

Frantically, he scanned the park, weaving through the crowd, searching through the sea of faces.

And then, his heart clenched. A weight lifted from his heart so abruptly it almost made his mind spin again.

There you were.

Sitting on a swing, head leaned to the side, staring at the ground. Your fingers brushed under your eyes, wiping away your tears swiftly. The slight sway of the swing, the way your shoulders curled inward—it was all so painfully familiar.

For years, Seungcheol had believed that he had taken the hardest blow. He was the one who stayed. He had to rebuild on the ashes of what he had lost when you left him. While you—you walked away. He had convinced himself that you had suffered less.

But now, he saw it.

The weight of your dreams slipping through your fingers. You raised your gaze when a small child ran across the sandbox, releasing a cry of joy as his mom chased after him. You let your gaze fall to your lap again.

Guilt churned inside him.

Slowly, Seungcheol approached, each step forcing him to steady his heart. When your eyes finally found him, they softened at the sight of him as he finished approaching you and sat on the swing next to yours.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol muttered, swallowing a lump of anxiety in his throat. “I know you said you just needed air but... I had to make sure.”

You nodded, sniffing. “I get it,” you whispered shakily. “That’s okay, I was heading back anyways.” You shrugged, it was a small gesture. A tell.

And Seungcheol caught that. “Do you need more time?” he asked, releasing a sigh, as if the weight of all his past fears had made a fool of him again. “I can go back inside. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Okay,” you murmured, rubbing the back of your hand to wipe your tears, still looking at your shoes. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Okay,” he echoed softly, slowly rising from the swing. But just as his fingers slipped from the cold metal chain, yours caught his hand—your soft smaller fingers curling around his, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned back, encountering the sight of your teary eyes again. His gut twisted.

“Wait,” you whispered. “Stay. Please?” Your gaze dropped for a moment. “I’m sorry. I panicked,” you released a shaky breath, searching for words. “Can we… talk about this?”

The knot in his throat loosened, relief rushing through him. “Of course.”

You were still sitting on the swing, so he knelt in the sand before you, leveling himself with your gaze. His heart clenched at the sight of you—rosy cheeks, swollen lips, dark lashes clumped together from the tears you have shed.

Seungcheol didn’t know where to start. This was a mess, and deep down, he had known something like this would happen the moment you walked back into his life.

“Seungcheol,” you finally started, your voice quiet, but fragile, “why didn’t you tell me you had a ring?”

The question was one that you had asked before. But it still made his chest tighten.

“When I broke up with you, you could’ve told me,” you took in a big breath, trying to steady yourself.

Your hand was still gripping his, so he simply shifted, threading his fingers with yours. “I didn’t want to hold you back,” he admitted. “If I had told you I had was planning to propose, you would’ve stayed. And your plans, your dreams… I wanted you to have the chance to fulfill them.”

Your face crumpled. Eyebrows knitted, lower lip trembling. “I was miserable, Seungcheol,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with sorrowful tears. “I had to give you up to go after those dreams. But what I wanted—what I really wanted—was to start a life with you. I wanted kids, I wanted… everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, lowering his gaze, feeling ashamed. “I wasn’t ready. You were right about that. I let myself get caught up in dumb things—I thought I wouldn’t be enough for you. That I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.”

Seungcheol used to think that his mistakes were what led him to losing you. Slowly those mistakes turned into regrets. But when he looked at you now, he didn’t see mistakes.

He saw the love of his life. The girl who had stolen his heart upon first sight. The one who made him feel alive, who made him feel like he was himself again.

Reaching into the pocket of his sweats, he pulled out the small velvet box. His fingers trembled as he placed it in your hands again, wrapping your fingers around it.

“You have always been the one I wanted,” he whispered, voice shaking, tears slipping freely now. “From the moment we met, I knew it was you. It’s always been you.”

You curled your fingers around the small box he placed in your hands, you looked at it for a second before lifting your gaze to meet his.

He held on tighter, his eyes wide—fear flickering in them. “This is how sure I am,” he whispered. But if you decided to open that box right now, he wouldn’t hesitate. He was ready now.

You raised the box in your hand, outlining the sides of the lid with the tip of your trembling fingers. The knot in your stomach tightened. “Not like this,” you whispered, lowering the box to your lap. “I don’t want you to propose to me like this,” you could barely bring yourself to mutter those words.

The summer night breeze brushed the nape of your neck, cool against your heated skin. A slight shiver ran through you. And Seungcheol noticed. He always noticed. He looked at you longingly, as though seeing you in the back of his head too, a distant memory reverting him back to those uni days. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet somehow, his love for you hadn’t faded.

Slowly, you reached out, cupping his cheek. Your cold thumb brushed away the tear that had slipped down his face. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, but he welcomed it.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you said, your voice barely holding back emotion. “But I want us to do it right. We still need to rebuild some things in our relationship before we take the next steps. Maybe… maybe we should wait a little.”

Seungcheol caught your wrist, pressing a long kiss to the center of your palm. “I want that too, baby.” He murmured, pressing another kiss there. “I want us to be stronger than we were before. Let’s wait, then.”

“But only a little,” you added with a sweet, tearful giggle.

His chest swelled at the sound. “You’re the boss,” he smiled, and it was that smile, soft at the corners, making his dark eyes gleam. It reminded you of every reason you had ever loved him.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and slipping the box back into his pocket. “Let’s go home.”

Home.

For so long after you left him, that word had lost its meaning. You thought that you’d never get that feeling again with anyone else—the safety, the familiarity. There is no one you trusted more than him.

But you did now, you felt it again.

You took his outstretched hand, rising to your feet too. Walking side by side through the park with him toward the apartment where you were building something new with him. Something stronger.

You were home again.

✧ author's note: life is funny because i started this draft on nov 9 2023 and so much has happened ever since. i thought i'd never understand what going through a painful breakup would feel like. but now i do. and i also know what moving on feels like. funny, huh?

this chapter was shorter than i initially planned though, i hope you guys enjoyed it (?) haha idk, it was really heavy on the angst and i let this draft sit for months and months i feel guilty about that

also, an addendum: in the previous chapter, jeonghan makes a reference to the fic city lights chapter 9 and lights out chapter 1 for those that may not know. for those who do know, i kind of skipped the timeline by a looooong mile haha. but idc, i just wanted the angst and to torture hannie w some heartache

anyway,

✧ STAY TUNED FOR PART SIX !! ✧

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

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suhnshinehaos · 2 months ago

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❀ spring into summer

series synopsis: taking a week-long vacation to a beach house with your circle of friends doesn’t seem too bad of a situation. unless your circle of friends also include the guy who broke your heart into pieces, the guy that wants nothing more than to be the one to mend it back together, and the one that is actually — and unknowingly — piecing it back together. pairing: svt 95z x gn!reader genre/s: non-idol au, angst, fluff

this summer: day one (2/2)

wc: 1.2k

previous ➤ day one (1/2) next ➤ coming soon spring into summer ➤ masterlist

”Ynnnn… your glass is empty.” Soonyoung slurs, grabbing your empty shot glass from your hand and filling it to the brim.

”Last one,” you tell him, and you could just feel Jihoon’s eyes rolling from beside you.

He shakes his head, “you said that, like, ten shots ago.”

Has it been ten shots? Maybe fifteen, maybe just a few more. Truthfully, you had stopped keeping count by number five. The moon is high above the night sky, shining above the patio. Two long, wooden tables are pushed together, bottles upon bottles of empty glasses and even more half-empty and unopened ones littering the surface.

You throw your head back in laughter, eyes somewhat half-opened as you looked around your friends. Jun is animatedly telling a story between his two costars, Nayeon is resting her head on Jeongyeon’s shoulder, Wonwoo is nodding his head along to whatever song Sana, Momo, and Jeonghan were singing along to. It hits you harder than you had thought possible, you missed them.

But there’s a slight haze that has filled your head, and your reach for the pitcher in front of you, only to find it lighter than you expected it to be.

“I’m just going to get some water,” you mumble to no one in particular before sliding your chair back and stumbling into the kitchen.

You stifle a yawn, without the loud, incessant voices of your friends, the tiredness from the day slowly seeps into your system. You feel your hands and arms grow weak as you open the refrigerator door.

“Let me.”

You hear a voice from behind you. Warm, breathy, familiar. Just a couple of feet away, and there’s no doubt of the goosebumps that now pricked the back of your neck. You don’t look back, leaning your temple on the edge of the fridge door. “Did you follow me here?”

Joshua laughs into the air, and you just know the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “I just wanted some water too, Yn.”

He guides you away from the fridge, letting you lean your weight on the kitchen island instead. Crossing your arms, you watch as he grabs a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. He fills it completely with cool water and hands it to you with a small smile.

”Always the gentleman.” You shake your head and take a sip, the haziness in your head slowly mellowing to a slight buzz. You empty the glass and place it by your side; Joshua’s watching you, and you’ve known him long enough to recognize the hesitation in his gaze and the small shake in his fingertips.

Raising a brow, “Hi?”

”Hi.” He breathes out, “I’m—”

You hold out your hand to stop him, “You better not say you’re sorry.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in months. You still remember the last time you did.

‘I just wish you could have chosen me’

It came out in a whisper, almost like a prayer. Maybe even a plea. Despite the miles of distance and the slight static of the phone signals, you heard him. You didn’t exactly have the heart to ask him to elaborate.

You take a deep breath, tilt your head to the side, “tell me how you’re doing instead. Can’t believe I had to hear from Wonwoo that you’re considering resigning from your job.”

Seungcheol watches from the kitchen doorway, your back is turned towards him, and he’s not quite close enough to hear your conversation. But he watches Joshua scratch the back of his head, a sheepish smile overtaking his features, and a familiar look of longing in your best friend’s eyes.

He loves you too much to ever ask you if you had noticed it too, and he trusted that Joshua respected your friendship enough to never act on it.

Still, he can’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he slowly watches the tension disappear from your shoulders. It takes him back to when he had hugged you earlier in the day, feeling your entire body stiffen in his embrace.

You used to melt into his touch, and now he watches from afar as you gently push a hand towards Joshua’s shoulder, laughing ever so slightly at something he had said.

Seungcheol knew he had no right to feel this way. But knowing just that and not acting on it are two completely different things.

He takes a couple of steps forward, slowly but surely filling in the bits and pieces of yours and Joshua’s conversation.

“It’s been a long day for me, I think I’m going to head up to the room.” You yawn, stretching your arms, but suddenly stumbling over nothing.

Joshua, only being a couple of feet in front of you, manages to catch you before you could plummet face first into the cold wooden floor. An arm around your waist, he hooks your arm around his shoulders, “I’ll take you.”

”It’s okay, Joshua, I can take them.” Seungcheol finally makes his presence known, stepping around the kitchen island and putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, Seungcheol.” Joshua steps back, tentatively removing his arm around your waist, “I didn’t notice you were back.”

”I just got here.” His lips press into a thin line, practically forcing the corners to curve up in a small smile. “I got this, I’ll join everyone in a bit.”

”Right, of course.” Joshua takes a couple of more steps back, trying to put as much space in between himself and the two of you. His hands go up in defense, a sinking feeling of guilt creeping into his fingertips, as if he had just committed a crime. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You wait until Joshua rejoins the group on the patio before letting out the heaviest sigh.

If it hadn’t been for the mix of alcohol and exhaustion, you probably would have pushed his shoulders with more force. Instead all you could manage was an ever so gentle nudge that barely rocked his feet. Seungcheol catches your wrists just as you were about to pull them back.

“I can go back to the room by myself. Let me go.” You hiss and narrow your eyes, hands balling into fists.

”I can’t let you go.” Seungcheol replies, the sternness in his voice not quite matching the gentleness of his grip on your wrists, “You’re drunk.”

”I can go up a couple of flights of stairs.” You roll your eyes, but you feel your knees shake ever so slightly, nearly buckling under the tension that now filled the air, “I don’t need you.”

”Come on, Yn, baby,”

Your body gives in at the familiar pet name, finally giving in and leaning your weight against him, a slight shiver running down your spine.

”Let me take you to our room, please.” He speaks, low but nonetheless sincere. You can’t quite recall the last time you had heard it in that way.

”I fucking hate you.” You mumble into his chest, letting sleep slowly overtake your system.

”Yeah, I know.” He sighs before helping you up the stairs.

from reese, with love <3

Guess who got sicccckkkk (me!) but the happy burstday drop had me feeling better hehe wonwoo solo got me giggling kicking my feet frrr and shuaaaa ?? Oh myyyyy anyw love love love our boys

Anyways, feeling a little rusty on the writing but this wraps up day one !! I’d really love to know what you guys think so far hehe every like, reply, reblog really is so so appreciated ! Thank you and i’ll see you soon :)

Ps. Will drop taglist tmrw morning, it’s like 11 pm and i’m sleepy hehe but was way too excited to post aaaa

#⛅️ — spring into summer!#seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen smau #seventeen scenarios #seventeen social media au #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smau #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol smau #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smau #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong smau

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thepixelelf · 2 years ago

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whatever u say <3

smau oneshot, Seungcheol x reader

genres: comedy, romance, dumbassery, loserness

idk what possessed me to make this today but here u go <3

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daechwitatamic · 4 months ago

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You Think You Might - Chapter 2 || csc

(banner by @itaeewon)

You Think You Might (masterpost) Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k total, this chapter 11.7k

Warnings: angst, reader working through some Stuff, language, drinking, Soonyoung is reader’s biological little brother, family drama, scoups and his ex are mutually toxic when together but neither is villainized, full warning list on the masterpost

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing, and @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character and teaching me about the Levels of Noona.

You wake up facing the other direction - Seungcheol’s direction - cuddling something. As soon as your brain processes this, you freeze, trying to calculate how bad the damage is.

You open one eye, afraid of what you’ll find. Seungcheol is still asleep, facing you - but he’s still a good six or seven inches away. You’re cuddling, you realize with relief, the sheet you two had rolled up and put in the center of the bed. You have woken up spooning the Blanket Wall.

But at least you aren’t spooning Seungcheol.

Slowly, you extract yourself from the Blanket Wall’s sweet embrace and roll back to what is safely your half of the bed, and lift your phone to check the time.

It’s almost time for your alarm anyway, so you check your socials and your texts. Your mother has texted already this morning, confirming your breakfast plans. You shoot back an affirmative, and head for the bathroom.

When you emerge, dressed, it seems like Seungcheol is still asleep. You creep to the foot of the bed and wiggle one of his feet through the blankets, gently.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Mmm?” he responds, turning his head towards you and making a definite attempt to open one eye.

God, he’s cute.

You shove the thought away - it’s neither productive nor helpful.

“I’m sorry,” you say, still whispering. “But we’re - I’m - supposed to meet my family in like forty minutes and I didn’t know how much time you’d need to get ready. If you’re coming with me. Which you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” he tries to say, though it sounds like he says it around marbles, letting his head drop back to the pillow. Then, a minute later, he says - much more clearly - “If I’m not out of the bed in five minutes please hit me with a pillow.”

You laugh, then move to open the curtains, hoping a well-lit room will help him wake up on his own. You dip back into the bathroom to hang up your towel, and when you come out again, he’s upright, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and yawning loudly. You decidedly do not look at his arms as he does this.

You take your phone out on the balcony, able to enjoy the view of the ocean now that it’s daylight, to give him a little space while he gets ready.

When it’s five minutes until you should walk down to the resort’s main dining room, you head back inside. Seungcheol is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at something on his phone, face serious - but he’s dressed and looks pretty ready, his hair pushed back to frame his exposed forehead, his shirt sleeves clinging to his biceps.

You force yourself to look elsewhere. You clear your throat, and he pulls his gaze away from the phone screen to look up at you, eyebrows raised in anticipation for whatever you’re going to say. “Just one final time - you don’t have to deal with breakfast with my mom if you don’t want to. You and I could meet up later.”

He tilts his head a little. “I’m here to sell the idea that we’re a serious couple, right?” he asks, unnecessarily. You both know the answer. “It would be weird for you to go to breakfast without your boyfriend.”

“I guess,” you admit.

He pushes himself to standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I agreed to do this,” he points out. “If you spend the next two days worried about whether I really, really want to attend each event, you’re going to make yourself crazier than you would have been if you’d come alone. I’m here, so let me do it right.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Just… I appreciate you. And I know some of this won’t be fun for you, and I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, takes one small step closer. “Don’t be. It’s all part of the job, right?”

Something had been simmering in you, unnamed, since you’d kissed last night with sand between your toes and the stars’ reflections on ocean waves. At these words from Seungcheol, you feel it jerk to a halt behind your navel.

He’s right. You’d agreed, explicitly, on what this would be. You don’t want a mess - neither of you does. You need to be better than this - you need to be able to handle some muscley arms and kissing.

“Yes,” you say belatedly, when you realize you hadn’t replied. “Yes, part of the job. Okay, well, if you’re ready… we can walk down?”

“I’m ready,” he says.

You check your hair and makeup in the mirror as you pass, grab the cute purse you’d bought just for this sundress, and head for the elevators, your fake boyfriend trailing just a step behind you.

“That dress is nice,” he tells you in the elevator, his voice innocent and even. You flush anyway, murmuring a thank you.

You spot your family right away when you pause at the dining hall’s entrance. They’re seated near a large window overlooking the beach. Behind them, the sun streams down, bright and unrelenting. Your stomach clenches when you see your mother’s profile, but loosens when you hear Soonyoung (and Chan, god, you can’t believe Dumb and Dumber are here with you) laughing.

You reach behind you blindly, fumbling for your fake boyfriend’s hand. He slips his fingers between yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready, babe?” he asks, one side of his mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised playfully.

Whatever shut down inside you when you were upstairs gives a tiny sign of life at the endearment.

“I am if you are,” you say, and then lead him through the dining hall, weaving around other tables until you reach your own.

“There they are!” Chan cries happily. “We thought perhaps you got delayed, what with the romance of the beach and -”

“Chan,” you say, smiling through gritted teeth, “I would like to remind you that you are not a member of my family and therefore I have zero qualms about ending your life.”

“Didn’t even make it to 9am without death threats,” Soonyoung sighs dramatically.

Your mother has risen to hug you, so you drop Seungcheol’s hand to return it.

“Um,” you say, stepping back when she releases you, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol.”

Her face tightens, but she covers it with a quick smile, reaching out a hand to shake Seungcheol’s. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend Seungcheol,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t even try to make it subtle. Then, she turns back to your little brother, who is still seated - eternally unbothered. “Did you know your sister was dating someone?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Of course I did,” he says easily. “They met through me. I didn’t know that you didn’t know. Noona didn’t say it was a secret.”

Everyone looks at you again. You flush. “It wasn’t a secret,” you say defensively. “I just… I don’t know. It felt weird to bring up, and…”

You trail off, sheepish, and Soonyoung pipes up to defend you. “Ah, Noona’s always been private about this stuff,” he points out. “She didn’t tell the family about her new job until she’d been there long enough for her first promotion, remember?”

Chan rests his chin in his hands, leaning closer to you from his side of the table. “Why are you so secretive? Have you ever explored this in therapy?”

“Chan,” you growl threateningly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seungcheol interrupts, his deep voice coming from your left. “I’ve been telling her to set up a dinner with you for ages, but she gets so wrapped up in work - you know how she is when she’s focused on a project.”

You glance sideways at him, curious. Does he know this chink in your mother’s armor, your work? Or was it a lucky shot? Either way, your mother softens slightly, and gives him a more genuine smile.

“Yes, she can certainly have a one-track mind when she’s got a goal to meet,” she says warmly, sliding back into her seat and opening her hand towards the two empty chairs, inviting you to sit.

The rest of breakfast goes well - better than you could have hoped, really. Seungcheol fits into the conversation easily, having years of friendship with Soonyoung and Chan. You almost feel like the outsider in the conversation - though, once he’s done eating, Seungcheol leaves his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, absently drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder. You fight back a shiver at the sensation, and Soonyoung meets your eyes across the table, folding his lips all the way back into his mouth and biting on them to keep from outright laughing at this turn of events.

You might kill him and Chan both, “family” be damned.

Your mother asks, as you expected, about how you got together. Seungcheol follows directions and lets you tell it. You keep it simple, and Soonyoung helps by acting all smug that he set you up, to which Chan argues that he hadn’t done it on purpose and shouldn’t act like he did. It’s all so normal, so natural, that you could almost believe the story yourself.

“So if you’ve been together almost a year,” your mother muses, dabbing at her lips with the linen napkin, “you must have been together for the holidays. I’m surprised we didn’t meet then.”

“I was with my family,” Seungcheol says easily, with a small shrug. “We’d only been together around five months by then - holidays with the family felt a bit heavy.”

Your mother purses her lips, her eyes on you even though Seungcheol is the one who answered.

“It wasn’t that serious yet,” you chime in. “I think I got him a sweater as a gift.”

“Hey, I like that sweater,” he complains, joining the bit without delay. You love how quick he is.

“Hm,” your mother says tightly, and sips at her tea. She isn’t buying it, not completely. You need to turn it up.

You send Seungcheol a sideways smile, trying to make it a little sly. “Better presents are on the horizon,” you promise. “With our first anniversary coming.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his chair to look at you appraisingly. “Oh, are they?” he asks playfully. “What did you get me? A car?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Maybe a Hot Wheels,” he cackles.

“Shut up, Soonyoung,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it.

“Better get me a few Hot Wheels,” Seungcheol says, “if you want to keep up with what I got for you.”

Your eyes widen, even though this is a fake present for a fake anniversary. “What did you get for me?” you ask in a rush, leaning forward towards him, reaching for his hands. “Is it sparkly?”

“Yes, it’s a mirror. Enrichment for your enclosure,” Chan quips.

You turn to face him, Seungcheol’s hands still in yours. “Chan, you are quite literally the worst part of my morning.”

Your mother, the actual worst part of your morning, watches this but says nothing.

And then, blessedly, the conversation moves back to the wedding you’re here for.

“I assume you’re joining us later, at the salon?” your mother asks.

You fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the scowl off. “Yes,” you say, as evenly as possible. “I saw that on the itinerary.”

You’d been emailed an hour-by-hour schedule, in fact, detailing exactly where you needed to be and when for the entire weekend. You’re supposed to meet with Nayoung, her one bridesmaid that isn’t family, and your mother at a salon just off the resort to get your nails all done together. “Bonding”, Nayoung pretended, but you know it’s because she wants to make sure you all match.

“What are you gonna do all day while the girls get pretty?” your brother asks, and next to you Seungcheol shifts in his seat.

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” he admits. “I mean, we’re at the beach, so I figured I’d find something to do. Walk the beach and see if I can score any numbers -”

You elbow him in the ribs harder than necessary. He laughs, squeezing your shoulder playfully.

“She’s too easy to wind up,” he says, smirking at you sideways.

“Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re tall and handsome,” you warn.

You can feel your mother’s eyes watching this teasing exchange and you try to ignore the prickly feeling of her dissecting the interaction. As you work on avoiding her gaze, Soonyoung invites your date to join him and Chan for the afternoon.

“Do you care, babe?” he asks lightly, turning to look at you.

You can’t help it - you laugh. This is all so absurd. Him calling you babe. His hand on your shoulder. Him asking permission to go hang out with his friends. What a stupid situation you’ve created.

“Of course not,” you say brightly, your nose growing an inch as you do. “I’ll text you when we leave the salon? I think we’ll have a few hours between that and rehearsal dinner - maybe we can go down to the pool or something?”

He gives you a little squeeze again. “That sounds good,” he agrees.

When you all rise, he waits behind your chair, pushing it in for you after you vacate the seat.

“See you later?” you ask quietly, stepping into his space and looking up at him. It’s code, and you hope he hears it - we’re good? You’re okay for now?

He leans down and kisses your forehead, and something inside you longs to close your eyes and lean into it, thirsty for affection.

“All good,” he says, giving you a sweet, dimpled smile. “Text me when you’re heading back.”

“I will,” you promise, and then, since everyone is watching, you rise up on your tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips goodbye. You step away lightly, but he tugs you back by the wrist and kisses you again, firmer, lingering.

“Have fun,” he says, still smiling, when you pull away from his surprise attack.

“Don’t get too many numbers,” you shoot back.

“You two are disgusting,” Chan complains.

“Quit crying because you’re single,” you sniff.

It’s believable, you think. We’re doing it.

But as you follow your mother through the dining hall - intending to share a ride to the salon - you feel something twinge behind your ribcage. It feels like nerves, like you’re afraid that when you step away the whole facade will crumble.

–

Nayoung and her other bridesmaid - her college roommate, Sheyla - are already there when you follow your mother into the nail salon.

“Oh, good!” your sister cries, rising from her seat. “You’re here!”

She hugs your mother first, then you, stepping back and saying, “Eomma says you brought a boyfriend.”

As if she just saw you last week, and this didn’t come up in conversation. As if you usually tell her things about your life, and you omitted something. As if you have some kind of relationship, and it’s normal and expected for her to tease you.

When the truth is you have no relationship, no room to tease this practical stranger, no reality where she knows even the barest details about your life. You could be married and she wouldn’t have known - just like you stand here today, not even knowing what her fiancé looks like, knowing his name only from that embossed invitation that came in the mail months ago.

“Should I have left him at home and brought the mailman instead?” you ask, a bit acidic.

She smiles at you like your petulance is cute, while behind you your mother whispers your name sharply.

“No,” she laughs quietly. “I just meant, it’s so weird that you’re even grown up enough to come with a boyfriend, share a room, all that stuff. You should still be too little for all that.”

Yes, you think, because the last time you were around me for any length of time, I was nine.

You’re here for her wedding. This weekend is about her, and her new husband. You can be a brat later, in private.

“I don’t think me having a serious boyfriend is really the big news here,” you say as lightly as possible, despite the churning need to barb that you feel. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

She laughs and Sheyla lets out a “damn right!” from her seat. You’ve never met Sheyla before - only know who she is from your mother’s unsolicited updates about Nayoung’s life.

You let Nayoung dictate the shade and shape for your nails. You try to engage in the conversation just enough that you don’t look sullen. Mostly, you watch your sister - like if you watch her long enough, she might start to look like someone you know, and not a stranger. Like if you watch her long enough, she’ll become the sister you remember from childhood, who watched Saturday morning cartoons on the living room floor with you even though she was “too old” for them, who helped you with homework while your dad cooked dinner, who let you sleep in her bed when it thunderstormed.

It doesn’t happen. She stays a stranger, a woman you don’t know at all.

You hear all about Nayoung and her fiancé - how they’d known each other in college, but never dated, how they’d ended up working together by chance and had fallen into a relationship. The story’s sweet, you can’t deny.

“He’s so whipped for her, it’s appalling,” Sheyla jokes.

“Is not,” your sister protests, giggling. “We have a very equally-matched relationship, thank you very much.”

“Mutually whipped.”

“Sheyla, I know where you sleep.”

They kind of remind you of yourself and Soonyoung, and even Chan.

“There’s a restaurant down this block,” Nayoung tells you and your mother as you stand near the front of the salon to pay. “Sheyla and I were going to grab a small bite and a drink before we head over to get ready for rehearsal. Do you want to join?”

“That sounds lovely,” your mother says, seemingly for both of you.

Absolutely not.

“I should get back to the resort for a little bit,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. “Seungcheol’s been with the guys all day - I should see what they’re up to.”

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Nayoung says. “He’s with his friends at a private beach - they’re probably having a blast.”

“Maybe I miss him,” you say, a bit of challenge creeping into your tone.

“So cute,” Sheyla coos, and you can’t even examine if it’s patronizing or sarcastic or genuine because your mother’s eyes narrow and you need to get away before you cave and do what she wants instead of what you want.

“I’ll grab an Uber,” you say, turning before anyone can argue. “We’ll grab a ride to rehearsal with Soonyoung and Chan later, okay?”

You’re a thousand percent sure they’re talking about you as you slip out into the hot sun. You’d rather wait inside, in the aircon, but you’ll have to tough it out, now. Luckily, the car doesn’t take long, and you’re back to the resort in no time.

From the car you send, “omw back. where is everyone?”

Seungcheol answers, “at the pool furthest from the entrance - less crowded. see you soon”

And then the fucker sends a heart.

You roll your eyes.

You: is that really necessary?

Seungcheol: you have to admit its a little funny

Seungcheol: i have to amuse myself somehow

You don’t answer; it’s not his fault you’re in a terrible mood. You head up to the room first, relishing the quiet and the chance to be “off” for a few minutes as you fish a bathing suit out of your suitcase and get changed. You pull the same sundress back over the suit and grab your phone and a pair of sunglasses.

You have two missed texts from the few minutes you were changing.

Seungcheol: you joining us?

Mom: It’s a little rude of you to go spend time with the people you see every day when you have the rare opportunity to visit with your sister.

You slap your phone back down on the counter and try to take a deep breath, closing your eyes against the wave of fury that rises up in you.

Kind of rude of you, you answer in your head, to think I should spend all my time with someone who hasn’t cared about my existence in over fifteen years instead of the people who give a shit that I am alive.

You answer Seungcheol first - “stopped in the room. be there in a few”. Then, after much pacing, you send your mother, “sorry. feel bad letting my date fend for himself. i’ll see nayoung lots tonight and tomorrow.”

Then you head for the elevators, putting your phone on do not disturb so that your mother cannot continue to disturb you.

When you reach the last of the resort’s three pools, you spot your brother first, sitting on the pool’s edge with his legs in the water. You sit down next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his sun-warmed arm.

“Thank you for not being a horrible sibling,” you say, releasing him.

He blinks at you, surprised by this display. You and Soonyoung are close, definitely - but this isn’t a common occurrence.

“It was that bad, huh?” he asks, as Chan approaches with one of those umbrella drinks in hand.

You sigh. “Not really. Just. Made me appreciate you.”

“Well,” Soonyoung grins, “I appreciate the appreciation.”

Seungcheol swims over, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”

You shrug. “I survived. Did I miss anything fun?”

“Just this,” he says, placing his palms on the hot cement next to where you’re seated and pushing himself up out of the water to plop down next to you, water dripping from him and running underneath your legs.

“You want a drink?” he asks, and when you turn to look at him he’s looking at you so seriously, brows furrowed, as if he’s scanning you for wounds.

He may have found one. You suddenly feel choked with emotion under his investigative gaze, and you look away before he can see it on your face.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Actually, a beer sounds fucking amazing right now. Thanks.”

The concern gone from his face, he sends you a quick wink as he stands, still dripping pool water. “Anything for my baby.”

You groan, leaning against your chuckling brother again. “He’s enjoying this too much,” you complain as he walks away. You do not watch the muscles across his back ripple as he walks away.

When he’s out of sight, you sigh heavily. “Mom’s mad at me,” you tell Soonyoung. “Because I didn’t go get drinks with them after nails. But I really, really would rather be here with you guys.”

He gives your knee one quick, sympathetic pat. “Sorry,” he says, and you know he means it but doesn’t get it, because she never does this to him.

“It’s okay,” you say glumly. “She’ll get over it.”

“I think we were actually going to go upstairs soon?” Your brother says this like a question; he’s scared it’s going to upset you - you can tell. “We both wanted to nap a little before rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Your heart sinks. You wonder if Seungcheol will have the same plan, leaving you alone for the rest of the afternoon. The thought depresses you further. But when Seungcheol returns, he has two beers in hand, so he must be planning on staying for a little.

“My brother and his date -”

“Roommate!”

“-are abandoning me,” you tell him. “To snuggle.”

“Take naps in separate beds!”

“Would you like to go snuggle?” Seungcheol asks you seriously, handing over your beer.

You groan in exasperation. “No,” you assert. “I want to stay here, drinking until I’m not annoyed at every single family member I have. I just wanted to know what your plan is.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly amused at your ranting, one eyebrow raised and mouth turned down in mock-consideration.

“Well, I guess,” he says, finally, coming to take his spot next to you on the pool deck, “as your boyfriend, I better stay and help you get unannoyed.”

“Teasing me is a step in the wrong direction,” you mutter, but to be honest, the banter is kind of fun. A healthy outlet for your annoyance, really.

“I did get you a beer,” he points out.

“That was helpful,” you agree.

To your right, Chan and Soonyoung have both toweled off and gathered their stuff; they stand waiting to say goodbye. You agree on what time to meet in the lobby to head to rehearsal dinner and then they waddle off in matching slides. You watch them go forlornly, and then turn back to the sparkling pool.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you tell Seungcheol, just in case. “If you want to go rest before tonight or something, feel free.”

His whole face scrunches. “Will you quit trying to get rid of me? I’m trying to enjoy sitting poolside with a beer and a pretty girl.”

You feel yourself flush. “You don’t have to say that when no one’s here to hear it,” you mutter, embarrassed and pleased.

“Eh,” he says, as if he isn’t so bothered by whether or not you have witnesses. “It’s true, so why shouldn’t I say it?”

“Well, thanks,” you say to your knees, swishing your feet around in the water self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about what pissed you off?” he offers.

You sigh. “It’s nice of you to ask, but no - I’d rather just have fun and enjoy my afternoon with you.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Then, you ask, “Will you watch my beer for a minute? I want to cool off.”

“‘Course,” he says, going so far as to pull your plastic cup closer to his own, as if to guard it.

You slip into the water, which feels wonderful after you’ve gotten warm under the unrelenting sunshine. You tread for a minute, then slip beneath the surface and push hard off the wall into a streamlined glide. You kick and pull all the way across, then surface with a splash, pushing your hair out of your face. You tread on that side for a minute until a couple of kids splash too close to you, and you move closer to the middle and roll to float on your back. Above you, the sky spans uninterrupted blue in every direction.

You’re surprised by fingers touching your wrist and you sit up, turning to see Seungcheol has joined you.

“Who’s watching the beer?” you ask, feigning indignation.

“I finished them,” he laughs. “The water looked good.”

“It is good,” you sigh happily. “I want to live here. Do you think someone would bankroll me to just live at a beach resort year-round?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure someone would, if you tried the right website,” he jokes.

You grin. “I could be a sugar baby. I’d be great at it.”

“You would not,” he says, starting to paddle away from you. “You can’t control your attitude. Those guys want a sugar baby, not a spice baby.”

You follow him, trailing by a few feet. “They want a spice baby sometimes.”

“You don’t pick the right moments,” he tells you, treading water near the spot you’d been sitting before. Your beer cup, as he said, sits empty next to his.

“I can’t believe you drank my beer,” you complain.

“See?” he says, raising that eyebrow again. “Spice baby.”

This makes you laugh, because damn, he’s right.

“So,” he says suddenly, reaching up to grip the edge of the deck, holding himself in place instead of treading. His voice strikes you as suddenly deeper, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. “Am I boyfriending okay?”

The smile is on your face before you can even fully process the question. “So far so good,” you tell him, smiling warmly, delighted by the bit. “I thought breakfast with my mom was particularly strong Boyfriending.”

He nods, feigning humility. “I did try,” he deadpans.

“It was commendable, especially for a novice,” you tell him.

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s not much heat behind it. “I’m not a novice boyfriend,” he argues. “I was with Jieun for -”

“Not to be a total spice baby about this,” you say, holding up a hand to stop him mid-thought, “but you have to calculate by uninterrupted dating time. What’s the longest you two went without breaking up?”

You swear he flushes a little, but it could be the sun or the beer causing the tips of his ears to go red.

“Five months,” he mutters, looking away from you to pick a leaf out of the water.

“And how many of those five were things actually good?”

His head snaps up, and you can see all over his face how he’s ready to fight.

“No judgement,” you add quickly. “My point is only that… it’s different to Boyfriend during a rocky five months where you’re constantly cycling between fighting and making up, and to be years into something steady. The roles are different.”

His face has gone stony. “I didn’t realize you had so many opinions about my love life.”

“I don’t,” you say, as gently as you can, but your pulse is racing; you hadn’t meant to piss him off or hurt his feelings. You try your best to do damage control. “I just have a lot of opinions about the right way to Boyfriend after the eight month mark. There are rules.”

You can almost watch him weigh the moment in his mind, deciding if he wants to lean into his hurt feelings or if he wants to let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and push on when he looks surprised. “I wasn’t trying to, like… make a statement about you guys. I’m sorry it came out that way, and I’m sorry if it made you upset. I’ll watch what I say better.”

His stare is absolutely blank, a hint of petulance still on his almost-pouting lips.

“People in long-term relationships have to own their mistakes,” you tell him sagely. “And apologize, and take steps to do better. That’s one of the rules.”

He continues to stare at you like you’ve sprouted an extra limb. Then, he laughs a little, shaking his head. “So you’re the expert now?”

You push back the defensive wave that rises in you. “Out of the two of us,” you say, shrugging. “My last relationship was over two years.”

His mouth twists as he considers this. “I didn’t like that guy,” he says off-handedly, as if he’d forgotten. Maybe he had. “So, why’d it end, if you’re such a pro?”

This sobers you a little. “Oh,” you say, and you hate how you can hear how small your voice is. “It was…”

He moves suddenly, pressing closer, reaching out. “No, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. That was douchey.”

You smile, a little relieved. “I feel like it’s only fair,” you say. “I broke up with him because… it was two years, but I just never felt secure, you know? I never felt like… he was it, and I definitely didn’t ever get the sense he felt that way about me, either. It was just kind of… fine? And I…”

You lift your eyes to meet his, darkly watching you, the water around you glinting white in the bright sun. “I wanted more,” you admit quietly. “It was selfish, probably, but… I wanted to love someone, like… I wanted to be in the kind of love that makes you crazy, that you make bad decisions for, where you miss them before they even leave - that all-consuming, stupid love. I never felt, like, wild stupid in love with him.”

He gives a wry laugh, and when you look up at him he’s peering off at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to descend over the ocean. “That’s funny,” he says, something acidic in his tone that you’ve never heard before. “I feel like I’ve only had the bad-decision, stupid thing. I don’t even know what it’s like to have something… calm. Or sensible.”

Sensible. What a boring word. What a boring way to love.

“I think it’d be really refreshing to level up to questionable decisions instead of dumpster-fire ones,” he adds, smiling that half-smile you’re coming to recognize.

“Questionable decisions do sound better,” you agree, smiling back.

You tread closer, the water bobbing with the movement of other swimmers and pushing you closer than you’d intended. Your fingers brush his arm innocently as you both work to stay afloat. The air between you feels charged; for a second, you think about kissing him again.

Instead, you push yourself back up to the pool deck, laying back and relishing in the warmth from the cement seeking into your water-chilled skin. There’s a splash and a shadow over you for just a second, letting you know that your fake boyfriend has joined you.

“I think,” you say to the sky, “I’m gonna lay out until I’m dry, and then head up to shower."

“I’m gonna go replace your beer,” Seungcheol says, and you look over to see the little smile he sports. “And get my own.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you warn. “We’re gonna need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. Or I am, anyway. Gotta pace ourselves.”

“I’m good. I only had like a third of yours,” he assures you, before lumbering off again. When he returns, you’re stretched out on one of the loungers, reaching for the cup he offers you. He settles on the lounger next to yours, and a minute later you feel him poke your arm as he offers an earbud, as he had in the airport.

You take it gratefully, and for the next hour you don’t speak, only sit in companionable silence, sipping at amber liquid, watching the blue sky, listening to a thundering bassline against the rhythmic crash of ocean waves.

You think you might feel happy.

—

You take a while getting ready, and when you finally relinquish the bathroom, Seungcheol is out on the balcony, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head through the doorway, “bathroom’s all yours.”

He closes whatever he’d had open and turns, and you’re surprised to see a look akin to anger on his face before he schools it, shooting you a belated smile.

“Okay,” he says, rising. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, without really thinking it through.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower, if you’re done in there.”

He pushes past you, and you take a step back to give him room. He disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a definitive click.

You settle carefully on the bed and start scrolling through social media to pass the time. You had posted a picture of the beach earlier, and you check the few comments your friends have left you before scrolling the new posts on your feed. You smile to yourself when you see that Seungcheol had posted an almost identical picture, coupled with a selfie in which his wet hair is pushed back from his face and his eyes are closed in laughter.

There’s one comment underneath, from an account that couldn’t be anybody else: Jieun.

“gorgeous,” she’d written, and nothing else.

Seungcheol doesn’t emerge from the bathroom until four minutes until go-time, and you’re standing near the doorway fastening the straps on your heels. He stops short as he takes in your appearance.

“You look nice,” he says, a little haltingly.

“Thanks,” you say. But you’re thinking about that instagram comment. You’re wondering if that’s why he’d looked mad when you’d called him inside.

It doesn’t matter, you know. This isn’t real. But you’re curious. What’s the deal with the two of them - what does it mean that she’s showing up in his comments? Is he happy to hear from her? Or is this a sign of trouble for him?

You don’t know how to ask. You’ve never talked about this stuff with him. And what if he thought you were bringing it up out of jealousy?

You ruminate on this the whole time you’re in the car with Soonyoung and Chan - who chatter cluelessly the whole time - heading for the venue.

You’re among the first to arrive; your mother and Nayoung and a handsome man who must be her fiancé stand outside the front doors, deep in conversation when your Uber pulls up. You slide out first, followed by Seungcheol and the younger guys.

Nayoung beams at you and Soonyoung as you approach. “Guys! I’d like you to finally meet my fiancé, Jeongwoo.”

You ignore the finally, shove down the defensive voice that says whose fault is it that we’re only meeting him now?

Instead, you show your teeth like a good girl and move to shake his hand, but he moves with clear intention for a quick hug. You adjust quickly, patting his shoulder lightly and pulling away.

“Great to meet you,” you say, as warmly as you can manage. You introduce yourself and then Seungcheol, who reaches forward to successfully shake hands. Soonyoung and Chan do the same.

“Which one’s actually the younger brother?” Jeongwoo asks, looking at Soonyoung and Chan with uncertainty.

“Both of them, really,” you joke, and then you realize that for Nayoung that simply isn’t true. As much as Chan has been like your second brother since the first week of his undergrad, this is her first time meeting him. It strikes you again, as it often does, how differently you and Nayoung experience this family.

“I am,” Soonyoung says, saving you from the moment.

“Ah, I see it now,” Jeongwoo says kindly. “You have Nayoung’s smile.”

“Should we go in?” your mother asks, just as another car pulls into the parking lot. You all pause, waiting to see if it’s another member of your party.

It is.

Everything leaves your head - Seungcheol’s bad mood earlier, his ex on his instagram, Nayoung’s absence in your life, the weirdness of meeting her almost-husband. You’re left with nothing but static as your father walks around the front of his parked car and opens the passenger door for his date.

Your mother’s hand slips into yours and squeezes tight.

You squeeze back. For all her bullshit, for all the times you get annoyed with her, she’s yours and you love her, and you know this is shitty for her. You know the family blames her, and you know more than they do how much the ruined marriage was a two-person job. You were there to witness it all.

He strides over, and you squint at the date he brought. She’s expensive-pretty, and young - probably not too much older than Nayoung. Don’t be judgy, you think to yourself. Don’t be judgy.

He hugs Nayoung for a long time, long enough that you wonder if he’s been more present in her life than yours since the divorce. Was the split two sides, not three as you’d always thought? Was it Nayoung and Dad versus the rest of you? How had you not known that, for all these years?

When he disentangles himself with Nayoung, he gives Jeongwoo a firm clap on the back and it’s immediately clear that, yes, they have met before. You keep your mother’s hand firmly in yours, squeezing tight. You feel Seungcheol shift behind you, not far from your side.

Your father moves to Soonyoung next, making a fuss over your brother’s muscular build. Something sour simmers in you and it surprises you. You’d known you were mad at Nayoung for leaving you all behind. You hadn’t really examined if the sentiment carried over to your father, too. Apparently it had.

You talk on the phone about as much as you talk to your mother… and sure, you see him on most holidays, way more than you see Nayoung. But still. He had left, too, hadn’t he?

When he hugs you, it takes you a second before you can force yourself to return it, your mother stepping backwards to give you room, to put space between herself and the man who’d left her - or whom she’d driven away, depending on who you asked. Or both.

When he releases you, you turn to Seungcheol, ready to introduce him. You find him watching this exchange with a peculiar look on his face, as if he’s doing calculations in his head - and you really don’t know if you’ll like the answer he gets.

“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol,” you say quietly, and Seungcheol steps forward, clasping hands. There’s something hard and unreadable on his face as he shakes your father’s hand, no sign of the warm, dimpled smile he usually sports.

“Boyfriend, eh?” your dad says, and you watch his eyes flick over Seungcheol, evaluating. You feel weirdly protective, like you want to step between them. Which is stupid, because Seungcheol isn’t yours, and he doesn’t need protection from anyone even if he were.

“Nice to meet you,” Seungcheol says, his tone as hard as his expression.

Your father responds to this with a hmm that makes your blood start to boil. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to talk later and get to know each other better,” he says, and to you - and probably no one else - it sounds like a threat.

Then he turns to your mother, saying her name flatly and extending a hand. They shake, and you again fight the urge to step between them. You aren’t used to this - wanting to protect everyone from the potential to wound each other. You haven’t felt this way since before the split, when the fighting was at its worst, and you’d only had your brother to protect back then. You’d put years and distance between yourself and this impulse, and it feels dizzying to be back in it so completely.

Your father introduces his date to your mother - he hadn’t for any of you kids - and you watch her smile tighten as she fights to remain gracious, reaching out to shake hands.

Seungcheol steps closer to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you against his side. “It’s okay,” he says, tucking his head closer to yours and speaking so quietly that no one else could possibly hear him. “It’s not your job to fix it.”

You look up at him, sideways. This moment of kindness, of soothing, is real, is from him - your friend Seungcheol. Not fake-boyfriend Seungcheol. (But it is still really good Boyfriending.)

You nod once, giving him a thankful nudge with your shoulder. He gives you a quick squeeze, but keeps his arm around you for show. You glance around, but Nayoung has her back to you now, talking to her fiancé. Soonyoung and Chan are both on their phones, side by side like oblivious bookends.

“I need a drink,” you mutter, and Seungcheol’s mouth quirks.

“Should we go in?” he asks the group, and Nayoung turns at the sound of his question.

“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit lost. “Sure, let’s head in. Everyone else is on their way.”

The restaurant staff inside lead you to a side-room which Nayoung has clearly rented out for the night. The table is set with place cards, and you find your name between Seungcheol’s and your mother’s. You set your purse on the chair and look around, finding the bar and making your way over. You glance over your shoulder to see where Seungcheol is. He’s hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair next to yours, chatting casually with Chan on the other side of the table. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look tonight, so you leave him alone.

At the bar, you order a beer for him and a cocktail for yourself, leaning on your elbows as you wait. Someone comes up behind you, close, and whispers in your ear, “Can you believe the nerve of him, showing up with a practical teenager? What’s he trying to prove, that he’s a big man?”

You close your eyes and take a breath. “I don’t think he’s trying to prove anything,” you say as neutrally as possible. “But I’m sure it feels very weird and uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry.”

All those eldest daughter memes leave something out. If the real eldest daughter moves out at eighteen and leaves the middle daughter in the house, then the middle daughter gets the Mom’s Therapist responsibilities.

She continues to mutter next to you as she waits for the bartender to bring her glass of wine; you nod and mhm and pat her hand until your two drinks come.

“I’m bringing Seungcheol his beer,” you say. “I’ll be at the table - you’re sitting next to me.”

She stops her litany of complaints and nods at you, letting you go. You make your way to the guys, pressing yourself up next to Seungcheol and holding out his beer.

He looks surprised as he takes the glass from you. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug. “Sure I did.” Then, thinking of how he’d been teasing you this whole time, you add, “Gotta take care of my man, don’t I?” You give a playful head tilt as you say this, feeling a smirk on your lips.

“I think I just puked,” Soonyoung complains.

Seungcheol’s smile crawls across his face like he’s not sure it’s safe, like he can’t believe you’re playing along with his little game. “I appreciate that,” he says, and there’s something new to his tone, something lower that makes your navel tug.

More guests have arrived and you know none of them - Jeongwoo’s family members, probably, and maybe some of the couple’s friends and coworkers. The room fills with people and noise, and you feel yourself relax a little as you lose track of everyone except the three young men you’re sticking close to. But, maybe an hour in, you catch sight of your mother - standing alone, mostly empty wine glass in hand, looking around the room like she’s lost.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmur to Seungcheol, stepping away before he can ask any questions.

“Hi,” you say simply as you stand next to her.

“Hello,” she says evenly, but you can see the relief in her shoulders. “Are you having a nice time?”

You shrug. “You know I don’t like events like this. Too many people. Too much small talk.”

She gives a knowing mm, eyes scanning the room behind you. “You father certainly seems like he fits into this crowd,” she observes lightly, but you hear the accusation behind it. Nayoung has let him into her world, and your mother is realizing she’s on the outside, just like you.

“He lives closer,” you try to rationalize, though you don’t know why you do it. Seungcheol’s words echo in your mind - it’s not your job to fix it. But you want to anyway.

“It doesn’t matter if you know all their work friends,” you say firmly. “Nayoung loves you. You’ll always be important to her.”

Your mother looks away, suddenly misty-eyed, reaching out and squeezing your bicep gratefully.

You glance over your shoulder to check on Seungcheol, but he’s still with Soonyoung, so you stay put. You stand in silence for a little, just so she won’t be alone.

“Jeongwoo seems nice,” you say finally.

“He’s a good man,” she agrees, turning to look at where Nayoung and Jeongwoo stand close together, talking to an older couple - maybe his parents. “She did alright for herself, even after everything.”

This confuses you. “After everything? What everything?”

She sighs, drains her glass. “Ah. You were there - you know already. Things were so ugly at the house… I’m not blaming anyone… but she left as soon as she could to get away from it all. We put her through college financially, of course, but she didn’t have the emotional support she should have; we were both very distracted by our own mess. I regret it very much. Those years are so formative, and she was all alone. I’m proud of what she made for herself.”

You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t thought about it like that at all. And you wonder, but won’t ask, if she’s proud of you and Soonyoung - for standing witness to the burning rubble of your family unit, for holding up the frame of the collapsing house for as long as you could, for keeping each other going when home became a warzone. You both grew up from that - moved on and made lives for yourselves, too.

It isn’t worth it. Not here, not now.

“She seems really happy,” you say, instead, because it’s the most appropriate thing you can. “I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Do you want another glass when I get back?”

In the bathroom, you place both palms flat on the counter and heave a breath, shoulders sagging and head flopping forward. When the door creaks open behind you and someone says your name, you almost swear out loud.

It’s Nayoung, and she slips into the restroom, letting the door close behind her.

“Hey… is Mom okay?” she asks quietly.

You stare at her, weighing your choices for an answer. “Don’t worry about Mom,” you say finally. “It’s your weekend. I’ve got her. She’s fine - everything’s fine.”

She stares back, like she’s trying to decide if you’re lying - like she’s trying to decide if she should let you shoulder this responsibility. “Okay. Thanks,” she says finally. “If you need me, let me know.”

I needed you fifteen years ago, you think, but, god, maybe it’s time you let it go. It is what it is - you can’t go back and neither can she. Maybe you all just did your best in a shitty situation.

“I will,” you say.

She nods again and slips back out through the door as quietly as she’d come. You take another minute, check your reflection, and rub absently at the backs of your heels. Your shoes are killing you, blisters forming on both feet. You check the time and calculate how many more hours you’ll have to power through the pain. Too many, it seems. You sigh heavily, give your heel one last sympathetic rub, and then rejoin the party.

You scan the room for Seungcheol, knowing you’ve been away from him for a while and should probably check on him. You find him quickly, in the far corner of the room, still standing with Soonyoung. But now they’re joined by your father.

“Oh shit,” you blurt, and beeline for them.

“Ah!” Your father says cheerily when you sidle up to Seungcheol again, reaching a hand around his waist and pressing up against his side, your spare hand coming to rest lightly over his stomach. “There she is!”

“Sorry, I was with Mom,” you say. “Everyone good here? You need anything?” You direct this question up at Seungcheol, who smiles down at you.

That is not his normal smile. That is not his happy smile. He, like you, is baring his teeth and doing his best to hide the threat in it.

Your stomach sinks. You wonder what you missed.

“The guys were just catching me up,” your father tells you. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Yeah,” you say, giving a little awkward laugh. “We were trying not to put a lot of pressure on it at the beginning, and then… I don’t know, time just passed, right? And here we are. It felt weird to, like… announce it.”

Your father clicks his tongue. “You’d think it would come up over the course of a year.”

“Less than a year,” you point out unhelpfully.

“For what it’s worth, sir,” Seungcheol says, and something in you sits up straight in alarm, “I’ve been around for a lot longer than that. Since college, actually. I was there when she graduated with honors, and I was there when we all cooked to celebrate when she started at her job. I was there helping Soonyoung get her sofa up the stairs when she moved apartments after her first promotion, too.”

He says this very off-handedly, looking sideways at you, but the lightness of his tone is a lie that’s meant to be seen through. You all hear, loud and clear, the end of his thought: you, her father, weren’t there for any of that.

And he’s right - about both parts. Seungcheol has been in the periphery of your life for years now… you just hadn’t really given him much thought. And your father… he’d been around, but he hadn’t been there.

Across from you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide. Next to him, Chan is literally pressing his hand against his mouth, eyes dancing between the two men.

Your father clears his throat. “She’s lucky to have good friends,” he says, sidestepping the dig.

“It’s not luck,” Seungcheol says, his hand tightening almost uncomfortably on your waist, “that she’s surrounded by people who love her. It’s because of who she is.”

“Cheol,” you murmur, reproach and apology both present in your voice.

He turns to look at you, and seems to snap out of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, giving your father a quick bow. “What I mean is, you raised two great people. I hope you see that.”

“We need some air,” you interrupt. You don’t wait, don’t apologize, don’t look back. You grab Seungcheol’s hand and tug him towards the doors that lead to a small, outdoor patio.

“Holy fuck,” you say, as soon as the doors close behind you. Outside, night has fallen, the sky the mottled purple of late sunset and early dusk.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, grabbing for your hand like he’s scared you’re going to take off and leave him there to think about what he’s done. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have popped off. I just got mad - I have been around for all those things, all these pieces of your life, and he wasn’t there for any of it. How does he get off demanding answers from you?”

“It’s okay,” you say, though you’ll probably have to answer for this at some point. “It’s fine. This is just… this is just what they do.”

He sighs heavily, rubs a hand down his face. “It’s not okay. I’m supposed to be making this weekend easier for you, not causing problems. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say again, voice almost a whisper. You feel raw, coming down from the rush of adrenaline, hands shaking a little at your sides.

He notices.

“Hey,” he says gently. “God. I’m sorry.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around you. This isn’t fake-boyfriend Seungcheol, either - there are no witnesses, no one to fool. But you let him envelop you, and you take a shuddering breath in the safety of his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice low. “I’m sorry, really - I’ll go back in and apologize -”

“It’s fine, stop apologizing to me,” you say, swatting at his ribs lightly. “He deserved it. And I’m fine.”

To prove this, you step back out of his embrace, looking up at him so he can see your face.

“Your family is intense,” he tells you seriously. “I should have known, how else do you end up with someone as crazy as Soonyoung?”

This makes you laugh. “Is my need for emotional support making a lot more sense to you now? You haven’t even met the jackals - they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Honestly,” he says, leaning against the stone balustrade, “it really is.”

You both go quiet for a minute, listening to the distant crickets and frogs, the sound of muted laughter from inside. You take the opportunity to lean heavily on the low wall beside you, slipping a finger beneath the offending shoe-strap over your heels, loosening each, wincing as you do.

Seungcheol watches you silently, plump lips downturned.

“That was some very good Boyfriending,” you point out as you adjust the other shoe. “Very believable.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he admits. “That just came out.”

“You’re a natural, then.”

“You’d think I’d have a better track record to show for it,” he says darkly, and the reference to Jieun sends you both back to silence.

“You really have been around for a lot of stuff,” you muse eventually, to move you on from the moment. “I never really thought about that.”

He sends you a wry smile. “Crazy, right? College feels like yesterday, when we would all be squeezed into Seungkwan’s dorm since he had the best tv.”

You smile, remembering. “We barely fit in there. I always ended up on someone’s lap, and not in a sexy way.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “Not mine.”

“Jieun would have beat my ass. Or keyed my car.”

“That’s… probably true. Sorry.”

You shrug - it’s ancient history, and a bit funny now with the years to soften the edges.

“Do you remember that one Halloween?” he asks.

You know instantly which one he means. You and Seungcheol’s senior year, Soonyoung’s junior year, and Chan’s sophomore year you’d gone with the rest of the guys on a Halloween pub crawl in the city.

The group had split up into three after the fourth bar. Joshua, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Mingyu had continued on with the pub crawl, shouting raucous goodbyes into the night as they followed the crowd onto bar number five. The rest of you had gotten into three different cabs to head back to campus.

You’d ended up in a cab with Seokmin, Seungcheol, and Jieun - who at the time, was definitely still his girlfriend. They’d been wasted - you all were - and they’d been arguing next to you in the back seat. Seokmin had turned around from the front passenger seat and looked at you, wide-eyed, as you both witnessed the shouting and crying going on next to you.

Back at the dorm, it was clear that the cab with Soonyoung, Chan, and Jeonghan had arrived before you. Soonyoung had greeted you at the door, face drawn, with, “Chan’s throwing up.”

This was quickly evidenced by the sound of heaving from the small, dorm bathroom.

Behind you, still in the hallway, Jieun was screaming at Seungcheol, “And what about last week, when you didn’t text me for two whole days?”

He shouted back, “What did you need me to text you for? Wasn’t Rob from Econ class enough company for you?”

You covered your face, feeling the ghost-white face paint sticky against your palms. “Where did Hannie go?”

“Back to his room to sleep,” Soonyoung tells you, then turns to peer into the bathroom to check on Chan. “Chan, dude, stay by the toilet, don’t come out here -”

“Alright!” You’d called out, voice carrying, clapping your hands once for emphasis. Everyone went still and quiet. Probably shocked. You weren’t a yeller. “Lee Chan, get your body back to the toilet and don’t leave until noona tells you to, got it? You two -” you pointed at your brother and Seokmin - “are in charge of him. You two -” this, you directed at the couple still standing furiously in the hallway, “you need to come have this fight inside before someone calls campus security on you. Let’s go. Inside.”

Your sudden yelling seemed to snap everyone out of it. The guys shuffled into the cramped bathroom to babysit the baby, and Seungcheol glowered as he led his lady friend into the dorm, sulking behind him.

“Okay,” you’d said, mostly to yourself. “The rest of the guys should be back here any minute. Let’s just put on a movie or something and all relax.” You crossed the dorm - Soonyoung’s, but you were there enough that it felt like home to you, too - and dug some water bottles out of the mini-fridge.

“Here,” you said, handing a bottle to Seokmin, who was hanging in the bathroom’s doorway, unable to fully fit inside with Chan and Soonyoung. “Make him take small sips. You have one too.”

You turned to get more for the rest of the room - Seungcheol and Jieun - only to find them on the couch. He was seated, feet planted wide on the floor, and she was straddling him, body pressed tight to his front. His hands were up the back of her shirt and her hips rocked noticeably as they kissed.

Your hand flew to cover your eyes. “Maybe,” you had said loudly, hoping it would get through to them even in this drunken state, “if you two are going to make up now, you might want to go to that in your own dorm instead of my brother’s common room?”

You uncovered your eyes when you heard them shuffle close to you. Sure enough, they were on their way out. Jieun gave you a nasty side-eye as she passed, but Seungcheol had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he slipped by you.

You’d texted Jihoon - “you guys almost back?” - and went to check on the bathroom crew.

The aftermath of the night had rippled out. It was the night that cemented Chan and Soonyoung’s close friendship, one of those things you come out stronger for. Seungcheol and Jieun had broken up for two weeks and then got back together for three more.

And the guys in the third cab, who didn’t make it back to campus until sometime the next day, had somehow ended up in international waters on a boat forging a lasting friendship with a billionaire named Big Jerry. They still talk sometimes. It was a whole thing.

Now, years later, you say, “How could I forget? I can’t believe none of us got arrested that night. Or alcohol poisoning.”

“I think Chan technically did have alcohol poisoning,” Seungcheol points out. “God, we were all such a mess. That was me and Jieun at our fucking worst.”

Me and Jieun. It sounds so natural coming off of his tongue, a phrase he’s said a million times.

The moment feels heavy, now that he put it out there. You’re not sure if you should let the moment pass, or press on it. You decide, after everything he’s been through for you today, to risk it.

“I saw she showed up on your instagram today,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, free from accusation. “Is that… normal?”

His face twists with annoyance, but you don’t think it’s at you. “She shows up like that every few months, I guess,” he admits.

You wait him out, unsure if he has more to say. When he doesn’t follow this up, you tentatively venture, “Does it bug you? Or…?”

He shrugs. You wait. You know he’ll answer.

“Yes and no,” he finally says. “I get… it pisses me off sometimes, the way she shows up when I’m good, when I’m happy, like she can’t stand that she’s not part of it. But when we’re together, she could give a shit if I’m happy.”

You stay silent. You’ve wondered often about their on-again-off-again thing - mostly wondering why either of them would go back at all, after you’ve witnessed firsthand how bad things seem when they’re together. Your whole group of friends has watched time and time again as they repeated the cycle: great for a few weeks, a few weeks of fighting, a loud breakup, a few weeks of bitter silence, and repeat.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” you say quietly, after a few minutes. “It shouldn’t be like that. Whoever you’re with… they should want you all the time, not just when they feel, like, fomo or whatever.”

“Is that one of your long-term relationship rules?”

“No,” you say meekly, responding automatically to the bite in his voice. “I think it’s just… true.”

Just common sense, is what you wanted to say.

He shakes his head a little, his gaze far away. “You think it’s possible?” he asks. “You watched your parents break up - I did, too, with mine. You think there’s actually an ending, for anybody, that isn’t just hating each other?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t even have to think about it. Despite everything you witnessed growing up, you really do believe in happy endings, in lasting partnership. Maybe it isn’t promised, maybe it means effort. But still. “I do.”

He gives a soft huff of a self-deprecating laugh. “I wish I could. Maybe then I could say no to her. But most of the time… she feels like the ending I deserve.”

You move closer, sadness weighing you down. “Everyone deserves to be happy, Seungcheol. Including you. Including her.”

He shoots you a sideways look like he doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he glances back at the lit-up windows behind you. “Should we head back in?”

“Probably,” you say. “Though I’m much happier out here.”

“Come on,” he says, cajoling. “Let’s go in, or we’ll miss dessert.”

Inside, he walks ahead of you and goes straight to your father. You follow at a clip, heart pounding, your eyes on your father’s tight face - he won’t be taking an insult twice.

“I’m sorry for how I acted before,” Seungcheol says seriously. “I just get protective when it comes to her. It makes me… kind of crazy.”

The kind of love that makes you crazy, you’d said earlier, at the pool.

He reaches backwards as he says this, reaching for you even though he can’t see you, as though he can sense you coming near.

As you take his hand, let him pull you closer, you’re struck by how much you could believe the lie he’s saying.

—

You survive the rest of the night. You stay quiet in the car back to the resort. You feel your brother watching you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. Back at the resort you say goodnight quietly and head to the room. You don’t talk much as you take turns showering.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, mentally organizing what you need to have ready for the wedding tomorrow, when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Seungcheol’s closer, so he opens it, letting Soonyoung in.

“Hi,” your brother says. “I just wanted to check on you?”

There’s a second where you almost ask him why, almost deny that you need checked on. Then, you shake your head, eyes rolling in frustration at your whole existence. “Tonight was a lot. Mom’s a mess, Dad’s a jerk… Nayoung’s oblivious…”

Soonyoung frowns at you. “One more day to go?” he says, his voice hopeful. You know he just wants to help. But now, in the safety of your room, the events of the evening seem to come crashing down around you. The pressure you’d been holding up finally crushes you, and you cover your face with your hands and take a shuddery breath.

“It’s fine,” you say automatically, before anyone can react. “It’s fine. I just need to get some sleep, get through tomorrow, and go the fuck home.”

There’s a tense silence above you, and then - inexplicably - Seungcheol says, “I’ve got it, bro. You can go to bed.”

Got what? you think, lifting your head, but you already know. You. He’s got you, even here in the privacy of the room where there’s no one to see it.

When Soonyoung is finally convinced enough to head back to his own room, Seungcheol sits heavily on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” you say bleakly, all apology. “It’s too much. The family stuff, there’s so much, I didn’t mean to drag you into our mess so badly…”

“It’s really okay,” he assures you, looking over at you seriously. “I’m not part of this, it doesn’t affect me the way it affects you. Don’t worry about me.”

You look at him silently, not believing it.

“Stop worrying about me,” he repeats, this time smiling a little, knowing you’ll be hard to convince.

You shake your head, leaning back. “I’ll try,” you say finally.

“We’re all good,” he promises. “I’m doing what I’m here to do. We’ve got one more tough day, and then you’re free.”

You groan, thinking of the wedding. “God, tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

He slaps at your knee playfully. “You need some rest if you’re gonna make it. Want to watch a movie or something? Until you’re tired?”

You consider this. “That actually sounds nice,” you admit.

He pulls up a streaming service on his phone and hands it to you. “Pick something while I brush my teeth,” he says, and then lopes off to the bathroom.

When he emerges, you’re under the covers, having turned out all the lights except the small one above his nightstand. He slides into his side and reaches for his phone. You start to adjust your pillows so you can see his screen better, but he lifts an arm and smiles over at you.

“Come on, fake girlfriend,” he says, that tease back in his voice. “Come watch the movie with me the right way.”

You hesitate, unsure if this is wise. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer, just gives the arm he’s still holding open for you a wiggle in invitation.

After an apprehensive moment, you follow directions, sliding closer and laying your head on his chest. He lowers his arm around your shoulders and hits play on his phone screen. You glance up at him a few times, lit up by the phone, his hoodie pulled up over his head, but he’s always dutifully watching the movie, paying no attention to the girl curled up against his side. Eventually, you settle in, relaxing against him, letting your hand rest over his stomach. You can feel it rise and fall with his breathing, can hear his steady heartbeat beneath your ear where you rest.

At some point, you fall asleep this way.

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