#soft mingyu for the win

[seventhcallisto]

DEDICATING EVERY LOVE SONG TO KIM MINGYU.

gn!reader and soft!idol!mingyu cuddling. teeth rotting fluff and tiniest bit of arguing (you let him sleep during a movie).

"Can I get some soft Gyu?? Just some cuddling and admiring his beautiful features 🥺" -asked noni!!

Noni u are so valid for this, soft gyu, ugh my heart I'm dying- please I love him!!! PLEASE!!! —calli

⋆˙⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Your boyfriend was so pretty. The way his face lit up whenever he spoke, his pout and his dawning features that glistened with makeup, and even his skin, the soft tan that was gorgeous and perfect, perfectly mingyu.

You were never one to care about beauty, neither was he, so your relationship had built up easily based purely on personality and genuine emotional attraction. But it was times like this, where his soft snores fanned your face, and his eyes were slotted close. Did you get a moment to admire him and all his physical attributes without him shying away.

He stirs in your arms, groaning on your chest. His heavy arm fumbling to tighten around you, as if you had left when this hunk of a man was weighing you to the couch.

His eyes peeked open, tiredly slotting up to look at the tv, then your face. "Babe," he whined into his words, nuzzling himself back into your chest. His face forming into a deep frown, even tired, and his face puffy from sleep, he looked pretty. You grinned, threading your hand through his dark hair, messaging against his scalp.

You hummed to answer him, continuing to stare at his sleepy body. "You let me sleep through the movie," he mumbled sadly, pouting evident in his words. His hands come to interlock from under you, pulling you tighter to him. "S'just a movie, gyu." You pushed the hair from his forehead, smiling down at more of the features on his face coming into view.

"It's not, though! I wanted to watch it with you.." he trailed off, mumbling into his words. You were distracting him, fingers playing with his hair and threading through his scalp carefully. He made an effort to move away, though, deciding against it and shifting on top of you to get more comfortable. "We did watch it"

Only half of it.

Mingyus pout widens, his eyebrows furrowing against his smooth forehead. Your free hand smooths over the crease lines. The way your fingertips trail over the wrinkles in his forehead makes his eyes slot shut, sighing against your palm. His own hand rubbing against your waist to stimulate the feeling back to you. Ever giving when he's sleepy, making sure you know he appreciates what you're doing.

"we planned this for weeks," he murmurs, sliding his head up to prop his strong chin on your rib so he can look up at you. The slight sting from him digging into your rib makes you scoot down, lifting his head off of you with your hand under his chin. He shifts with you, sliding to lay on his side so you both can face each other properly.

"That's okay, it's just a movie-" "Stop saying that, babe! It really isn't just a movie- it's like- letting me sleep through a date!" Your eyebrow perks up at his pouty outburst, grinning up at the passionate man. You nod your head to signal you're listening, even as he pulls his hand out to gesture to the film behind your shoulder.

"This was our time, and I slept through it,"

Your smile makes his face pout even further. "Why are you smiling? I'm serious!" his own smile pokes through his plump lips, a reactive thing when he's passionate about the subject. You shake your head lightly, biting down on your lip to stop your growing smile.

"m sorry, baby, you're right. How could I let you sleep in the middle of the night when we're in the middle of a movie? I'm such a terrible person"

He just realizes how his tired little tantrum sounds to you, his face controrting into a pained smile. He slides his head back onto your chest, kicking his feet to swing his long leg over your own hip. He doesn't speak up, only mumbling salty words to himself from you. Your hand picks up the back of his neck, craning it to turn back up to you. "I wanted to let you sleep, you look tired"

He sighs heavily, leaning up to place himself face to face with you. His hand encircles your waist, kneading it softly under his large palm. "I am tired, but I want to be up with you." Your frown makes him mimic you, honesty on the tip of his tongue. "I haven't seen you in forever, I miss you, I don't need sleep"

You nod your head, your own palm coming up to hold his face, thumb stroking over his cheek, then his bushy eyebrows that furrow over his features. Your eyes scan him, soft and kind over his face. "I know, i missed you too, but you have to sleep at some point. You’ve been up non-stop."

You remind him of all the places he stopped on tour, drawing his sad hum out. You were right. Of course, you were right. "I." He starts gulping down the lump in his throat. If his members could hear him now, he'd never get a break, but you're not his member's, you're his safe space.

"I really missed you, I missed being held by you. I don't know.. it must have made me tired, and you're really warm 'n you smell so nice- your touch is like a sleep inducer"

You laugh lightly at his words, swooned with the way he speaks. Your hand comes up to hold his face, tilting his chin up so you can kiss his lips softly. They fall back to their original shape with a sigh, mingyus eyes watching you study his features.

"let's go lay in bed big guy"

Mingyus legs follow yours the minute you roll off the couch, interlocking his nimble fingers in your own. Even for a second, he can't be without you. He stumbles after your legs, easily following behind cause of his length, his hand squeezing yours the closer you get to your shared bedroom.

The bed is his favorite sight. With many nights spent together in it and being close, he doesn't think there's enough memories of you two together in it, lying awake and admiring the morning when you each got a day off. You're crawling on it first, propped up in the middle and working yourself under the blanket.

Mingyu kneels to the side of the bed to allow you to shift the sheets, lifting them up so he can crawl under with you. He comes up close, taking the sheet from your hands and throwing it over the two of you. He takes his spot right next to you, wrapping himself in your embrace. Melting when your hands come up to rub against his wide shoulders, soothing him back into your embrace.

You kiss the mole on his nose, his face scrunching at the feeling, then his other mole, then the one by his jaw, until eventually you've littered his entire face with loving pecks.

He lets you. Indulging in the feeling of your smooth lips against his skin, even when you dive your hands back into his fluffy black hair, pulling him into every single kiss.

"Babe" he whines the further you go on, you laugh against his skin, tracing your free fingers against the bridge of his nose, his eyes flutter open, looking straight at you in the dark, the only light to illuminate the bedroom being the one on your side, a tiny little lamp that was decorative.

His hands come up to hold your face away from him, stopping your continuous assault on his senses. You smile cheekily, pawing at his neck to hold him, his eyes scan your own. Softening the longer he looks over you, admiring your own face and all in between, the way your lips crease, the lines from your smile, your nose.

"I love you," he softly murmurs, thumbing your skin.

"I love you first, gyu." He grins at your tone, admiring the way this saying continues on in your relationship, his eyes creasing the wider his lips grow.

"But I love you forever, babe."

[honeyhaeya]

(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원우 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

[seokmn]

GOOD FATHER ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader wc: 0.7k words warnings: mention of mingyu shirtless

"daddy's here to hold ya through the night"

The sight of you holding your newborn daughter, rocking her while having a smile on your face that shows to the world how happy you are made Mingyu tear up from how overwhelmed he felt. His love for you and your little daughter was undeniable.

“Is she asleep already?” Mingyu whispered as he kneeled in front of you, caressing your covered knees.

“I’m trying to make her sleep, but she refuses to,” you let out a weak chuckle. Mingyu didn’t have to be a genie to know that you were incredibly tired and just wanted to rest for at least 30 minutes. “She’s just like you. She loves to stay awake when I just want to take a little nap.”

He smiled, took off his shirt and took the baby away from you, taking her in his arms and placing her small blanket over her. “I told you to not overwork yourself, honey. I don’t want to see you like this every time. I’ll take care of this little one and of you as well.” Mingyu placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and you smiled,

“Thank you, Gyu,” you let out a sigh of relief when he placed a pillow under your head and fixed your blanket with his free hand. “But what’s up with taking off your shirt? I didn’t get it.”

“This?” He looked down at his bare chest while starting to rock the little girl in his arms. “I read an article that said it’s beneficial for the baby.”

You narrowed your eyes and let out a scoff. “You saw that in Jane the Virgin when we were watching it together.”

Mingyu smirked and laughed, his chest vibrating against your daughter’s tiny body. “You got me there, but when you were pregnant I really read an article about it! It’s called skin-to-skin contact and it’s very beneficial for her and for you, I can give you a little show before you fall asleep, y’know? Everyone wins.”

You looked at his toned abs, his strong arms and large hands holding your little ball of joy and you nodded at his words, it was indeed a little show to you. Ever since you got pregnant, anything parent related that Mingyu did was a reason for you to get a little bit more attracted to him, so that sight was prettier than any Monet’s painting.

“I can’t lie, I’m quite invested in this little show, it’s very entertaining.”

He smiled and danced in a sensual yet playful way, making sure the baby was still comfortable in his arms. You laughed in response and clapped your hands, hyping him up. Mingyu mirrored your laughter before sitting on the chair in front of the bed and focusing on his angel that was in his arms, almost falling asleep.

“My little girl,” he carefully booped her tiny nose. His heart burned with love when he saw her tiny hands wrapping around his finger. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe, to keep you happy and to make sure that you never forget how much I love you. You’ll be so loved that no one will ever give you less love than you deserve.”

You watched him whispering sweet promises to your daughter with a small and tired smile on your face, your body threatening to finally give you the rest that you need to.

“Mingyu…”

He looked up at you with a soft smile on his face. “Yes, love?”

“You’ll be the best dad ever. She will love you forever and will always be grateful for having you as her father.” Your voice was quiet and slow as you started to drift off.

Mingyu felt so touched by your sleeping words that he had to hold back his tears. He looked down to the baby and saw her sleeping peacefully, he stood up and walked towards the crib, putting her in it with all the care in the world, making sure to fix her blanket.

When he got into bed beside you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, put you closer to him and hid his face in the crook of your neck. “You’ll be a good mom too, the best mom ever. Can’t wait to grow old with you and watch her growing up and becoming who she wants to be… I’m sure you’re gonna be her role model.”

Mingyu knew you weren’t listening, he knew you were in a deep sleep, a deep sleep that you deserved more than anyone else in this universe. He kissed your neck and mumbled a ‘I love you’ before closing his eyes to sleep as well.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o flashing them mid-argument to shut them up

Request: hey!!

first of all it is incredibly nice of you to not post any suggestive/smutty things during ramadan!! I still have a silly request in that direction and I know you won't do it until after this month but I fear I might forget it if I don't request now😭😭

how do you think would the svt members react if you (their gf) randomly flash them during an argument?? for e.g lets say they don't let you talk or smth and yoi just pull up your shirt to make them shut up😭

thank you so much and have a nice day!!💓

A/N: You are so sweet for what reason? 🥺 Here you go, I hope you like it !!!

A/N #2: I lost myself while writing Mingyu and Minghao's parts lmao, I hope you don't mind this reaction being long.

Content warning: MDNI! Established relationship. manhandling, kissing, teasing, body worship, missionary, flustered to focused, praise, overstimulation if you keep teasing him/let him, pussy eating, slow burn to deep heat, dirty talk, couch, kitchen counter and bed scenes , low-key subby energy in seungkwan for some reason, messy kisses, they're down bad for you, clothing kink, mirror play, possessiveness, oral ( bot m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex (don't be stupid), mild degradation, rough makeout, sadism, bondage, edging. lmk if I missed anything !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: You’re arguing—well, he’s arguing, raising his voice and not letting you get a word in. And then you suddenly lift your shirt. Now, thanks to you, all you can hear rn is, dead silence. His mouth stays open mid-sentence. “...What?” His anger deflates instantly and now he’s just blinking at you, jaw flexing as he tries not to smirk. “…You trying to distract me, baby?” Steps forward, corners you against a wall, smirking low. “It worked. Let’s talk after.” Seungcheol leans in, his face inches from yours as he traps you against the wall with his arms caging you in. His smirk turns into a playful grin as he presses his forehead against yours. "You know what? Forget the argument. You win." Hands slide down the wall to grip your hips, pulling you closer as he leans in, presses a soft kiss to your neck, biting gently before pulling back with a laugh.

Jeonghan: You’re mid-bickering over something really stupidly dumb when you’ve had enough of his smug comebacks. So you flash him without any warning. Jeonghan laughs like it’s the best thing he’s seen all week [probably (?)] “Oh? That’s your strategy now?” he says and walks over slowly, dragging a finger across your exposed skin. “Keep doing that and you’ll never win another argument again. I’ll make sure of it.” I KNOW IT'S SO HOT OF HIM Jeonghan leans in closer, his breath tickling your skin as he traces patterns on your stomach. Kisses trail lower as he hooks his fingers in your waistband, slowly tugging down the fabric to reveal more skin. "You know what happens now, right?" He looks up at you with a mischievous grin, "You lose the argument, remember?" He drops to his knees in front of you, kissing a trail from your stomach downwards as his hands grip your thighs firmly. "You used your body to shut me up... now I'm going to use my mouth to make you shut up." His tongue flickers out, teasing along your inner thigh.

Joshua: You try to explain your point but he’s lowkey ignoring you. One flash and— his eyes go wide. “Babe??” That fucking hottie, turns red. Literally flustered like he just saw his first boob. “I—are we seriously doing this right now?” He starts giggling laughing nervously, covers his face, then just sighs. “Okay… okay you win. Come here.” Clearly aroused, decides to take control in the most primal way. He steps closer, his hands wrapping around your waist as he lifts you effortlessly off the ground. “Starting fights and flashing me like that?” his voice husky as he murmurs, “you better be ready for what comes next.” He tosses you on the bed gently and follows after, pinning you beneath him with a hungry look. Slowly, he leans down, kissing along your collarbone. His hands slide under your shirt again, but this time with reverence. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” And that night, he shows you exactly what happens when you tease a man like Joshua Hong.

Jun: You catch him off guard while he’s getting fired up about you ‘never listening.’ So you flash him. He freezes but his shameless ass stares. “...That’s not fair.” But he’s definitely grinning now. His voice lowers, “you’re gonna have to take responsibility, you know?” Jun doesn’t care about the argument anymore bc all he wants rn is you. His grin turns mischievous, mirroring his suddenly sadistic thoughts. He reaches over to grab something from the bedside drawer and pulls out a pair of handcuffs and a gag, his eyes gleaming. He quickly cuffs your wrists to the headboard, ensuring you're securely bound. "Let's see how well you argue now, without a voice or the ability to move," He shoves the gag into your mouth, effectively silencing you. He then takes your underwear off and spreads your legs wide, exposing you completely. "From now on, I make the rules. And right now, the rule is - you take whatever I give you, however I give it to you."

Hoshi: He’s pacing, being annoying as fuck, hands flying everywhere, so what you do? You lift your shirt. Yes and he yelps, “EXCUSE ME??” He's fully flustered and shuts the fuck up immediately and just STARES. Still walks over like a confused puppy, muttering under his breath, “Why are you like this…” as his hands fall to his sides uselessly as he pauses right in front of you. Unable to resist any longer, he leans in and crashes his lips onto yours, passionate and demanding. His hands find your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulls you against him. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss and spins you around, bending you over the nearest surface, and without hesitation, Hoshi lifts your skirt and pulls down your underwear. He starts spanking you hard, the sound of his palm hitting your flesh echoing through the room. Between spanks, he kisses you, "You're just showing off your arousal, even as you ignore me."

Wonwoo: You’re trying to explain something, but he’s giving you that cold, nonchalant stare. So, you shock him with a quick flash. Wonwoo blinks, and then he calmly removes his glasses. “...Okay.” Walks straight toward you. "You want my attention that bad?” Now it’s you who's speechless as he pins you to the couch and whispers, “Next time just ask.” A tell that you just gave him your undivided attention by basically sexually harassing him. He smirks slightly, and without any more back and forth, Wonwoo strips you both bare, his movements swift and decisive. He settles between your legs, his dark brown eyes burning with an intensity you've never seen before. He kisses you fiercely, his hands roaming your body possessively. One hand cupping your breast and teasing your nipple with his thumb. He rolls it between his fingers, making you gasp into his mouth. Simultaneously, his other hand slides down your stomach, finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. As you arch into his touch, Wonwoo breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and chest. He takes your other nipple into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. His fingers continue their relentless teasing of your clit, building a steady pressure that makes your hips squirm and cry.

Woozi: He’s on a full rant, not even letting you breathe. You lift your shirt: ERROR 404: LEE JIHOON HAS CRASHED. He fucking stares and then have the audacity to cover his face with both hands. “Are you INSANE?!” He’s mad, but also not mad, but also—mad that he can’t be mad anymore. Eventually just groans, hugs you tight. "You know what your problem is?" Woozi suddenly releases you, pushing his glasses up his nose. His eyes darken slightly, voice dropping an octave. He snaps his fingers suddenly. "You're sadistic. That's why you tease like that." He low-key, harshly, pushes you onto the bed behind you. His pretty hands trace your curves slowly, intentionally building anticipation. "Such pretty eyes... they'll look even better filled with tears." Jihoon leans down, his breath hot on your ear. "Let's see those tears, shall we?"

Dokyeom: You’re getting overwhelmed, so you hit him with a quick flash out of desperation. He gasps like you guys aren't dating already and doesn't see eachother's body minimum twice a day, “WHAT THE—” Fully scandalized, he looks away, then looks back, “babe. You… you distracted me!!” Argument’s over. He grouses, pulling you onto the bed while exclaiming about how ‘unfair’ that move was. Kyeom's hands are rough and impatient as he pulls you onto his lap, his fingers immediately finding their way to your pussy. "I'm going to edge you until you're begging for release," he mutters, "And do you know how I'll do thay? I'm going to make you come so many times that you'll be crying, but I won't let you have a real orgasm. You'll be reduced to a whimpering mess, all because of that damn flash." His fingers move faster, bringing you right to the edge before suddenly stopping. Dokyeom watches your face intently, a mix of amusement and dominance in his eyes. "See how close you are?" he whispers, his fingers hovering just above your clit without touching. "I can keep you right here on the edge all night." He leans down, his lips brushing against your lips.

Mingyu: He’s being annoyingly loud and trying to act like he’s right. You flash him and he, rightfully, chokes. Literally drops the mug he was holding. “HUH?!” Walk up to you like a hungry, horny man on a mission. “You better be ready to finish what you started, because I’m not letting this go.” Before you can even blink, he has you pinned against the counter, your legs boxed in by his. One hand fists the back of your shirt and tugs hard, pulling the fabric higher until you're bared to him again. He growls softly, lips brushing your collarbone. “Distracting me with these perfect tits?” He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss just above your nipple and you gasp—loud, shaky, already arching into his touch. Your breath catches when he drops to his knees in front of you without a word, both hands now gripping your thighs. He mouths at the soft curve of your inner thigh, teeth dragging just enough to leave a mark. His tongue is teasing, but there’s nothing playful in the way he pushes your panties aside and buries his face between your legs like a man starving [which he is]. He groans into you like he’s the one being touched, hips grinding slightly into the floor as if he’s losing control just from the taste of you. “Turn around,” he says, standing up and tugging at your hips until your front is pressed against the kitchen counter, “now.” He’s already undoing his pants, groaning as he slides them down just enough, his cock hard and flushed and angry red at the tip.

Minghao: You’re in a tense back-and-forth. You flash him; dead serious. He raises one elegant brow. “Oh… so that’s how you handle conflict.” Stares you down until you’re the one blushing. "Interesting strategy," he mutters, stepping closer. “You better mean it.” He’s in front of you now, tall and intimidating, one hand sliding around your waist as the other tugs your shirt all the way off. His fingertips trace your bare skin, mapping out his next move. “You’re already blushing,” he says with a smirk. “What happened to all that attitude from five minutes ago?” You really don’t have any smartass answer 🤷🏻‍♀️ His lips ghost over your shoulder, hand slipping beneath your waistband and then, he leads you to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, pulling you to stand in front of him, chest to your back. He meets your eyes in the reflection. “Look at you. All flushed and trembling from one look, from one little comment.” His hand slides lower, fingers teasing over your wet heat. You bite your lip, struggling to hold still. “Watch what you started,” he whispers, kissing behind your ear. “No looking away.” His fingers move slowly, knowing, driving you insane while he watches your expression change in the mirror. One hand teasing your chest, the other curled against your core. You cry out as he sinks two fingers into you, curling them just right. He pulls his fingers out slowly and licks them clean right behind you—eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Get on the bed. On your knees. I want that mouth next.” You move without a word, body shaking, heat pooling in your stomach. You’re already dizzy from the pace lmao. He lets you worship him first, praises falling from his lips between soft groans, hands gripping your hair with barely restrained control, and when he finally takes you—you feel owned, worshiped and ruined all at once. Hao holds you still, hips rolling into yours as his voice stays steady against your skin. “Next time we argue,” he murmurs, thrusts hitting deeper, “just strip. Saves us both the trouble.”

Seungkwan: “You’re not even listening to what I’m trying to—” Boob flash “AAAAAAAAAA—” Takes a fucking step back, “you did NOT just do that!” He's blushing so hard, flustered beyond help, pacing like an ajumma in crisis, but he caves instantly. “Okay, fine! You win!! Just stop flashing me when I’m trying to make a point!!” He storms toward you like a man on a mission, face red, eyes dark. “You’re evil,” he mutters, yanking your shirt off. “Evil, evil woman—” His mouth is already on you, hot and open, kissing the fuck out of everywhere he can reach. He pushes you down onto the couch nearby, tugging your shorts down halfway before dropping to his knees. “Now you don’t get to argue,” he says, kissing between your thighs. “You just stay quiet and take it.” And oh, you do [He makes sure of it.]

Vernon: “…What?” He deadpan stares at your boobs, then at your face, then back. “Are you serious right now?” Confused. Slightly aroused. Definitely distracted. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” [He never will, bc he’s too focused on you now.] He steps closer, hands slowly finding your waist, one thumb brushes the underside of your breast, reverent. “…You’re insane,” he whispers, grinning. He pulls you in a slow, heated kiss. Touches you like you're made of art. Lifts you up onto the counter or couch, whatever’s nearest, pushing your legs open as his mouth moves lower. “You win,” he murmurs against your skin. “Now let me worship you for it.” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh before licking a hot stripe over your center. “God, you taste like a sin,” he groans. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you still when you squirm. “You’re not going anywhere, baby. Not until you can’t remember your own name either,” and he keeps his promise :> Tongue deep, lips wrapped around your clit, humming every time you moan his name. When your thighs clamp around his head, he just groans into you like it fuels him.

Dino: You hit him with the flash mid-sentence and I kid you no, je literally shuts down. Eyes go wide. “Did… did you just—?” He walks away for a full 30 seconds before coming back. “That’s illegal. You can’t just do that.” Dino.exe has crashed. You raise an eyebrow, smug. “I just did.” He stares, then grabs your hand and pulls you toward the bedroom. “You better be ready to take responsibility.” Once you’re on the bed, he’s on his knees between your thighs in seconds, lips trailing fire up your skin, and then he devours you. Lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking just right. His focus is insane; he’s making a point with every swipe of his tongue. “Next time you flash me like that,” he murmurs against your soaked core, “just know I won’t stop until you’re begging.” p.s: you do beg.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Cherry-flavoured

girl dad & husband (in that specific order)!Choi Seungcheol x wife!Reader

Genre: fluff, sickfic

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: the flu; Seungcheol is down bad for his two girls; reader despises cherry-flavoured medicine

[Domestic AU] When both of his girls fall sick at the same time, Seungcheol is more than happy to take care of them both - no matter how difficult they are.

The kettle had barely finished when Seungcheol heard your voice calling out, “Can I get my tea yet?”

“You don’t even like tea that much,” he scoffed under his breath, careful not to be heard, before responding louder, “Just a moment, honey!”

He waited for a response and it soon came. A sniffling sound. A sneeze. But even then your pout was practically audible in your reply: “I don’t like honey.”

He sighed. The hot steam of the water was making his nose runny even now, a whole three days after his recovery from the flu. Still he carried on, adding spoonfuls of honey into two cups of tea. With the utmost care, he picked out the best looking cookies from the box (one Mingyu had so kindly brought over after hearing of your family’s predicament) and added them to the tray, right beside a small box of flu medicine.

To the sound of sniffles, coughing and whines of suffering, he steadily picked up the tray and began his journey upstairs. The ticklish feel of the cat scurrying past his ankles almost threw him off his balance. Just as he regained it, another fluffy creature practically flew past him – Kkuma stopped on the top step to look back at him, judging him for his slowness – but soon he reached the top of the stairs with a sigh of relief. 

The relief was temporary though because the moment he reached the 2nd floor, he was bombarded with complaints.

“What’s taking you so long, dad?” sounded from the bedroom to the right. It was followed by shuffling, a soft greeting for the cat, and more whining. “You promised to fix my TV!”

He took a moment to wonder when his little girl had started calling him ‘dad’. It sounded so formal and affectionless compared to the nicknames she’d given him in the past. 

But it was clear where his journey would take him next. Cautiously, he made his way to Minah’s bedroom. The door got stuck before he could fit himself through. He resisted the urge to forcefully rest his head against the doorframe. 

“Minah, princess, I told you I’d fix your TV after you clean your room,” he pointed out as he tried to shove the door further open without much success. It was harder to do this with no free hands and even he wasn’t bold enough to try to balance the tray with only one hand. “Where do you even walk?”

“I climb the walls like spiderman.”

His brows furrowed: that sounded an awful lot like talking back! Seungcheol wasn’t entirely sure whether she was just loopy from the fever or if it was time to stop letting the members babysit his daughter.

“Well, what’s daddy supposed to do?” he asked once he finally managed to break into the room. The tray remained mostly dry and he considered that a win. “I can’t climb the walls.”

There was a glint of mischief in his daughter’s eyes. “I’ll clean the room if you fix my TV.”

That was it, Seungcheol decided. He was done having children. If a few days ago he had wondered how to bring up the idea of having a second child with you, the desire now swiftly left as he realised his fate: endless circular arguments that would somehow always end with him folding around his little girl’s finger. 

He placed a cup of steaming tea and half the cookies on her bedside table. When she inevitably reached to take one (for she was only a girl; one with a sweet tooth), he let out a warning noise and handed her a spoonful of cough syrup. “Medicine first, candy second.”

His eight-year-old daughter offered him a look that called him dumb in five languages. The white cat in her lap seemed to match her sentiment. “Cookies aren’t candy, dad.”

“They’re chocolate-chip,” he retorted, already feeling his eyes widening with annoyance, “and chocolate is candy.”

“No, chocolate is chocolate,” she corrected him with a giggle that was soon interrupted by a coughing fit. 

Seungcheol felt himself soften at the sight. His free hand reaching out to brush her hair out of her face as she blew her nose, he patiently waited with the spoon still in his hand. Once she looked at him again, eyes red-rimmed and filled with exhaustion, he offered her a gentle smile. “Your medicine, princess?”

Her hand reached upwards towards the spoon. She hesitated. “Do I have to?”

“Do you want to get better?” he countered, raising a brow.

She groaned and looked up to her ceiling covered in plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. Clearly he hadn’t realised how difficult of a question that was to answer. “But then I’ll have to go back to school.”

“Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Once again he was on the receiving end of that look she had perfected – the one that called him old and dumb and boring. “I chat with them all the time.”

It was time to bring out the big guns – the one thing (a person, really) he hated to speak of but always seemed to get her to do what was needed. He squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself to say the words: “If you get better, you can see Yongho again.”

The spoon was out of his grasp and in Minah’s mouth before he could open his eyes again. Defeated, he sighed and handed her a cookie in return for the newly empty spoon.

“Will you fix my TV now?” she then had the audacity to ask. 

And Seungcheol couldn’t even say no. 

He nodded and left the room with the tray in his hands, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get mom her medicine first and then I’ll fix your TV.”

She cheered and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Seungcheol?” he then heard your voice call. “How long does it take to make tea?”

He entered the room with a chuckle. “There’s only one of me, you know? And someone has to take care of the little one as well.”

“The little one,” you snorted at the nickname. “Honey, she’s eight. She has a boyfriend. You need to come up with a new nickname soon.”

“God, don’t even remind me about the boyfriend,” he groaned as he placed the tray down. “It should be illegal to date before the age of 30.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow. 

“For her anyway,” he added with a pout. “And she’ll always be my little one.”

“Even when Yongho asks her to prom?” you teased, sitting up just as he made himself comfortable sitting on the bed. “Even on her wedding day?”

He stared at you. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying things to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one that took your sweet time making my tea.” You reached for the cup. “My throat is so scratchy. I hate being sick.”

Golden opportunity. “If you don’t want to be sick, you should take some medicine.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the venomous glare you sent his way. 

“I think I would rather just succumb to the flu,” you told him and he was sure you meant it. 

But he had vowed to stay with you through sickness and health, and then he had sworn to your mother that he wouldn’t let you be sick when he could help it – really, he had a duty to fulfill here. “You’re setting a bad example for Minah, you know?”

“She’s not even in the same room–”

“MINAH, YOUR MOM’S NOT TAKING HER MEDICINE!” he bellowed right then and there, confident that he would receive a response that would force you to accept your fate. 

Seconds later, a loud – slightly wheezing – yell sounded from the other bedroom, “MOM, YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

You grimaced under his self-satisfied stare. “Fine, but it better not be the cherry-flavoured one.”

He put extra effort into hiding the label from you as he poured a spoonful of the syrup and handed it to you. “Drink up.”

You did as told. Then glared at him with viciousness he rarely had the pleasure of seeing. “You just had to get the cherry-flavoured syrup, didn’t you? Traitor.”

“I love you too!” He offered an apologetic smile in return, placed a soft kiss to your cheek, and made a swift exit. 

Suddenly fixing Minah’s TV didn’t sound so tedious after all.

Note: I wrote this when my bestie @haoboutyou was sick and then she proceeded to begged me "150 times" to share this with y'all, so here we are, I guess. I hope this brought a bit of joy into someone's day! <3

[mocchiixxx]

You’re Soonyoung’s Everything

Genre: Fluff, Established relationship, Slice of Life, Domestic

Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi x Reader

Summary: When Soonyoung comes home drunk after a night out with the boys, he finds you at his family’s house, exactly where his heart feels most at peace. With a clingy hug, slurred love confessions, and Latte the dog squished in between, the night turns into a warm reminder that home isn’t a place, it’s the people (and pets) you love.

It was supposed to be a simple dinner at the Kwon household. Just you, his parents, his older sister, and of course— Latte, the adorable little brown Norwich Terrier who already loved you more than she loved Soonyoung (and that was saying a lot).

Soonyoung had texted that he’d be a little late because the boys decided to grab one drink after practice.

That was two hours ago.

You were seated on the couch with Latte nestled comfortably in your lap, her fluffy tail wagging every time you pet her. His mom was in the kitchen, humming while washing dishes, you volunteer to do it but she refuses because you were a special guest and that she will get upset if you push it any further, which is you would, but she beat you to it so you really have no choice but to stay still. His dad on the other hand was quietly reading the news on his tablet.

Then came the sound of keys fumbling at the front door.

His sister peeked over from the hallway, raising an eyebrow. “Speak of the tiger.”

The door burst open and there he was, Kwon Soonyoung. Hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling in that unmistakably tipsy way. He stumbled inside, arms stretched wide like he’d just come home from winning a trophy.

“I’m home~!” he sang, voice slightly slurred but full of energy.

Latte barked once and immediately jumped off your lap, running toward him with full zoomie power. Soonyoung knelt down, somehow keeping balance, and scooped her into his arms with a dramatic gasp.

“LATTE!!! My sunshine! My love! My only rival for her heart!” he yelled, nuzzling her fur. “Did you miss me? Did she feed you? Did she steal your love while I was gone?!”

You snorted, trying not to laugh too loudly as he walked in with Latte hugged tight to his chest. He spotted you, and his eyes lit up even more.

“There she is!” he exclaimed, pointing at you like you were the prize in a claw machine. “The prettiest girl in the universe! My girlfriend! My baby! My angel! My… my...”

“You can just say my name, Soonyoung,” you giggled.

“I’m DRUNK,” he announced proudly, now swaying a little as Latte hung loosely in his arms, eyes already sleepy.

“Really?” his sister called out with mock surprise. “No way. We couldn’t tell.”

He shuffled toward you like a penguin, plopped down beside you, and pulled you into the warmest, clingiest hug you’d ever gotten from him. Latte was now smushed between the two of you, giving a soft yawn like this was just a regular Tuesday.

“I missed you,” he whispered into your hair, his words laced with sincerity despite the soju haze. “I told the guys that my baby was waiting for me at home. Mingyu said I looked whipped. I said ‘GOOD.’ ”

You melted into his hold, hand gently stroking his hair. “Your mom was about to start dinner without you.”

“I’ll eat everything,” he mumbled. “As long as you feed me.”

His mom walked by, chuckling under her breath. “Aigoo, you’ve got your hands full, huh?”

You smiled, holding Soonyoung close. “It’s okay, auntie. He’s cute like this.”

“I’m always cute,” he added, eyes closed now, leaning heavier against you. “You love me even when I’m a mess, right?”

You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Especially then.”

Latte barked again, as if demanding some attention herself.

“And Latte,” Soonyoung continued sleepily, “she’s not just my dog anymore. She’s our baby. Our family.”

You bit your lip, feeling your heart do a little flip.

“Yah,” his sister said from the hallway, “if you propose right now while smelling like alcohol, I swear—”

“I’m not proposing!” he cried, clutching you dramatically. “I’m just saying... this feels like home. Because you're here. And Latte’s here. And I'm happy.”

You smiled and whispered back, “Me too.”

That night, you had dinner with his family, Soonyoung’s hand wrapped around yours the entire time, head occasionally dropping to your shoulder between bites of rice. And Latte? She curled up in your lap again like she already knew, this wasn’t just her house anymore.

It was yours too.

[cheers-to-you-th]

Waterloo

Part 2 to Winner Takes it All

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: Smut, humor, fluff Warnings: SMUT (MDNI), seft-doubt, idiocy, self indulgent nerdiness, STAR WARS EP 111, IV AND V SPOILERS, fingering, oral (f!receiving), raw (do not irl yall no dick is worth it), lmk if i forgot smthg Word count: 14.7k

Summary: Finally, he's yours. The game is over, and maybe you lost, but it feels like a win.

or

First dates, first kisses, first times w/Mingyu

tyty @supi-wupi @flowerwonu for betaing and fixing all my mistakes on such short notice, y'all are the best ily

It’s not like anything changes overnight. You don’t kiss in the café, don’t run into each other’s arms like the end of a movie. It’s slower than that—gentler. But somehow, it feels exactly right.

So when Mingyu texts you a few days later—“Picnic date?”—your stomach flips, but you don’t hesitate.

You just say yes.

The sun is out, the sky obnoxiously blue, and you’re sweating through your sundress—not because it’s hot, but because Mingyu just texted “I’m already here :)” five minutes before you even left the house.

You speed-walk to the park like you’re being timed for an Olympic marathon, clutching a paper bag of cookies you made last night in a panic (One batch is slightly burned. You brought them anyway).

When you spot him sitting on a checkered blanket under a tree, your stomach does a backflip, twisting even further when he looks up as you approach, grinning like he’s holding back from smiling too hard.

“Hey.” His voice is deep, smooth, and perfect as always, but it wavers slightly.

“Hi,” you say, suddenly forgetting how to use your legs as you sit down a bit too fast, almost toppling over sideways onto the blanket.

Mingyu blink, “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, cheeks already burning as you smooth out your dress.

He grins and holds up a cute weaved basket. “I brought sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres, although one of them is slightly lopsided since I panicked halfway through making it.”

You can’t help but laugh at the contrast of the dishes as you raise your own paper bag. “Perfect, I brought slightly burnt cookies for the same reason.”

“Great,” he says, “we’re thriving.”

You eat in mostly silence, with a few awkward giggles when you both reach for the same juice box (he insisted on bringing them) or when a piece of lettuce escapes your sandwich and lands dramatically on your lap.

At some point, Mingyu finally breaks the silence, simply saying, “So…” before trailing off and staring so intensely at the sky that it looks like he’s trying to astral project.

“So.” You respond, cookie halfway in your mouth.

He glances at you, then quickly looks back up at the sky, “I, uh,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck, “I almost wore a button-up for this. Like a real shirt, collar and all.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What stopped you?”

He shrugs. “I spilled coffee on it this morning, but it felt like a sign. Like ‘hey, maybe don’t try to impress the girl who already knows you panic-text giant paragraphs at midnight.” 

He glances at your outfit, making you feel oddly exposed, “Kinda regret not wearing it now, since you’re…” His voice trails off as his eyes linger.

Your heart does a little hop. “I like this shirt better anyways.”

He glances at you sideways. “You do?”

“Yeah.” You pretend to be very interested in the juice box straw, “It's very… you. I like that. You.” You immediately regret saying it and look away, cheeks flushing.

Fuck, this is awkward.

Mingyu huffs out a small laugh, the kind that makes his nose crinkle adorably, then you both fall quiet. It’s not uncomfortable, just soft. Like neither of you quite know what to say now that feelings are out in the open and there’s no yelling or dramatic exits involved.

A very loud bird chooses that exact moment to chirp from a nearby branch. Mingyu jumps about three feet in the air, prompting you to laugh your ass off.

The silence settles again as you eat, this time more relaxed as you look at each other with warmth, familiarity.

Your hands brush as you both reach for the last cookie. You freeze. So does he.

Then, without looking at you, Mingyu quietly says, “I’ll split it with you.” You peek at him, mildly delighted to find his ears tainted red.

“Okay,” you say, voice a little too high. “Yeah. Cool. Sharing. Cool.”

He breaks it clean in half (which feels like some kind of divine sight—no crumbs, no crumbling chaos. Are you looking too deep into it? Probably.) and hands you a piece without meeting your eyes.

You expect to eat in the same silence as before, but Mingyu surprises you when, out of nowhere, he blurts, “I wanted to hold your hand earlier, but I got scared and touched a sandwich instead.”

You choke on your cookie.

“I mean—I didn’t touch the sandwich because I thought it was your hand—I just—”

You giggle, covering your mouth. “Gyu, are you okay?”

“No,” he says, wide-eyed, although his gaze softens at the nickname. “Absolutely not. God knows I don’t know what I’m doing, Fuck.” He groans, leaning his head on your shoulder like he used to before tensing at the realization of his casual display of affection. You chuckle softly and thread your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp (and trying to ignore your racing heart).

“Me neither, but… I’m having a good time.” You whisper the last part like it's a secret meant only for him, heart feeling lighter than it ever has.

He lifts his head to look at you, eyes vulnerable as they search yours. Then he beams. Not a grin, not a smirk, a full, sun-breaking-through-the-clouds kind of smile that makes you smile back because how could you not.

“Me too,” he says as your hand falls from his head.

You can’t help but smile brighter, nerves finally bubbling over and turning into laughter. “That was cheesy.”

“You want cheesy?” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he digs through his cooler bag.

You laugh harder as he offers you a mini Babybel, accepting it like it’s a rare and priceless gift and actively pretending he doesn’t look at you like you hung the stars in the sky whenever you laugh.

And just like that, the nerves start to fade. Not completely, but enough for you to lean into his side, sighing contently. He stiffens for half a second before melting, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. His shoulder fits under your head like it’s meant to be there, you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

A little fast, just like yours, but calming nonetheless.

You both watch the leaves above sway in the breeze, the occasional bark of a dog or hum of a bike wheel floating by in the distance. But none of it touches the moment.

You study his face in the warm light, trying to memorize this version of him—the gentle one, with cookie crumbs on his shirt and emotions blooming behind his eyes. To you, the moment is perfect. It's not fireworks or grand declarations, it's softer. Safer. Something that wraps around your ribs and makes you feel steady for the first time in a long while.

He clears his throat. “Can I try again?”

You blink, confused. “Try what?”

“Touching your hand, on purpose this time.”

Before you can think, you respond. “You can touch me anywhere you want.”

There's a beat of silence.

You slap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to—”

Mingyu stares at you for a long second.

And then he laughs. Not a polite chuckle, not a nervous titter. An eyes crinkled, hand over his stomach, doubled over, full-body laugh. And you—well you’re dying. You look at him, mortified.

“I didn’t mean that.” You mutter through your fingers. “I didn’t mean that.” 

Mingyu gasps through his laugh. “You can’t just say stuff like that mid-cookie!”

“I panicked!”

You duck your head, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you, or at least rewind the last ten seconds. But when you peek up at him, he’s looking at you. Not mocking, not teasing, just looking. Glowing. Like your chaos is his favorite thing in the world.

“I missed this,” he says, catching his breath. “You. Your mouth. The weird filterless thoughts that come out of it.”

“I should be admitted to a ward.” You mumble.

“No,” he says, more serious now. “Don’t.” 

You look at him. “Don’t change. I know you’re joking, but don’t change.” He squeezes your hand. “I like this. Us. Even when you make sex jokes at inappropriate times.”

You look at him, “Especially then?”

He snorts and pats your head. “Sure, especially then.”

You roll your eyes, but the tension that’s been coiled in your chest since he first texted finally loosens.

You lean back on one arm, fingers still laced with his. The sun is warm, the leaves above rustling like background music, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels… okay. More than okay.

Comfortable.

You study him out of the corner of your eye, the way he’s watching you. Soft, kind and steady. Not amused. Not smug, Just open. Willing.

You sit there for a while longer, sharing silence like it's something sacred, like neither of you want to move, in case it breaks whatever spell you’re under.

But eventually, Mingyu shifts beside you, nudging your knee gently with his. “So… hear me out.”

You look at him, wary. “That’s never a good start.”

He smirks, chuckling. “There's a photo booth down the street, the kind that's black and white and makes you look vaguely haunted.”

“That's your pitch?” You snort.

“I just think,” he starts with a grin, “that we should commemorate our first date with haunted Victorian ghost photos.”

You huff a laugh, “That's… very on brand for us, actually.”

“Right?” He’s already starting to pack up the cooler. “One weirdly burnt cookie and a neat sexual harassment lawsuit later, what a way to remember it by.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

He stands, arm outstretched in an offer. “Liar.”

You take it, letting him pull you up with those ridiculously hot muscles of his, your fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. “Fine, but if the pictures are cursed I’m blaming you.”

“Worth it.” He replies, smiling like a kid as you start walking hand in hand.

The photo booth is tucked away in the corner of a small record store, wedged between a rack of dusty mixtapes and a gumball machine with two broken legs. It smells of old vinyl and vaguely like popcorn. You don’t question it.

Mingyu feeds the coins into the slot with exaggerated care. “Okay, we have four shots. That’s like, two opportunities for you to regret ever agreeing to this.”

You step into the booth and sit beside him, knees bumping in the tiny space. It’s close, intimate, too much and not enough all at once.

The screen starts counting down from five.

“I don’t know what to do with my face!” you hiss.

“Be hot,” he whispers. “You’re great at that.”

Your head whips to him, eyes wide, “Wha–” 

The first flash goes off, the photo probably catching your shocks and him mid-laugh, and honestly, that feels perfect.

“Now is when you choose to flirt with me for the first time?!” You complain, but the pink dusting your face discredits any real annoyance you may have.

The second flash hits as you both lean in, cheeks nearly touch, faces still buzzing with excitement from the last joke. You can’t help it when you smile. Big, bright, giddy, and real.

The third one comes too fast, Mingyu panicking and throwing up a peace sign while you do finger guns. It’s terribly amazing.

The final countdown starts, seeming slower somehow. You look at him. He looks at you. Neither of you move.

And then, with one second left, you lean in and press your forehead to his. It’s not a kiss. Not yet. But it’s close, and it’s honest.

The flash goes off.

You’re both slightly breathless when the strips print, you take one like it’s fragile, smoothing the curl of the paper as he takes the other.

“Geez,” you say, staring at the photos. “We look like idiots.”

“We are idiots,” he says, peering over your shoulder. “But we’re idiots with a photo now.”

You glance up at him. He’s already looking at you.

You fold the strip carefully and tuck it into your bag. “I’m keeping it. So you can’t deny any of this ever happened.”

He grins. “Good. I wouldn’t want to.”

The sky is melting into soft amber by the time you both leave the booth, a strip of blurry, laughing snapshots fluttering between your fingers. Mingyu’s arm brushes yours as he stretches after sitting down too long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, it just feels like him.

“Want me to walk you home?” he asks, already falling into step beside you like he always does.

You glanced at him, amused. “You do that even when I don’t ask.”

He grins, eyes flicking to the sidewalk. “Yeah, but now it’s a date-walk-home. Totally different category.”

“Right,” you say, pretending to be serious. “That changes everything.”

“I should have brought a rose. Or walked on the traffic side like a gentleman.”

“You always walk on the traffic side.” You point out.

“Oh,” he says before gasping, mock-scandalized. “Then I guess I’ve been courting you this entire time!”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder with his as the two of you fall into step like always. Same rhythm, same streets, same jokes traded over the same old cracks in the sidewalk, but now there's something quieter between you. Not tension, like before, just the awareness that what you used to call platonic has been rearranged, softened by truth and proximity and all the bullshit you two went through to get here.

“I used to think you were walking me home out of guilt,” you say after a few blocks. “Like, ‘well, I crushed her dreams of getting laid, might as well make sure she doesn’t get kidnapped.”

He snorts, “That was only part of it.”

You glance at him, taking in his faint smile, slightly shy eyes as he says, a little quieter now, “I just like walking with you, even when we were a mess. Maybe even especially then.”

You nod, because you did too. Back then, you never knew what to say when you felt too much, but just walking beside him, not saying anything, was always enough.

He holds the cookie container under one arm and keeps the photo strip neatly in his back pocket, like it’s worth saving.

You reach your street before you’re ready, both of you slowing your steps without saying anything. He stops at the entrance to your apartment, hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at your front door like it’s suddenly very interesting.

You can see that he wants to say something, so you wait, giving him time.

“Since we’re being honest with each other now,” He starts, “I almost kissed you earlier.”

You swallow, caught off guard. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, looking up. “Because… I didn’t want to mess it up by going too fast. I think—I know—if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want to do it all the time. And we’re taking things slow, so I don’t want to push too far too fast and lose this. Lose us.”

The light above you flickers in time with your hearts skipped beat as you nod.

“I’d let you. Kiss me, I mean.” You say softly.

“I know,” his voice catches slightly, “That was part of it too. Still in shock that this is real, you know? Like, I know it is but I still feel like… I’m gonna wake up alone.”

You know what he means. Know how your past words and actions had made him feel this way, so you offer whatever support you can give, looking down and nodding slightly with a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah. For the record, I’m 100% on board with going slow. I don’t want you to think I’m just in this to fuck you.”

For once, you hold your tongue, not adding the usual ‘although I wouldn’t complain if you did’. But you know he sees it by the way his lips quirk up in recognition, the way he squeezes your hand gently.

“We really are a mess, huh?” You say after a moment.

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, “I’m a perfect picture of emotional restraint.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You once cried because a bird stared at you too long.”

“It was a very aggressive bird!” He defends, making you both giggle.

You’re still laughing as you unlock your door, him standing a few steps behind you, like he always does. Like he’s guarding the space without pushing into it.

You turn around just before you step in. “Thanks for walking me.”

“Always.”

You hesitate, looking at him. The curve of his face, the familiar look in his eye that mimics your own, not wanting to part but not knowing how to ask. So you just do it without overthinking (too much).

“Star Wars marathon?” You offer.

And you know you won’t regret it as soon as you see the way Mingyu’s face lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask all week, since we haven’t done our monthly rewatch.”

You jokingly scoff, letting him in. “You could have asked me.”

“Yeah, but then I’d seem too eager.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Oh yeah?” You snort. “And what reputation is that?”

He follows you inside naturally, “Cool. Untouchable. Mysterious.”

You guffaw before you can stop yourself, “You cry every time Anakin and Obi-wan fight on Mustafar.”

“Okay, first of all,” he says, toeing off his shoes, “that was a betrayal of cosmic proportions. You don’t just recover from that. Secondly, so do you, you cry about Anakin being—and I quote—‘too hot to be evil’.”

You laugh as you flick on the lights. “I think you just imprinted on Obi-wan too hard as a kid.”

“I was a noble child with a strong sense of justice,” he says, already heading to his designated spot on your couch. “Also, have you seen Ewan McGregor? He had really good hair.”

“Still does.”

“Exactly.”

After changing into comfortable clothes—sweats, and a soft T-shirt that definitely used to be his— you grab the stack of old DVDs from your shelf—because despite all your streaming subscriptions, neither of you trust the digital versions not to change scenes—and toss them onto the coffee table. Mingyu holds up one of your fluffy blankets like a question, you nod. The two of you set up, falling back into the rhythm you always have.

You settle in beside him and he drapes the blanket over both of your legs, knees bumping his in a way that feels familiar. Safe. 

You nudge him when he steals the remote, and he just shoots you a cheeky grin and sets up the first movie without asking which one to start with, because you always alternate chronological and release order, ever since you argued over which is the superior option back when the tradition first started. Today is release order, your favorite.

The opening crawl rolls up the screen and you can’t help but steal a glance at him.

He’s mouthing the words. Of course he is.

You grin, sinking back into the cushions. He notices and turns to you. 

“What?”

“You’re a huge dork.” You whisper with a smile.

He shrugs, not embarrassed in the slightest, “You like it.”

And you do. You really, really do.

Somewhere between Alderaan exploding and Obi-Wan dying you end up leaning into him, your head falling naturally against his shoulder. He tilts slightly toward you, resting his cheek on the top of your head. It’s quiet in the best way, no pressure, no expectations, just shared warmth and the low hum of the TV (and the occasional Wilhelm scream).

At some point, you realize he’s not mouthing along anymore.

You peak up and a small smile creeps onto your face. He’s asleep, mouth parted slightly, hair a mess, one arm loosely around your waist like it ended up there by accident. 

You shift just enough to rest your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. He stirs a little but doesn’t wake, instead tightening his arm around you like he’s been doing this forever.

You smile, closing your eyes.

The next morning arrives with a soft, golden light filtering through your curtains, and the distinct realization that you’re not alone on the couch.

Your neck aches, your foot’s asleep, and Mingyu is half on top of you, snoring softly with his face smushed into your shoulder like it's a particularly comfortable pillow.

You blink, brain slowly coming back online.

The TV is still on, frozen somewhere in the middle of Return of the Jedi. There’s a crumb trail on the coffee table, a tangled mess of blankets at your feet, and Mingyu’s hand is dangerously close to your ass.

You shift, causing him to groan, barely stirring, and muttering something unintelligible about Wookies.

You stifle a laugh. Of course he’s dreaming about Star Wars.

You glance at the clock. It’s somehow almost ten, and—despite the fact that you’re sweaty, uncomfortably folded into the couch cushions, and slightly drooling—you’ve never felt more at peace.

Mingyu stirs again, this time blinking awake slowly, brow furrowing as if waking up requires deep mental effort.

“…Are we dead?” he croaks, voice rough with sleep.

“Only emotionally,” you say, shifting under him. “You’re crushing my spine.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he rolls off you with all the grace of a tranquilized elephant. “I had dream about turning into a blueberry and getting eaten by chewbacca.” He says as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“Sounds like a pretty accurate metaphor for your emotional state.”

He squints at you through messy hair. “Do you ever shut up in the morning?”

“Nope,” you stretch your arms lazily over your head, wincing. “God, how are we not paralyzed after that?”

“I’m built different,” he says, groaning as he sits up and immediately regrets it, judging by the look on his face. “By which, I mean stupid.”

You both sit there for a moment, blinking at each other in disheveled silence.

And then he smiles.

It’s slow. Easy. Sleep-soft and fond in a way that turns your stomach into warm mush.

“You look good like this,” he says, nudging your socked foot with his, “all cute and tired.”

You flick a crumb at him to hide your flushing face—you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him flirting back. “Don’t start flirting with me before I’ve brushed my teeth.”

“No promises.”

He stands and stretches with a noise that might belong to a dying walrus, then offers you a hand. You take it, even though you don’t need help, because it’s just the thing now, apparently. Finding those little excuses to touch each other (not that you’re complaining).

“I’ll make coffee?” he offers, already padding toward your kitchen like it’s his.

“Wait,” you call, following. “You remember where everything is?”

He throws you a smug look over his shoulder. “Babe. I’ve made coffee in your kitchen like a hundred times. The only difference is that now I get to kiss you, if I want to.”

You pause in your tracks.

He doesn’t look back right away, like he didn’t just drop that on your morning like a bomb. But then—just as he pulls the mugs down—he glances over his shoulder.

A question in his eyes.

You don’t answer with words.

You walk up behind him, stand on tiptoe, and press a kiss to his shoulder blade through the fabric of his shirt. You can feel the way his breath hitches as you rest your cheek against his back, arms loose around his waist.

“That okay?” you whisper, smiling when he nods. You hug him tighter, just for a second, before letting go.

He doesn’t move for a beat, just stands there with your warmth still lingering on his back, his hands frozen mid-reach toward the coffee pot like his entire system’s short-circuited.

Then he says, quietly, almost reverent, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s more than okay.”

You hum and slide onto the couch, tucking your knees up beneath you. Watching him try to regain control of his body after one shoulder kiss is possibly the highlight of your entire week.

He fumbles the coffee grounds a little, doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You’re blushing,” you sing-song.

“Shut up,” he mutters, ears practically glowing crimson.

You rest your chin on your knees, grinning. “I thought you were gonna be cocky, considering your reputation.”

“I was cocky before. Now I’m terrified.”

You snort. “Of what?”

“That this is a dream,” he says, flicking on the coffee machine. “Or that I’m gonna say something dumb and ruin it.”

“Statistically speaking, that second one’s a very real threat.”

He throws a dish towel at your face.

You catch it, laughing.

The apartment fills with the smell of coffee and comfort—like home, but warmer. Messier. Better.

Mingyu hands you a mug the way he always has—but this time, your fingers brush on purpose. And when he sits down next to you, he doesn’t try to hide the way he leans in a little, like gravity’s stronger now that you’ve crossed that line.

It’s quiet for a moment, both of you sipping and stealing glances, the hum of the machine fading into the background.

Then he says, cautiously, “I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes softer than before, waiting for him to continue. He sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s pulling the truth up from somewhere buried.

“I’ve…” He frowns, eyes fixed on the swirl of coffee in his mug. “I’ve never really done this part. The actual serious, wake-up-next-to-you-and-make-coffee kind of thing.”

You stay quiet, just listening, letting him find the words.

“I usually screw around. You know that. I know you know that,” he says, glancing at you with a brief, wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve always kept things light. Easy. No promises, no strings. It’s safer that way.”

He sets his mug down and laces his fingers together, elbows on the table. His tone shifts—honest now, like a confession.

“I’m good at the beginning part. The flirting. The jokes. The late nights. But once it gets real? I bolt. Or they do. I don’t think I’ve ever really given someone the chance to stick. Not because I didn’t want them to—but because I didn’t trust myself not to ruin it.”

You tilt your head, watching him with something gentler than surprise. You’ve known Mingyu for a long time. You’ve heard the stories, seen the aftermaths. But this is different. Raw.

“I never wanted to risk losing someone just by being… me. Stupid, flirty, kind of reckless me. I thought it’d be easier to never try. Keep it casual. Keep it fun. I mean, I know why people sleep with me, it’s not for me, it’s for,” he gestures vaguely at himself, not cocky, just… almost tired, “me. After a while that became what everyone expected, so that's all they wanted. The casual flings, the one night stands. That's all I could get and it’s all I wanted.”

He glances at you again. This time, he holds your gaze.

“But then you—you made it impossible not to care. You snuck in when I wasn’t looking, and now I’m scared in a way that I don’t know how to deal with. Because I do care. Fuck, I care so much, and I don’t want to mess it up by rushing into something I don’t know how to do without running away after.”

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “So what do you want to do?”

He exhales through his nose, smiling faintly. “Go slow. Learn how to do this right. I want to kiss you like I’ve got time. Hold your hand like it matters. Wake up next to you a hundred more times and make coffee even when I forget the right ratio.”

You huff a laugh, tears stinging unexpectedly at the corners of your eyes at the confession.

“I want to figure it out with you,” he says, softer now. “Even after everything, you’re still the most important person to me. Always have been. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to get it right for.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full—thick with everything unsaid and understood. Your heart feels like it’s expanding and cracking all at once.

You reach over and slide your fingers over his, sure but gentle.

“You’re already doing it right.”

He squeezes your hand, eyes going glossy before he blinks it away with a sheepish grin. “Don’t say that. I’ll cry and ruin my cool morning-after image.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “You’re wearing socks with Baby Yodas on them. That image was never happening.”

“Hey,” he says, mock-offended, “Grogu is timeless.”

You squeeze his fingers again, and he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles—slow, deliberate.

After a moment, you smile softly. “We can go as slow as you want, Gyu. I know it may not seem like it because of my… history, but I can wait. I want this for more than just sex. I want you for more than that.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want to go slow. I want everything with you, and that scares me shitless because I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop wanting.”

Your breath catches.

Mingyu’s voice is low, not dramatic or pleading—just honest, in that helpless, almost-shaking way that only someone who means it could sound.

He looks down, like maybe saying too much is a risk he’s already halfway regretting. “I’m scared that once I let myself have this, I’ll want it all. Not just mornings and coffee and slow kisses—but holidays. Fighting over which movie to watch. Grocery shopping. All the boring, real shit. I want that with you.”

You don’t interrupt—you can’t, your heart full to the brim.

“And if I get it,” he continues, “I’m terrified I’ll mess it up. That you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not worth it. Or worse—realize I’m just the guy who never learned how to be serious until he risked ruining the best thing he’s ever had.”

You shift closer, turning so your knees bump his and you’re facing him.

He doesn’t look up until you’re there beside him, fingers brushing his knee. His eyes are glossy again, and yours are burning now too.

You lean down—because just sitting felt too far away—and cup his face in your hands.

“You’re not ruining anything,” you whisper, voice steady and confident. “You’re trying. That’s everything. That’s more than most people ever do.”

He leans into your touch like he needs it. Like he’s afraid you’d pull away.

You press your forehead to his, voice softer now. “And I’m scared too. Of wanting too much. Of losing it before we even get started. But you’re not just some guy I’m experimenting on. You’re—” You break off, breathe out. “You’re it for me, Mingyu. Okay? I don’t care if it’s too soon to say that, because it’s the truth. Whatever pace we move at, whatever we figure out along the way—I want it with you.”

“I love you.” He whispers.

You smile softly, unable to resist responding with, “I know.”

His face brightens as he chuckles, “Are you trying to Star Wars your way into bed with me again?”

“That depends, is it working?”

His hands come up to cover yours, gently pulling you in until his lips meet yours. It’s warm, soft, just the faintest brush at first. When he pulls away and looks at you, your breath hitches. His gaze searches yours for a moment before his lips are on yours again, this time deeper. The second you sigh into it his hand finds your jaw and tilts your face up like he needs it.

For all his past resistance, Mingyu kisses you like a man drowning.

It turns desperate and slow and hungry, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the way your lips move on his.

When his thumb brushes your cheekbone and his other hand grips your hip like he doesn’t trust himself to stop, you can’t help the small moan that slips from your mouth into his.

And when he pulls back, just enough to murmur, “You’re it for me too,” you know neither of you is going anywhere. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer as you sink into his lap fully. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth. It’s messy, a little breathless, as you both finally give in, losing yourselves in each other.

You roll your hips once, slow and instinctive, and he breaks the kiss with a strangled noise, forehead pressed to yours.

“I thought we were going slow,” you murmur, voice shaky with restraint.

He’s just as breathless, lips brushing yours. “We are. This is just… warming up.”

He laughs once—hoarse, almost desperate—and then his mouth is on your neck, teeth grazing skin in a way that makes you gasp. His hands are everywhere now, still careful but growing bolder, and you’re not sure which of you is trembling more.

“I’m never gonna survive this,” he mutters against your throat.

“Then don’t,” you whisper, pulling him back into another kiss. “Just fall.”

He presses his lips to yours again, and this time, the kiss is filthy.

There’s no slow, romantic build—it’s teeth and heat and the kind of kiss that says you started this, now finish it. He cups the back of your head like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, presses you back into the couch, finally, finally giving in.

“You’re evil,” he breathes against your lips.

You smile. “You like that about me.”

He doesn’t argue—just kisses you harder and lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you to your bedroom off of muscle memory alone.

He sets you down on the bed like he’s afraid you might break—slow, deliberate, like laying something sacred at an altar.

And then he just stares.

You’re beneath him, lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling fast beneath your shirt, and it’s like he can’t believe you’re real.

“God,” he breathes, brushing your hair back like he needs to see all of you, “you’re gonna ruin me.”

You pull him down by the collar of his shirt, just enough to whisper, “That’s the plan.”

But he doesn’t kiss you, not right away. 

He hovers there, like he’s savoring it, as if he’s trying to etch the curve of your cheek, the flicker in your eyes, each hitch in your breath into his being. Mingyu’s hands glide down your sides, reverent, like he’s handling something holy.

And then he dips his head.

Not to your lips.

To your neck.

Your collarbone.

Your sternum.

Mingyu kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s tasting parts of you no one else has ever dared to linger on. His mouth leaves heat in every place it touches—open, wet, near-aching kisses down your chest as he pushes your shirt up inch by inch, slow enough to make you writhe.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, nose brushing your ribs. “So warm, fuck, you smell like—God, I don’t know, home? Vanilla and—shit, I’m dizzy.”

You laugh breathlessly, threading your fingers through his hair. “You sound high.”

“I feel like I am,” he groans, like it’s a problem he has zero intention of fixing. “I’m so fucking gone.”

His hands tremble a little on your hips. He kisses a trail lower, eyes fluttering closed, and when you lift your hips to help him tug off the rest of your clothes, he has to pause and just breathe. Like if he moves too fast, he’ll short-circuit completely.

And honestly?

He might.

Because once you’re bare beneath him, once he gets his mouth back on your skin, Mingyu is gone.

He worships every inch he can reach with lips, tongue, teeth. One hand grips your thigh hard enough to leave a mark, while the other drifts aimlessly—like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most. Your waist? Your chest? Your throat? It’s like he wants everything.

His lips find the swell of your chest, and he groans—deep and raw, like the taste of your skin is too much. His hips jerk against the bed, completely unprompted, like just kissing you there wrecked him.

You’re panting now, fingers curling into the sheets.

“Mingyu…”

He moans your name like it hurts, pulling back just far enough to look at you, flushed and wild-eyed.

“I need to slow down,” he pants, voice thin. “I’m—I’m gonna cum just from touching you, I swear to god—”

You blink at him, dazed. “Gyu—”

“Fuck,” he chokes, biting his lip. “I don’t even know how, but you—I can’t think. You smile at me and I’m fucking done.”

He lowers his forehead to your stomach, breathing hard.

“I’ve never wanted anything this much,” he whispers. “Never wanted to take my time so bad but also fuck you through the damn mattress.”

You whimper, hips shifting under him, and he shudders like the sound physically hurt.

“I need a second,” he mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along the curve of your stomach like it’ll ground him. “I need to taste you, touch you, everything— gotta go slow, give you what you deserve.”

He lifts his head—flushed, wrecked already—and nods to himself.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Slow. I can do that. I have to do that.”

He finally lowers his mouth between your thighs like a man desperate for salvation. His mouth lingers everywhere except where you need him most—kissing the insides of your thighs, mouthing at your skin like he’s memorizing the taste of your sweat, your heat, your need.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your skin, breath fanning hot over you.

“More,” you practically whine, hips twitching when his tongue finally—finally—slides between your folds, slow and deliberate.

He groans like your taste wrecks him.

And then he devours you.

No teasing. No hesitation.

Mingyu’s mouth moves with purpose—wide licks that flatten against your clit, then soft, maddening flicks that make your thighs try to snap closed on instinct. He holds you open easily, large hands anchoring you to the mattress, like he wants you to fight it. Like the way you tremble only feeds something deep and feral in him.

You cry out—raw and already close embarrassingly fast—and his tongue circles tighter, more focused now, lips wrapping around your clit with gentle suction that makes your eyes roll back.

He moans into you when you grind against his face, the sound vibrating straight through your core.

“Come on,” he rasps between licks, voice hoarse and reverent. “Let go for me, baby. Want to feel you fall apart.”

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave—sharp, sudden, thighs shaking as you cry out his name. He doesn’t stop, not even as you whimper and squirm, too sensitive, too much. He keeps licking you through it, mouth greedy, tongue relentless.

“Gyu, fuck, I—” he groans, grip tightening on your hips.

“Tastes like fucking candy,” he says, voice almost wrecked. “Give me another. Please.”

Mingyu doesn’t beg, He pleads. Like his life depends on it. Like making you come again is the only thing keeping him grounded.

And it works.

He pulls another orgasm from you with almost cruel precision, sucking your clit while two fingers slip inside you, slow and deep. Crooking them just right. You sob his name when the second release hits—longer, deeper, your whole body tensing before it breaks.

Your thighs are trembling now, your hands tangled in the sheets, yet he still doesn’t stop.

“Gyu—baby—I can’t—”

“You can,” he pants, lifting his head for just a second. His mouth is soaked, chin wet, lips swollen and red. “You’re doing so good. One more, just one more, please.”

Then he’s back between your legs, tongue working in tandem with his fingers now, faster, harder, until your breath leaves you entirely.

Your third orgasm hits like lightning.

You scream, back arching off the bed, legs quivering uncontrollably as your whole body locks up and trembles—pure overstimulation, pleasure blurring into pain and back again. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and Mingyu moans like he’s the one coming, voice ragged, fingers still moving inside you as you writhe helplessly.

He eases you down slowly, licking you softer now, gentler, until your trembling fades into aftershocks and you’re left boneless against the sheets, gasping for air.

Only then does he finally pull back—sits up on his knees, hair a mess, chest heaving, lips glossy with you. He looks wrecked. Eyes wide. Wild.

“I’ve never,” he whispers, staring at you like you’re holy. “Seen anything so fucking beautiful.”

You can’t speak, you can barely move. You’re a puddle. A completely wrecked, trembling, over-loved puddle of a human being.

And Mingyu looks like a man who just conquered Mt. Everest, won an Oscar, and found religion—all at the same time. He’s staring down at you with the dumbest, most wrecked, heart-eyes expression imaginable.

“You alive?” He asks, voice hoarse, lips still shiny, and way too pleased with himself.

You try to respond. Honestly. You try. But all that comes out is a breathy, unintelligible sound that vaguely resembles a laugh and a whimper having a crisis.

“Cool,” he says, grinning, flopping down beside you. “So, you died a little. That’s fair. I kinda did too.”

You nudge him weakly with your foot. “Stop being so smug.”

He gasps—actually gasps. “Me? Smug? I’ll have you know I’m deeply concerned about your well-being. You were shaking. Like, medically.”

“I was getting the best head of my life, geez.”

He groans and covers his face with a pillow. “Don’t say it like that. I was being romantic. I practically saw the light.”

You giggle, reaching over to tug the pillow off his face. He grins against your shoulder, then presses a soft kiss there, his hands trailing up your arm. “Too soon?”

You snort. “Way too soon. At least let me recover my ability to walk first.”

“Right. Right. Fair.” He props himself up on one elbow, eyes softening. “Seriously, though. You okay? Not too much?”

You glance at the water bottle on the nightstand and deadpan, “If you hand me that, I might forgive you for almost sending me into orbit.”

He immediately scrambles for it. “Done. And while we’re at it—snacks? A foot rub? Me apologizing to your thighs personally?”

You take the bottle, laughing. “My thighs are gonna need therapy.”

He wiggles his brows. “Good thing I’m available for emergency counseling sessions. I charge in kisses.”

You roll your eyes and sip the water. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

“Baby,” he says, grinning wide, “I will always have an ulterior motive when you’re naked.”

You throw the pillow at him. He catches it with a dramatic “oof,” then immediately pulls you into his arms again like a human octopus—limbs everywhere, clingy and warm.

“You’re not escaping,” he mumbles into your hair. “Not after that. You’re mine now. Legally. Spiritually. Cosmically.”

“Cosmically?” You echo, laughing into his chest.

“Yup,” he says smugly. “You broke three laws of physics and at least two of my vertebrae. We’re bonded forever.”

You snort, half-laughing, half-yawning. “Fine. But I get the left side of the bed.”

“Deal. As long as I get you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead—messy, content, maybe a little sweaty—and then another to your cheek, and another to your shoulder like he’s trying to leave little stamps that say property of Mingyu.

You sigh dramatically. “God, you’re annoying.”

He beams. “You love that about me.”

You do.

Especially when he holds you like this. Close, warm, and totally wrapped around you, mumbling half-teasing nonsense until you’re too tired to sass him back.

“Alright, let’s get you in the shower,” Mingyu announces, already shifting like he’s preparing for a mission.

You groan dramatically. “Can’t we just marinate in our sins a little longer?”

He snorts. “Tempting, but no.”

Eventually, you mumble, “You’re gonna have to carry me to the bathroom, my legs aren’t speaking to me.”

Mingyu lifts his head from your shoulder with a proud little smile. “Good thing your legs love me.”

You swat his chest weakly. “They’re in shock. You should send them flowers.”

“Already planning on it,” he says, voice a little smug but eyes still all soft. “Also considering writing an apology letter. Maybe baking them cookies.”

You snort. “You’re such a menace.”

“A gentle, generous menace,” he corrects, pulling back just enough to kiss your forehead. “Come on, sleepy noodle. You’ll feel better after a shower.”

You groan dramatically, flopping like a fish. “Too far. My body is soup.”

“I like soup,” he says brightly, already slipping off the bed. “Especially when it’s clingy and whiny and in love with me.”

“I am not whiny—”

“You are,” he sing-songs, tossing you one of his shirts like it’s a peace offering. “But you’re cute about it, so it cancels out.”

You pull the oversized tee over your head, grumbling. “You're lucky I can't walk yet or I’d shove you into a wall.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” he says, eyes sparkling as he scoops you up bridal-style. “But I am one hundred percent into it.”

You yelp, flailing a little as your feet leave the ground. “Mingyu!”

He just laughs, carrying you toward the bathroom like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “This is part of the boyfriend package. You get head, cuddles, and a full princess carry service.”

“I didn’t know it came with a subscription.”

“Only available to very special customers,” he says, nudging the bathroom door open with his foot. “Limited time offer. Lifetime commitment optional—but encouraged.”

The mirror greets you with the sight of flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and behind you, Mingyu’s smiling like a golden retriever who just got praise and a treat.

He sets you down gently on the edge of the tub and leans over to start the shower, letting the water run warm before turning back with a small, proud puff of his chest. “Shower’s ready. And so am I.”

You narrow your eyes. “You are not helping me shower.”

He grins. “Why not? I was very involved in this mess. I think it’s only fair I help clean it up.”

“I swear, if you try to flirt with me while I’m shampooing—”

“Too late,” he says, already peeling his shirt off and dramatically tossing it aside as you do the same. “I’m mentally preparing at least five shower puns. Wanna hear the first one?”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be a soap-erior joke!”

You groan so loudly he cackles, stepping in behind you as you shuffle into the warm water. The heat hits your skin, and you sigh, the tension slowly melting out of your muscles. Mingyu wraps his arms around you from behind like a blanket, his chin resting on your shoulder.

He hums against your skin, swaying the two of you gently under the stream like you're slow dancing instead of standing bare and blissed out in a foggy bathroom.

"You're dangerously good at this," you murmur, leaning into him. “Cuddling. Carrying. Post-debauchery care.”

“I’ve trained my whole life for this moment,” he says solemnly, but he’s already grinning again. “All those hours perfecting my koala cling technique.”

You tilt your head, skeptical. “Koala cling?”

“Yeah.” He tightens his grip like a cartoon villain kidnapping a princess. “This is level four. Advanced. Only deployable on girlfriends who’ve had their souls loved out of them.”

“More like fucked out of them.” You splutter a laugh, almost slipping on the tile, and he tightens his grip again like a safety harness.

“Okay, okay—level five activated,” he says dramatically. “Safety override! Girlfriend in distress!”

You’re laughing so hard your ribs hurt. “You’re so stupid.”

“And yet, I’m still allowed to see you naked,” he says proudly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “Clearly I’m doing something right.”

The steam curls around you both and you go quiet for a moment, swaying gently in the warmth, his heartbeat steady at your back.

He presses a second kiss to your shoulder, softer this time. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod slowly, still resting against him. “Yeah. Just kinda… floaty. You make my brain all fuzzy.”

“That’s my favorite compliment,” he murmurs. “Right after ‘oh my god, you idiot’ and ‘what the fuck are you doing.’”

You snort. “You’re impossible.”

He smiles into your neck. “But you like me anyway.”

You don’t say anything right away—just tip your head back onto his shoulder and let the water run over both of you. And then, very softly: “Yeah. I really do.”

Mingyu stills for a beat, like you hit a button inside him he wasn’t expecting, and then squeezes you tighter, just once, before nuzzling your damp hair with a grin you can’t see but can definitely feel.

“I like you too,” he says, voice low and stupidly fond. “Like, in a dumb, irreversible, stuck-on-you kind of way.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

“It is,” he says seriously. “I’m never gonna be normal again. I’m ruined. I’ll be in the grocery store thinking about your thighs.”

You burst out laughing. “My thighs?”

“Mmhm. I have to make amends every time I look at them.”

You spin around in his arms, water splashing between you, and poke him in the chest. “I cannot believe you just said that with a straight face.”

Mingyu grins, entirely unrepentant. “It’s true. I’m gonna start leaving them little apology notes. Post-its. Maybe a fruit basket.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh, letting your forehead fall against his chest. “You’re such a menace.”

“A menace with a sincere heart and excellent taste in thighs,” he says, tilting your chin up with his knuckle. His eyes are sparkling, water dripping from his lashes like he’s been carved from sunlight and bad decisions.

You flick his nose. “Behave.”

“Impossible,” he says. “I just went down on the love of my life for like thirty uninterrupted minutes. I’m riding a high no shower can scrub off.”

You cover your face. “You can’t keep saying things like that with no warning.”

He leans in, whispering against your ear, “What, that I’m obsessed with you? That you taste better than anything I’ve ever had? That I’m one missed eye contact away from proposing right now in this damn shower?”

Oh how the tables have turned.

You make a strangled squeaking sound and slap his shoulder, but you’re laughing too hard to look threatening. “You are unwell.”

He beams. “Terminally. Doomed. Completely whipped.”

“Honestly,” you sigh, mock-exasperated. “This is what I get for letting you touch me?”

Mingyu leans back, still holding you, as he runs his fingers gently through your wet hair. “No take-backs.”

You narrow your eyes. “Even if you keep flirting like a Shakespeare character with brain damage?”

He gasps, hand to heart. “Rude. My iambic pentameter is flawless.”

“You’re so lucky I’m soft for you,” you mutter, turning into his chest again.

“I know,” he says smugly, hugging you close. “And I’m never letting you forget it.”

Then, quieter, more sincere: “Hey. I mean it, though. I’ve never done that before. Not like that. Not just… that.”

You blink up at him. “Really?”

He nods, brushing some wet strands off your cheek. “Yeah. But you—” He breaks into a shy, almost boyish grin. “I didn’t want anything else. That was enough.”

Your chest squeezes so tight it’s almost hard to breathe.

You cup his face, fingers curling behind his ears. “You’re kind of a dream, you know that?”

He shrugs, grinning like a goof. “A dream with a tongue like a superpower. Pretty sure that makes me a Marvel hero.”

You burst into helpless giggles, kissing his cheek. “My ‘Oral Avenger’.”

He snorts, and you both double over in laughter.

He tries to stand up straighter, puffing out his chest like he’s about to recite a monologue. “Sworn protector of pleasure. Defender of thighs. Champion of cuddles.”

You wheeze. “Mingyu, please.”

“Silence, civilian,” he says, adopting a comically deep voice and cupping water in his hands like he’s about to baptize you. “You’ve been saved by the Oral Avenger. Gratitude is mandatory. Kisses are currency.”

You smack his arm, still laughing, nearly slipping again, but he catches you immediately—reflexes like a superhero, unfortunately for your dignity.

“You are not real,” you manage, gripping his shoulders for balance. “There’s no way someone like you actually exists.”

He grins, obnoxiously proud. “And yet, here I am. Naked in your shower. Making you laugh. Making you—” He cuts himself off with a smug little smirk. “Well. You remember.”

“Vividly,” you say, pretending to glare at him, though you’re still smiling so wide it hurts.

He softens then, all the goofiness still there in his eyes, but dialed down into something quieter, sweeter. “I like being the one who gets to take care of you.”

Your heart stutters. “Even when I’m a soup noodle who can barely stand?”

“Especially then,” he says, wrapping you back into his arms under the warm spray. “That’s when you’re at your most dangerous. All soft and sleepy and wrapped around me.”

You hide your face against his chest again. “You’re gonna kill me with how much you like me.”

“Plot twist,” he whispers. “You’ve been killing me since day one.”

You groan. “We’re gonna drown in the sap.”

“Good,” he says cheerfully. “If we die, at least we die clean, naked, and stupid in love.”

You shake your head, giggling as you curl into him, his arms keeping you steady, his warmth making the water feel even softer somehow. You’re not sure how long you stand there—swaying slightly, his fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back, the shower a quiet hum around you—but you could stay forever if it meant this.

Eventually, you sigh. “I’m turning into a raisin.”

Mingyu kisses your forehead. “Then it’s time for phase three.”

You squint up at him. “What the hell is phase three?”

He smiles like a man with a very serious plan. “Snacks. Sweatpants. Cuddles so aggressive, they’re basically a hostage situation.”

You pretend to think it over, then nod. “Acceptable. But I get to steal your hoodie.”

“Obviously,” he says. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t immediately offer you all my clothes like a Victorian suitor offering his estate?”

“You are so weird,” you say, stepping out and reaching for a towel.

He hands you one, then wraps one around his waist with that same dumb, soft grin still glued to his face. “Weirdly in love with you.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Smooth.”

He shrugs. “You like it.”

...And unfortunately for your dignity, you do.

You do. You like it so much it should be illegal.

And judging by the way Mingyu is looking at you—like you just personally rewrote his understanding of happiness—he knows it too.

“Alright, Avenger,” you say, toweling off your hair and trying not to look too fond, “lead the way to phase three. But I swear, if there are no snacks, I’m revoking your superhero license.”

Mingyu gasps in mock offense. “My license?! Baby, I passed all the tests. Oral, emotional, cuddly—I’m triple certified.”

“Triple certified menace,” you mutter, but you’re grinning again, and he’s already reaching for your hand, lacing your fingers together like it’s second nature.

He tugs you gently through the steam-filled bathroom and into the bedroom, still warm with leftover sunlight and very real post-orgasmic bliss. You collapse dramatically onto the bed, limbs flopping like you’ve been felled by love itself.

Mingyu disappears for all of twenty seconds—just enough time for you to contemplate stealing all the covers—before returning with snacks balanced on a tray like a waiter at a fancy café.

“You didn’t—” you start, but stop when you see what he’s brought: chocolate-covered pretzels and a bag of your favorite chips. There's also a soda can with a bendy straw already popped in.

You blink. “You’re disgustingly good at this.”

He beams and bows with all the grace of a man who just handed you his soul in snack form. “Told you. Trained my whole life.”

You sit up to let him crawl into bed beside you, and the moment he’s within reach, you snag his hoodie off the floor and yank it over your head. It smells like detergent and him, and it’s instantly your new favorite piece of clothing.

Mingyu lets out a pleased little hum, already pulling you into his side. “Perfect. Now you’re officially in hostage cuddle territory.”

You lean into his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your cheek. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m kinda okay with that.”

He presses a kiss into your hair. “Good. Because I’m planning to hold you until your battery recharges.”

“You think I’m a phone?”

“I think you were on 2% when I found you on that bed, and now you’re blinking red with a system warning.”

You laugh quietly. “And what? You’re the charger?”

“Obviously.” He turns his head to look at you, eyes soft. “I’m the premium, extra-snuggly, heart-eyed charger with emotional availability enabled.”

You blink up at him. “Who are you and what did you do with the emotionally constipated flirt I called a best friend?”

He grins, not even pretending to be offended. “He evolved. Pokémon-style. Final form unlocked.”

You nuzzle closer, letting your hand settle over his heart. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Totally. But you like me anyway.”

And you do. God, you do.

You fall asleep like that—not even realizing it at first. Just warm limbs tangled up in his, the quiet crackle of snack wrappers long forgotten, your breaths syncing up, your fingers still tangled. The last thing you feel before the darkness pulls you under is his lips brushing your forehead again, and his voice, soft and half-lost in sleep.

“Best nap of my life. With my favorite person.”

You don’t answer, already drifting.

But if you could, you’d say the same.

The light is different when you wake up—thicker, lazier, like even the sun can’t be bothered to move too quickly. It’s warm, filtered through the curtains, and casting faint gold over the tangle of limbs you’re currently buried in.

You blink slowly. It takes a second to remember where you are, what time it is, who this very warm, very broad human heat source is.

And then Mingyu lets out a soft snore against your shoulder.

Right. Him.

You glance over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:04 PM.

Jesus. You slept hard.

Probably because of the mind-melting head. Probably because of the post-orgasm snacks. Probably because your body hit the kind of wall you don’t come back from without several REM cycles and light therapy.

You shift a little, trying to ease a cramp out of your leg, but Mingyu just makes a noise of protest and tightens his grip, burying his face deeper into your neck like a clingy koala with attachment issues.

“Don’t move,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and half-asleep. “You’re my favorite pillow.”

You snort, rubbing at your eyes. “You’re crushing my soul.”

“Good,” he says groggily. “It belongs to me now. Legally. Cosmically. We talked about this.”

You groan and stretch one arm over your head, nearly whacking him in the face. He doesn’t even flinch. “How are you still warm? You’re like a human oven.”

“I run hot,” he says, barely audible before chuckling. “You said that to me once.”

You bite back a smile and lean your head against his chest again. “You’ve been purposefully annoying since the minute I met you.”

“I prefer ‘strategically charming.’”

“You told me I looked like I’d never lifted a box in my life when I asked you for help in chem lab.”

He lifts his head a little, squinting down at you with the dumbest, sleepiest smile. “And look how far we’ve come. I went from roasting your biceps to worshiping your thighs.”

“God,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.”

You lie on him a little longer—mostly because you’re still boneless and warm and the hoodie you stole smells like him and sunshine and home. His fingers start tracing light shapes over your hip through the fabric, like he’s not even fully awake, just wired to reach for you.

After a while, your stomach growls loud enough to startle even him.

You both freeze.

Then he grins. “Phase four.”

You sigh, already dreading it. “Don’t tell me there’s an actual plan.”

“There’s always a plan,” he says, rolling onto his back dramatically like a king preparing to address his subjects. “Phase four is: second snacks, lazy post-nap makeouts, and possibly Mario Kart.”

You blink. “Mario Kart?”

He nods solemnly. “It’s an essential bonding ritual. We play. You lose. I gloat. You call me a cheater. I kiss you to distract you during Rainbow Road. Balance is restored to the universe.”

You stare at him, lips twitching. “You kiss me to cheat?”

“Strategically charming,” he repeats, tapping his temple.

You swat his stomach. “Fine. But I get to pick the snacks this time.”

He immediately holds out the imaginary microphone. “Say less, your majesty.”

You throw a pillow at his face. He catches it without looking.

This man. This absolute menace of a human being.

You get up eventually—only because your body is no longer soup and your stomach sounds like it’s trying to file a formal complaint. Mingyu follows close behind, shirtless, fluffy-haired, and smug as ever, trailing you like a golden retriever on a mission to be fed and cuddled in equal measure.

And you let him. Because at 3PM, in a quiet house with the afternoon sun crawling across the floor, being wrapped up in him still feels like the safest, softest place in the world.

The kitchen is quiet when you pad in, your feet bare, Mingyu’s hoodie hanging nearly to your knees, and the way it smells like him does something dangerous to your heart. There’s a gentle hum from the fridge, the distant sound of birds outside. It feels like the world is holding its breath, letting you have this one slow, perfect moment.

Mingyu follows close behind, hair rumpled from sleep, sweatpants slung low on his hips, and the kind of smile that looks like it’s still half-dreaming. He’s blinking slow, like his body hasn’t fully caught up to being awake, and when he sees you reaching for the cabinet, he immediately steps in to help.

“Let me,” he murmurs, voice still thick and scratchy with sleep.

You step aside, not protesting. Watching the way his muscles shift under his skin, the way his fingers fumble adorably on the mugs like he’s too cozy to function at full capacity.

“I was gonna make us breakfast. Lunch? Brunch.” you say softly.

“I’m helping,” he says, placing two mugs on the counter. “That makes me the co-chef. Sous-chef. Whatever gets me a taste-test.”

You smile, nose scrunching. “You just want to eat the batter again.”

“I just want to be near you while you whisk things,” he admits shamelessly. “You get all focused and bite your lip and it does something to me.”

“You’re such a sap,” you say, but your cheeks are warm and your stomach flutters like you’re seventeen and in love for the first time.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you pull out ingredients. You look away fast, too flustered to keep eye contact, pouring milk into the bowl like it’s suddenly become a very serious task.

He stays close while you work—handing you the whisk without you asking, brushing a crumb off your cheek with the gentlest touch, kissing your shoulder in the middle of your stirring like he can’t help it. It’s not rushed or loud or over-the-top. Just soft. Slow. The kind of lazy afternoon that you’d have never believed would be possible for you a few weeks ago—especially not with Mingyu.

Eventually, the pancakes are golden and fluffy and stacked high on the plate. Mingyu sets the table, even folds the napkins like you’re having brunch at a tiny sunlit diner that only exists for the two of you.

You sit side by side at the kitchen table, knees brushing, syrup pooling on your plates, and when you take the first bite and hum softly in approval, Mingyu practically lights up.

“Good?” he asks, like it matters more than anything.

You nod. “Perfect.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Told you we make a good team.”

You both eat slowly, sharing bites, stealing glances, saying very little. The silence is warm, not awkward, just comfortable.

At one point, he tugs gently at your sleeve and says, “Hey. Look at me for a sec.”

You do.

He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth, soft and careful and full of something that makes your chest ache.

“Just wanted to,” he says quietly.

Soon enough, you're both camped out on the floor in front of your TV, controllers in hand, knees knocking as Rainbow Road loads with its usual screaming colors and doom. Rainbow Road is chaos. Always has been. Always will be. And somehow, it’s the one track you two keep coming back to like it’s a relationship test.

You’re hunched forward with laser focus, tongue poking out just slightly as your kart hits every drift perfectly. Mingyu’s right behind you, gritting his teeth, doing everything he can to keep up. His character keeps skidding on the edges, and your laughter only makes it worse.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” you coo, which earns you a red shell to the face.

“Oh, I’m so done playing nice,” he warns, trying not to smile too hard as you fake a dramatic gasp.

By the third lap, you're ahead again—just barely. The final stretch is coming up, and you're gripping the controller like it’s life or death. You can feel him shift beside you, like he’s about to pull something.

“What are you—”

You don’t get to finish that thought, because suddenly he leans in and kisses you.

And not just a quick peck.

He cups your jaw with one hand and kisses you full-on, lips warm and insistent, like he’s been waiting all game for the excuse. It steals your breath. Your thumbs slow, your brain short-circuits. You let out a surprised little noise against his mouth, and he smiles into it—because of course he does.

Your kart immediately flies off the side of the track.

“You—!” you start, breaking the kiss as your character spins out into oblivion.

Mingyu’s already whooping like he won the lottery, flopping backward on the carpet with the most satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“That’s not fair!” you say, shoving his shoulder.

“That’s Mario Kart, baby,” he says, breathless with laughter. “And also… that was so worth it.”

You’re still dazed, fingers limp around the controller. “You kissed me to win.”

“I kissed you because I wanted to. Winning was a bonus.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you,” he says smugly, pulling you into him again.

You drop the controller, straddling his lap without even thinking. “Say that again without the smug.”

He kisses you slower this time. Less about the victory, more about you. His hand finds your waist like it’s second nature, and the only thing glowing now is the TV screen forgotten in the background.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, voice is soft, but sure, like he’s sharing a secret just for you.  It makes your cheeks flush, breath hitching.

You pull away just long enough to whisper, “I love you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But next race I’m sitting in your lap. Let's see who’s distracted then.”

Mingyu blinks. “Oh,” he says, in that dumb, boyish way that means his brain has officially exited the chat.

You smirk, brushing a thumb across the corner of his mouth. “What? You started it.”

“I didn’t think you’d go feral about it,” he mumbles, staring at you like you just promised to ruin his life—in the best way possible.

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Rainbow Road, rematch. I’ll drive. You suffer.”

He groans, but it’s the kind that curls into a laugh halfway through. “You’re not gonna let me concentrate at all, are you?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you say sweetly, reaching for the controller again. “I mean, you cheated.”

He sits up a little, hands slipping to your thighs, keeping you there like he doesn’t want you going anywhere. “That was strategy.”

“You kissed me, you maniac!”

He grins. “Yeah, and now you’re in my lap, so technically I won twice.”

Your mouth drops open. “You little—”

But he cuts you off with another kiss. This one is lazy, familiar, warm. It makes you feel like you won even though you didn’t. His lips move against yours like he could keep doing this forever and wouldn’t mind never finishing another race again.

You kiss him back, just because you can. Just because it’s him.

Somewhere behind you, the Mario Kart theme loops cheerfully, oblivious to the way you two are definitely not playing anymore. His hands slip further up your thighs, massaging them as the kiss grows hungrier.

He pulls you closer, the world narrowing to the press of his lips and the soft heat of his hands exploring like they remember every curve by heart. Your breath catches when his tongue lightly brushes yours, slow and teasing, inviting but never rushing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, pupils wide, voice low. “You wanna keep playing?”

You blink, dizzy from the way he’s touching you. “The game?”

“No,” he murmurs, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, “but we can pretend.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s fond, your hands sliding up under his shirt like they have a mind of their own. “You’re the worst,” you mumble, but it’s hard to sound convincing when your thumbs are already tracing the ridges of his stomach.

“And yet,” he whispers, tilting his head to kiss just under your jaw, “here you are. Still in my lap.”

You hum, neck tilting instinctively as he sucks lightly at your skin, just enough to make your breath stutter. “It’s for revenge,” you claim, your voice barely steady. “I need to win the rematch. Gotta... intimidate the opponent.”

Mingyu pulls back just slightly to meet your gaze, lips flushed, expression of pure trouble. “Oh yeah? This is intimidation?”

“I’m very scary,” you say, trying to hold back a smile as your nails lightly rake down his chest.

He shivers, mouth parting. “Terrifying,” he agrees, eyes flicking down to your lips again. “Should I be nervous?”

“Only if you’re bad at multitasking.”

He huffs a laugh, deep and breathy, then slides his arms all the way around you, hugging you to his chest like it’s second nature—like it’s always been this easy. His heart is racing. Yours might be worse.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you say quietly, voice just shy of breathless, “and we’re never gonna finish this game.”

He kisses you again—deeper this time. No warning, no teasing. Just heat.

Your breath catches, mouth parting instinctively, and he takes the invitation without hesitation. His tongue brushes yours, slow and deliberate, and your fingers clutch his shirt tighter like you’re trying not to slide right off his lap and onto the floor.

“Who said we need to?” he murmurs into your mouth, lips still moving with yours like he’s trying to make you forget the concept of time entirely.

You pull back just enough to look at him, eyes glazed, lips red and swollen. “We’ve played two matches,” you say, barely holding back a grin, “and you’re already trying to seduce me mid-race?”

He laughs, low and cocky, hands sliding under the back of your shirt like he’s been waiting all night for an excuse. “Babe, I’ve been trying to seduce you since match zero.”

“Well,” you breathe, his touch dragging goosebumps along your spine, “you’re getting better at it.”

“Good,” he whispers, fingers pressing into your hips, dragging you closer. “Because I’m not planning to stop.”

You shift in his lap, just enough to feel the way he tenses beneath you. His breath stutters.

“Oh,” you say softly, feigning innocence, “that distracting?”

He groans, dropping his head back with a curse. “You’re a menace.”

“You like it.”

“I love it,” he says, voice rough now, pulling you back down to kiss you like he’s been starving for it. It’s messier this time, hungrier—your teeth catching his bottom lip, his hands tugging you flush against him like he’s trying to eliminate any space left between you.

The controller clatters to the floor. Neither of you notices.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly, and the way he growls low in his throat makes heat shoot down your spine. “Mingyu—”

“Yeah?” he says, lips dragging down your jaw, kissing the corner of your neck with a kind of reverence that still somehow feels desperate.

“I think…” you gasp, back arching a little as he sucks a bruise just below your collarbone, “...we’re gonna have to pause the rematch.”

He huffs a laugh against your skin, biting down gently just to hear the sound you make. “Call it a tactical delay.”

Your hands are under his shirt now, palms hot against his skin, mapping out every inch like you’re memorizing it for later. “You cheat at more than just Mario Kart, you know that?”

He pulls back to look at you, flushed and breathing hard, hair a mess because of your fingers, and still somehow the most beautiful disaster you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t care if I win or lose,” he says, voice raw, “as long as I get you like this.”

That shuts you up.

Because then he kisses you again—hard, like a promise—and you let him, gladly.

Your hips roll into his without thinking, and his breath hitches, hands tightening on your waist. When you do it again, slower this time, his mouth breaks from yours, head dropping to your shoulder with a ragged groan.

“You’re killing me,” he says, voice muffled.

You grin, breathless. “Still scary?”

He looks up, hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched, pupils blown wide. “Terrified.”

Your laughter turns into a gasp as he shifts beneath you, both hands gripping your thighs like he’s grounding himself—like if he doesn’t hold onto something, he might actually lose his mind.

You’re not much better. Every point of contact between you feels like static—crackling, insistent, addictive.

He mouths at your neck, open and wet, and you can feel the heat of it radiating through your whole body. “You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are,” you murmur, voice unsteady as your fingers trail along the waistband of his sweats.

“Because you’re the one on top of me right now,” he says, lips brushing against your skin, “and I still don’t know if we’re making out or if I’m being punished.”

You smirk, tugging at his shirt. “Why not both?”

“God,” he mutters, helping you pull it over his head, voice going hoarse at the feel of your hands dragging up his chest. “You're evil.”

“You’re easy.”

“Only for you.”

The air shifts between you then—something thick and loaded hanging in the pause that follows. Your eyes lock, and it’s like you both realize at the same time that you’ve tipped past some invisible edge. That playful energy is still there, but underneath it—undeniable heat. Need.

His hand cups the back of your neck, gentle but firm as he pulls you back down into him. The kiss starts slow but deepens fast, tongues sliding, breaths catching, teeth grazing lips in that barely-restrained way that makes your stomach flip.

You grind into him again, deliberate now, and the moan that leaves his mouth is low and wrecked.

“Shit—” he pants, clutching at your hips like they’re the only thing tethering him to the floor. “You keep doing that, I’m not gonna survive this round.”

Your lips find his throat, kissing down the column of it, and you feel the way he shudders underneath you. “You’ll be fine,” you whisper. “You’re strong.”

He laughs, then immediately chokes on it when you suck lightly at a spot just under his jaw.

“Fuck, okay—okay. I’m tapping out,” he groans, but his hands are dragging up under your shirt now too, like he’s searching for skin he hasn’t kissed yet. “You win.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. His hair’s a mess, pupils blown, lips kiss-bitten and swollen. Your heartbeat’s pounding so loud you can feel it in your ears.

“I wasn’t keeping score,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “Can I still kiss you like I lost?”

You nod once, and that’s all it takes—he flips you both over, laying you back against the carpet with him hovering above you, hands braced on either side of your head.

He kisses you like he’s letting go of every ounce of self-control he’s been holding onto. Like he’s been wanting this for days and finally got permission.

And you—god, you let him. You welcome it. Fingers tangled in his hair, back arching up into him as his body presses you down like you’re something sacred he’s allowed to worship.

You gasp when his mouth finds your collarbone again, dragging teeth over skin like he wants to leave more evidence. His name slips from your lips, involuntary.

He answers with another kiss, softer this time, like he’s trying to say I’m here without the words.

Your hands roam instinctively, finding the warm plane of his back, the curve of his shoulder, the soft tension of muscle shifting beneath your touch. He feels real in a way that makes your chest ache—solid and warm and entirely yours.

And god, the way he’s kissing you—like he doesn’t care about pace or time or the carpet burning into his knees. Like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he’s learning you one kiss at a time and still hungry for more.

His hand slides up your side, slow and reverent, fingertips brushing beneath your bra and then pausing—checking. His mouth parts from yours just long enough to breathe out, “Okay?”

You nod, throat dry. “Yeah. Yes.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding that breath all night, and then he’s kissing down your neck again—tongue flicking over the bruise he left earlier, teeth grazing the curve of your shoulder. You shiver beneath him, hips shifting up against his without meaning to, and the sound he makes in response is something that shoots straight to your core.

“Mingyu—” you whisper, half a warning, half a plea, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into your skin, and it sounds like a promise.

One hand dips between you, sliding under the waistband of your shorts with that same careful urgency—like he’s trying to balance the need to be gentle with the very real possibility he might come undone if he waits much longer. His fingers trail lower, slow and teasing, and your back arches before you can stop it.

“You’re so warm,” he breathes, like it’s a revelation. “So soft. Fuck—”

Your head tilts back as his fingers move just right, and your legs fall further apart on instinct, letting him in. His name leaves your mouth again, barely audible, and it makes him glance up, eyes dark and soft and completely focused on you.

“Still okay?” he asks, voice tighter now, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You nod quickly, pulling him back into a kiss. “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He touches you slower than that morning, like he’s trying to learn every single way you fall apart this time—each sigh, each flutter of your lashes, each shift of your hips. The game’s long forgotten, and this is the real win.

And when your breath starts to hitch, your thighs trembling around his wrist, he presses his forehead to yours and says your name like it’s a prayer. You clutch at his back, clinging to the moment, to him, to this stupid, perfect boy who kissed you mid-race and ruined your life a little—in the best way.

You come with his mouth on yours and his hand coaxing you through it, every nerve alight, every thought blank except for MingyuMingyuMingyu.

When it fades, he kisses you again, softer now, like a thank-you. Like a goddamn lullaby.

“Still smug?” you murmur, breath shaky, eyes half-lidded as you come down.

He grins—sleepy and wild and very pleased with himself. “Depends. Are you still scary?”

You smile, pulling him closer. “You have no idea.”

Mingyu stills. His breath catches—just for a second—before he lifts his head to look at you. The air between you is still buzzing with the aftershock of everything that just passed between your bodies, but his eyes soften like they always do when it’s you. 

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, like he’s offering you a way out. Even now.

You nod, threading your fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I want you.”

That’s all it takes.

He stands first, gently pulling you up with him, hands finding your waist like he needs to keep touching you or he might float off the ground. You lead the way to your bedroom, your fingers tangled in his, the soft creak of the door closing behind you louder than you expect.

The room is quiet except for your breathing—his still uneven, yours still shallow. The soft wash of moonlight spills in through the window, casting faint shadows across your bed, your floor, the way he looks at you like you’re something he never expected to have.

You back toward the bed slowly, legs brushing the frame, and he follows until your knees bump the mattress. His hands find your hips again, thumbs rubbing gentle circles like he’s grounding himself all over again.

“You can still back out,” he says, serious now, even if his voice is a little breathless. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

“I don’t want to rush,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of your (his) shirt, “but I do want this. With you.”

His jaw flexes as he watches you pull the fabric over your head, eyes tracking every slow reveal like he’s memorizing you by the second. You reach for him too, tugging at the drawstring of his sweats as he steps closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

There’s still teasing in the way he kisses you, sure—but it’s slowed now, as if all the earlier heat has melted into something even more intimate. He lays you down with a kind of care that makes your heart ache, crawling into the bed like he belongs there—like he’s always meant to be here with you.

You scoot back until the backs of your knees meet the pillows, Mingyu following you down, one arm braced beside your head while the other traces the curve of your waist. He kisses you again, deep and steady this time, like he wants to feel every inch of you in the press of his mouth. His fingers ghost up your ribs, brushing the underside of your chest, then pausing again, like he’s checking in without words.

You nod, barely a breath. “Please.”

You feel laid bare in every way—your skin, your breath, the way his eyes take you in like you’re something to be studied, cherished.

“God,” he murmurs, voice gone quiet and raspy. “You’re... you’re unreal.”

You shake your head, a little dazed and a lot in love. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” He bends down to kiss your chest, slow and deliberate, like he wants to worship you in pieces. “You’re mine.”

It should sound cocky. It would if it came from anyone else. But it’s Mingyu, saying it with that look in his eyes—like it’s less about possession and more about awe. Like he still can’t believe you let him have this.

You tug him down until he’s flush against you, skin to skin, the heat between you both stifling and electric. He groans softly as your hands find his hips, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down just enough so they fall to the floor with his boxers.

“Okay?” he whispers again, kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the edge of your jaw.

You nod and pull him closer. “More than.”

And then he’s moving—slow and careful, like he’s still half-afraid to break you, even now. But you anchor him with your hands on his back, your legs around his waist, the brush of your nose against his.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, and this time it’s not a promise. It’s a fact.

And when he finally pushes into you, your breath catches hard, eyes fluttering shut from the stretch, the closeness, the dizzying warmth of it all. He stills immediately, pressing his forehead to yours, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Tell me if—”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, voice already trembling. “I need—just... stay. Right there.”

He does. Of course he does. He always does.

He moves slowly, carefully, like the moment is something he wants to savor—not rush. Like this is the part he’s been waiting for all along. And god, it’s everything. The heat, the weight, the feel of his mouth on your shoulder, his hand gripping yours tight between the sheets.

You whisper his name again and again, and every time it leaves your lips, he gives something back—deeper, closer, gentler. His lips find yours between gasps, half-kisses and murmured sweet things you can’t even process because he’s filling you with too much. Too much heat, too much love, too much him.

And when you finally come again, it’s overwhelming. It hits hard and bright and sharp, curling your toes, your back arching off the mattress as he holds you through it, forehead pressed to your temple, voice saying your name like he means it.

He follows just after, hips stuttering as he buries his face in your neck, his moan muffled by skin and sheets.

The room is quiet in the aftermath. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled limbs, and the faint rush of blood still roaring in your ears.

Eventually, Mingyu lifts his head, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. “Still scary?” he murmurs, voice wrecked but amused.

You smile, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “Only if you leave your socks on again.”

He lets out a groan and flops to the side, dragging you with him. “Low blow. That was one time.”

You curl into his chest, sated and warm and so full of him you don’t even know where you end and he begins. “It was yesterday.”

He laughs, breathless, curling an arm around you like he never plans to let go.

And maybe—just maybe—you hope he doesn’t. Because who cares if you lose when you have him.

BONUS:

[svt-luna]

ʚིᵋ ⋆ NANA TOUR ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── episode 1-4.

Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN

synopsis: Episode 1-4! Something happened in their house. The travelers take breaks, but their fun never stops! SEVENTEEN must beat Guide Na in a game to win toiletries!

wc: 17k

i know, i know, i know and i apologize that this took so long. i have been so busy with my other works and busy with drama i never asked for, i completely ignored Nana Tour, so I’m sorry, my lovelies! anyway! this is the last part of episode one! after this will be the fan reaction tweets for all of episode one before moving on to episode two, specifically episode 2-1! hope you guys enjoy this! happy reading, my loves! 🤍

p.s. i also added the first 7 minutes of ep. 2-1 at the end to make this episode longer and to make up for taking forever to post this 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

╰ ౨ৎ fan reactions ╰ ౨ৎ nana tour masterlist

[added captions are in brackets] ღ

bold dialogues are spoken in english ღ

The bus finally slowed to a stop on a quiet street, the gentle hum of the engine fading as the brakes hissed beneath them. The night was cool and the street was bathed in a soft yellow glow from the vintage lampposts. Outside, the narrow cobblestone road curved gently uphill, flanked by charming stucco buildings with wooden shutters and crawling ivy, their windows glowing with the warm light of evening residents.

[They have arrived… kinda]

Inside the bus, the SEVENTEEN members stirred, stretching and groaning softly, their bodies stiff from hours of travel. Just as a few hands reached upwards toward overhead compartments to stretch and others began adjusting their jackets to brace for the walk outside, PD Na’s voice rang through the bus like an announcement at school assembly.

“Seven-minute walk. Group yourselves— two groups of four people and one group of five people.”

A collective groan rose up in good-natured complaint.

“Seven minutes??” Dino whined jokingly from his seat, already slumping as if gravity had doubled.

[Yes.]

“I thought we were there,” Wonwoo muttered, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

But despite the exaggerated sighs and complaints, the energy was still light. They were in Italy. The exhaustion was real, yes, but the buzz of being somewhere new— somewhere this beautiful— kept their spirits alive.

The members slowly made their way out of the bus, stepping into the crisp air one by one.

The first to bounce out, unsurprisingly, were Jeonghan and Luna. They both looked like they had just escaped from captivity, heads immediately lifting to scan their surroundings, legs already moving before anyone could even call roll.

PD Na stepped out next and began counting. Jeonghan, standing beside him, helped in his own way— mostly by pointing.

“Okay… one, two, three, four, five,” PD Na and Jeonghan said almost in unison, gesturing to the first cluster: Jeonghan, Luna, Woozi, Dino, and Seungkwan.

[Grouped together due to the large amount of members]

“First group, go ahead,” PD Na announced, waving his hand like a traffic officer.

The five nodded, and just like that, the front group began making their way up the cobbled street, Jeonghan and Luna instinctively leading with brisk, determined steps.

[And they are off]

Behind them, the second group began assembling: Minghao, Jun, Wonwoo, and Hoshi. They exchanged glances, checking that everyone was ready before following the first group with a more relaxed pace, chatting among themselves.

Lastly, the final group brought up the rear: Mingyu, Dokyeom, Joshua, and Vernon. They trailed behind the camera crew and PD Na, who strolled alongside them while keeping an eye on the groups ahead.

Though they were exhausted— bags under their eyes, hair tousled from the flight, shoulders drooping— they were in Rome. And that fact alone kept everyone wide-eyed, pointing at the quaint balconies, the parked Vespas, and the small cafés still open late into the evening.

Minghao glanced at a hanging plant outside a window and whispered something to Jun that made them both laugh. Hoshi occasionally paused to point out something “cool” about the buildings.

Meanwhile, up ahead, Jeonghan and Luna had started to outpace their own group. Their strides quickened, not quite a run, but unmistakably a power-walk, almost as if there were a race to the Airbnb and they were neck-and-neck in first place.

[It’s every man for themselves]

“Are they speedwalking??” Woozi muttered.

[They are.]

“They’re gonna be tucked in before we even find the house,” Dino said under his breath.

The rest of their group chuckled, keeping a steady pace while watching the two sleep-deprived bunnies dart ahead, side by side.

Back with the last group, Dokyeom— hands shoved in his pockets, hair still ruffled from his bus nap— suddenly chuckled and lifted a finger to point toward the front.

“Those two are really something else,” he said with a laugh, nodding in the direction of Luna and Jeonghan, who were now about ten paces ahead of even their own group.

PD Na followed his gaze and let out a chuckle, amusement crinkling his eyes. The rest of the group followed his line of sight and instantly burst into laughter.

There they were— Luna and Jeonghan— marching like their lives depended on it, their silhouettes framed by the ancient walls around them, looking less like idols on a filming schedule and more like two classmates desperate to get to a sleepover first to claim the best bed.

“It’s like we’re not even here,” PD Na chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You have to excuse them,” Seungkwan piped up from the middle group, throwing an exaggerated glance back over his shoulder as he jogged to keep up. His voice was perfectly theatrical, like a translator explaining cultural context. “They are running on adrenaline at this point.”

[Team bunny is low on battery]

The members burst out laughing again.

Jeonghan and Luna were far ahead of the others now, their silhouettes cutting sleek outlines against the night, moving like a pair of escapees on a mission to conquer the bed first.

Behind them, the sounds of laughter drifted from the groups catching up, chuckles trailing like distant music.

“They think we can’t hear them,” Jeonghan snickered, tilting his head slightly without turning around, his voice low and laced with that signature drawl of mischief. His lips curled into a smug smile, pleased by the obvious attention they were getting from the peanut gallery behind them.

[Loves the attention]

Luna hummed in agreement, her steps slowing just a little, her eyes lazily blinking. Without a word, she reached out, wrapped her arms around Jeonghan’s, and hugged it close to her body. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, the soft material of his shirt cushioning the side of her face.

[Battery saving mode]

Jeonghan glanced down with an arched brow but didn’t say anything. The smugness faded slightly, replaced with a soft amusement at her dramatics.

“I’m tired,” Luna mumbled, her voice muffled against his arm like a toddler ready to throw herself to the floor in protest.

Jeonghan, without missing a beat, looked straight ahead and deadpanned, “Then sleep here. I’ll tell Seungcheol you lived a good life.”

[Snitch]

Luna scoffed through a tired laugh, hitting his arm with the flat of her hand. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one clinging to me like she’s being dragged out of a funeral,” Jeonghan quipped, not even flinching as she gave him another light smack.

She groaned exaggeratedly and dragged her feet even more for effect, her head still leaning against him like he was the only thing keeping her upright. “Can’t we just teleport? Isn’t that one of the SEVENTEEN perks?”

[Lack of sleep makes you want to have superpowers]

Jeonghan snorted. “You should’ve joined the performance team. I heard Hoshi’s been working on teleportation through dance.”

“That’s too much work,” Luna grumbled.

[Everything is too much work at this point for her]

“Exactly. That’s why you’re stuck walking like a zombie beside me.” He smirked and glanced down at her again. “You look like Cherry after she gets thrown across the bed.”

Luna paused and then let out a cackle. “Excuse me, Cherry always lands with style. She’s a survivor.”

“She’s in the pocket of your jacket right now like a hostage,” Jeonghan said.

[Peekaboo]

“And she’s sleeping better than both of us,” Luna shot back, eyes barely open now. “I should’ve been reborn as a plushie.”

“You kind of are one,” Jeonghan muttered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” he said, smile tugging at his lips as he looked ahead again.

Their pace had slowed to a gentle crawl now, like two elderly citizens taking a midnight stroll through Rome, except one was leaning all her weight on the other, and the other was just smug enough to make it look like he wasn’t tired at all.

From behind, the rest of the members could still see them, even from several meters back. Luna clinging onto Jeonghan like a toddler on a shopping trip, Jeonghan walking like he had the entire street reserved just for himself and the girl glued to his side.

The cobblestone echoed under their feet. Rome whispered around them. And ahead? The promise of warmth, of beds, of pajamas, and maybe— just maybe— some peace.

If they could survive the last few minutes without collapsing from chaos or each other.

The group had finally turned onto the narrow cobblestone street where their Airbnb was supposedly located. The air was colder now, carrying the scent of old stone, faint pasta from nearby restaurants, and a hint of jetlagged misery. Luna’s steps dragged behind Jeonghan’s, her arms still locked tightly around his, eyes nearly closed as if she could nap while walking.

Jeonghan slowed as they reached the edge of the quiet street, eyes scanning the buildings before his gaze locked onto a massive, ancient wooden door across the road. It looked like something out of a medieval RPG— arched, heavy, slightly weathered, and holding the kind of presence that whispered, secrets live inside here.

[Not castle doors… Airbnb doors]

“I guess it’s that one,” Jeonghan said, casually nodding toward the intimidating door.

Luna lifted her head slightly from where it rested on his shoulder, her eyes squinting at the direction he pointed. “Which one?” she asked sleepily, voice gravelly like she was seconds away from snoring.

“That one,” he repeated with a tired nod, gesturing across the street again, like he was pointing at a haunted castle.

“It’s here?” Woozi asked, his voice dry and a little skeptical, as he and the rest of their group caught up from behind.

“Wow, it’s here?” Wonwoo echoed, blinking as they all shuffled forward, bags hanging from their shoulders like battle-worn capes. The entire group stood outside the wooden gate, staring up at it like it might suddenly open on its own and welcome them with a butler and slippers.

Jeonghan, ever the oldest-child energy when it came to things like this, walked ahead and reached out with one hand. Luna stayed right beside him, standing upright for the first time in ten minutes as she eyed the door with suspicion.

He pressed his palm against it and gave it a push.

The door creaked open, slow and dramatic, as if it had been waiting for them for a century. Luna peeked in beside him, the hallway beyond dimly lit and lined with stone steps curling upward.

“Is this the right place?” Dino asked cautiously, his head leaning in from behind Jeonghan’s shoulder.

[Yup]

PD Na, bringing up the rear of the second group, looked at his phone and gave a confirming nod. “This is it. Go ahead.”

With that, like migrating penguins spotting their seasonal nest, the first group started filing in. Jeonghan led the charge, stepping through the old doorframe as if it were a portal into salvation. Luna walked beside him like she was entering a sacred temple.

Stairs. There were stairs. Of course there were stairs.

“Man, I’m tired,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath as he trudged upward, each step sounding heavier than the last.

“Tired,” Luna echoed in a hum, her tone flat like an automatic voice response, her hand gripping the railing like it might dissolve if she let go.

[Stairs will help with that!]

The others followed behind in clusters, their dragging footsteps echoing off the narrow stairwell as more and more SEVENTEEN members filled the tight hallway like clowns piling into a miniature car. Their sleepyheads— all bundled together in a sluggish swarm of idol exhaustion.

And they just. Kept. Coming.

[Takes them years to get inside]

“Oh, they keep on coming,” PD Na muttered under his breath with a soft chuckle, standing at the foot of the stairs as the tail end of the last group—Mingyu, Dokyeom, Joshua, and Vernon— filed in, their bags thudding softly against the walls as they tried not to trip over each other.

The staircase creaked beneath the weight of idol dreams and fatigue, but the energy was lighthearted, funny in that surreal “we’ve-been-awake-for-too-long” kind of way.

And even though they were practically zombies… the laughter and muttering never stopped.

They were finally home— for tonight, at least.

Once all thirteen members had made it inside, the door shutting with a collective thud behind them, the energy shifted instantly. Gone was the medieval castle aesthetic from outside— the heavy wooden door, the worn stone walls, and the echo of centuries past. Inside? It was a complete 180. White walls, soft yellow lighting, light wood furniture, cozy rugs and potted plants tucked in corners— it was clean, minimalist, almost Ikea-esque.

[Wasn’t expecting that]

“Oh?” Jeonghan blinked, eyebrows rising as he stepped further in.

“This is kinda cute,” Seungkwan muttered as he looked around.

The members instantly split off in every direction like kids who’d just been released into recess. Shoes thumped against the floor, travel-weary bags were dragged along, and the tiredness momentarily gave way to exploration.

“This is the two person room— two people is cozy,” Woozi announced, peeking into the first room. He opened the door wide, revealing a simple room with two single beds, white sheets, and a small window that let in the soft glow of a streetlamp.

“Four people room,” Jeonghan said as he opened the next door across the hallway. Inside, two single beds sat side by side with a double decker bed pushed to the corner. The walls were just as plain white, but a few small paintings gave it a tiny bit of character.

“This is a three person room,” Wonwoo said, gesturing to another door while stepping aside so the rest could peek in. The moment he opened it, the boys skillfully weaved between each other, craning their necks like they were examining rare Pokémon cards.

[It’s a full house]

“There are bunk beds! Bunk beds!” Dokyeom called out from the far side of the apartment. His eyes were wide, almost glittering. He might as well have discovered buried treasure.

“That’s cute,” Luna said, stepping into the three-person room with a slow, appreciative nod. Her voice was quiet but pleased. There was a soft sense of nostalgia in her tone.

“This is very nostalgic,” she murmured, walking her fingers along the metallic edge of the top bunk as if mentally placing herself back in their first ever dorm.

[Reminds them of the past]

“Right? They have bunk beds from the past. They have that,” Dokyeom echoed enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his feet. “Oh, I like it so much.”

“Is this the three people room?” Jeonghan asked as he joined Luna by the door, eyes scanning the space.

“Mhm,” Luna hummed in confirmation.

“It’s neat,” Dino said from behind.

“But how do we decide this?” Mingyu asked, turning back toward the rest with furrowed brows, his arms half-crossed as if already bracing for chaos.

“Just like how we always did back in the day,” Jeonghan replied, waving everyone to the dining table with a half-tired, half-playful authority.

And like that, all thirteen members gathered at the center dining table. The table wasn’t big enough for all of them to sit comfortably, but they made it work anyway— knees bumping, elbows knocking, loud voices overlapping.

[This is how 13/14 SEVENTEEN looks when they eat together]

Jeonghan, slipping into his natural oldest-hyung, vice-leader mode with the smoothness of someone who’d done this for over a decade, sat at the middle of the table.

“Okay,” he said, looked around at all of them. “Like we used to do before— pre-debut and rookie days style. We’re deciding rooms old school.”

The members nodded, some smirking knowingly, others already preparing to fight for bunk beds.

“As always,” Jeonghan added, holding up a finger as he looked directly at Luna, “Jiyeonie picks first.”

[The princess picks first]

No one protested. Not a single voice argued, not a single eyebrow twitched. It was an unspoken law among SEVENTEEN— one not written, but honored consistently throughout their years together.

When it came to games, Going SEVENTEEN challenges, variety show chaos, and on-camera nonsense, Luna was fair game. They teased her, joked around, made her guess the lies, cheated, and sabotage answers. But when it came to her actual comfort— her sleeping arrangements, her wellbeing—she always got first pick. No games. No rock-paper-scissors. No age order.

Luna chose first.

It was SEVENTEEN Rule.

Jeonghan turned to her, voice softening just a touch. “Go ahead, Nana-ya. Choose.”

She blinked slowly, half-asleep already. “Thank you,” she muttered, her voice almost a yawn as she stood up with Cherry in her arms.

[Off she goes]

She padded off toward the three-person room she had her eyes on earlier. Inside, she walked straight over to the single bed by the door— slightly apart from the other two single beds that were right next to each other.

Gently, she placed Cherry on the bed.

[Chosen her bed for the their stay tonight]

“I’ll stay here,” she announced, patting the plush on its tiny head as if signing a deed of ownership, before quietly walking back out and returning to the table.

“You done?” Jeonghan asked, glancing at her.

“Yup,” she replied with a sleepy nod.

“You like the one you chose?” he asked again with a small grin.

“Yes, thank you,” she said sincerely, standing off to the side.

Jeonghan gave her a brief nod, then cracked his knuckles like a seasoned game master preparing for battle. He raised his fist.

“Divide and do rock-paper-scissors and the first place will go next followed by the second and onwards,” he announced.

“Okay!” came a collective chorus from the members, energy suddenly rising like they’d just downed three shots of espresso each.

[The battle begins]

The room exploded with movement as the members quickly grouped off into informal clumps, already sizing each other up like Who’s the weak link? Who always does paper first?

“Rock-paper-scissors!”

“Rock-paper-scissors!”

“Rock-paper-scissors!”

The chant bounced off the walls in overlapping waves, as hands flew into the air with every round. Laughter, fake betrayal, and loud accusations echoed through the apartment like a chorus of overgrown kids trying to decide who gets the top bunk first.

From her spot leaning on the wall near the kitchen, Luna simply watched them with an amused expression, arms crossed, and blinking slowly like a panda about to hibernate— comfortably amused, completely unbothered.

[Is used to it]

Once the room order was finally settled through a flurry of dramatic rock-paper-scissors matches and chaotic cheers and groans, the members began shuffling through the Airbnb with renewed energy— despite the fatigue weighing down their limbs. With Luna already having claimed her spot in the three-person room, the rest of the boys moved like curious tourists through the hallways, poking their heads into doorways and inspecting every bed like professional room critics.

[Finally choosing their rooms]

They filtered in and out of the rooms, chatting amongst themselves and silently marking their chosen territory. Some went straight for top bunks like it was muscle memory, others tested mattresses with light bounces like they were considering a hotel suite instead of a nostalgic lodging in the heart of Rome.

Luna’s room ended up shared with Jun and Dino. Her bed was the single one separated by a bit of space from the other two parallel beds— one Jun quickly claimed and the other Dino flopped on without contest.

The two-person room, cozy and minimalist, was quietly taken by Vernon and Minghao, both naturally leaning into the quieter atmosphere as they wordlessly nodded and unpacked… a Vernon’s baseball cap and the one jacket they each wore.

[NANA Tour unpacking style]

The first four-person room became home to the louder quartet of Dokyeom, Mingyu, Hoshi, and Joshua. Predictably chaotic, they practically dove into their beds while comparing who could starfish the widest.

[The loud room]

Meanwhile, the second four-person room— slightly more tucked away and quiet— housed Woozi, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and Jeonghan. Despite being a powerhouse lineup of loud commentary and variety charisma, the room itself was unusually calm as the four boys settled in with their phones.

[The quiet room]

With no real luggage to unpack, their belongings consisted mostly of jackets hung on bedposts, caps and sunglasses tossed aside, and pouches from the airplane either abandoned or tucked under pillows for safekeeping. There was no immediate rush to unpack or organize; instead, the house began to fill with low, comfortable noise: footsteps padding between rooms, casual conversations drifting through doorways, and the occasional “Hey, I’m stealing your bed for a sec” followed by laughter.

Members wandered between rooms naturally, laying across each other’s beds without hesitation, continuing conversations that had started either on the bus or mid-flight. Jun poked his head into the first four-person room to join their group. Hoshi wandered into Luna’s room to talk to Dino before moving again. It was the usual brand of SEVENTEEN chaos— messy, loud, familiar.

[They are making themselves at home]

Luna found herself walking down the hallway again, arms folded, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she slowly wandered to where Jeonghan’s room was. When she nudged the door open, she was met with a picture of pure stillness: all four boys, the sound of the air conditioning was the only thing heard and then there they were on their phones like monks in quiet meditation.

[No noise whatsoever]

Wonwoo was curled into the top bunk, one leg hanging over the side, phone raised above him. Woozi was sat on the bottom bunk with his head down as he scrolled through his phone. Seungkwan was sprawled across his bed horizontally with both legs hanging off one end. And Jeonghan was propped up lazily against the headboard of his single bed, arms relaxed behind his head as he stared into his phone like he was waiting for the stock market to crash.

“Hannie, can I have my AirPods? I gave it to you earlier,” Luna mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she stepped closer, dragging her feet slightly.

[Bunny broke the silence]

Without looking up, Jeonghan calmly reached into the front pocket of his pants and pulled out the AirPods. He extended his arm, wrist flicking slightly as he handed them over like it was a well-practiced move.

“Stop rubbing your eyes,” he said flatly, a soft sternness in his tone that only Luna ever got from him.

[Bunny scolds bunny]

Luna’s hand froze mid-rub then blinked at the warning and immediately dropped her hand from her face with a small pout, now blinking at him like a scolded kitten. “Okay…”

Jeonghan raised a brow, already shutting his phone off before dropping it on the bed. “You’re going to rub them until they fall off.”

“They won’t fall off,” Luna muttered, her voice small and defensive as she pocketed her AirPods.

“They might,” he shrugged, still watching her. “You rub like you’re trying to erase your entire day.”

“I feel like erasing the day,” she replied, dragging her voice with a sleepy huff.

“You’re dramatic,” Jeonghan deadpanned, settling back onto his bed.

“You like it,” Luna shot back, already half-turned to leave the room.

Jeonghan smirked faintly, his voice following her as moved to walk away, “I must, because I haven’t thrown you out a window yet.”

[Yes. This is how they talk to each other]

Across the room, the others were unfazed, still immersed in their phones. It was a natural rhythm they had— somehow peaceful despite their number.

But just as Luna reached the door, a voice called out from the hallway.

“Wait in the room for five minutes!” one of the producers announced from the corridor, voice echoing slightly as he knocked on their doorframe to get their attention.

[And now they can’t leave]

They all glanced up from their phones just as PD Na poked his head into the room.

[Peekaboo]

“Please wait in the room for five to ten minutes,” he said.

“Yes,” Woozi responded, his voice not even lifting from its half-mutter tone.

“Okay,” Wonwoo added simply.

With that, PD Na disappeared down the hall again, presumably delivering the same message to the rest of the members.

[What is he planning?]

There was a short pause before Woozi chuckled and shook his head, eyes still on his screen. “His eyes are weird. I keep saying this.”

A chorus of low laughter followed.

“They have spun around,” Seungkwan added with a soft wheeze, thumb scrolling through his feed.

“Crazier than to just express it like that,” Woozi muttered again, grinning as he rolled onto his side.

“They were setting something up outside,” Luna muttered, eyes already heavy as she wordlessly walked back and crawled onto Jeonghan’s bed. Without needing to be told, Jeonghan shifted slightly, creating space for her to plop down next to him. She didn’t hesitate to settle against his side like it was instinct, head resting on his shoulder.

[She is ready to tap out]

“They are,” Wonwoo said in agreement, peeking through the door and seeing PD Na and crew members moving things around in the dining area.

[Doing something he is told not to do]

“Sleepy…” Luna trailed off in a barely-there whisper, eyes now fully closed, cheek pressed against Jeonghan’s shirt.

“You should take a nap before we get called back out, noona,” Seungkwan said, still scrolling, tone warm but distracted.

But Luna didn’t reply. She was already half-asleep.

[She has indeed tapped out]

Jeonghan looked down at her fondly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“She’s way ahead of you,” he said, lifting one hand to rest it gently on her head, fingers combing through her hair in slow, absentminded strokes before turning his attention back to his phone like it was just another day in their strange, wonderful circus.

Finally after fifteen minutes of waiting PD Na called for them.

[15 minutes later]

The muffled buzz of movement started faintly— soft thuds of slippers against hardwood floors, the creak of bunk beds shifting, and rustling clothes— as PD Na’s voice carried through the walls from the dining area.

“Okay, members who are ready can come in first!”

The call wasn’t loud, but clear enough to stir the atmosphere. In Jeonghan’s room, the quiet had settled so comfortably that the sudden outside movement felt like a different world. The others stirred.

Wonwoo and Woozi were the first to silently leave the room and head out. Seungkwan was the next to move, standing up with a groan, cracking his back with all the drama of someone who’d just completed a triathlon. He stretched and turned toward Luna’s small frame still curled tightly against Jeonghan, fast asleep, arms loosely tucked near her face, her cheek pillowed against Jeonghan’s shoulder.

He bent forward, hand raised halfway to gently tap her awake— but paused.

[Scared of the bunny]

Jeonghan was already looking at him.

Still sitting comfortably against the headboard, one leg bent, one hand still rhythmically carding through Luna’s hair, Jeonghan stared at Seungkwan with the most you go ahead and try expression on his face. His smirk was small but sharp, almost imperceptible if you weren’t familiar with his arsenal of subtle chaos. His eyes, however, were practically daring Seungkwan to proceed. Go on. Wake her up. See what happens.

Seungkwan held his hand there for another beat, then dropped it with a deep sigh of surrender.

[Should I?]

He pointed directly at Jeonghan, eyes already half-glazed with defeat. “You do it.”

[I shouldn’t.]

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and shuffled out of the room, muttering under his breath about how this would be the last time he tries to help anyone in this group.

[Bye]

Jeonghan chuckled softly, watching him go. Once the footsteps faded down the hall, he looked back down at the girl curled beside him, the tiniest pout now on her lips in her sleep.

He tilted his head, mischief playing just behind his lashes. Then, slowly, with a gentleness only he could muster, he leaned down and whispered right near her ear—

“Cherry’s been staring at me for ten minutes. I think she wants me to give her away.”

[What?]

Luna stirred immediately, brow furrowing. She didn’t open her eyes just yet, but she groaned softly.

“She’s judging me, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan continued, voice still low and full of innocent concern. “I think she’s thinking about pressing charges.”

Still no response. Just a louder groan.

Jeonghan leaned a little closer.

“She told me you snore,” he whispered.

At that, Luna’s arm sluggishly reached out to blindly swat in his direction. It didn’t connect. He chuckled under his breath.

“Mmmn… stop saying lies… Cherry is in my room…” her voice finally emerged, hoarse and soft with sleep.

[She is… Jeonghan is seeing and hearing things…]

“She also said you drooled on me.”

Luna’s eyes barely fluttered open now, narrowing at him with the effort of someone still fighting the gravitational pull of a nap. “I didn’t…”

Jeonghan tilted his head innocently. “I have the emotional trauma to prove it.”

Luna groaned again, rolling halfway onto her back and covering her face with one arm. “You’re so annoying.”

[He is.]

He smiled. “And you’re awake. Mission accomplished.”

Luna peeked at him from under her arm, blinking slowly. “How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough for Seungkwannie to chicken out and make me do this.”

[Yup]

She yawned, sitting up slowly and running a hand through her tangled hair. “Of course he did.”

Jeonghan stood first and reached a hand out to her. “Come on, they’re herding us into the dining room.”

Luna took his hand without hesitation, still sluggish, still blinking sleep away. “I hate you,” she muttered as he pulled her up.

He grinned, patting the top of her head. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

[They love each other]

With that, they stepped out into the hallway, soft laughter trailing after them as they made their way toward the commotion slowly building in the dining room.

The small dining area was now fully lit, crammed tight with crew members, lighting gear, and two cameras squeezed into opposite corners to capture every possible angle of the chaos about to unfold.

Jeonghan and Luna emerged from the hallway, the tail end of the last ones to exit their rooms, and found the rest of SEVENTEEN already filing into the dining chairs squished around the table. The place looked barely enough to hold half of them, and yet somehow, all thirteen of them made it work with the well-practiced choreography of a group that had done this for over a decade.

[Its crowded]

The once-empty wall behind them now featured a glaringly large white banner hanging slightly askew with bold red letters that read: TAX FREE.

“Tax Free?” Luna muttered under her breath, her tone vaguely suspicious as she eyed the banner with her brow furrowed, the syllables slipping out with a trace of her natural accent, muddled from sleep. She rubbed her eyes once more and let her body fall into the seat between Jeonghan and Dokyeom. “We’re playing for necessities aren’t we?”

[Yes, you are.]

The members were still shuffling, elbows brushing, thighs pressed close. Chairs creaked. Shoes scraped the tiles. Jun settled into his seat across from her, squinting at the banner as he adjusted his hoodie. “Anyway, it’s an individual battle starting now, right?”

“Tax free?” Joshua echoed as he read it aloud, voice laced with intrigue.

“Tax free?” Hoshi blinked at it like he was just seeing it for the first time, despite staring directly at it the moment they walked in.

“Tax free means no tax,” Joshua offered helpfully, ever the gentleman with an explanation even when no one asked.

“I guess we are buying accommodation items,” Dokyeom chuckled, eyes darting around as if trying to guess what sort of chaos they were about to be thrown into next.

[Yes, you are pt. 2]

From behind the cameras, one of the producers suddenly raised his voice to be heard over the chatter, “Jeonghan, is everyone here?”

As vice-leader, especially with S.Coups absent, Jeonghan instinctively straightened in his seat and swept his eyes across the group. His gaze moved like a scanner, silently counting heads and noting the familiar faces one by one. Then he gave a single nod towards the crew, casual yet definitive. “Yes.”

[Lets start]

“Okay,” the producer replied before stepping aside, allowing PD Na himself to reappear from the back of the room— dragging behind him a tiny black luggage bag that looked more like a prop than anything useful.

“Cute,” Mingyu commented instantly, watching PD Na shuffle dramatically toward them.

“It’s an item,” Woozi muttered with squinted suspicion.

They all leaned in slightly, interest piqued.

With an exaggerated grunt, PD Na heaved the small luggage bag up onto the dining table. It landed with a solid thud that echoed across the cramped room.

[What’s inside it?]

“Wow,” a few of the members said in unison.

“What?” Seungkwan asked, eyebrows raised.

“What is that?” Luna added, her brows furrowing again as she leaned forward, already plotting mentally whether this was going to be food, clothes, or some sort of trap disguised as a reward.

“Food!” Dokyeom yelled with sudden enthusiasm, hands clapping as if willing it to manifest into snacks.

[Sorry]

PD Na raised both his hands in the air to settle the growing energy. “Okay, everyone. First off, congratulations.”

A few claps erupted on cue.

“We arrived at the dorm in 24 hours.”

[They have been traveling for a whole day]

The room burst into louder applause and celebratory noises. Some tired, some genuine.

“Great work. Really,” Dokyeom nodded with a bright smile, even applauding towards the crew who were crouched behind the lights.

“But since you all came in a hurry, these outfits are the same from 24 hours ago,” PD Na continued, gesturing towards their wrinkled hoodies, jacket, travel-worn and caps.

“Yes, that’s right,” the members groaned, voices overlapping.

“But you have money,” PD Na reminded, lifting a finger. “Pocket money. Which, Dino is in charge of.”

The entire group twisted to look at the youngest member.

“If you ask Dino and he say yes, you can buy it,” PD Na clarified.

“It’s only if I say okay?” Dino blinked, taken aback by the sudden responsibility.

“Only when he says yes?” Luna repeated, chuckling with amusement.

[ONLY]

“But you know you’re a really cool manager, right?” Dokyeom piped in immediately, putting on his most sincere expression as his eyes flicked toward Dino.

“You know it’s cool if you’re not too strict, right?” Dokyeom added, laying it on thick now with exaggerated charm that made the room burst into laughter.

[Sucking up already]

“Okay. I will try,” Dino replied with a laugh, shaking his head at how quickly things were turning against him.

[Dino the cool manager]

“Anyway,” PD Na continued, tapping the mysterious bag, “you can buy things from tomorrow.”

He waited a beat for it to sink in.

“But you need toothpaste, toothbrush and underwear right now. It’s also nice if you have clothes to change into.”

“Yes. That would be nice,” Dokyeom nodded solemnly, echoed by groans and hums of agreement from the others.

“That’s why we are going to open a very generous tax-free shop today,” PD Na announced, hands spread wide like a game show host.

[Key word: Generous]

“Why does it feel like we are at a disadvantage? It felt like we are just going to…” Woozi began suspiciously, trailing off before pointing directly at PD Na. “His eyes are weird. I told you this before.”

[PD Na’s eyes scare Woozi]

The room erupted into laughter again.

“He looks like someone who always sells this,” Dokyeom chuckled, motioning to the suspiciously neat little bag.

“Right?” Luna muttered as she rested her head sideways on Dokyeom’s shoulder, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “He’s too eager to let us play.”

The game hadn’t even started yet, but the members could already feel the subtle chaos brimming beneath PD Na’s “generous” tax-free smile.

The moment PD Na let out a chuckle and announced, “First off, I am going to show you this product,” the members instinctively leaned forward, all eyes locked on the modest-looking luggage bag on the table. As the cameras zoomed in, he unzipped the top flap and reached inside with a dramatic pause like he was unveiling the Holy Grail.

“This one,” PD Na said, pulling out what appeared to be a stack of neatly folded clothes.

[Clothes]

The table shook slightly as he placed the bundle in the center, and immediately, the members swarmed in like seagulls spotting a bag of chips. Hands reached forward from all directions, curious fingers grazing the fabric as their chatter began to rise in volume.

“I will open it,” Mingyu volunteered, already unfolding the first white shirt from the pile.

“Oooh, it’s cute,” Woozi commented beside him, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the design.

[NANA Tour shirts]

“T-shirt name is Woozi,” Mingyu declared, holding it up for everyone to see. Across the chest of the shirt was the familiar Nana Tour design, but now, personalized with Woozi’s name in stylized font— along with a tiny dumbbell icon printed subtly in the corner.

[Personalized t-shirts for each member]

“Wah, it’s pretty,” Luna lifted her head off Dokyeom’s shoulder, momentarily shaking off her sleepiness as she reached for another shirt and unfolded it. Her eyes found Dino’s name on the tag. “I guess these are custom-made.”

Dino leaned closer to check. “They are.”

“These are custom shirts and shorts for each of you,” PD Na explained, gesturing proudly. “If you look at the picture, there are different parts for each member.”

“What part?” Luna asked, her voice still slightly drowsy as her eyes scanned the shirt in her hand.

“There, look— dumbbell,” Dokyeom pointed at Woozi’s again. “Exercise. Woozi who likes working out.”

PD Na, energized by their interest, dove right back into the bag. “Underwear,” he declared.

“There’s kimchi…” he added, pulling out a sealed container with a grin.

“Aigo!” Hoshi suddenly stood from his seat, arms flung wide in excitement, like a contestant on a cooking show who just saw beef rib stew.

[The most excited he’d been]

The rest of the members burst out laughing at his dramatic reaction, already used to Hoshi’s deep, emotional bond with fermented cabbage.

PD Na then reached for two tiny objects nestled at the bottom of the bag. “Are you not going to work out?” he said, holding two small dumbbells up. They clinked slightly in his hands as he raised them.

[It’s cute]

“You need to work out. You need to work out,” Jeonghan parroted his words in a rhythm, chuckling at the tiny weights, his sarcasm landing just right as the members burst into laughter again.

“It’s so cute,” Luna laughed as she leaned in to inspect the dumbbells.

“3kg,” Hoshi observed, still smiling, though his eyes gleamed like he was already planning to do curls between meals.

PD Na continued pulling out items like a magician with an endless hat: “Cup ramyeon, shampoo, guidebook, zipper bag, fans, wet tissue, gochujang, toothbrush, toothpaste, earphones.”

[Guide Na has prepared everything for SEVENTEEN]

Each item was followed by murmurs of approval or gasps of glee, some members reaching out to claim their favorites as if they were contestants in a supermarket sweep.

And then finally, he slowed. His hand hovered above the final item. He turned, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked squarely at Jeonghan.

“Jeonghan, you really need this. You’re going to cry,” PD Na said, holding his expression like a punchline waiting to hit.

[The vice-leader will cry apparently]

Jeonghan’s eyes lit up in anticipation. He sat straighter, already smiling.

“For all of you, filled with his heart…” PD Na continued with a hint of drama, “S.Coups’ letter.” He pulled out a pristine envelope, the handwriting unmistakable.

As soon as the name was said, Jeonghan burst into exaggerated wails, hands coming up to furiously rub his eyes like a cartoon character bawling. “WAHHH!” he cried, his voice booming theatrically as he slumped forward on the table, drawing roaring laughter from the rest of the group.

[Seems excessive]

Luna perked up at the name, suddenly wide awake, her eyes zoning in on the envelope like a hawk.

[She realized something]

“We need to win the letter,” she said with fierce determination.

“That’s the one,” she added with a firm nod, causing several heads to turn toward her in confusion.

[The most important letter]

“Why?” PD Na blinked, surprised by her intensity.

“Coupsie told me about a letter before we left,” Luna explained.

[He did]

The room shifted. Even Jeonghan paused mid-fake-sob to glance at her, blinking with curiosity.

“Really?” PD Na asked again, genuinely intrigued.

“Mhm. He told me he wrote a letter and to choose it,” Luna said nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t about to start a civil war over a piece of paper.

[Actually looks like she would choose the letter over everything else]

“I had no idea what he was talking about, but he made it sound so important,” she shrugged.

“Nothing gets past you, huh?” PD Na chuckled, narrowing his eyes at her playfully.

“I’m the favorite, that’s why,” Luna said sweetly, her voice a sing-song as she smiled innocently at PD Na, drawing loud reactions from the group.

[Self-proclaimed favorite of the leader]

“What do we do to get them?” Dokyeom leaned in, already on edge.

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan shook his head, clearly wary.

“Isn’t it the person quiz again?” Jun cautiously asked, his voice lined with mild trauma.

“Please no,” Luna groaned immediately, sinking back into her seat. Jeonghan chuckled at her timing, nudging her side with his elbow in amusement.

[Trauma as its finest]

PD Na raised a hand, commanding attention. “This is a very beneficial game for you,” he said cryptically.

“Beneficial?” Seungkwan repeated, suspiciously.

“Beneficial? Game?” Dokyeom echoed, frowning.

“The category is so easy,” PD Na reassured them. “Human Zero.”

[First recreational game of the trip: Human Zero]

PD Na cleared his throat, already grinning at the mental image of what was to come.

“Okay, listen carefully,” PD Na said, hands behind his back like a teacher about to deliver a pop quiz. “This game is called Human Zero.”

The members blinked at him, processing the name with slight wariness.

“I will say a number,” PD Na began, raising a finger for dramatic emphasis. “And you— all of you— will have to decide whether to stand up or stay seated.”

The members nodded slowly, still unsure of the twist.

“But the goal,” he continued, pausing for effect, “is for the number of people who stand… to be different from the number I called out.”

[SEVENTEEN will have to defend]

There was a moment of silence, then a series of scattered “Ahh”s as the realization sank in.

“So, if I say ‘four’ and four people stand up, that’s a fail,” PD Na clarified, grinning wider now. “If I say ‘two’ and one or three or five people stand up— success.”

“Every time you defend it, you take one product,” he added, pointing toward the pile of desirable dorm essentials beside him.

“So, we just need to not get caught every time, right?” Jeonghan clarified, eyes narrowed like he was already calculating probabilities in his head.

[Already looking for loopholes]

“Don’t get caught,” PD Na confirmed with a firm nod.

“We can’t get caught?” Vernon echoed, squinting suspiciously like the rules had a hidden trick.

“It’s really easy,” Mingyu said confidently, arms folded like he’d already won the game in his mind.

“Is this something we can try again if we fail?” Jeonghan asked, still looking wary, his tone playful but probing.

[Nope]

“There’s only one try,” PD Na replied.

“One try?” Luna and Dokyeom echoed in perfect unison, heads whipping toward PD Na in disbelief.

“Isn’t it easy for us?” Dokyeom asked, eyebrows raised as he looked around at the members, trying to gather confidence.

“This is so easy,” Mingyu said again, waving his hand as if brushing off the challenge.

“It’s probability or luck,” Luna commented, tapping the table with a thoughtful expression.

“We are really at an advantage,” Seungkwan added, confidence practically oozing out of his pores. “We are going to sleep luxuriously if we withstand it five times.”

“We can do this,” Dokyeom said, hyping himself up as he rolled his shoulders.

“But PD is good, too,” Mingyu acknowledged with a knowing nod in PD Na’s direction, causing the older man to chuckle proudly.

[Scary PD]

“No, we can do this…” Luna said, her voice trailing with a slight dramatic edge before continuing, “we have to or else…”

“Or else what?” PD Na asked, clearly amused by her sudden drop in tone.

“Or else I might lose my mind. I need to shower,” Luna deadpanned, face serious but her voice cracking slightly with suppressed laughter.

[She cannot live like this]

The members all burst out in chuckles, nodding in agreement. Some even dramatically sniffed themselves for comedic effect.

“The level is always high,” Woozi muttered, referring to PD Na, shaking his head with a resigned smile.

“We can do it,” Jeonghan nodded solemnly, trying to rally the group.

“We can’t fool around,” Mingyu added with a stern expression, though the corners of his mouth betrayed the urge to smile.

[They are serious when it comes to games]

“Okay, should we go?” PD Na asked, shuffling on the floor where he is seated like a game master starting the first round.

“Stick out your butt a bit and get ready to stand up,” PD Na instructed, his words so sudden and silly that half the group broke into laughter while instinctively scooting to the edge of their seats.

[Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle]

“I’m nervous,” Seungkwan admitted, shifting in place, his knees bouncing.

“Just decide in your heart right away now,” PD Na advised, his tone mock-serious.

“Okay! Professional,” Hoshi declared with his usual flair, straightening his back like he was preparing for Olympic-level squats.

“Is the tail section okay? Did you understand?” PD Na called out toward the end of the long table.

[People in the back]

“Yes, of course,” Wonwoo answered calmly, always the reliable one.

“I’m getting nervous for no reason,” Joshua muttered, letting out a light laugh as he adjusted his posture, tension slowly building.

The stage was set. The trap was ready. And so was the chaos.

[Round 1]

The members sat on the very edge of their seats, backs straight, thighs hovering just above cushion as if they were in a silent game of musical chairs. Nobody moved. The only sound in the room was the distant hum of studio lights and the creak of someone’s leather shoe shifting. Then—

“One, two, three… four!” PD Na suddenly shouted with a mischievous grin.

Instantly, three bodies sprang to their feet— Mingyu, Dino, and Joshua. The rest of the group whipped their heads up at the sight, eyes wide in a silent gasp before the entire room erupted in chaos.

[+1 point]

“Waaaaaaaahhhhhh!” The table collectively gasped in a mix of shock and exhilaration.

“I was going to stand up! I was thinking about standing up!” Seungkwan burst out, dramatically placing a hand on his chest as if he just dodged death.

[That was close]

“Wooooooowwww!” Dokyeom exclaimed at the top of his lungs, voice bouncing off the walls like a stadium announcer.

“Good job!” Luna chuckled from her seat, grinning at the three who managed to unintentionally sync their instincts perfectly.

“That was close,” Dokyeom added, still shaking his head as they all sat back down, the energy still pulsing like electricity through the table.

[Round 2]

“Okay, I’m going,” PD Na said coolly, barely giving them a chance to recover as he stepped forward again, already queuing the second round.

“One, two, three… four!” he called out again, same exact number, but this time, a different set of legs shot up —Vernon, Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi.

[4?]

The moment their knees locked and they stood at full height, a wave of horror and disbelief swept across the rest of the team.

“No… wait…” Luna said, her voice quiet but urgent as her eyes darted around the table— until she spotted him.

“Oppa! Good job!” she shouted, pointing.

[+1 point]

[They didn’t see Woozi]

At the same exact moment, every head turned to the far end of the table.

Woozi stood quietly at the edge, almost blending into the background with his small frame, but unmistakably upright— unmoving, like a statue holding up a peace sign.

[Peekaboo]

“WOOZI!” Hoshi and Dokyeom shouted in stereo, their faces breaking into wide, open-mouthed grins as they reached across the table for a triumphant high five.

“I almost thought of a lie just then,” Luna whispered to Jeonghan, her voice low but her shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.

“Me too,” Jeonghan replied, biting back a grin as he chuckled softly, nodding.

[What are we going to do about them?]

They both exchanged a glance— a shared wavelength of panic and mischief— before Luna couldn’t hold it in anymore and broke into a louder laugh. Jeonghan followed, the two of them giggling quietly to themselves while the others celebrated, both amused at how quickly their minds had gone to “What if we fake it?”

[PD Na’s headache personified]

“I was in a dilemma after I got up,” Dokyeom announced dramatically, hands thrown up in amazed relief.

“Okay, we succeeded twice,” Minghao calmly pointed out as the table buzzed again with satisfied nods and excited chatter.

[Round 3]

The energy never had a chance to dip before PD Na struck again. “One, two, three… four!” he called, sticking to the same number a third time.

[Again]

Like dominoes, the entire right side of the table rose— Luna, Dokyeom, Joshua, Seungkwan, Minghao, and Vernon.

[That’s 6!]

[+1]

All eyes immediately started darting. The air was so silent, you could practically hear the wind from their blinking.

The members, still seated, started silently counting, heads swiveling like a slow motion wave as they tracked each standing person.

“…One, two, three, four, five… six!” Dino muttered before the dam broke.

“It’s six! Six! Six! Six!” Dokyeom clarified to PD Na excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to lift off.

[I think it’s six…]

“I wasn’t going to stand,” Luna and Joshua said at the same time.

[They would have lost]

The group turned to look at the two, their timing eerily identical. For a beat, there was silence —and then laughter burst out again.

“Good job!” Jun said encouragingly, nodding at both of them with a relieved smile.

“This line. This line stood up at once,” Joshua explained as they sat back down, gesturing to the entire right wing of the table.

“That’s a relief,” Dokyeom said, slumping back into his seat with a dramatic sigh.

“PD-nim, is four your favorite number?” Luna asked, tilting her head innocently as she looked at PD Na.

[Caught on his tricks]

The room erupted again— laughter spilling over the edges as the members chuckled at her completely genuine question.

“I think that it keeps on going back and forth from four to six people,” PD Na answered with a laugh, clearly amused by how the game was unfolding. “There are no more than six and no less than three.”

“Eyy! Let’s make it interesting and start calling out double digits,” Luna provoked, leaning back comfortably in her seat with a raised brow.

[Starts provoking him]

The guys pointed at her immediately, a chorus of “Ooooooooh!” echoing like a group of middle schoolers hyping up a dare.

“This is also a psychological game,” Jeonghan smirked, voice cool as he leaned slightly toward Luna, clearly ready for war.

“Call out a higher number,” Luna added, still smirking directly at PD Na with a teasing glint in her eyes.

[She likes to dare Guide Na]

“Noona, you’re scary,” Seungkwan said, shaking his head with wide eyes as he leaned slightly away from her in mock fear.

“Our Jiyeonie is a psychology graduate,” Wonwoo informed PD Na casually, glancing sideways at Luna.

[That’s why]

“Really?” PD Na asked, visibly intrigued now as he looked over to her and the rest of his crew leaned forward slightly.

“Yes,” Luna smiled, nodding proudly.

“Jiyeonie is good with probability. She’s lucky like that,” Jeonghan informed them, his tone oddly proud for someone usually so playful.

[Proud]

“She’s a psychic,” Woozi teased, earning snickers from a few members.

“She’s also…” Seungkwan said, trailing off.

“A psycho,” he and Luna said in unison, immediately high-fiving each other as everyone burst into loud laughter.

“She might look like that— all pretty and innocent, but she’s crazy,” Seungkwan added in an exaggerated tone, leaning back and laughing at his own line as Luna giggled harder.

[She has matching crazy eyes with PD Na]

“Okay! I can analyze people too!” PD Na declared with determination, accepting the challenge as the members whooped and clapped around him.

“Or are we going by probability?” Seungkwan asked, lifting an eyebrow and gesturing toward PD Na like he was interrogating a game show contestant.

“It’s vague. So Minghao has no thoughts of standing up,” PD Na began, suddenly scanning the group like a detective on the case.

“Jun has no thoughts of standing up either,” he added, pointing at Jun who blinked back, caught off guard.

“Wonwoo has no thoughts,” PD Na continued, making the others laugh as Wonwoo chuckled shyly and looked away.

“These two…” PD Na pointed at Luna and Jeonghan, sitting side by side like a scheming duo, “…scare me.”

[Bunnies scare PD Na]

[Rightfully so]

The members broke into another fit of laughter, hands slapping the table, some even leaning into each other as they laughed.

The room buzzed with a low hum of laughter and excitement, but before they could fully dive into another round, one of the producers looked toward Hoshi with a mischievous grin.

“Hoshi, what number should we go with next time?” the producer asked, almost teasing.

Hoshi paused, visibly shifting in his seat as he gave the question some serious thought. He squinted a little, brows furrowed, lips pursed, clearly trying to visualize potential combinations in his head. The members leaned closer, anticipating his answer like he was about to solve a math equation that would decide the fate of the nation.

[Serious]

“…Five,” Hoshi finally said, as if he were declaring a lottery number. The members laughed, nodding in agreement.

With that, the atmosphere shifted with renewed energy. Round four was about to begin.

[Round 4]

PD Na straightened up, cleared his throat dramatically, and with a teasing lilt in his voice, he began to count.

“One, two, three… six!”

Chaos exploded the moment the number left his lips. Jeonghan shot up from his seat, followed almost instantly by Dokyeom, Seungkwan, Vernon, Wonwoo, Jun, and Dino— seven in total. The room erupted with gasps and half-shouts as realization hit everyone.

“That’s seven!” Joshua called out with a wide grin.

[+1 point]

“We win again!” Mingyu hollered.

“Good job!” Jun clapped with a proud smile as they all sat back down, visibly impressed with themselves.

“Oh… this is so hard,” PD Na sighed dramatically, half-laughing, half-exasperated as he shook his head.

[Sigh]

“Do you want all of us to stand up?” Mingyu asked, his voice light but filled with mischief.

“Teamwork. We need to show our teamwork,” Dino said seriously, straightening up.

[Plotting]

“We will all stand up,” Mingyu promised PD Na with mock determination.

“Yes, we will,” Luna added, nodding firmly like they were plotting something righteous.

“We will all stand up right now,” Jeonghan added, his voice cool and casual— like a bait laid out with perfect confidence.

“We will all stand up. All thirteen,” Dokyeom echoed with a sly grin.

“I will stand up,” Mingyu declared with a proud hand on his chest.

“I will also stand up,” Woozi chimed in, voice perfectly deadpan.

“Me too,” Luna joined in, a grin pulling at her lips.

“I will also stand up,” Jeonghan added again, more casually this time, like he was really just warming up.

[What are they planning?]

Suddenly, the room exploded into noise.

“I will stand up!”

“Me too!”

“I’m going to stand up!”

“I’m standing, I’m standing!”

[All for one and one for all]

It was a chaotic chorus— everyone talking over each other, voices layered in disarray as the members simultaneously declared their intentions. Their expressions were all over the place: some deadly serious, others grinning like devils, and a few who clearly couldn’t keep a straight face anymore.

PD Na blinked at them, overwhelmed, trying to keep up with what was happening.

[Confused]

“Dino?” PD Na asked, trying to single out the youngest for some clarity.

“We need to stand up. All of us,” Dino replied solemnly, like it was their final mission.

“Hoshi?” PD Na tried again.

“Me too. I will also stand up,” Hoshi said immediately with an overly enthusiastic nod.

“Minghao, are you going to stand up?” PD Na asked, hopeful.

“I am not standing up,” Minghao said bluntly and honestly, without hesitation.

[Honest]

Laughter broke out around the table.

“You’re so cute,” Luna chuckled as she looked at Minghao fondly.

“That was honest,” Mingyu said with a nod of approval.

“So honest,” Dokyeom added, grinning as he pointed.

“I will just be standing up,” Jeonghan said suddenly, and to prove it, he simply stood up, locking eyes with PD Na with a bold, unfazed stare.

[Has the upper hand all of a sudden]

The members went, “Ohhh!” in unison like it was a mic drop.

Luna smirked at him knowingly.

“Then, I will be half standing up,” Dokyeom announced and mimicked sitting on air, awkwardly half-standing, half-squatting with a strained expression. “I can go like this,” he demonstrated further, bobbing up and down as if testing out different levels, and looked at PD Na as if expecting him to judge. “I can decide like that.”

[Lack of sleep makes then react like this]

PD Na burst into laughter, holding his cue cards like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Okay. It might be the last round. It might be the last game. At once. It’s over when you decide,” PD Na said dramatically, like the game show host of an epic finale.

“Okay!” Hoshi responded, voice full of fake resolve.

“People who want to sit can sit, and stand if you want,” PD Na declared, throwing in the towel and surrendering the rules to the chaos.

Round five began.

[Round 5]

“I think three people are going to stand up,” Mingyu muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the group.

Then came the count.

“One, two, three… thirteen!” PD Na shouted boldly.

Immediately, Jeonghan remained standing where he had been the whole time, completely unfazed. Dokyeom, who had been doing his squatting act, finally sat down. Wonwoo and Hoshi suddenly popped up on their feet.

[3!]

That made three.

The room broke into cheers and laughs again.

They won. Again. Another point in the bag.

[+1 point]

“I got it right! I was right!” Mingyu celebrated proudly.

“‘Thirteen!’” Dokyeom teased PD Na with a laugh, mimicking him with wide eyes.

[DK found PD Na amusing]

“You guys have no faith at all! You’re going to go like this?” PD Na exclaimed, laughing helplessly while throwing his hands in the air.

[Got tricked]

“His expression is so funny,” Dokyeom laughed harder, barely breathing as he clutched his stomach.

“There’s no honesty at all,” PD Na said, slumping into his chair. He had completely fallen for their tricks and he knew it.

Luna, still chuckling, reached over and gently grabbed Jeonghan’s arm before hugging it close. Her eyes were visibly drooping now as her cheek found a home on his shoulder, an amused smile on her lips despite clearly fighting off sleep.

[About to nod off again]

“You should have known we weren’t being serious,” Luna said sleepily, voice muffled against Jeonghan’s sleeve.

Jeonghan glanced at her briefly, then addressed PD Na with a sharpness that made everyone laugh again.

“I think we are going to win anyway, so let’s just have us take everything and end this. Let’s hurry and go to sleep,” Jeonghan said at lightning speed, his voice dead serious, his tone devoid of any playfulness.

[Serious]

It made Luna giggle again, her face still nestled in his arm.

“I really don’t think we’re going to lose,” Dokyeom agreed with a dreamy sigh.

“We think it’s a meaningless game when you guys are all tired,” Mingyu added, glancing toward the production team with an almost diplomatic shrug.

“No. We’re not tired at all,” PD Na insisted, quickly trying to recover his pride before continuing, “We can do this all night long.”

[What?]

The members burst into laughter.

“Ah… ah… okay…” Mingyu said in disbelief, chuckling in defeat.

PD Na’s gaze slowly drifted toward Luna again— she was still hugging Jeonghan’s arm like a pillow, eyes half-lidded.

“Right, Luna-ya?” PD Na teased her gently.

The members chuckled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luna deadpanned, not even looking at him, instead burying her face deeper into Jeonghan’s arm like a defiant cat refusing to acknowledge anything.

[Out of sight, out of mind]

“His eyes are definitely turned around,” Seungkwan muttered, looking at PD Na with mock pity.

“They are really no joke,” Woozi added, voice laced with playful concern.

“I’m okay,” PD Na said quickly, trying to sound unbothered— though it was clear by now, he had completely lost control of the game and is trying to get it back.

[SEVENTEEN succeeded in defending 5 items]

[Earned 5/16 prizes]

Round after round, the members of SEVENTEEN showed no signs of letting up. Even after securing five out of the sixteen prizes— already more than generous for a single segment— they were gripped by an absurd, collective determination to sweep everything. Their energy had shifted into something almost mechanical now: focused, chaotic, relentless. They were aiming for a clean sweep.

[And the game continues]

As the game clock ticked forward and the members rallied, it became obvious they were entering a whole new phase— speed round mode.

Round Six was on. No pause, no banter, just action.

[Round 6]

“One, two, three… four!” PD Na counted quickly, barely giving the boys time to breathe.

Jeonghan and Jun stood up with the coordination of synchronized swimmersperfectly timed, effortless. Another point. The room filled with the clatter of applause and soft clapping, some even chuckling at the sheer absurdity of how seamless it had all become.

[+1 point]

“Let’s speed through this,” Luna challenged, her voice soft but edged with that cheeky competitiveness she and Jeonghan always brought out of each other.

Without a single beat of hesitation, PD Na dove right into the next count.

[Round 7]

“One, two, three… five!” he called out.

As if summoned by a secret code, Jeonghan, Luna, and Woozi rose to their feet in perfect unison. The moment their backs straightened, it was already another point. The trio sat back down almost immediately, no celebration needed.

[+1 point]

“Okay! Good,” Dino chimed in, the momentum now completely unstoppable.

No time to waste— Round Eight was already in motion.

[Round 8]

“One, two, three… eleven!” PD Na exclaimed, tossing out a much larger number.

But Hoshi, Dokyeom, and Joshua were already rising from their seats like seasoned veterans. Another point. It was automatic at this point.

[+1 point]

“Okay!” Luna cheered again, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as her body started betraying her— sleepiness creeping in, eyes half-lidded.

[Excited + Sleepy = Luna]

Before Round Nine began, Mingyu leaned forward and spoke up with a grin, “Let’s just stay seated.”

“Just stay seated,” Dokyeom echoed, his excitement uncontainable.

“We are zero now,” Jeonghan deadpanned to PD Na, as if declaring a tactical reset.

“Zero!” Dokyeom chimed again, grinning from ear to ear.

[Plotting once more]

Luna couldn’t hold back her chuckle. They were lying through their teeth and everyone knew it, but that was part of the fun. They were so obviously up to something.

“Really,” Mingyu added, eyes wide in feigned innocence.

“Really zero?” PD Na raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“Yes,” the band chorused, entirely unabashed.

Then came Round Nine.

[Round 9]

“One, two, three… six!” PD Na exclaimed once more.

Mingyu, Vernon, and Dokyeom— who, notably, stood up while swaying his hips like he was performing a solo stage— rose from their seats, winning yet another point.

[+1 point]

Laughter exploded from the members as Dokyeom continued dancing. It was less of a stand and more of a performance.

“He doesn’t believe us,” Mingyu said with a mock pout, gesturing to PD Na.

[Trust issues everywhere]

“Weren’t we doing this in trust?” PD Na asked, exasperated, drawing even more laughter from the group.

[Apparently not]

“But isn’t that nine items now?” Jeonghan casually brought up, his voice laced with faux innocence.

“No. This is all separate,” PD Na snapped back quickly, now scrambling to break down the items into even more individual components, clearly trying to make it harder for them.

“Of course it is,” Luna said dryly, her tone matching the absurdity in the room.

“Suddenly? Suddenly like this?” Dokyeom gasped between laughs.

“No, let’s do this until we can. If we don’t have any products, we will make them and give them to you,” PD Na offered, waving his hand as staff members added chargers to the table like a desperate bribe.

[Suddenly have chargers]

“They have it. They have chargers,” Jeonghan noted, eyeing the prize pile suspiciously.

“They have it. Okay, okay,” Dokyeom nodded eagerly, ready to play along.

Round Ten began.

[Round 10]

“I will start. One, two, three… six!” PD Na declared.

Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Dokyeom, and Vernon stood up with zero hesitation. Point. They sat down like clockwork.

[+1 point]

“Okay, we will go right away,” Jeonghan said, not even giving them time to exhale before charging into the next round.

[Round 11]

“One, two, three… three!” PD Na said for Round Eleven.

This time, it was chaos—Jeonghan, Luna, Wonwoo, Woozi, Hoshi, Minghao, and Seungkwan stood up all at once. Seven in total. Another win.

[+1 point]

“We will go right away,” Jeonghan repeated like a robot, voice unwavering, already preparing for Round Twelve.

[Round 12]

“One, two, three… five!” PD Na announced.

Jeonghan, Dokyeom, Joshua, Vernon, Mingyu, Jun, Wonwoo, and Dino— eight members— stood up. Point. It was their twelfth now.

[+1 point]

They didn’t even cheer anymore— it was routine.

PD Na went straight to Round Thirteen.

[Round 13]

“One, two, three… seven!” he called out.

Dino, Wonwoo, Hoshi, Minghao, and Luna rose, precise and fluid like soldiers. Point thirteen. They were getting dangerously close.

[+1 point]

“We will go right away,” Jeonghan prompted again, and everyone obeyed.

[Round 14]

“One, two, three… six!” PD Na announced again.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Dino, Wonwoo, and Vernon popped up. Point fourteen. It was becoming ridiculous.

[+1 point]

“Shouldn’t you just give us the entire bag at this point?” Luna asked, deadpan, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion but her voice laced with sarcasm.

[At this point? Yes.]

The room broke into laughter.

“Oh… why?” PD Na sighed, nearly whining in defeat.

“Wait, it’s fourteen right now?” Jeonghan asked as if he hadn’t been keeping track all along, his poker face firmly in place.

Then, Round Fifteen.

[Round 15]

“One, two, three… five!” PD Na said.

Seungkwan and Woozi stood up like clockwork. Another point.

[+1 point]

“What could you do?~ What could you do?~” Luna teased in a sing-song voice, shaking her head and laughing as she formed a heart with her hands toward PD Na.

[Loves teasing PD Na the absolute most]

“That’s fifteen,” Jeonghan reminded PD Na, his smile devious and eyes twinkling with amusement.

[15/16]

“Okay, fifteen!” Luna repeated, smug.

PD Na stared at the two of them in a state of resigned defeat, scoffing dramatically.

“We will stop here and give them everything,” he declared, hands in the air, drawing a round of thunderous applause, cheers, and laughter from the entire room.

[Gave up]

[He lost everything]

“I cannot with you two!” PD Na pointed an accusatory finger at Luna and Jeonghan, his tone torn between exasperation and laughter.

“I knew it from the airport when you two disappeared…” he muttered, voice trailing into a full-blown rant while Luna and Jeonghan laughed the hardest they had all night —bodies doubled over, eyes squeezed shut.

[The bunnies have given PD Na a hard time]

“I knew you two will cause me trouble,” PD Na sighed as if prophesying doom from the very beginning.

The members were in hysterics, clapping, laughing, hooting, and hollering at the sheer absurdity and genius of it all. PD Na had been outplayed. Again.

Mingyu, stretched out on his seat with his hands intertwined in front of him on the table, looked around at the team, then turned to PD Na with a cheeky grin.

“Then, should we end it now?” he asked, voice playful but low with finality. The members hummed in agreement, some nodding lazily, others blinking in confusion.

Mingyu turned to PD Na, raising a brow and tilting his head slightly as he made the request, “Can you say ‘one’?”

[Ending with a win for PD Na]

PD Na blinked, caught off guard by the oddly specific request. “Okay. If I say ‘one’…” he started cautiously before Mingyu smoothly turned his attention to the next target.

“Minghao, do you want to stand up by yourself and end it?”

“Ending it?” Minghao echoed, a little baffled by the theatrics, but he nodded all the same. He adjusted his posture and gave a small nod of consent, a quiet agreement to be the game’s symbolic finale.

[Cutely agrees]

“Thank you, guys,” PD Na said sincerely, already laughing as he realized they were staging a faux ending win just to feed his dignity. “Only Minghao. We will only have Minghao stand up.”

“Okay!” Luna agreed brightly, lifting her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm.

[They are too excited]

The room stilled. The silence, for once, was heavy with anticipation and barely-contained laughter. PD Na, playing along with the final moment, raised his hand.

“One, two, three… one!” PD Na announced, and in perfect comedic betrayal, not only did Minghao stand— but Jeonghan and Luna popped up beside him like synchronized traitors.

[Bunny rabbits hop… hop…hop]

The room exploded.

“AHAHAHAHAHA!” The members screamed in disbelief, clapping and howling with laughter. Hands smacked the table, people leaned over, Dokyeom even rolled off the side of his chair from laughing too hard. Dino pointed dramatically at Jeonghan and Luna like he’d just caught criminals red-handed.

[Betrayal at its finest]

PD Na chuckled as he stared at the two, speechless. His jaw dropped open in mock betrayal.

[Trust issues]

“Your eyes were already looking at us like…” Mingyu started, turning to face PD Na. He squinted his eyes dramatically, lips pursed, copying the very expression of suspicion PD Na had worn seconds before.

Dokyeom immediately jumped in with an impression of his own, his voice pitched and eyes wide, mimicking PD Na with exaggerated panic. “‘Why is Minghao the only one standing up?’” he mimicked, sending the room into another spiral of laughter.

[They knew]

“Just take all of this,” PD Na said with mock defeat, waving a hand at the mound of prizes.

[SEVENTEEN won]

Still smiling despite the betrayal, he reached down and picked up the final envelope— the one marked with S.Coups’ name. With a sigh, he handed it to Jeonghan. “Let’s look at S.Coups’ letter at least,” he said, voice a touch gentler.

[The letter their leader wrote before they got kidnapped]

Jeonghan took the envelope, brow arching with curiosity as he tore the flap open. Luna immediately scooted closer, peeking over his arm with interest. Her eyes widened.

[What is it?]

“Oh?” Luna said, blinking in realization. “That’s why he was so adamant we get the letter.” She smiled, suddenly touched.

“Why?” Dino asked from the other side of the table, voice curious as the rest of the members close leaned in, trying to get a better look.

“It’s not only a letter,” Luna revealed cryptically.

“Oh!” Dokyeom exclaimed, leaning forward just in time to catch a glint of black from Jeonghan’s hand.

“Wah!” Jeonghan drawled, lips curling upward as he slowly slid the object out from behind the paper.

“It’s not a letter,” Dokyeom gasped, blinking rapidly.

“What?” Hoshi squinted, still too far to make sense of the reactions.

“There’s a card,” Jeonghan said, holding it up triumphantly. Gasps erupted around the room like fireworks.

[S.Coups’ personal card]

“Wow! Awesome!” Dokyeom yelled.

Jeonghan cleared his throat and began to read aloud: “‘Thank you for picking my letter. I feel sorry for you guys going without any preparation. I will be waiting for you well in Korea. You can use this card however you want, okay? Have fun. I love you.’”

“Wah!” Several of the members sighed at once, impressed.

“I miss Cheollie,” Luna pouted, her voice small and genuine, the sudden shift in emotion hitting her like a wave. Her bottom lip jutted out as she stared at the card.

[Sad bunny]

“Wow, that’s so touching,” Wonwoo said softly, as the room broke into soft claps.

“It’s really Coups’ personal card,” Dokyeom said, holding the card reverently between his fingers.

“Personal card?” Woozi asked, peering over his shoulder in amazement.

“It is,” Luna confirmed, nodding at the familiar design. “That’s the one he uses.”

“Wah!” Mingyu echoed, eyes wide.

“Choi Seungcheol did some work,” Woozi said, impressed despite himself.

“Awesome,” Dino added, nodding.

“He said that we can use it whenever we need to,” Jeonghan added with a small smile, handing the card over to Dino.

[Their generous leader]

Without hesitation, Dino took it and tucked it carefully into the small money pouch he’d been given earlier. As the group’s unofficial trip treasurer, he knew the weight of that gesture.

“Manager, you should take care of this too,” Woozi said with a pointed look, his voice teasing but firm.

“He’s awesome… I can buy clothes now,” Luna deadpanned suddenly, earning a wave of laughter from the others.

[Spoiler: she is being serious]

“Me too,” Jeonghan said immediately, looking dead serious.

“Look at these two,” PD Na interjected, pointing directly at the duo. “As if you two didn’t bring your own cards.”

[Oops]

Jeonghan chuckled shamelessly, leaning back into his seat.

Luna quickly turned away, hand flying to her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“It was an accident,” the two chorused without missing a beat.

[Sure…]

PD Na and the rest of the members chuckled, shaking their heads.

“Alright! Since it’s late, hurry up and wash up. Change into these clothes and let’s rest well. We are done for the day,” PD Na announced, clapping his hands together like a tired parent declaring bedtime.

[Finally!]

A chorus of “Thank you!” and “Great work!” echoed across the room as PD Na and the production crew began packing up the equipment and quietly filtering out, leaving the members to breathe easy again in the now much quieter dorm.

The prize pile sat triumphantly on the table like a monument to their chaotic victory. And SEVENTEEN, still grinning from ear to ear, began preparing for their long-awaited rest.

Once the last of the staff and camera crew filed out of the dorm with soft goodbyes and a final “Great work, everyone!” from PD Na echoing down the hallway, Seventeen was finally left to their own devices. It was a rare kind of peace— fleeting and chaotic all at once.

[Time to wash up]

Jeonghan, as if clocking back in for his second job as unofficial dorm dad, immediately took it upon himself to organize. A pile of white Nana Tour shirts and matching black shorts sat in a heap beside him. He crouched, peeled one shirt from the pile, squinted at the name printed in bold on the tag, and began his announcements.

“Seungkwan,” he read aloud, holding up the shirt like it was a prize at a raffle.

“Seungkwan here,” Seungkwan said, perking up from where he was, shuffling over to claim it.

Jeonghan continued, eyes scanning the next one. “The8.”

Minghao raised a hand. “Thank you,” he said calmly as he accepted his shirt.

“Vernon,” Jeonghan called next.

“Got it,” Vernon replied as he spotted his own name and snatched the shirt himself with a grin.

“Mingyu,” Luna chimed in, holding the correct shirt out toward him without looking up.

“Thank you,” Mingyu said, bowing his head slightly as he received it.

“This is Jeonghan,” Jeonghan said smugly, pulling his own shirt close to his chest like a proud mom choosing her outfit for a parent-teacher conference.

“Luna,” Jeonghan said next, tossing her shirt gently into her awaiting hands.

“Thank you,” Luna replied, already inspecting the print.

Around them, the rest of the members had started rummaging through the neatly sorted shirts and shorts, grabbing their names and holding them up like souvenirs from a field trip.

[Like they are thrift shopping]

“Mine is a puppy,” Mingyu said with a little giggle, turning the shirt around to show a cartoon puppy printed on his shirt.

“I’m 1004,” Jeonghan followed proudly, “Angel,” he added with a chuckle.

[Satisfied customer]

“Mine is a small drum,” Seungkwan noted, flipping his shirt inside out to double-check.

“Mine is the moon. It’s cute,” Luna said softly, holding hers up to admire it.

“Yours is a tiger,” Jun pointed out to Hoshi with a smile. He held his own shirt up after. “Mine is a cat.”

“What are you?” he asked, turning to Wonwoo beside him, then squinting at the small symbol under Wonwoo’s name. “Computer? Ah! Game boy.”

Wonwoo nodded without expression, as if being likened to a game boy was both accurate and inevitable.

“Guys, each of you take one of these chargers,” Mingyu instructed, holding up a bundle of small phone chargers they had won.

The room turned into a bustling market of shirts, shorts, and charger distribution. Members moved like a busy noodle shop at lunch rush— laughing, nudging each other, calling dibs on lotions and toothpaste.

[It’s chaos already]

Without saying a word, Luna stood and grabbed the communal shampoo and conditioner from the prize pile like a practiced mother of seven in a small apartment. Before she could step away, Jeonghan raised his voice like he was announcing a royal decree.

“Jiyeonie is first to wash up, okay?” he said.

A chorus of agreement came from the others, with a few loud “Yes!”es and “Let her go!”s peppered in.

“Don’t worry. I won’t take long. I’m exhausted already,” Luna replied, her voice a little hoarse but still chipper as she padded out of the dining area and toward the bathroom with her arms full.

[She might sleep in the bathroom]

“Take your time!” Dokyeom yelled after her as they continued to look at the Nana Tour merchandise they were given.

And so began the unofficial second variety show: Seventeen vs. One Bathroom.

Despite her usual long-shower tendencies, Luna did her best to hurry. She kept it to twenty minutes— miraculous by her standards— quickly rinsing off the exhaustion of the day. Steam rolled out as she opened the door, dressed now in the crisp white Nana Tour tee with her name printed neatly on the front in a lavender color and the matching black shorts. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks as she towel-dried it, walking barefoot down the hallway with tired but light steps.

By then, the rotation had begun. Some were already changed and fresh, others still lying in wait. Every few minutes, someone would knock on the bathroom door with hopeful curiosity.

[Elsa? Do you wanna build a snowman?]

Just as Luna sat herself on the edge of her bed, her limbs finally surrendering to gravity, a familiar sound suddenly cut through the quiet hum of the dorm— a low mechanical whirring that started soft, then built up with power. Her head snapped toward the hallway. The hair dryer. Her eyes narrowed like a hawk spotting prey. That meant someone had it. And if she waited even two minutes, she’d be forced to dry her hair using a hand towel and the ceiling fan.

[Needs the hair dryer immediately]

She stood immediately, towel still draped around her neck, hair damp and curling at the ends. She followed the noise like a hound on a scent trail, her footsteps padding quickly against the wooden floor. The hum got louder as she passed the living room, past the kitchen, finally stopping just outside Mingyu’s room.

[Aha!]

Mingyu was in front of the mirror with the hotel-provided hair dryer in hand, one side of his hair sticking up like seaweed and the other half perfectly styled. Luna didn’t even wait for him to notice her. She reached out and gently poked his arm, making him flinch just slightly as he turned his head.

“I’m next,” she said plainly, eyes wide and slightly demanding beneath her damp hair.

Mingyu looked at her then he hummed casually, the kind of hum that meant he had understood, and also that he was about to take matters into his own hands.

“Turn around,” he said.

Before she could even process it, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and physically turned her around, towel slipping from her neck to fall softly onto the bed. Luna blinked at the sudden manhandling but said nothing. She just stood there, straight as a ruler, arms at her side, staring at the doorway as he pointed the hair dryer to her scalp and began drying her hair.

[Teamwork makes the dream work]

The warm air blasted down on her neck as Mingyu lifted sections of her hair with his fingers like he’d done this at a salon once. Her hair, still wet at the roots, began lifting and flying around her head like a poodle caught in a wind tunnel.

Right in front of them, by the bathroom across the hall, Wonwoo was loitering near the door with his hands holding onto his stuff. He stood still like a bored teenager, knocking lightly against the wooden door with the back of his knuckles.

[Elsa?]

“Who is it?” Wonwoo asked, voice completely calm as if this was a totally normal situation and not a full-scale dorm-wide bathroom hunger games.

“Me,” someone replied from inside, their voice muffled through the door. Luna’s head tilted slightly. She swore that was Dino. Definitely Dino.

“Who’s me?” Wonwoo asked again, monotone and vaguely tired. “Are you Mingyu?”

[What?]

That did it. Luna burst into giggles, shoulders shaking forward while Mingyu tried to hold her head still to dry the back of it. Her now half-dried hair was flying in all directions, the gust from the dryer blowing it into her mouth, across her cheeks, and even into Mingyu’s face.

“Mingyu is here,” Luna said through a laugh, managing to keep her voice steady as she pointed loosely behind her.

Wonwoo turned his head lazily and spotted him— Mingyu, still holding the hair dryer with one hand while trying to dodge a particularly wild strand of Luna’s hair with the other.

[Peekaboo]

“Ah,” Wonwoo said, eyes narrowing in amusement. He chuckled to himself and gave a small nod, like this was all perfectly logical, then turned and strolled back toward his room without another word.

Luna smiled, then gently stepped away from Mingyu, her hair now puffed and frizzing in places, but mostly dry.

“Dry your hair. I’m fine. It’s mostly dry already. Thank you, Gyu-Gyu,” she said sincerely, turning the hair dryer slightly toward him before giving him a small flying kiss and walking back to her room.

Mingyu just blinked after her, blinking away one last rogue strand of her hair from his cheek, then returned to drying his own head like none of it just happened.

Luna had barely reached her bed when Dokyeom peeked his head in.

[Everyone is everywhere all at once]

“Can I see if there is a comb here?” Dokyeom asked sheepishly, eyes already scanning her bed.

“There’s one inside,” Luna nodded toward the small airplane pouch lying neatly on the blanket. “Take it. Just return it back after.”

[Generous bunny]

“Thank you!” Dokyeom chirped as he walked in, rummaging through her things like a raccoon in a picnic basket.

Just as Luna walked out again, she passed Mingyu in the hallway asking Joshua, “Hyung, do you have the toothpaste?”

Without a word, Luna stopped in front of them, silently pulling out her toothbrush and holding it up in expectation like a soldier in formation.

[Me too!]

Joshua, completely unfazed, dabbed toothpaste on hers, then Mingyu’s.

“Thank you, Joshie,” Luna said sweetly, then popped the brush into her mouth and walked off to brush her teeth like nothing had happened.

The dorm was alive with this quiet chaos. Matching shirts padded through the rooms, hunting down missing items. Someone shouted from the living room about not being able to find their socks. Another tripped on a charger wire. Somewhere in the back, Jun and Seungkwan were arguing about whose turn it was next while Jeonghan calmly dried his hair with his towel with ferocity.

After brushing her teeth and giving a final spit into the sink, Luna wandered out of the hallway and into the dining area. She immediately spotted the lotion bottle sitting like a prized relic on the table— surrounded by what was basically the human version of late-night chaos.

[They are very much still awake]

Wonwoo was there, sat quietly like he’d been queuing politely for hours. Jeonghan, with a towel draped around his neck, was sitting with a small fan in his hand, slowly rotating and fanning his hair like he had all the time in the world. And Hoshi— yes, Hoshi— was sitting at the table brushing his teeth in silence.

“Is the lotion there?” Luna asked, voice low and raspy with sleep, shoulders sagging like a retired puppy.

Wonwoo, in his usual calm, ghost-like fashion, slid the bottle toward her. “Here,” he said softly.

Luna plopped herself in the chair between him and Jeonghan, letting out a small huff as she unscrewed the cap. “Thank you,” she mumbled, squeezing some lotion into her palm before rubbing it up her arms with slow, sluggish motions. Her energy was basically on 2%, blinking red.

[She is on the brink]

Jeonghan glanced over at her, eyeing the strands of damp hair still clinging to the back of her neck. “Your hair is still damp, Nana-ya,” he said, eyebrows pinched with light concern as he reached out to rake his fingers through it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You can’t sleep with wet hair,” he muttered, clicking his tongue as if she had committed a mild crime against herself.

[Scolded]

Without waiting for a response, he picked up the tiny fan he’d been using on himself and redirected it towards Luna’s head. With one hand fanning her hair, the other resumed combing through her hair— carefully, slowly, almost absentmindedly like he was styling a doll.

[Second member who tries and dry her hair]

Luna simply hummed, a soft noise of consent, eyelids drooping halfway. She was too tired to react, too exhausted to resist. She just let him do whatever he wanted, letting the fan blow across her scalp as his hand made light, repetitive movements.

Then came the teasing.

“If you sleep with wet hair,” Jeonghan said suddenly, dropping his voice to a soft-yet-mildly-ominous tone, “it’s going to grow an organism. Like… a fungus. Maybe even a mushroom.”

[What?]

Luna blinked.

“A mushroom?”

Jeonghan nodded seriously, still fanning. “Yeah. Mushroom. Like shiitake. Maybe enoki if you’re lucky… but you’re allergic, angel face.”

Luna squinted at him, then slapped his thigh lightly. “You’re so weird, I swear.“

Jeonghan grinned, victorious. “You’re welcome.”

After a few more minutes of exaggerated care, Jeonghan apparently decided it was time to pack for war— or at least an emergency trip to the convenience store. He started picking up random items from the table and around the kitchen: a gochujang tube bottle, a plastic bag someone left from their prize haul, the fan he was just using, and even a packet of napkins. He stuffed them all inside the reusable black bag they had won earlier during filming.

[What is he doing?]

“Just in case,” he said simply, as if that explained anything before going to his room and keeping the bag.

Meanwhile, Luna was reaching the final stages of battery drain. Her movements were molasses slow, eyes barely open, lotion half rubbed in. The warm buzz of the chaotic dorm life continued around her, but her body had clocked out. She took one deep breath and stood up like a zombie queen rising from her throne.

It was bedtime.

And with bedtime came her little ‘goodnight ritual’.

This was something all of them knew by now— especially they all had shared a dorm with her since their rookie days. Luna had a habit. A tradition, really. Ever since those early nights in their tiny old dorm, she’d never gone to sleep without giving each of them a hug and saying goodnight.

Every. Single. One.

She started her nightly rounds like a general making sure the troops were tucked in.

[A woman on a mission]

As she made her way toward the hallway, she spotted Jun stepping out of his room, rubbing his eyes like he had just time-traveled.

“Goodnight, Junnie,” Luna said, already holding her arms out before he could register anything else.

Jun’s entire expression softened. He stepped forward and gave her a firm, warm hug, the kind that said I got you. His arms wrapped tight around her, and for a second, they just stood there, swaying side to side gently.

“Goodnight,” he murmured before heading back into his room, yawning like a sleepy prince.

Luna then spotted Vernon emerging from one of the hallways, dragging his feet, hair slightly ruffled like he had just come back from an astral projection. Luna blinked.

“Are you just about to wash up?” she asked, walking up to him with that mom-friend tone loaded.

“Mhm. Fell asleep,” Vernon mumbled, barely managing to open his eyes.

“Alright.” Luna nodded, arms automatically opening.

“Goodnight, Solie,” she said.

Vernon gave her a sleepy pat on the back as he returned the hug. “Goodnight,” he replied before trudging into the bathroom like a zombie.

Just then, Minghao rounded the corner, his posture already indicating bedtime mode. He paused when he saw Luna, a smile tugging at his lips.

Without a word, he opened his arms already reading her mind.

[That’s twin telepathy]

Luna’s smile bloomed as she leaped into the hug without hesitation. He hugged her tightly and gently rocking them like they were back in a practice room in 2015 with nowhere to go but up.

“Goodnight, Hao-Hao,” Luna whispered into his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Jiyeonie,” he said before heading into his room, closing the door with a soft click.

Luna kept walking.

Back in the dining area, she saw them— Dino and Wonwoo— still up, bent over two steaming bowls of ramyeon. The two of them looked like they were in the middle of the most serious midnight snacking known to man.

[Drinking and eating]

“Not sleeping yet?” she asked, stepping into the light.

The two of them looked up.

“We’ll sleep after this, noona,” Dino answered.

“Alright. I’m here to say goodnight.” Luna nodded.

She walked to Wonwoo first, who was seated. She leaned down and hugged his head, and he wrapped one arm lazily around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Goodnight, Wonie,” she said gently.

“Goodnight, Jiyeonie,” he replied before going back to slurping his noodles.

When she turned to Dino, she was surprised to see the youngest already standing up, arms wide open like a big baby bird ready to fly.

“Goodnight, noona. Sleep well,” Dino said with a grin.

Luna stepped into the hug, squeezing him tight. “Goodnight, my baby,” she said softly before turning on her heel and heading off to finish her goodnight rounds.

Luna padded softly down the hall, she approached the next roo, the door creaked open gently as she peeked in.

There they were— Joshua, Hoshi, Mingyu, and Dokyeom— all sprawled out on their respective beds like tired, oversized children, each illuminated by the cool glow of their phones. Hoshi was sideways, his foot dangling off the edge like a limp carrot, while Mingyu’s head was barely peeking out from the blanket, scrolling with laser focus. Joshua sat at the top bunk like a perched owl, legs crossed, relaxed as ever, screen brightness turned all the way down like a lowkey dad. Dokyeom had earphones in, head bobbing slightly as he smiled at something on his screen.

“I’m here to say goodnight,” Luna announced, chuckling softly.

Their heads snapped up so fast, it was like they’d just been caught watching anime instead of sleeping. Four sets of eyes darted to her— wide, shining, immediate.

And then it happened. Without hesitation, Hoshi, Dokyeom, and Mingyu all flung their arms open simultaneously. A perfectly timed choreography of yearning and sleep-deprivation-induced affection.

[Ta-da!]

“Ahhh,” Luna laughed, pressing her palm to her cheek. “You guys…”

It hit her then— how long it had been since they all lived together under one roof. The way their arms opened like reflexes told her everything: they missed this. Missed her. Missed them.

She started with the highest point first— Joshua, the ever-collected hyung sitting calmly on the top bunk like a character out of a coming-of-age novel.

“Goodnight, Joshie,” Luna said, giving him a soft smile.

Joshua chuckled, leaning slightly to glance down at her. “Goodnight, Luna.”

With that, he lay back down, folding his arms behind his head like a prince waiting for his dream sequence to begin.

Luna crouched next, slowly descending to Hoshi’s level. He was already beaming at her, cheeks puffed out like a hamster trying not to explode with excitement, arms still wide open and jiggling lightly in anticipation.

“Aigo… goodnight, Shi-Shi,” Luna giggled, her voice fond and light as she let herself fall into his hug.

“Goodnight, our Jiyeonie,” Hoshi replied, squeezing her tight with a giddy hum before letting go with a gentle pat.

Next up was Dokyeom. Before she could even angle her body toward him properly, Dokyeom lunged with zero grace and full force, tackling her into a rib-crushing hug.

“Goodnight!” he basically sang, his voice echoing slightly in the room like a musical number had just begun.

“Yah—!” Luna wheezed, laughing as she patted his head like a parent calming a sugar-high child. “Goodnight, Kyeomie.”

She peeled herself out of his grasp with a chuckle, only to find Mingyu waiting patiently with his arms already open, seated on his bed like a good puppy dog at the vet.

His big doe eyes blinked up at her, soft and full of longing. “Goodnight, Lulu-ya. Sleep well.”

Luna walked into his embrace, only to immediately pat his biceps twice. “Yah, you’re squeezing me too tight, you big log.”

Mingyu laughed and loosened his grip slightly. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Gyu,” Luna said, smiling as she backed away. She gave them all a final glance, standing by the door now.

“Goodnight, my loves,” she said gently, giving a small wave before slipping into the last room.

[Last room]

Inside, she found Seungkwan folding his towel, rearranging his things like an overworked flight attendant. Woozi was laying on the lower bunk, screen hovering inches from his nose, earbuds in but clearly aware of everything. Jeonghan lay lazily on his own bed, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling like he was doing serious business on a stock trading app instead of reading memes.

“Noona? Are you looking for something?” Seungkwan asked curiously, making all three heads turn her way like meerkats.

Luna shook her head with a soft smile. “Just going to say goodnight.”

Seungkwan gasped like a child who had just heard the ice cream truck. “Wah—!” he said, immediately rushing over to open his arms wide.

She stepped into his hug effortlessly, the gesture so natural between them. “Goodnight, our Boo,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, our Bae,” he replied with the same softness, patting her back before pulling away with a smile.

Then came Woozi. She turned to him slowly. He was already eyeing her— suspicious, resigned, already predicting what was about to happen.

His eyes seemed to say No. But Luna was already preparing for launch. With a dramatic leap, she threw herself gently onto him. Woozi let out a small grunt of surrender as she hugged him tightly.

“Goodnight, Z,” she mumbled against him.

“Night,” he replied, patting her back with a firm thud like he was burping a toddler.

Then… she turned. Jeonghan looked up from his phone, smirking slightly. Luna’s eyes narrowed teasingly.

She tilted her head and grinned. “Okay, goodbye,” she said, faking a turn.

Seungkwan laughed from across the room, while Jeonghan raised a brow. “Come here,” he said, the usual faux-bored drawl in his voice doing a poor job hiding the amusement in his eyes.

Luna rolled her eyes playfully and climbed onto his bed, only to plop right on top of his chest like a weighted blanket. His arms instinctively came around her, pulling her in. Unbeknownst to her, Jeonghan was already looking over her shoulder, silently motioning to Seungkwan… then the light switch.

Seungkwan caught the signal, eyes wide, nodding like a secret agent before subtly flicking the lights off. Darkness swallowed the room.

“Goodnight, Hannie,” Luna whispered, voice muffled against his neck.

Jeonghan’s fingers had already slipped under the back of her shirt, grazing and tracing soft lines up and down her spine. His other hand gently combed through her damp hair, calming her like waves lapping against a shore. “Goodnight, my moon,” he whispered in her ear, so quiet, it almost blended into the stillness.

If they were home— in their house— this would be normal. Standard routine. This is how they always ended their nights: tangled limbs, whispered jokes, quiet warmth. But here, surrounded by cameras and creaky bunk beds and roommates, Luna knew she had to fight it. But Jeonghan… he wasn’t helping.

Her eyelids fluttered. “I need to go back to my room or I’ll actually end up sleeping here.”

Jeonghan just hummed, his fingers still trailing soft patterns down her spine, the other gently stroking her hair behind her ear. “Go later,” he whispered, breath warm against her cheek.

“We’ll get caught,” she whispered back.

“We won’t,” he said, soft but sure. “I covered the camera earlier.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he teased.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Are you scared?”

Luna buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Not of the camera. I’m scared I won’t want to get up.”

He chuckled quietly, chest rumbling under her.

“I missed this,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he replied. “You smell like that citrus body wash again.”

“It’s lemon vanilla.”

“Smells like missing you.”

“Cringe as hell,” Luna giggled sleepily, fingers curling into his shirt.

They lay there a little longer, letting silence stretch between them. The thrill of being in the dark, hidden, surrounded yet unnoticed, added an unspoken mischief neither of them wanted to admit they enjoyed.

And then… Jeonghan lifted his chin slightly.

He kissed her. It was slow. Careful. The kind of kiss you give when time is short and everything unsaid is packed into one press of lips. Her breath hitched. Their noses bumped lightly. His hand pressed softly against her back, drawing her closer. No noise. No urgency. Just the warmth of knowing and the slight tickle of her sigh as it escaped her lips.

They pulled back, and Luna could almost hear the smile in his voice as he whispered, “Go before I keep you here.”

He gave her a light pat on the butt. “Goodnight, Nana-ya.”

She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “Night night, Jeongje,” she yawned.

“I’ll see you in your dreams, okay?” he said.

“Mhm… see you,” she replied, already shuffling toward the door like a half-sedated penguin.

She closed the door quietly behind her and padded back to her room. Still empty. Dino was still out in the dining area, probably finishing his second bowl with Wonwoo. Jun, her other roommate, hadn’t returned from the bathroom yet.

Luna plugged her phone into the wall with her eyes barely open, then climbed into her bed with all the grace of a sloth in molasses. Cherry the bunny was already waiting for her on the pillow.

She hugged it tight and whispered, “Night night, Cherry,” like a promise fulfilled.

She told Seungcheol Cherry would be him for now. So, in a way, she had completed her little ritual.

Their first night in Italy wrapped itself in quiet, sleepy magic. Somewhere in the chaos, in the laughter and sneaky kisses and old routines reawakened, they all found pieces of home.

Tomorrow, their first day in Rome awaited.

But for now… it was night. And they were together.

[To be continued in Clip 2-1]

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[sillyuin]

Svt reacts - When you're wearing their favourite hoodie

Seungcheol. Dokyeom. Hoshi.

You better be ready for having this man all flustered and admiring you with the loveliest gaze possible. You look so tiny, so pretty and he just couldn't resist you; it doesn't matter what he was doing, he just leaves everything behind and starts showering you with so much love. You better don't take it off for the rest of the day or you'll break his heart! (Will ask you to return it tho, he wants to take to home something that reminds him of you).

Jeonghan. Seungkwan. Joshua.

Will certainly say something like "it looks better on me" but we all know he is in love with you wearing his clothes. There's two possible paths: One, you get sulky and starts a pointless arguing that ends up with kisses and laughter. Two, you follow his prank by saying that his hoodie definitely fits you better, and he won't object nothing because you're right. Either way he's going to be happy and will tell you to wear it more often.

Minghao. Wonwoo. Woozi. Vernon.

The man is too stunned to speak, altho his wide smile says everything. He has a soft spot on you doing this kind of stuff, is like hitting in the weakest point. Congratulations, you've won soft kisses on your forehead and a new gift from your boyfriend, because he will want you to keep it. Don't be surprised if he left "forgotten" some of his other sweaters and shirts at your place.

Jun. Mingyu. Dino.

Clings to you for the rest of the day and doesn't let you go, you're way just too pretty to be real and he wants to brag about it. "c'mon here! let me take a photo" but you're too shy about it and that's your biggest mistake, because that only makes him fall for you even more. You lowkey regret to do it, but in the end, seeing him happy is all that matters, so is a win-win.

[heartepub]

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[sevsevteen]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ [pre-debut > pretty u era]

You had always known love didn’t look the same in every household.

And yours came in structured sentences. Conditional encouragement.

A string of “If you just tried harder,” and “We’re only saying this because we want what’s best.”

Even as a kid, you'd feel like a black horse in the family register — always just a little too loud, too different. Your dream of standing on stage had been more tolerated than supported, like a wild hair they assumed you’d eventually grow out of.

But you didn’t.

You applied anyway. Trained anyway. Pushed anyway. Became an idol anyway.

You still remembered the night you told them you’d passed the final round at Pledis, and your father’s first words were, “But what about your actual future?”

They barely acknowledged your training life - let alone you debut.

Achievements came and went with a flat “congratulations” when Seventeen's first album dropped, your mother sending a text two weeks late, asking if you’d be visiting for Chuseok.

And somewhere along the way, your already-tense relationship with your parents turned into a thread, a line stretched so thin, it barely held. Calls became rare. Their voices, even rarer.

Which was why moments like this always stung more than you’d admit.

“Eomma!” Hoshi shouted gleefully into his phone. “We did it—yes! First place!”

Beside him, Mingyu grinned through tears, already facetiming his entire family. “No, no, Mom, we really won!”

Vernon paced with his phone pressed to his ear, his signature grin accompanied a bright expression. Chan pulled out his phone too, face lighting up. Jun and Hao rattled off excited mandarin, too fast for you to catch.

The backstage room after first music show win was filled with elation - and the soft buzz of family on speakerphone. One by one, the members turned to share their joy, grinning wide, holding back happy tears as they passed phones around to talk to parents who had watched every step of the way.

You?

You stood a little off-centre, clapping through the shock, heart hammering against your ribs. You’d done it. After years. The nights. The fights. The exhaustion.

But your hands stayed in your lap. Phone silent. No number to dial.

You looked up at the members, watching Seungcheol laugh through tears on the phone, nodding at whatever his father was saying. Jeonghan passed his phone to Joshua so they could greet each other’s parents, even cracking jokes mid-call.

A lump lodged itself in your throat.

You sat down on the bench, quietly wiping under your eye before it ruined the makeup. You hoped no one noticed.

.

One of your most painful moments with your parents came raw, quiet, and defining in its own way.

You remembered it had rained that day.

Not the heavy, dramatic kind. But the slow, lingering drizzle that clung to the sky like an apology it didn’t know how to say.

You stood outside your high school, uniform sticking slightly to your shoulders from the humidity. The ceremony had just ended. Clusters of students buzzed across the school's foyer - laughing, hugging, posing for photos with beaming parents.

Your fingers curled tighter around your phone.

No messages.

No calls.

Your classmates' laughter rang louder than usual. Beside you, a friend's mother was fixing the collar of his shirt, scolding him playfully for wearing mismatched socks on this special day. In the distance, another classmate was locked in a bear hug with her sister. Ones’ dad had even brought flowers despite being alone.

Your stomach churned.

You swiped up your screen and called home for the third time that day.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“What is it?”

Your mother’s voice. Clipped. Tired.

“Mom,” you exhaled, a smile stretching across your lips involuntarily. “I just finished. The ceremony is over.”

You gulped. “Are you...on the way?”

A beat of silence passed. Then an audible sigh.

“I thought i told you already?” your mother said, tone already impatient. “Your father had a meeting, and I’m out at lunch with a friend right now.”

“But everyone else’s parents—”

“I have to go now, didn't I tell you not to call me if it’s not an emergency?”

That always stung more than it should.

You tried to swallow it. “Okay, bye. I love–”

The line clicked off before you could finish.

You stared at the phone. It felt heavier than usual.

The crowd thinned around you. Your homeroom teacher passed by with a smile. “Hey, no photos with your family?”

You opened your mouth - then shut it, shaking your head with a polite grin. “They’re busy.”

.

Jeonghan sat beside you a moment later, his voice was gentle.

“Didn’t call them?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. “They don’t really…keep up with this stuff.”

He didn’t press - just nodded once, leaning back beside you in silence.

For a few long seconds, the both of you just sat amidst the noise and joy - wrapped in a quiet bubble.

And then, slowly, he held out his phone toward you.

“Want to call mine?” he said with a tiny smile. “They’re basically the team parents at this point. They’ll cry if they hear from you.”

You blinked, heart twisting - not just at the offer, but at the gentleness behind it. The understanding.

“Mom asks if you’re free for brunch next weekend, by the way,” Mingyu jumped in the conversation, nudging another line on his phone towards you. “She’s making your favorite. Already prepped the ingredients and all.”

You blinked. “You told her about today?”

He shrugged, casual. “She was watching the live broadcast before I could.”

There it was again - the ache, but lighter this time. Softer. Mingyu’s mom always remembered your birthday. Jeonghan’s mom never forgot to sent you hand cream in the winter. Seungcheol’s dad once came all the way to the dorm to help you fix a broken faucet, muttering, “I can’t have my daughter living like this.”

And every time you expressed the smallest bit of hesitation - that maybe you didn’t belong in their family circles - they brushed you off.

“You’re one of us,” Hoshi had said once, arms thrown around your shoulders. “No one here celebrates without you.”

You thought of that now - the quiet seat in their loud celebration, and how even without blood ties, warmth had found you anyway.

You gave them a small smile, pushing their phones back to them.

“Tell your mom I’ll bring dessert.”

Mingyu grinned. “Bring an extra portion, I want in too.”

You let yourself believe - even just a little - that maybe home wasn’t always where you came from.

Sometimes, it was who came for you.

.

At the gates of the school - like a slow-motion dream - a wave of familiar faces turned came your way.

Seungcheol, leading the charge, grinning wide.

Jeonghan with two large bouquets, barely able to hold them straight.

Hoshi bouncing on his toes, holding a helium balloon that bobbed above his head.

Joshua, holding a card with your name written in careful cursive.

And behind them - all of them. The whole group.

Even Jun, who’d been limping from a minor ankle injury the day before, jogged toward you with a paper crown.

The rain had stopped by now - leaving a wave of warmth just after the cold from before.

“There she is!” Seungkwan cheered, lifting his camcorder to start a video.

“Our graduate!” Vernon chimed in, handing you a can of coke like it was champagne.

You blinked, overwhelmed.

“What– what are you guys doing here?”

“We’re here for you, duh,” Chan beamed, looping his arm with yours. “Did you really think we wouldn’t come?”

“But the practice–”

“Rescheduled,” Woozi shrugged. “They can’t argue when thirteen of us complain at once.”

“You didn’t think you’d celebrate this alone, did you?” Jihoon asked, nudging your shoulder.

You looked at the boys - flushed from running, arms full of flowers, some in their oversized tracksuits, all out of place and yet exactly where they were meant to be.

And your vision blurred suddenly.

Not from the phone call earlier. But because despite everything - despite the ones who never showed up, these boys always did.

“Yah, don’t cry now,” Hoshi said, gently adjusting your uniform. “You’ll ruin your photos.”

“You mean our photos,” Jeonghan grinned, pulling you into a hug, bouquet squished between. “You’re not escaping our individual graduation pics.”

As they pulled you through the corridor and into the school field, you realized something you would carry with you forever.

--

this read is inspired by @synity 's 'Love speaks for itself', thank you so much for letting me write this !! everyone pls give it a read~

[babyleostuff]

⸻ first date with hip hop unit

[ 🐚 ] where they would take their partner, what they would be like taking them out for the first time & what they would do to make them feel special

scoups

place: the aquarium

what they would do to make you feel special: is such an attentive listener and the way he keeps staring at you makes you blush so much (even if you usually don't blush, it's just the cheol effect) + at the end if the date you wonder if he paid even slight attention to the fish and whatnot (you could feel his stare on you for the whole time)

what they would be like taking you out: a shy mess, keeps ruffling his hair to occupy his hands with something (cuz he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand), the biggest gentleman out there

“oh, look at this one!” you pointed excitedly at one of the fishes that just swam by right in front of you. “it’s so pretty,” you cooed. 

you took a few steps to follow the small fish, forgetting that you weren’t there alone for a moment, too mesmerised to focus on anything else. it was nice to feel like a little kid once again, not having to worry about anything other than pretty fish and the shimmering blue and pink lights that made the whole place look like straight from a fairytale. 

“would it be corny if i said that you’re prettier?” suddenly, a deep voice pulled you out of your little bubble. 

“are you comparing me to a fish?” you fake-gasped and turned around, meeting seungcheol’s brown eyes that held a mischievous look that you grew to love so much, even though you hadn’t known each other for that long. 

his gentle laugh rippled through the air. “well, if you put it that way…”

you snickered and swatted his chest playfully. “i don’t think you’re supposed to say stuff like that on a first date, choi seungcheol.”

wonwoo

place: museum/ exhibition 

what they would do to make you feel special: takes candid photos of you (the morning after the date you get a message with the photos and a text saying “that’s how i see you” )

what they would be like taking you out: so so nervous, stutters, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, feels like he’s going to die at least five times

“click” 

you whipped your head around upon hearing the familiar sound, tearing your eyes from the painting after what felt like hours. but the exhibition wonwoo took you too was truly mesmerising, you had no idea how he found this place. 

“if you wanted to take a picture you could’ve told me,” you said, taking a step to the side. “i would’ve moved.” 

wonwoo lowered the camera, his hands slightly shaking, which in your eyes made him even more adorable than he already was. not to mention the fuzzy cardigan that made him look like the cuddliest teddy bear. 

“no, it’s… i wanted to take a photo of the painting and… and you,” he said with a gentle softness in his voice, blending in with the quiet hustle of people around you. 

“oh.”

mingyu

place: the funfair/ amusement park

what they would do to make you feel special: you know those games where you have to hit the targets to win the plushies or other stuffed animals? if you kept missing, gyu would miss as well, so you wouldn't feel like you were worse (he'd win once, though, because he'd really want to gift you a teddy bear)

what they would be like taking you out: tries his best to act cocky and smug but ends up tripping over his own feet, because he keeps staring at you too much

“i was so near, like one centimeter and i would’ve hit- oh my god, mingyu!” you exclaimed, stopping in your tracks. 

the man next to you landed on the ground with a thump, face first and all, for the third time in the span of the last two hours. 

“are you okay?” you gently placed the teddy bear your date had just gifted you on the ground, trying to keep it away from the dirt, and kneeled next to him. 

“this is really embarrassing,” he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the pavement. “i swear i’m not usually like this.” 

you shook your head, not really believing his words, because yes - maybe you didn’t know each other that well, but you’ve spent enough time together for you to know that kim mingyu was quite a clumsy person. 

“why do you keep tripping all the time?” you laughed, helping him up and brushing the dirt away. 

“you seriously don’t want to know,” mingyu answered, his face red as a tomato.

vernon

place: cinema + fast food place 

what they would do to make you feel special: buys you a small bouquet of your favourite flowers (you mentioned liking them once in passing)

what they would be like taking you out: not much changes in vernon's behaviour, completely chill and vibin' (mostly due to the fact that he's in such denial that you actually agreed to go out with him that he truly believes he's dreaming)

you stared at the small bouquet vernon was holding in his hands.

“uh, those aren’t your favorite right?” he asked when you didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fail to catch the note of disappointment in his voice. “i just probably messed up the names of the flowers. sorr-,” 

“how did you know these were my favourite?” 

“well,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “you said once and i remembered, and… yeah.” 

“i mentioned it like once,” you said, still too shaken that he remembered such a small thing to grab the flowers from his hand. “wait, aren’t you allergic to pollen? what are you doing holding a whole bouquet?” 

you took the bouquet and hid it behind your back. 

“it won’t kill me, you know?” vernon said with a smile on his face.

[nonranghaes]

mingyu gasps like he's just found a genuine treasure, eyes all shiny and genuinely happy. "oh my god," he coos, "is this you?"

even without seeing the picture in his hands, you can wager a guess at what he just found while flipping through an old photo album put together by your grandma. you're looking for pictures from your high school years so you can prove a point to mingyu about how you did, in fact, start dressing better after you met him and wanted to impress him. unfortunately, they're all buried underneath a billion pictures of you throughout childhood alongside the rest of your family. it's mingyu's job to sort through the loose photos from a box she'd handed you... and of course he's distracted.

"probably," you shrug. you're thumbing through pictures of your parents on some vacation they took with both sets of grandparents way before you were born. "am i wearing the ducky romper?"

mingyu climbs down off of the couch and into the space next to you, extending out the picture so that both of you can look at it. sure enough, it's you as a infant, ducky romper and all. your face is all scrunched up and sleepy, no doubt having been awoken from a nap, but your grandma looks at you adoringly all the same. mingyu does, too: "you were so tiny..."

"well... yeah," you shrug once more. "i was a baby." but you're fighting back a smile: you get it. you'd probably start cooing over baby pictures of mingyu, too.

"look at your little chubby cheeks..." he giggles, all too thrilled to see how soft and round and tiny you were. "are there more?" he's already placing the photo carefully on the coffee table and digging back into the box. "how many are there? i wanna see them all--"

"only if you show me your pictures--"

"done."

ah. right. you're dealing with mingyu, who seems always determined to win at silly little debates with you like this (you've been on the receiving end of so, so many compliments because he wouldn't let you put him first). but if it means you get to see pictures of tiny baby mingyu... then maybe you're winning this time, too.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to their s/o taking off their engagement/promise ring during a fight

Request: Hii! It's actually my first time asking. But I love your posts so much that I wanted to try requesting as well.

Can we get an ot13 reaction to their S/O taking off their engagement/promise ring during a fight? Thank you! Ignore if uncomfortable.

Immediately breaks down — Seungcheol, Mingyu, Seungkwan

As soon as he sees the ring off your finger, it’s like the air is sucked out of the room. “Wait, don’t—please don’t do that,” he’s already tearing up. For him, that ring is everything that he means to you, and watching you take it off, even out of anger, makes him spiral. He forgets the fight and all he can focus on is, “Are you… leaving me?” Even if you say, “i didn’t mean it,” he’s shaken and holds onto you tightly, begging you not to ever take it off again even during fights.

Freezes in disbelief — Joshua, Jun, Dokyeom

He just… stops. Mid-argument. Eyes stuck on your hand, “you took it off?” His voice is soft, stunned, as if his heart just dropped [it actually did]. He doesn’t yell or fight back, but there’s this cold silence that follows that hurts more than shouting. You’ll see him sit down somewhere, running his hands through his hair, overwhelmed. It’s not the end for him, but now, the conversation shifts from the fight to: “Did I hurt you that much?”

Tries to stay composed but his voice shakes — Wonwoo, Minghao, Vernon

He tries not to react at first, tries to pretend he’s calm, but his voice gives him away. “...You took off the ring?” He won’t guilt-trip you, won’t lash out. But you’ll see the pain flash across his face with a small crack in that composed exterior. He takes a moment, then asks, “Do you still want this? Us?” It's not because he’s giving up, but because he needs to hear you say it and needs to know this isn’t goodbye. He listens to you because he's patient, and if you say you didn’t mean it, he’ll hold your hand and gently slide the ring back on.

Gets angry before realizing what it means — Hoshi, Dino

“Oh? That’s what we’re doing now?” His immediate reaction is anger with sharp words and a bitter laugh. He thinks it’s about winning the fight, but then… he sees your expression. Sees your hand, sees how hurt you are, and suddenly, the fight doesn’t matter anymore. He softens so quickly, it’s jarring. “No—wait, I didn’t mean that. Please don't.” You’ll feel him fumble through apologies, trying to undo the emotional damage and holding your hand, shaking and trying not to tear up.

Goes heartbreakingly quiet — Jeonghan, Woozi

No yelling or reaction. Just… silence. He watches you take the ring off, and for a moment, it looks like all the light leaves his eyes. “So that’s it?” he’ll say, even if you didn’t mean it like that. He walks away but it's not because he’s giving up or something like that, but because he needs to breathe before he breaks in front of you. You’ll have to go to him, to explain, to say “I still want you.” And when you do, he’ll pull you into the softest hug and whisper, “Then don’t take it off again. Ever.”

[hoshifighting]

helloww i wanted to request seventeens reaction to afab!reader having a hard time cumming! like it just takes them a really long time to get there

seungcheol is not here for quickies; he’s in it for the long haul. it’s like he enjoys the challenge of finding that perfect spot that makes you moan just a little louder. “don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs. “we’ve got all the time in the world.” the way he maps out your body with his touch, learning every sensitive inch, almost makes you feel a bit vulnerable. and before you know it, you’re gasping as the orgasm overtakes you, surprised at how quickly he figured you out.

jeonghan spends ages making you sensitive, playing with your nipples, kissing you deeply, brushing his hands like feathers over your pussy. he whispers filthy things in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. by the time he starts really stimulating you, you’re already on the edge, and when you finally cum, it’s like he’s ripped the orgasm right out of you.

joshua is going to prove you wrong. he’s determined to make you cum with his mouth, no matter how long it takes. “it’s not a race,” he chuckles, his voice muffled between your thighs. “just relax.” he’s meticulous, taking his time, exploring every inch of you with his tongue until you’re writhing and moaning, finally giving in. he’s in it for the long game, and he won’t stop until you’re a trembling mess.

junhui has this thing about watching you touch yourself. he’ll sit back and watch, his eyes dark as you try to get yourself off. “show me how you like it,” he asks. and when you finally cum, he’s there, ready to take over and show you just how much better he can make it. it’s almost like a competition, but one where everyone wins.

soonyoung tries different things until something clicks. he’ll switch positions, he turns you this way and that, change angles, and then, almost like an epiphany, he’ll grab a pillow and put it under your hips. “let’s try this,” he says, a determined look in his eyes. and then, it’s like a lightbulb goes off. there it is—the perfect angle that has you cumming, maybe even squirting a little, and he’s just as surprised as you are, but in the best way.

wonwoo is a veteran of teasing. he’ll get you close and then stop, leaving you aching. he works your clit, then stops again just when you’re about to tip over the edge. it’s frustrating, but you know he’s doing it on purpose. “not yet,” he’ll whisper. he’s patient, waiting until you’re practically begging, and only then will he finally let you have what you need. the build-up makes the release all the more intense, and he knows it.

woozi loves his gadgets. he’s got a collection of vibrators and toys just for you, and he’s not shy about using them. he likes using a g'spot vibrator while his fingers play with your nipples or, he’ll hold a vibrator against your clit while he fucks you, his cock deep inside you, and it’s like sensory overload. “you like that?” he knows exactly how to push you over the edge, and he’s not stopping until you’re cumming.

minghao would probably suggest something like tantric sex, making you focus on the pleasure without even touching you. “just breathe,” he’ll say. the first time you cum from just the build-up, you’re left staring at him in disbelief, and he just smirks, clearly pleased with himself. sex is mind too.

mingyu reassures you. “it’s okay if it takes a while,” he says, his voice soft as he kisses his way down your body. “i love being down here.” he’s in no rush, taking his time, savoring every moment. he’ll drink in every drop, making you feel like the most important person in the world, no matter how long it takes.

seokmin loves to play with your kinks. if you like choking, he’ll do it just right, feeling your pussy tighten around him. if you like being spanked, he’ll watch you get wetter with each smack. “you like that?” he’ll ask smirking. even if he’s not usually a dirty talker, he’ll do it for you, pushing you over the edge with his words.

seungkwan is all about his hands. he knows you have a thing for them, and he’s more than happy to use them to your advantage. “you’re so wet,” he’ll murmur, his fingers deep inside you, curling just right. he’ll coo at you, sulking/mocking until you���re lightheaded and cumming hard around his fingers.

vernon is patient, just like you. he knows it takes time for both of you, and he’s more than willing to take it slow. “we’re in no rush,” he’s prefers mutual pleasure, whether it’s a slow 69, mutual masturbation or the wildest positions you can think of. it’s a perfect match. both of you working each other until you both cum.

chan is determined to make you cum, almost like it’s a personal challenge. “i can do it,” he’ll mutter. he’ll try everything, experimenting with different techniques until he finds the one that makes you break. and when you finally do, he’s smug but also relieved, holding back a proud grin as you come down from your high.

[mocchiixxx]

Taming the Lioness

(Jeonghan x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Opposites Attract

Summary: Jeonghan thought he was the master of mischief—until he met you, a fearless, take-charge whirlwind who could out-lead even Seungcheol. Whether it’s bossing around the members, making sure he eats on time, or calling him out on his antics, you keep him on his toes. But behind all the playful bickering, he secretly loves having someone who can match his wit and challenge him at his own game.

Jeonghan was used to being the mastermind. The smooth talker. The guy who could get out of trouble with just a well-timed smile and a little sweet talk. He could charm his way out of anything—well, almost anything.

Because then there was you.

If Seungcheol was SEVENTEEN’s dependable leader, you were his unofficial second-in-command—the only person who could rival his authority, and, somehow, the only one who could put Jeonghan in his place.

And that was something the members never let him forget.

"Jeonghan, don’t even think about it."

Your voice cut through the chatter in the practice room like a warning bell. The members immediately turned to see what was happening.

Jeonghan, fingers inches away from Seungkwan’s snack stash, froze in place. Slowly, he turned to you with his signature innocent look. "Think about what, jagiya?"

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. "Put it back."

Mingyu, watching from the side, whispered, "Damn, she caught him again."

Joshua chuckled. "She’s basically Seungcheol, but scarier because she’s Jeonghan’s girlfriend."

Seungkwan smirked. "This is the best thing to happen to us."

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, knowing he was absolutely caught, sighed dramatically and placed the snack back into the bag. "You’re no fun, Y/N."

You raised a brow. "Oh? Want me to tell Seungcheol you skipped warm-ups today, too?"

Jeonghan gasped. "Babe! You wouldn’t!"

You smirked. "Try me."

DK nudged Woozi. "I think Jeonghan finally met his match."

Woozi smirked. "No, she’s winning."

Later that evening, Jeonghan sat on the couch at the dorm, arms folded as he fake-pouted at you. "I feel betrayed."

You rolled your eyes and placed a container of food in front of him. "Eat."

His eyes lit up immediately. "You made this?"

"Of course. Someone has to make sure you eat properly," you said, sitting beside him.

He picked up the chopsticks, taking a bite, and let out a satisfied hum. "You do love me, after all."

You raised a brow. "That was never in question. The question is whether you love me enough to stop stealing snacks and skipping warm-ups."

Jeonghan grinned, leaning closer. "I love you a lot, but let’s not get crazy now."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Hopeless."

He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Hopelessly in love with you," he corrected, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. "Cheesy."

"But you love it," he teased.

You sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."

Jeonghan beamed, pulling you into his arms. "Face it, jagi, we’re the perfect match."

And honestly? You couldn’t argue with that.

Author's Note: Who should I drop next tomorrow? Wonu or cheol's?