Boyfriend-jungkook Things.

im in those moods lol. pls send good angsty nct recs 😭

THREE'S A CROWD — [preview].

SYNOPSIS. three of your friends fight for your affection, totally not because they like you— but simply because they can’t stand the idea of you liking someone else.

PAIRINGS. jung sungchan, park wonbin, hong seunghan x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, rom-com, reverse harem, just a bunch of arrogant and silly little boys in denial, a collection of italicized oh moments in succession, featuring the rest of riize and nct. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, mild possessiveness, so much petty and childish behavior, drinking, breaking and entering, may add more in the full fic. WORD COUNT. preview: 3.2k | full fic: est. 15-18k.

RELEASE DATE. november to december. TAGLIST. send an ask/dm/reply to be added.

NOTE. i said i'd do it. so i did. i am. and i'm having so much fun writing another shitstorm of a harem so i hope you find this as fun as i do HAHAHHAHA. sick and tired of seeing nothing but smut under the riize x reader tag so here is my contribution to society. you're welcome.

preview under the cut.

THERE ARE CURRENTLY THREE HEADS IN THE MALE DORMITORY LOUNGE. One is Sungchan, tinkering with the foosball table by himself because the other two heads are refusing to play with him. Second is Wonbin laid comfortably on the couch, headphones on and using his lap as a drum set. Last is Seunghan, on the floor for some reason, and eyes trained intently on his phone with his thumbs tapping on the screen like a madman.

The number gets added when Sohee rushes in from the front door, a large McDonald’s paper bag in hand and four large cups of soda in the other. “Order’s here!” he announces. The three heads quickly pop up from their respective businesses and congregate to the dining corner of the room.

“Fuck,” Sungchan groans, following the scent of the warm, freshly cooked mcnuggets on the table. The other three are already seated and poking holes in their soda cups. Sungchan is still groaning like a zombie. The two open nugget boxes are enticing him. He won’t . He must not. “I can’t eat. I forgot I had dinner plans tonight.”

“With a girl?” Sohee asks. The number of nuggets is depleting by the second. If the rest of the guys come down, there will be none left for him.

“Yes,” Sungchan replies. He swallows hard. Wonbin takes the boot shaped chicken right before his very eyes. This is torture.

Seunghan scrunches his nose, mid-nugget. “Boo. You whore. It’s guys night. How can you do this to us?” 

“A few nuggets can’t hurt,” says Wonbin. He pokes the box closer to Sungchan. 

“You’re right. Move over.”

They snort at his flimsy conviction. Sungchan argues that he is simply experiencing the delicacies of both the east and the west tonight. You’re supposed to have Japanese with him tonight. There is nothing wrong with cross-cultural enjoyment. He is simply diversifying his palate.

“So, is it a date?” asks Seunghan.

“No. I’m just eating out with a friend.”

“Just the two of you?” 

Wonbin raises a brow with the question. Sungchan counts the numbers in his head. “Yeah.” If he eats another nugget, then that would make it five. Five can be counted with only one hand. That isn’t a lot. This is fine.

“Oh man,” Sohee snickers. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s a date.”

“No way!” he defends, the fifth and final nugget stuffed in his mouth. Sungchan swallows before continuing, wiping his hand on the pile of tissue papers on the table. “It’s not a date. I mean, she did tell me that she has a little crush on me, but it’s not a date.”

The three don’t miss the slight curl of his lips— a bastard’s sly grin. It’s a date. It’s definitely a date. Seunghan gives him a hard smack on the back. “The girl has a crush on you, how is it not a date, you piece of shit?”

“Ow! Hey!” he glares at him. “It really isn’t! We even had a whole talk we’re keeping it strictly platonic. I’m not interested in her in that way and she knows that. I’m not doing anything wrong here!”

There’s both disappointment and judgment in Wonbin’s face. “Quit leading her on.”

Sungchan gasps. “I’m not!”

“Who is it anyway?” Sohee asks right before taking an obnoxious sip on his soda. “Maybe I know her.”

“Well, I doubt it,” he starts. “I’m pretty sure you guys don’t know her, but she’s—”

Your name stumbles out of Sungchan’s mouth. It falls quiet, save for Sungchan’s explanation that he met you through the soccer team’s captain, Nakamoto Yuta, and that he’s known you for around half a year now. You’re in different majors, but it turns out you have quite a lot of friends from his team, so you bump into each other a lot. Sungchan knew about your crush on him early into your acquaintanceship— which is why having dinner with you and just you isn’t, “and shouldn’t be that big of a deal! It’s not a date. Seriously.”

“Okay, it’s not a date,” Sohee relents. Sungchan nods proudly at his victory.

“Yes. It is not.”

“But you know what’s funny—” Sohee’s eyes move to Seunghan. “The girl you told me about has the same name. What a coincidence.”

Seunghan is sitting on the table like a mound of stone. He’s got a half-eaten nugget in his hands. He’s not putting it in his mouth. “That’s right,” he simply says. There’s a faraway look in his eyes. “That is pretty funny. What a coincidence.” Coincidence, Seunghan repeats in his head. Yes. It must be a coincidence. He nods to himself and throws the nugget remnants into his mouth, satisfied with that conclusion.

“What girl?” Wonbin rouses. Seunghan turns his head to him sharply.

“Oh,” he says. “A friend from highschool.”

“A friend that’s had feelings for him since highschool,” Sohee grins. “You said she was pretty. Why didn’t you two start dating?”

Is this the chicken’s fault? Why the heck does everything keep circling back to dating? “I don’t know. I’ve just never seen her in that light,” Seunghan explains. He doesn’t know why he’s getting riled up, but he is. “And just because someone confessed to you doesn’t mean they want to start dating. Dude, I feel like you’re the one that should go and find a date. Being single is getting to your head.”

Seunghan has been friends with you since eleventh grade, being classmates and all. You confessed to him early into grade twelve, and even though he didn’t return your feelings, it was never awkward because you never acted differently. In fact, sometimes he second guesses if it actually happened. Just a few days ago, he asked if you still like him to confirm. All you said was, “yeah, why?” and continued working on your assignment. That’s why sometimes he forgets. That’s why it’s not worth bringing up.

Until now, when your name suddenly keeps popping up. Wonbin utters the same. Seunghan and Sungchan’s head quickly snap towards him. “You guys aren’t talking about SM-ARTS Chairperson, right?”

SM-ARTS is an art organization in your university. It’s been a well known org since its foundation— half because of its achievements, half because of its stupid (smart) name. “That’s...yes, that is her.” Seunghan gets a bad feeling. A really bad fucking feeling, and it’s not just having too much unhealthy chicken nuggets from McDonald’s. “Why? Do you also know her?”

“Of course I do. I’m literally her Vice Chair,” Wonbin furrows his brows. This is strange. He’s been working with you since the beginning of the year and you’ve never mentioned a Jung Sungchan nor a Hong Seunghan before. What’s even stranger is their assertions that you have feelings for them. You. For them. It’s a ridiculous thought to entertain because, “she literally told me that he has a crush on me. What are you two talking about?”

Wonbin couldn’t get a more direct confession than yours. It’s typical for the rest of your org officers and members to tease the both of you— the snickers and hollers when you’d call him to discuss something in private, the teasing saying you two look good together. Hell, some of the kids even call you both mom and dad and it’s gone to the point where he’s told them off to quit it because you might be uncomfortable. But you’d always say, “it’s fine,” and “you didn’t mind,” with a sweet smile on your face. Now, he’s no stranger to those insinuations, and for the sake of your professional relationship, he needed your denial or agreement.

Turns out, you do have a crush on him.

So this has become very, very awkward.

“Maybe—” Sungchan stammers. “Maybe...maybe we’re each talking about a different person, maybe there’s actually three different— oh, hey. What are you doing here?”

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

“Hey!” 

The sound of your voice bouncing around the male dormitory walls feel foreign and jarring, especially after the conversation that had just transpired. You set down your bag on their couch, walking up to them with a bright smile that doesn’t match their vibe at all.

There’s tension in the air. A very thick and palpable tension and the three are exchanging glances and looks as if to say, ‘Go on. Go say hi to her first if she’s the girl you’ve been talking about.’

But you beat them to it. “Wow. I didn’t think you three knew each other!” you exclaim, skipping over to the dining corner where you find yourself in the gap between Sungchan and Seunghan. The two flinch at the closeness of your presence. Wonbin tightens his jaw. “Anyway, is Shotaro around? I need to talk to him about our trip this weekend, but he’s not replying.”

“He’s in his room. Upstairs. Fourth floor.” 

It’s not a competition, but hearing how quickly the response falls out of Wonbin’s lips sure does makes it seem like it is. Sungchan has his mouth open, gives Wonbin a look, before closing it again. Seunghan never even got the chance, and Sohee is looking at the scene unfold like it’s a goddamned trashy movie.

“Great, thanks!” you beam. “Oh, and we’re still up for dinner tonight, right?”

They can’t go for another speed contest because the question is reserved for one person only— Sungchan, who seems to be caught off guard. “Yeah. Absolutely,” he manages to squeeze out. You smile.

“Sweet. Wonbin, have you prepared the documents I asked for tomorrow’s meeting?”

It’s like a question carousel. “I’ll send them later for you to review.”

“Perfect! Right, and Seunghan—” There goes another rotation. “Mind driving me to the reunion this Friday? Jaeha bailed on me at the last minute, that son of a bitch.”

Seunghan blinks at you, in a daze. “Sure.”

“Nice! And you—”

Your attention lands on the last person at the table. Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan didn’t expect you to even entertain him. “Sohee,” their friend fills in, a little taken aback. You flash him a bright grin.

“Sohee! Nice to meet you! Love your necklace. Very chic.”

For some reason the smile on Sohee’s face is annoying to the other three boys. “Thanks!” he says. “Have a nugget before you go.” They didn’t think it was possible, but somehow your face glows even brighter and you lean down, still between Seunghan and Sungchan, to pick up a piece from the box. 

“Thought you guys would never offer. Thank you! I’ll see you around!”

With that you disappear up the stairs, and you take all the noise and the life in the room with you. It’s quiet. So quiet— almost like there’s a standoff. That is until Sohee clears his throat, still pink from the compliment you gave him, and says, “Well. Seems like she’s the same person.” 

No fucking shit, she’s the same person. They can’t keep making excuses anymore. 

Seunghan tries to play it off with a laugh. “I can’t believe you guys would lie and joke about her having a crush on you.” His laugh isn’t well taken by the other two. It spirals down to shit all too quickly.

“What do you mean ‘lie’?” Wonbin narrows his eyes.

Sungchan hollers in. “Yeah, if anything, you’re the one that’s lying! You and him both!”

“Why would I lie?!” Seunghan protests.

“I don’t know— maybe because you’re jealous that she likes me and not either of you?”

Before they can start throwing fists, Sohee interrupts by making himself the collective target. “Have you guys considered,” he starts, hands solemnly pressed together above the crumb littered table. “That she might have a tinge of feelings for all three of you? Not just one?”

They pause in consideration. It takes them five seconds to brush him off.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No way.”

“Why would she?”

Sohee sighs and gives up. He hears a set of footsteps rushing down and hopes it’s you, so that his three friends would finally quit it. It is you, and Sohee lifts up. Your timing is impeccable. He’s almost convinced you’ve been listening the whole time.

“Hey,” you greet them once again, flashing a smile once, before going off to retrieve your bag from the couch. The three quiet down instantaneously and have resigned to glaring at each other in seething silence. Seunghan isn’t very good at glaring at people, so he reorganizes his strategy instead.

“How’s the thing with Taro hyung?” he asks, twisting his chair to face you better. Sungchan and Wonbin give him a dirty look. That bastard. He’s even considering body language into play.

“Oh! The trip is canceled.” You sling your bag over your shoulder. “So my Sunday has been cleared. Do you guys want to make plans?”

Crap.

You just tossed them a bone.

Sohee is sure this isn’t gonna end pretty.

“Why don’t we go on a date?”

All eyes are wide. Their heads snap in the direction of Wonbin— the fast bastard. His expression is nonchalant, but his shaking knee from under the table says otherwise. “There’s a contemporary art exhibit opening downtown. Let’s check it out together,” This bitch, Sungchan’s expression seems to say. Seunghan’s disappointment seeps through the air.

“Like. A date, date?” you confirm, eyes batting expectantly, as if you have a barrier against the palpably sour and rotten mood flooding the room in ominous swirls.

“Yeah,” Wonbin confirms. He’s lucky you’re too far away to notice the sweat dripping down his neck. “Is...is that a problem? You said you liked me. Why don’t we give it a shot?”

All hell breaks loose the moment you entertain them with flustered cheeks and a shy smile.

“No! Don’t go!” Sungchan’s had it. He can’t take this anymore. “If there’s anyone you should be going out with, it should be me! You like me! Not them!”

Seunghan has left his seat and has scrambled over to you. Wonbin and Sungchan’s eyes widen. They aren’t letting him do this. They quickly follow suit but Seunghan already has a firm hold on your arms and is looking deep into your eyes. He’s put up an invisible barrier. Fuck, that sneaky bastard.

“Were you actually serious when you said that you had a crush on me since eleventh grade?” His voice cracks. If he’s trying to tap into your pity, then it’s definitely fucking working. “But why are these two saying you like them? What about us?! Am I nothing to y—”

Your index finger finds its way over Seunghan’s lips. Silence befalls. Your blank face settles into a sound smile.

“Well,” you pry Seunghan’s hands off you, still smiling pleasantly at all of them. What is this ominous feeling? Why doesn’t it seem like you’re actually smiling at them? “As far as I remember, none of you returned my confessions.”

It’s like a hammer hits all three of them at once.

“And I still like you Seunghan. We literally talked about it the other day.” You gave him a two word answer then brushed him off your essay. That was hardly a conversation. Seunghan feels wronged beyond words.

“How—how about me?”

You look over to Sungchan, who looks arguably like a kicked puppy. “What about you?”

“Well,” he clears his throat, a faint blush coating his ears. “Do you still, uh, have feelings for me too, or—”

“Sungchan, do you think I’d have kept asking you to have dinner alone with me every week if I didn’t like you?” He blinks. Beside him, Wonbin points a finger to himself. You let out a breath. “I’d be blind and tasteless if I wasn’t into you, Wonbin. Especially after working closely together since the beginning of the year. Why are you guys asking me this?”

Sohee has stopped liking all these ominous periods of silence because they’re signs that even more chaos is about to ensue. His three friends’ eyes look empty and hollow as they stare at you. Oh god, they’re far gone.

“So,” Wonbin starts.

“You like us,” Seunghan follows.

“Like all three of us,” Sungchan finishes. 

You give them a smile reminiscent of a kindergarten teacher feeling a swell of pride after her student finishes reciting the alphabet. Sohee feels sympathy pains for his friends. “Yup. I also have a crush on Johnny from med, but he’s graduating soon, so that’s a bummer. Oh! And our TA Jung Jaehyun! He has the face of a god!” Oh, dear. You stomp on them then finish it off with a spit on their faces. Sohee bites his lip, feeling both horrendously bad and curious as to how this shitshow will conclude. 

The three simmer in silence. You give them a raised brow.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

Oh, there’s a fucking problem, alright.

“Why are you guys looking at me like that? I did confess to all three of you saying I have a crush on you, but I never said I was in love with you.”

Well, damn.

Neither of them like you like that, but that shit hurt for no fucking reason.

“Don’t think too much of it, sillies! And I don’t get why you’re all so affected when you’re the ones who didn’t return my feelings.” 

Your laughter is poison and your smiling face is tearing them apart. You’re heartless. You’re a devil disguised as an angel. You’re from the deepest depths of hell and have come to earth for the sole reason of tooth-achingly sweet and strawberry scented torment. If they can fall to their knees right now, they would, but their pride is tattered enough already— ripped to shreds by your unapologetic bluntness and honesty.

“Anyway, since I already have plans with the three of you within the week, Sungchan’s later this evening—” The man in question is pouting. He’s pouting very hard when your eyes skip over him, and zones into the person that’s been quiet this entire time. “Sohee! Wanna go bowling with me and my bio friends this Sunday?”

That was a bomb. A large and dangerous bomb. “Sure?” Sohee responds unknowingly. You give them one last sweet smile of torture before finally leaving.

“Great! Get my number from any of them. I have to go meet some people. Later! Thanks for the snack!”

With that, you leave them behind, but not without a trace of disaster. Once they’ve confirmed you’re gone and out, signaved by the tight shutting of the door, Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan look at each other. Then at Sohee. Then back at the closed door once more.

It’s quiet again. They don’t need to talk to settle with three mutual conclusions.

One. Sohee isn’t getting shit after the emotional massacre they went through. He can go crawl and scavenger for your number elsewhere for all they care.

Two. There’s no doubt. They all know you and you all know them. This is something they can’t ignore anymore, so they have to figure out how to behave in case a run in like this happens again,

And three—

You like them. All three of them. At the same time. 

Their pride can’t stand the idea of sharing that affection. Absolutely not. Therefore three must drop down to one. Sungchan, Wonbin, and Seunghan are dead set on making sure that that one is going to be him.

THREE'S A CROWD. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

right where you left me

characters: wonwoo & reader word count: 8.9k genre: exes to lovers summary: in which wonwoo leaves and takes your heart with him. three years later, you're in another city, but tragically, right where he left you. warnings: alcohol consumption, detailed smut.

please help me see seventeen on december!

***

Seoul’s stale and dusty air reminds you exactly why you don’t like visiting the capital city often despite its vibrance and the colors built upon its land. As someone who likes to have their own space once in a while, the city is not for you, with its busy streets and lights that never seem to dim even a little. Seoul, at least for you, is a place to visit when you’re looking for some excitement, some diversity, some stories to tell your workmates—but definitely not a place to reside in full time. 

But here you are, two days after moving, trying to get used to its noise and its beauty at the same time. If it hadn’t been for your job requiring you to move around multiple times a year, you wouldn’t be here. Albeit grateful, part of you wishes it could have been some other place closer to where you were raised. 

Growing up in Changwon, your slightly tanned skin had been used to the coastal area’s cool, salty air. Also, it’s 40 minutes away from Busan—where your best friend Jihoon lives (which means to reach your best friend is a 40-minute drive). And this is also one of the reasons why you didn’t want to move to Seoul unless Jihoon tags along with you (which he, unfortunately, did not because he “can’t just pack up his entire life so that you’re not lonely in Seoul”). 

“Is it that bad?” Jihoon’s voice echoes from the speaker of your phone as you put away your groceries. 

“Yes,” you huff, remembering how someone bumped into you as soon as you stepped out of the subway, making you drop one of your grocery bags. The person did not even bother to look back. “Jihoon, I want to go home.”

“How old are you again?” your best friend teases. Even from miles away, you could make up his face as he speaks with you. “You’ll be fine. Remember that your boss had said it’s a temporary relocation. Once you’re done with whatever you have to complete in Seoul, then you can come back home.”

“I doubt,” you answer as you finish organizing the last few containers. “Launching this project in Changwon took them 2 years to fully establish. It’s Seoul, I know many things are more accessible here; for sure we’ll have more chances of finding competent potentials here to kickoff the project with me. But still, I don’t think I can do this in six months; one year at the least, maybe, if I work hard enough.”

Jihoon hums, agreeing, then proceeds to ask when the rest of your team would arrive. You briefly explain their itinerary and tell him that you’re also in collaboration with HR to ensure that enough manpower will be available by next week. You ask about the project that Jihoon is also working on; he tells you he will most likely visit Seoul, too, and it excites you until he reminds you of what you’ve been trying to avoid since you arrived. 

“Wonwoo lives in Seoul. At least you have someone you know,” he says, voice reluctant. “I mean, that is if you need help settling. I know you don’t have a lot of relatives up there, but you know, just in case you need someone to remind you of home.”

You laugh at the last statement. Jihoon sighs, knowing how stupid he sounded just now. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I stopped being in contact with him after, you know, and it would be nice.”

“What would be nice?”

“You know, to catch up and all,” he answers, yawning. You look at the time, nine in the morning, Jihoon probably hasn’t had a wink of sleep. 

You stay silent, sitting on the stool from your kitchen island, looking at your phone as if you’re waiting for him to say something more. 

“It would be nice,” he repeats. “You were friends for a long time before you dated. It would be nice to have someone in the lonely city.”

You hum, still not willing to say anything. Jihoon knows that you never like talking about this, about Wonwoo. 

“I mean, it has been how long?” Three years. “Two? Three years now, right? I’m sure Wonwoo’s moved on. I’m sure you have, too. Right?”

Being friends all throughout high school, dating as soon as you go into college, Wonwoo leaving as soon as the three of you graduated, you and him not being able to handle the distance—of course. Of course. You should have been able to move on at this point. Three years should be long enough for someone to move on. Three years should have allowed you to see someone else, to get rid of your feelings from the starry-eyed boy whose dreams are as vivid as yours. 

Jihoon calls your name. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m here.”

You’re here, in Seoul, miles away from Changwon, but here also means right where Wonwoo left you. 

***

Kwon Soonyoung is a long-distance friend of Jihoon, which by default makes you a friend of his, too. He and Jihoon used to live next to each other when the latter temporarily moved to Seoul to be trained for his current job. Soonyoung is vibrant and loud like the city, but kind and warm like home. He helps you familiarize yourself with the city and gives you a list of places to visit nearby where your live and work. He shows you which subway or bus stop to go to certain places and helps you settle in further. 

A month into living in Seoul, you’re finally getting used to it. The rush still bothers you sometimes, but it’s better now, thanks to Soonyoung. 

“Do you like this place?” he asks, mouth full as he chews on the grilled beef you had just served for him. 

You nod, taking a piece of meat into your mouth. 

“I’m glad,” he says. “This is me and my best friend’s favorite place. We come here every weekend to drink. He doesn’t really drink, but he eats a lot and takes me home to make sure I don’t die. Jihoon knows him, too, apparently. Small world, if you ask me. Wonwoo used to go to the same college as Jihoon.”

You almost choke. Soonyoung quickly hands you a glass of water and asks if you’re okay. 

Small world, my ass. The universe should might as well just punch you in the gut. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Yes,” Soonyoung exclaims. “You know him, too? That’s—wait, that actually makes sense. You and Jihoon have been best friends since birth. Of course, you know Wonwoo.”

“Soonyoung,” you say, catching your breath after chugging the glass of water. “We have been hanging out for two, three weeks now. Why haven’t you ever mentioned Jeon Wonwoo?”

What difference would have it done? You would have avoided Soonyoung at all costs, wouldn’t have bothered to befriend this bright, kind man across you. Then, that would minimize the chances of ever seeing Jeon Wonwoo in Seoul until you have to go back home. 

Soonyoung shrugs. “He’s been busy. But he should be free next weekend, so we can meet up here then—“

“No,” you cut him off and visibly, you could see how Soonyoung’s mouth form into a pout. “No, Soonyoung. Sorry.”

“Why?” He asks. “Wonwoo is not that bad. He’s a little cold, but he’s not that bad. You should know if you had known him back in Changwon. I mean, Jihoon is the coldest person in the universe, so Wonwoo is not half bad.”

“It’s not like that, Soonyoung,” you sigh, picking up a piece of radish and shoving it in your mouth. 

The man across you is puzzled for a minute, chewing on another piece of meat with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Soonyoung suddenly gasps when it dawns to him. “Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He knows. 

“You’re the ex,” he exclaims. “Holy shit!”

“Shut up, Soonyoung.”

“You are!” He repeats. “You’re the ex that got him so fucked up on his first year here in Seoul!”

“That’s rude,” you remark. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Oh, I am so going to call Jihoon later. This should be fun.”

***

What are the odds of meeting Jeon Wonwoo for the first time in three years?

More than half month ago, back in Changwon, chances were nearly zero. Wonwoo completely moved to Seoul and never bothered to return since he left. His father and brother had already moved to Seoul, too; Wonwoo never really had a reason to go back. 

Weeks ago, chances were little to likely. You are in Seoul. It is a big city, but bumping into him wasn’t completely impossible. 

Two weeks ago, chances were most likely. After learning that Soonyoung had been friends with him for three years, it’s definitely a possibility to see him one of these days. 

But here, in a small cafe at the corner of the street leading the way to your workplace, you would think that it’s less likely. There are thousands of cafes across Seoul, a wide variety of themes scattered along the busy streets, and it’s not very likely for you to meet Jeon Wonwoo in this place. 

Yet here he is. Right in front of you. Sitting right across you as if it’s the easiest thing to do. 

“So, uhh,” he starts, clearing his throat and setting his clasped hands on top of the table between you. “Seoul. How is it?”

You shrug, looking anywhere but him. “It’s alright. Too noisy—“

“I figured,” he interrupts but apologizes right away. “I mean. It’s different. From home. So, I figured it would be too noisy for you.”

Jeon Wonwoo is different, and it’s not like you expected him to remain the same after all these years, because you, too, are an entirely different person now. His hair is fixed, cut clean and pushed back from his forehead so that it doesn’t cover his eyes. Eyeglasses are nowhere to be found; you reckon he’s wearing transparent contacts to help with his sight. He’s wearing a suit and a tie, something you seldom saw back in Changwon, and he’s more confident now. He doesn’t look away when he talks. He doesn’t look like the Wonwoo you had known. 

The Wonwoo you had known never would have approached you as soon as you stepped in the cafe. The Wonwoo you had known would have pretended he never saw you and ran away. The Wonwoo you had known would have shot a text to Jihoon to let him know that he saw you, so that you would initiate a conversation with him next time because you knew that he was too shy to say hi first.

In the end, you don’t really know a Jeon Wonwoo at present. He doesn’t know you at the same time. 

“Jihoon said the same thing,” he continues, filling the awkward air with words you could barely absorb because you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he really is sitting right across you. “When he moved here for a while. I also thought of the same thing during my first few months here.”

You hum. The barista calls both your names just in time before another wave of awkward silence could take over you. 

Wonwoo abruptly stands and tells you he’ll take both your orders. You let him. Your legs probably do no have enough strength to stand on its own at this time. 

He comes back with both your orders combined in one tray. You’re glad you didn’t get anything to eat, otherwise you might have to vomit your insides out with how much your stomach is shaking. 

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?” He asks as he sets your drink in front of you. “The strawberry shortcake here is nice. Even the tiramisu is to die for.”

You shake your head. “I should get going,” you answer instead. “I just dropped by for some coffee. I need to go back to work.”

Wonwoo nods as he sips into his drink. “You work right down the street, right? I texted Jihoon while ordering, I hope you don’t mind. I asked him where you worked. I should have just asked you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “But I should really go.”

Wonwoo pulls out his phone and slides it in front of you. The screen tells you he’s asking for your number. 

“Please allow me to take you out for lunch,” he asks. “Let’s catch up.”

If your heart was galloping two minutes ago, at this point it’s in a fucking drag race. It’s not a good feeling and you do not trust yourself enough for things like this. 

“Wonwoo,” you sigh. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?” He asks. “It’ll be alright. Besides, I’ve been meaning to ask Jihoon for your number anyway, ever since he told me you had moved here. I can help you fi—“

“Wonwoo, please,” you reply. Wonwoo stops. And this is the only time you actually look at his eyes. 

His eyes soften when he notices the way your face winces in distress. Worry clouds the windows to his soul, and this lets you know that this Wonwoo may not entirely different from the Wonwoo you had known. 

“Please,” you say again. “I’m not even sure why I agreed to sit across you, let alone give you my number and let you in again.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“You left, remember?” you reply. Wonwoo doesn’t answer. “You left. I could have waited for you, or uprooted my entire life so I could follow you here if you had a little more patience. A little more understanding.”

You have no idea where this burst of emotions are suddenly coming from, but it’s here now and you are not going to contain it. 

“I don’t think I can be friends with you again, Wonwoo,” you continue. “It’s—it’s not right. It’s not good. For me. It’s not good for me, and I don’t think I am ready to reconnect with you in any form. I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

You nod and take your cup of coffee, bowing your head a little. “I’ll see you around.”

Wonwoo watches you leave.

***

You don’t drink a lot, and it reminds you why you, Jihoon, and Wonwoo were closer to one another compared to the rest of your friendship group back in college. The three of you were, by default, the ones responsible to take everyone home safely.

It was a routine back in college. So long as nobody has to attend some kind of practice on the weekend (swimming, football, debate club, theater – name it), everyone from your group would meet up at the same place at seven every Friday night. You, Wonwoo, and Jihoon knew everyone’s dormitories and were always in a conquest to ensure everyone would have hangover soup and aspirin ready by the time they wake up in the morning.

The flashes of memories make you smile as you down on another shot of alcohol, and man, do you wish Jihoon could keep you company. Both of you would have been so shitfaced by the third shot, careless and honest strings of words thrown at each other. As soon as alcohol has reached your system, you and him become emotional turmoils. You and him, despite being fully grown adults, are still terrible drinkers.

And you wonder if Wonwoo had learned how to handle his alcohol tolerance better.

The drink is hot when it slides down your throat, but you like it better than the feeling in your chest.

Jeon Wonwoo is the greatest love of your life.

It had always felt like he was a gift from the sky, like a star who fell comfortably on your hands, sharing his light and warmth whenever he was close. The star himself winked his vibrance amidst the void surrounding you – just in time when you were going through growing pains.

High school wasn’t the best time of your life, unlike any other person you may ask. It was when you were still trying to get to know yourself better while juggling school and family matters. Jeon Wonwoo had sat at the back of the class, as though he’s the furthest star from the sky, but his light extended far enough for you to see him.

Wonwoo has always been handsome, even when he had gained some weight on his cheeks in sophomore year and when he decided to get a K-Idol type of haircut that didn’t quite suit him. He was quiet and timid, wouldn’t talk to you unless you approach him first, but was subtly funny when he starts becoming comfortable. Wonwoo and Jihoon’s similarities made them friends, and you had to start competing against Wonwoo for the title of Jihoon’s best friend as soon as you noticed how much Jihoon adores the boy.

The three of you were inseparable. But it was always different with Wonwoo.

Jihoon wrote you a letter when your 15-year old dog passed away, and it was the most beautiful string of words you had read your entire life. Wonwoo couldn’t express himself well, but he slept over for two weeks and held your hand every day during that difficult time of your life.

Which is why the lines were never blurred with Jihoon, but with Wonwoo, it was always grey.

Jeon Wonwoo kissed you under the stars on the night of your graduation day – hands shaking, lips soft, eyes twinkling – and told you he had decided to go to the same college as you and Jihoon.

Wonwoo had just gotten a car from his father on the first day of college, and he made it a point to drive you to and from the state university. He had asked you to be his girlfriend before you got off from his car on the first day of freshmen year.

When you, him, and Jihoon had found part-time jobs to get you through dorm rent and daily needs, it had saved countless of core memories in your head. Those were difficult times, but it never felt that way when you had those two boys by your side.

Eventually, you and Wonwoo moved in together to save some money for rent. You and him fell into daily routines and in love with each other even more. Wonwoo became family, eventually, and you to his, and for a period of time, all was well. Better than well, most of the time.

That is until Wonwoo had to leave right after graduation and you couldn’t because you had so many things going for you in Changwon. There were opportunities for you and him, but in different places, and it would have been unfortunate if either of you turned these chance. Wonwoo had asked if you wouldn’t consider moving with him. Seoul is a big city, after all, there were jobs available for you. But as much as Wonwoo was a dreamer, you were, too. You had dreams of your own, and those dreams aren’t in Seoul.

Hence, Wonwoo had left and you had stayed. You were ready to let him go if it means he would fly and be successful. There were hushed promises the last time you made love in your shared apartment, words of comfort that things would be fine, that you and him will eventually find your way back to each other once you figure things out. No concrete plan, but promises nonetheless.

Promises that were, eventually, thrown into oblivion.

Inevitably, you and him became occupied at work – too much that sometimes both of you forget to call. On the weekends, during Wonwoo’s first few months in Seoul, you would take a train to visit him and spend your days off from work together. For a while, it worked. The routine of not talking at all from Mondays to Fridays and catching up on the weekends with you taking a train to Seoul worked. That is until you noticed Wonwoo never bothered to come see you at home.

To your surprise, his father and younger brother had moved to Seoul when he found a place for them to stay nearby. Bohyuk, his brother, was getting ready for college, and Wonwoo decided it would be best for him to study in the city and have his father move, too.

“Not right now,” Wonwoo had answered as soon as he picked up the call. But you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hang up,” you had warned while knowing well that he was in the middle of work. “Bohyuk dropped by to say goodbye. You never bothered to tell me you’ve decided to have them move to Seoul.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warned in the same tone. “I’m at work. Let’s talk about this when you come here on the weekend.”

“I am not going there on the weekend, Wonwoo,” you firmly replied. “Why don’t you ever come home?”

Wonwoo had stayed silent on the other line.

“You like Seoul that much, huh?” You taunted. Wonwoo huffed on the other line and you knew him well enough to understand that he’s just as angry as you. “You’ve never bothered to come home. I’ve always travelled miles and miles for you, spending my days off on trains and not being able to sleep well at night because it’s not my bed. Every fucking weekend since you moved to the city.”

“What are you trying to say?” Wonwoo asked.

You sighed, palm on your forehead as you tried to think about where you and him went wrong. “Wonwoo, why do you never come home?”

Wonwoo never held back, didn’t take a second to even think about his answer. “I don’t have a reason to visit Changwon. It’s not home for me.”

That was the last straw for you.

It may be the vodka that’s keeping you from remembering, but you’ve forgotten what you had said after that. All you remember is how you were fuming mad and had taken an empty box to gather all of Wonwoo’s things and to send it to his address in Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo had really left. He had taken all of his belongings when he left to Seoul, and you realized he didn’t bother leaving any clothes or any pair of shoes when he took the flight to Incheon to reach Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo never inteded to go back. He took all of what’s his and had left you.

And it may be, again, the vodka that’s talking but you understand now why you dislike Seoul so much.

It’s because you never understood why Wonwoo had easily left you for a city so bright and so loud, and you were jealous of that. You were envious of a city and you wonder why Changwon was never enough for him to even visit. Why you were never enough for him to call you home.

Wonwoo, indeed, was a star that fell out of the sky.

The universe never told you that you had to return him back to the sky eventually. It was the most painful thing you had to do, but you did it, anyway.

***

It turns out that saying that you don’t want to reconnect with Wonwoo is better said than done.

Soonyoung is determined to see you and Wonwoo in the same room, same space, same air – that’s why you are here, again, in the same barbecue place that Soonyoung took you weeks ago.

It’s Saturday, and Soonyoung picked you up from your apartment to have some grilled meat, yours and his favorite. And you should have known, truly, with the smug look on his face and overly huge grin on his mouth, that Wonwoo had been waiting for you and Soonyoung at the said place.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung talk animatedly about work and how the week went by so slow with the load of work they had to finish. The two apparently met at work and have been friends since then.

You stay silent for the most part, reason truly being to tired from work. You tell them you had been working ten to eleven hours a day since Monday because of the preparation for the program’s launch. Soonyoung points out that all you’ve been eating for the entire week are noodles and soda.

“That’s not healthy,” Wonwoo comments.

“I know,” you sigh. “But I don’t really have that much time to make something for breakfast. And I would be too tired in the evening to even wait for food delivery so I just settle on what I have.”

The conversation falls into place, awkwardness from the first few minutes gone, thanks to a tipsy Soonyoung clearing the air for everyone. And just like this, you and Wonwoo fell into another routine, as if those years of nothingness between you and him never existed.

***

Jihoon is surprised when he sees you and Wonwoo pick him up from the airport.

You had filled him in, of course, with the situation and how much you hate it, but still, your best friend couldn’t hide how happy (maybe?) he was to see you and Wonwoo together (not really). You decided to let Jihoon stay in your apartment for the entire two weeks that he needed to be here for business. One thing common about you and him, he could never sleep well on a hotel’s bed.

Wonwoo tags along, of course, and it’s the first time he sees where you live. You see him briefly stare at the pictures you had displayed in your small living room (many, many photographs of you and Jihoon, your family, some friends, and your pets who were left at home). He takes a second to study each, and you wonder if he’d been expecting to see his face on the photographs.

“Thanks, Wonwoo, for driving us here,” Jihoon says. “Y/N, I told you it would be more convenient if you get a driver’s license and buy a car. Especially here in Seoul. How are you commuting every damn day?”

You shrug as you start to unpack Jihoon’s carry on. “The company pays for my transportation. Also, driving, me? Can you really picture that?”

Both Wonwoo and Jihoon laugh.

“Some things never change,” Wonwoo mumbles.

You never learned how to drive because Wonwoo always drove you to places when you were younger. You were too uncoordinated to learn it on your own, and now you feel like you’re too old to take driving courses.

Wonwoo helps Jihoon settle in on the spare bedroom you had prepared for him. You can’t help but kiss Jihoon on the cheek when you the dried fish he had packed just for you.

“There is dried fish from the supermarket nearby,” Wonwoo comments as he watches you place the delicacies on the cupboard. “They’re good, too.”

You shake your head, still smiling, “Nothing will ever taste like home.”

Jihoon agrees from his bedroom.

The three of you decide to have dinner across the apartment complex. Soonyoung joins you within half an hour, which is why as soon as you finish your meal, alcohol is served on the table.

“You’re a fucking alcoholic,” you joke. Soonyoung pouts and says it’s the best time to drink because Jihoon is here. This is, as he says, a rare occurrence in the universe.

Eventually, Soonyoung was able to pursuade the three of you to drink, but he was already too tipsy himself to realize that you and Wonwoo had stopped taking shots on your second ones. Jihoon, however, seems to be having fun drinking with Soonyoung.

When the clock hits 12, Soonyoung’s roommate arrives to pick him up. The man introduces himself as Jun.

Jun is handsome, and he shakes his head when you offer him a drink. Soonyoung begins to tease you and tells everyone that he’s never seen you so red before. You tell them it’s the alcohol, but even Jihoon wasn’t buying it. Flirting wasn’t really your forte, and maybe it was those two shots of soju that helped you speak confidently with Jun the entire 20 minutes he sat on your table.

“Sorry,” you say as you and Jun haul Soonyoung to the car.

“It’s fine,” the man answers and settles his friend on the back seat. “I wonder why Soonyoung never introduced you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you reply. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for picking him up.”

Jun nods, smiling, and takes a device from his back pocket. “Here,” he says softly. “Put your number.”

Your breath is caught when you realize what’s going on, and unconsciously, for a reason unknown to you, you look back at the restaurant where Wonwoo is seated right the wall made in glass.

He is looking right back at you as this is happening.

Jun is quick-witted. He realizes what’s going on and chuckles.

“Oh,” he mutters, about to pull his phone back but you stop him, pulling your eyes away from Wonwoo.

Jun is surprised when you punch your number in and give yourself a missed call.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Nothing’s going on between me and Wonwoo,” you answer confidently.

Jun laughs, and you blush. “I’ll just say I believe you, okay? Now, give me a hug so he can throw more daggers at me. He’s been slaughtering me with his eyes since you and I started talking back there.”

You’re taken aback when Jun suddenly pulls you in, your face buried in his fruity scent and you laugh when he makes an effort to make it look real. He bids goodbye and you watch his car leave before returning to Wonwoo and a very sleepy Jihoon.

“Took you a while,” Wonwoo mumbles and helps Jihoon to stand. “Saying goodbye really takes that long?”

You shrug and walk to the other side of Jihoon, helping him walk as well. “He’s nice.”

“Nice enough to give your number immediately?” he mutters, making you chuckle at the new behavior.

“Yes, of course,” you answer sarcastically. “Soonyoung has mentioned him before. I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”

The three of you walk (Jihoon, very drunkenly) across the street. Wonwoo punches the button to your apartment’s floor and you’re impressed at how easily he remembered it despite being here the first time.

Wonwoo complains about how buff Jihoon had gotten and how heavy he is when he comes back to the living room after closing the door behind your best friend’s room. He catches you making tea, and you don’t even remember grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Tea?” You offer. Wonwoo hums and takes one mug from the counter. He comfortably takes a seat on the couch, taking a look around while waiting for the tea to cool a little. You don’t hesitate to take a seat beside him.

“Nice place,” he comments.

“Isn’t that compliment a little too late?” you joke, blowing air to your tea and deciding to set it down the table beside Wonwoo’s because it’s still too hot.

“We were busy unpacking Jihoon’s things,” he answers. “I didn’t get a good look.”

“Thanks,” you say anyway. “Nothing like home but, you know, it’s nice.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You like comparing everything to what it is at home. If you keep doing that, you’re never going to truly like Seoul. Changwon and Seoul are two different places.”

“I have no plans of liking Seoul,” you answer. “I’m here for work. Once I’m done, I’m going back home.”

Wonwoo nods. He looks at you and finally, you look back at him. Wonwoo had his hair down today, unlike all the other days you’ve seen him. He’s wearing his glasses and it reminds you a lot of what he used to look like when you were in college. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. And you would be lying if you say you’re not attracted to him right now.

He has always been handsome, and though you like when he wears suit and tie, nothing will ever compare to how attractive he looks right now, to how much he looks like the Wonwoo you had known right now.

Wonwoo licks his lips when your eyes meet his, and the sparks light up like a switch, then seconds later he’s kissing you.

Wonwoo’s lips are as soft as you could remember despite how roughly he’s holding you as he kisses the air out of your lungs. His hands are on your jaw, keeping your face still and he dives in, his tongue licking your lips and asking you to open up. You cave in so, so, so easily when his hands travel to your arms and to your legs and when he pulls you so that you’re sitting on top of him.

Wonwoo licks and bites and sucks your lips and your tongue, and the heat between your legs makes you moan. The sound you make invites Wonwoo to touch the skin in your hips, your shirt lifted a little, and suddenly he’s pulling the material over your head.

He is hard when you move closer and sit right on top of his crotch, and he makes the same sinful sound when you grind yourself on his boner. The strap of your bra begins to fall from your arms and this encourages Wonwoo’s lips to leave yours and mark up your shoulders and chest. You throw your head back when Wonwoo pulls one of cups of your bra down and starts kissing your breasts. He nips and sucks where you want it the most and uses his other hand to massage the other.

“Wonwoo,” you moan. “Room.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need a second. He uses his strength to stand and carry you while your legs are wrapped around his waist, teas forgotten and cold. He locks your room, gently places you on bed and pulls his shirt off his body before climbing on top of you again.

“Can I take these off?” He asks. You don’t know which piece of clothing he’s asking but you nod anyway.

Wonwoo unclasps the last piece of clothing that’s covering your chest and continuest to dive in, mouth finding your nipple, sucking, nipping, biting, kissing. And it’s hot and your heart somersaults with how familiar this feels. With how much Wonwoo remembers when it comes to your body. You feel your wetness pool even more between your legs when you realize Wonwoo has been kissing you on the right places, sucking when you need it the most, biting where you want it the most 

“Wonwoo,” you moan when he finishes sucking both your breasts and moves down to kiss your stomach. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks. You involuntarily moan at the nickname and how low and attractive his voice sounds, and how much you remember that he likes words being used when fucking. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need you,” you answer. Wonwoo chuckles, kissing your stomach.

“You need me now?” he taunts. “You seem to like Jun.”

You shake your head, reaching so you could pull him back to your lips. You kiss Wonwoo, palms touching his neck and shoulders. (Wonwoo had started working out, you realize.)

“I’ve only ever liked you,” you say in between kissing him. “Please. I need you.”

“Don’t be in love with someone else,” Wonwoo whispers and you nod. He kisses you one more time before going back down in between your legs.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he commands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Your hands and mouth,” you answer. Wonwoo shakes his head. You sigh, closing your eyes and know exactly what he wants to hear. “Please eat me out, Wonwoo. Please use your tongue and your fingers.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate. “Can I take these off?” You nod. He pulls your pants alongside your panties down.

You bite your lip when Wonwoo breathes out as soon as he sees you on full display. Unconsciously, you start to cover your breasts and close your thighs, but Wonwoo stops you and tells you he wants to see you first. Wonwoo takes his time looking at you, admiring your skin and the wetness between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he whispers and dives in.

Wonwoo knows how to use his tongue well. There were a lot of things you’ve already forgotten about your dynamics, but if you could recall one thing perfectly, it’s how amazing he treated you in bed. He takes his time making small, soft licks on your folds, tongue glazing on your clit, making you squirm and moan. Wonwoo holds you down when you start to move and close your legs on his head.

“I’ve missed this,” Wonwoo mutters as he sucks and kisses your cunt. You’re a moaning mess and even worse when you see him looking right at you as he licks your wetness. “I’ve missed you,” he says, eyes locked to yours, tongue slowly licking up, showing you exactly how wet you are for him through his tongue. He climbs back and kisses you, letting you taste yourself.

Wonwoo takes this moment to slide to fingers in while you’re making out. His mouth swallows your moans when he fingers you fast, your cunt making a scandalous schluck, schluck, schluck sound as his fingers pound you hard and fast. You’re about to cum when Wonwoo stops.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks and that’s when it hits you.

“Fuck, I don’t,” you answer. Wonwoo nods and says it’s okay. He lays on his side beside and starts to slide his fingers again.

“I’ll make you cum like this,” he assures but you shake your head.

“I’m clean,” you say suddenly. Wonwoo takes the message. “I’ve never had sex with anybody after you.”

“Me neither,” he answers and you’re already gone.

“Pull out,” you remind him. “I’m not ovulating so we should be good.”

Wonwoo agrees and removes his pants. His erection springs and it’s huge and red and you sit up to touch him but Wonwoo stops you.

“I might cum as soon as you touch me,” he says. “Next time.”

Next time. Next time. Next time.

You nod and lie back down on your pillows, legs open for Wonwoo, all wet and ready for him. Wonwoo settles between you, one hand on the bed steadying himself and the other holding his hardness. He massages his tip nice and slow with your clit and it takes everything in you not to take matters into your hands and ride the fuck out of him. You let Wonwoo take his time when he slides into you slowly.

He’s as big as you remember, but he prepared you well (and wet) enough for your cunt to swallow his cock gracefully. Wonwoo is a mess when you look at him. His face is read and contorted into a look of pleasure when he feels how warm you are inside.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re still just as warm.”

He begins to slide in and out, a steady pace, and kisses you all over your face, asking if you feel good. You nod and let out a moan when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“You feel exactly the same since the last time.” Since you left. “And I love you,” Wonwoo says. “I love you.”

He says it over and over again. He says it when he pulls out for a second, bringing your legs up on his shoulders and fucking you deeply on your bed. He says it when he spreads your legs again, diving back to your lips, and tells you he’s about to cum. He says it over and over again when he makes you cum first, fingers making circles on your clit as he swallows the noises you make when you reach your orgasm. And he says it when he continues fucking you until he has to pull out and cum on your stomach.

You say it back when Wonwoo carries you to the toilet because he knows you need to pee after sex. You say it again when he cleans you up with the shower head and a towel. You say it again when he carries you back to bed and pulls the covers over your body, kissing you on the lips and on the forehead. You say it again when he’s asleep and you’re staring at the digital clock on your bedside table, Wonwoo hugging you from behind, his naked chest keeping you warm.

Just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, you look at the time again. 1:56 am, it says, and you wonder if it’s going to hurt if it doesn’t work out with Wonwoo for the second time.

Your back aches a little, a small groan leaving your lips when you adjust your torso so that it's more comfortable. Wonwoo remembers it like the back of his hand and helps you adjust yourself so that your back is not as stiff. He mumbles a soft I love you, and you hum when his thumb makes small circles on the skin of your stomach.

The last thing in your mind before completely passing out is the answer: yes. It’s going to hurt.

**

A routine is made after that night.

Wonwoo had woken up long before you, but he stayed on the same position as you slept. The only difference was that he had his phone in his hands as you slept soundly. He had kissed you as soon as he realized you were awake like it’s the most normal thing to do. He had dressed up and said he’ll pick you and Jihoon up for dinner and that he had to leave because he had to do his laundry before Monday arrives.

Indeed, Wonwoo had picked you up that same evening. When he held your hand and kissed you in the car, Jihoon didn’t say anything. After that dinner, Wonwoo stayed the night again (and this time, you and him had to be more quiet because Jihoon was awake and sober in the other room).

The routine goes like this: Wonwoo picks you up from work every day because he clocks out at the same time and eats dinner with you or with you and Jihoon if the latter is not busy. Sometimes he would take you out for dinner, other times he asks you to cook for him at your apartment. He does home and only stays the night if it’s the weekend. When Jihoon leaves Seoul for Busan, he tells you he's happy his best friends are together again, and warns that love is more painful the second time around as much as it is sweeter.

Some weekends, Wonwoo would take you to his father and brother’s apartment nearby the university. Bohyuk looked confused, most likely why you’re suddenly in the picture again when he knows all too well that it didn’t end up nicely between you and his brother,  but he never said anything.

It’s easy to fall into a routine with Wonwoo, and the lines were never blurred. He never shied away from admitting how he felt and conveniently, you had always felt the same.

He apologized for leaving you behind (though, him leaving Changwon wouldn’t have been so bad, you could have compromised) and for never making an effort all because he was too excited to venture out his new life in Seoul. He spends hours talking about his experience and how much he missed you every step of the way. And just like that, you and Wonwoo are back together.

All is well, at least for the time being.

**

The program launch was a success six months in. You had underestimated yourself in the beginning, yet here you are after months of working hard, recognized and praised by your bosses with how efficient you had worked for the last six months.

They jokingly tell you that you’re free to go back home now, but Seoul will always be ready for you whenever you wanted to come back.

And in the last six months, you have learned love the place despite its noise and how busy it is all the time. You have understood why people sought after Seoul’s vibrance and why people find inspiration when they visit the city. You have seen different personalities and realized that maybe it’s not the city that’s giving the place colors, maybe it’s the people and their diversities and quirks. Seoul, finally, is a place you like and would often visit if given the chance.

But in the end, home is still home.

People think that all small town girls want to venture out the big city and learn life from there, but it’s different for you. You like Changwon, and as much as you love Seoul now, nothing compares to home.

And so you decide to go back home.

And Wonwoo wasn’t taking it well.

“But I thought you love Seoul,” he argues when you drop the bomb on him.

“I do,” you answer. “And I love you. But it’s not home, Wonwoo.”

He licks his lips, frustrated and leans back from the dining chair. “Y/N, stay. You’ll do well here.”

“I’ll do better in Changwon, Won,” you reply. “Besides, it’s not like we’re breaking up again. We know better now.”

“You don’t know that,” he mumbles and drinks from the glass.

You sigh, losing the appetite. “Won. I supported you when you wanted to move to Seoul. Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Am I not enough?” He mumbles. You understand but you ask him to repeat. “Am I not enough?”

You laugh sardonically. “It's funny because I was asking myself the exact same thing when you left me for Seoul.”

Wonwoo sighs. “That was different, Y/N. We were just starting our careers back then. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. It’s different this time. You have the choice to stay.”

“And you had the choice to visit me once or twice and to make it work,” you retort. Wonwoo is taken aback by your sudden attitude. “But you didn’t. In your head, it was all Seoul. You told me you didn’t have a reason to come home.”

“I only said that because I was pissed,” he answers. “You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“And you didn’t bother calling back,” you respond. It’s true. He never called back, never tried to apologize, never took a train home to ask you to take him back – which you would have. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

“Was I not enough?” You ask the question back to him. “Was I not enough for you to compromise, Wonwoo? Now, am I not enough for you to finally learn how to compromise and make this work?”

Wonwoo stays silent. You can’t read his mind, so you pick up the dishes and wash up. He avoids you at all costs. By the time the clock hits 9 pm, Wonwoo bids you goodbye – but not before kissing you on the forehead.

When the door is shut, you start to cry and pack your things.

***

Your flight is three days from now, but Soonyoung is already acting like it’s your last day. He reckons it would be nice to have dinner at the same barbecue place for the last time because you would be too busy for he next two days.

The dinner is nice, as always, and Wonwoo is silent the whole time. Soonyoung teases him and tells his friend not to be too sad that you’re going back, unaware of the fight you and the latter had two days ago.

When dinner is done, Wonwoo drives you home and announces that he’s staying the night. You let him and kiss him on the lips before taking a shower.

Wonwoo hugs you while you scroll through your phone on the bed.

It’s been two days and all he’s done is to mope around. He has followed you everywhere but hasn’t said anything about you moving. He takes care of you, kisses you, and even makes love to you but he doesn’t talk about the elephant in the room. You are just as bad; you don’t say anything either.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly when you’re laughing at a video from Instagram, you almost miss it.

“What was that?” you ask, pausing the video and looking up at him. Your head is resting on his arm, his hand playing with one of yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says it again, clearly this time. “I thought about us a lot, even talked to Jihoon and asked for his insights. And I realized how insensitive I have been towards you and this relationship. Jihoon told me about how much pain you went through three years ago—“

“Wonwoo, you’ve already been forgiven,” you interrupt.

“No, please let me apologize properly,” he says. “Three years ago, Changwon wasn’t the place for me. I was happy with you but I knew it in my heart that I couldn’t stay in Changwon. The first week in Seoul was the best week of my life. I had learned how to deal with different personalities here, and found myself learning about my own potentials that I couldn’t see when I was in Changwon. I was happy in Seoul, and it had always felt incomplete because you weren’t around. And I knew you never wanted to move.

“I had asked father and Bohyuk to move here because I knew they’d be better off here, too. And I knew deep down, you weren’t too keen of the idea of moving here with me someday, and that made me mad. That made me think as though you didn’t love me enough to even visit me every weekend, not realizing that you did. You do. You loved me so much that you let me go even when you were lonely and missing me most days. You supported me, and took your days off with me so that we could make it work.

“I was the one who didn’t love you enough to see through what we could have done and compromised to be together until the end. And with you being here in Seoul for the last six months,  I have learned that I can never be truly happy if you’re not with me. So, I’m sorry, Y/N, that I had been too selfish years ago and even now. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize once again a mistake I could have done for the second time. I’m sorry that you had to double your efforts back then and that I had made you feel like you weren’t enough – and the truth is that you are. More than enough if you ask me. And I am willing to meet you halfway to make it work this time.”

By the time Wonwoo is done, you’re already crying and hugging him. You don’t realize this until Wonwoo laughs and comments about how you made a paper towel out of his shirt. You apologize and stand to grab another shirt for him. He thanks you and helps you wipe your tears as you and him sit across each other on your bed.

“So how do we do this?” he asks. “We can take turns going back and forth from Changwon and here.”

“They’re promoting me as senior manager for both sites: Changwon and Seoul,” you announce. Wonwoo gasps and hugs you. “You can come visit me if you miss me too much, but I’d like to talk about moving some of my things to your apartment if you don’t mind.. I’m giving this place up.”

Wonwoo kisses you again and again, saying he’s proud of you and tells you that he’s going to start moving your things tomorrow. You tell him that you will still take the flight to Changwon in three days to check on your team, but you’ll most likely be back in a month.

You and Wonwoo spend hours talking about your plans, and somehow it reminds you of three years ago when Wonwoo had to leave. But this time, instead of hushed promises, you and him had plans: a timetable and a commitment to make it work this time.

Wonwoo randomly brings up the question of marriage and what would happen by the time you and him decide to tie the knot. You kiss him goodnight and tell him that you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. He asks if you would marry him if he asks you.

You say yes before you and him drift to sleep.

***

The flight back to Changwon took an hour at least. Your luggage weighs lighter compared to how heavy it was when you left six months ago.

There is a light, hopeful feeling in your chest as you push your luggage in the middle of the busy arrival area. Your phone dings, but you decide you’d check it later when you reach home.

Changwon is much, much warmer than Seoul, and you kind of forgotten because you wore a jacket before departing the city. Its salty air hits you as soon as you step out of the airport and suddenly, you’re reminded why you loved home so much.

The taxi stops right in front of you. The old man helps you with your luggage albeit light. You thank him and he asks you the address. His accent tells you you’re home.

Your phone dings again, and you pull out your phone this time.

The messages are from Wonwoo. The first one is a picture of him pouting with a caption “missing you already x”.

The second one is a message that makes your heart swell.

From: Wonuuu <3 Seoul is colder without you. Have a great time in Changwon, love. Trust that your Wonwoo will wait for you.

igloo | h.rj

“i make him lose his cool, yeah i make him go…”

💿now playing: igloo by kiss of life

❯ summary: No Nut November is stupid—so why is your boyfriend making a bet with Hyuck that he can last the longest? Surely he doesn’t want to actually deprive himself from sex with you for a month? Surely he’s not serious…? Oh, he is. That won’t do.

❯ pairings: renjun x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 4.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, petty stupid argument, slight angst, female masturbation, voyeurism, premature ejaculation, begging, slight sub!renjun, lots of teasing, reader uses she/her pronouns, basically just renjun agreeing to a stupid bet and y/n making him regret it

“Personally,” Hyuck says, throwing his hands up confidently, “I think I’d last the longest. Strong willpower and all that, you know?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, swatting him with a light smack on the back of the head. “No, you wouldn’t. You can’t go five minutes without emptying your balls, slut.”

Hyuck growls, winding up to smack him on the back, but he stops short as you stroll into the living room, a few cans of beer balanced in your hands. You drop them onto the coffee table with a loud thud, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

“What are you idiots arguing about now?”

This was how every Friday night hangout went with your boyfriend and his friends. Laughter, drinks, and memories in the making—until Hyuck and Renjun would start bickering. Hyuck started it every time on purpose, and without fail, your boyfriend would take the bait, falling right into his trap.

And when you say fall right in, you mean it. They’re so wrapped up in each other’s throats that neither even acknowledge your question. You turn to Jisung, who shrugs and mutters something about No Nut November. Your mouth drops open in an “oh.”

“I’m just saying, I’d last the longest out of all you boys,” Hyuck insists, crossing his arms lazily.

“Bullshit!”

Hyuck’s brows knit together. “Oh, so you think you could last longer, Junnie?”

“Without question,” Renjun scoffs. “I’d last longer than you in every single way.”

Hyuck scowls. And perhaps it’s the double meaning in Renjun’s words that has him snapping, or just his overall general competitive streak, but all of a sudden he has no interest in dropping this argument or backing down. 

“Are you challenging me, Huang Renjun?”

Renjun grins, leaning forward. “I mean, if you’re asking…”

You can’t believe Renjun is even entertaining the idea. No Nut November is stupid on a good day, let alone when someone has a girlfriend, you think. But it’s downright laughable when that someone happens to be your boyfriend—and the two of you go at it like rabbits.

Hyuck smirks, his gaze flickering from you to your boyfriend with a glint of mischief. “Oh, I’m definitely asking. Let’s see,” he drawls, leaning back with an exaggerated grin. “Which one of us can last the longest this month, loser owes the other $1000?”

“Done.”

You stare at Renjun, your mouth slightly ajar. “Done?” you echo, your tone fuming. He doesn’t even flinch, too busy locking eyes with Hyuck like it’s some weird standoff: men and their egos. 

“Renjun,” you say, sharper now, catching his attention. His eyes flicker over to you, and for a split second, you think he might come to his senses. “You’re my boyfriend. My boyfriend,” you emphasise. “You just basically agreed to not have sex with me for an entire month.”

“Well technically, you can have sex but he just can’t cum—”

“Not now, Jisung!” You snap. 

Hyuck bursts out laughing, clapping his hands like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all year. “Oh, I sooo have this in the bag,” he cackles. “And Renjun, you can’t take it back now. We shook on it—well, metaphorically. I have witnesses.” 

Renjun pales slightly, glancing between you and Hyuck. “I—uh—” he stammers, but Hyuck cuts him off, wagging a finger mockingly. 

“Nope! Rules are rules, Junnie. You’re in this now…unless you wanna forfeit—”

“No!”

You cross your arms, fixing Renjun with a glare. “So, let me get this straight. You’re really going to prioritise this over your girlfriend?”

“It’s not like that!” Renjun says quickly, looking genuinely panicked now. “It’s just—Hyuck started it!”

“Hyuck started it?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your excuse? Are we in middle school?”

“No–baby–I–” Renjun stutters. “I just—You know what he’s like. He’d never let me hear the end of it if I said no.”

“Oh, I still won’t,” Hyuck chimes in, grinning ear to ear. “Because there’s no way you’re making it through this, Junnie. Not when your girl looks like that.” Hyuck gestures toward you with a smirk, clearly enjoying every second of this.

Renjun glares at him, a growl of anger leaving his lips, but you’re quick to interject. “So you’re risking $1,000 and pausing our entire sex life for a month—because you can’t handle Hyuck’s teasing?”

Renjun winces. “When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”

“That’s because it is bad,” you shoot back. “What are you even trying to prove? That you have more self-control than Hyuck? Congratulations, Renjun. Everyone already knows that.”

Hyuck gasps, feigning offence by clutching his fists to his chest. “Wow, Y/N. You wound me.”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” you retort dryly because he’s pissed you off just as much.

Renjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s just a month. It’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?” you cut him off. “You do realise this affects me too, right?” You throw your hands up, standing to your feet. “Fine. You know what? Do whatever you want. But if you even think about caving, just remember—you’ll owe Hyuck $1,000 and me an apology.”

With that, you grab your beer and stomp out of the living room, leaving Renjun to stew. Hyuck leans back, grinning smugly before turning to Jisung. “I give him three days.”

Jisung nods thoughtfully. “I’m thinking two.”

Renjun manages to last two weeks without cumming—a new record since the two of you started dating, though it’s hardly an accomplishment. When your girlfriend is mad at you, it’s easy not to cum—mainly because you weren’t offering.

You weren’t outright ignoring him, but your usual affection had taken a sharp nosedive. No lingering kisses, no teasing touches, no late-night “accidental” brushes under the covers. It was like you’d put him on lockdown—and, annoyingly, he was thankful for it.

That pissed you off even more.

Here you were, trying to make a point, and Renjun was treating it like some kind of twisted blessing. He wasn’t sulking, wasn’t apologising profusely like he usually would. Instead, he seemed…relieved, like your passive-aggressive cold shoulder was doing him a favour.

It especially pissed you off one night when Renjun came back from dance practice, his shirt clinging to his torso, sweat beading on his forehead, and his eyes glazed over in exhaustion. Usually, when he came home like that—when it wasn’t No Nut November—you’d order takeout, settle on the sofa, and have lazy couch sex, no effort, no stress.

But not tonight.

No, because it is No Nut November and he agreed to it. So instead of collapsing into your arms, he takes himself upstairs, barely sparing you a glance, getting straight in the shower and tossing on a pair of grey sweatpants—torture, you think—and sits himself down in front of his PC, clicking at the keyboard as he logs online

He. Pisses. You. Off.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you snap, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him as he spins his chair around to face you on the bed.

He raises an eyebrow, pulling his headphones off and letting them hang loosely around his neck. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t miss me touching you, do you?” 

“Baby,” he starts, his voice low and soft, “That’s not true—”

“Really?” You tilt your head. “Because it sure feels true.”

Renjun runs a hand through his hair. “I do miss you. I miss you a lot, okay? But you’re mad at me, and I know I deserve it...so I wanted to give you space.”

You shake your head, “That feels oddly convenient.”

“I promise you it’s not,” he sighs, cautiously sliding closer. “How about this… is there anything I can do to at least try and make it up to you?”

You arched an eyebrow. “That depends. Are you planning on sticking to this ridiculous bet?”

He hesitates, and you can practically see the war waging in his head. “...Hyuck will never let me live it down if I back out,” he admits sheepishly.

You groan, sinking back against the headboard. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

Renjun doesn’t make a move to comfort you, doesn’t try to touch or reach for you. He knows you’re pissed, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to drop this stupid fucking bet. His eyes flicker to you for a split second, and even though you're giving him nothing but cold, angry silence, he can’t help but think how fucking cute you look when you're this worked up.

You’re absolutely right to be mad. He’s an idiot. He misses you so much, misses your lips, your touch, your smile. 

Fuck, he feels his resolve starting to crack, and so he spins around in his chair, putting all his attention back on his game and not on your pretty little pout. His fingers hit the keyboard aggressively. And although his eyes stay glued to the screen, he can feel the heat of your stare drilling into the back of his head.

Unbelievable, you think.

He’s really doing this. Pretending like he doesn’t care that you're right there, seething and beautiful and willing. You can see the tension in his shoulders, how his jaw tightens whenever he thinks you’re not looking. He needs this, needs you but he won’t let himself because he’s been in a dick swinging competition with Lee Donghyuck since he met him. 

It pisses you off—at first. But then the anger twists into something darker, bolder. Maybe it’s the frustration of going a week without him, or maybe it’s just the pure, unfiltered horniness. Either way, your patience snaps. 

You didn’t agree to this no-orgasms-for-a-month bullshit. You had nothing to lose. You didn’t need to punish yourself. 

If Renjun won’t help you, fine. You’ll just have to take care of it yourself.

The thought is intoxicating, and once it’s in your head, there’s no shaking it. You shift against the headboard, eyes locked on his back. He’s been insufferable, sure, but the memory of him coming home sweaty and dishevelled—so fucking hot—has you pent up.

Your fingers brush your lips, and you can almost feel his again. Wet. Hungry. God, you’ve missed stumbling into bed together, tugging at his clothes and fighting for breath. You’ve missed the warmth of his body, and Renjun was always warm; the way he feels against you—scorching, consuming, addictive. He’s practically a fire hazard for your senses.

Your hand trails down, teasing over your chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric as you imagine it’s his touch. He could be doing this—should be doing this—but he won’t. Because you both know it wouldn’t stop there.

You let out a slow breath, the ache between your thighs growing more unbearable with every passing second. It’s the closest you’ve been to sex for the past two weeks and still, Renjun hasn’t looked at you once, his focus stubbornly locked on his stupid game. 

The memory of him murmuring “Look, it’s just a month,” as he ran a hand through his hair flashes through your mind, and it makes you want to scream. He had no idea how badly you’d need him, how badly you’d miss him, and how much it would hurt when he started pulling away. Or maybe he did and perhaps he was being selfish. 

But that’s okay, because you were about to do your own version of self-indulgence. 

Your hands drift to your thighs, nails raking lightly against your skin as you glare at his back. He hasn’t even flinched, acting like he can’t feel the fire you’re staring into his hair. 

You start slow—fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties, the warmth pooling low in your stomach making you shiver. You bite your lip as you press down harder, a sharp pang of pleasure hitting you as you add a small amount of pressure. The thought of him watching, of him finally snapping and turning around, sends a thrill straight through you. But he doesn’t move. 

You want him to move. 

You try parting your lips with a quiet sigh to get his attention—hands still teasing yourself, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. You know exactly how to touch yourself, how to work your body into a frenzy. But it’s not enough—it’s never enough—not when you know how much better it feels when it’s him.

When he still doesn’t look, your last ounce of patience snaps. Fine, if he wants to ignore you, you’ll make damn sure he can’t.

Your hand moves to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer with just enough force to make it rattle. You grab the vibrator—the vibrator, the one he’d bought you for your birthday with that smug little grin, saying he wanted to “make things interesting.” Well, you plan on making tonight very interesting.

This isn’t for fun. This is revenge, pure and simple.

You lean back against the headboard, spreading your legs just enough to get comfortable, the cool air hitting your heated skin. Your thumb presses the button, and the low buzz fills the room, cutting through the quiet. It’s barely louder than a whisper, but it’s enough to make Renjun’s fingers pause mid-keystroke, his entire body going still.

Good.

You don’t even look at him. Not yet. Instead, you drag the toy against your inner thigh, a soft moan slipping past your lips, breathy and deliberate, as you let your head fall back, eyes fluttering shut.

And then, just like you planned, he turns. And when he sees you—legs spread, vibrator in hand—his eyes go impossibly wide.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

You hum softly, dragging the toy up your thigh with evil slowness. Your lips part with a quiet gasp, and his breath hitches audibly. “I’m watering the plants. What does it look like I’m doing!?”

“Y/N,” he tries again, this time more forceful, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as he takes a long deep breath. His hand clenches the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “I’m serious. Turn that off.”

You finally meet his gaze, expression dripping with mock innocence as you scoff. “Why? I never agreed to No Nut November. I can entertain myself all I like.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. You can see the panic flickering in his eyes, the video game in the background long abandoned flashing with the ‘respawn’ screen as a flush creeps up his neck. You can tell he is desperately trying to hold onto whatever self-control he has left. So far, No Nut November had been surprisingly easy for him—mostly because you’d been at each other’s throats all week. But now? With you looking like this? He’s fucked.

“Y/N, I mean it,” he warns, his voice shaky. His gaze darts to the vibrator in your hand, then to the way your legs are spread, and then back to your face. You can tell he’s trying not to look, but his resolve is cracking with every passing second.

You shake your head, biting your lip as you trace the toy over your clothed clit. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. You don’t miss the way his hand twitches like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you as you whimper. 

“You know…you could always just look away,” you say with a shrug, your tone light, teasing. “Unless, of course, you like watching.”

His eyes snap to yours, panic flashing behind them, but there’s no hiding the way his chest is rising and falling faster now. The blush staining his cheeks deepens as he shifts again, and your eyes drop—just for a second—to the bulge straining against his pants.

Like you said, those grey sweatpants are torture and you can see everything. It only spurs you on to pull your panties to the side and run the buzzing toy between your slick wet folds. The first real contact has you gasping, your back arching slightly against the headboard, and Renjun visibly twitches in his chair.

“Y/N, I’m warning you,” he tries again, but his voice is shaky, almost pleading.

“Warning me?” You echo. “What are you gonna do, huh? It’s not like you can do anything. You’re just gonna sit there and play your game while I get myself off because of a stupid dumb bet.”

His hand flexes against the armrest, his breathing ragged now, and you know you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

“Go on,” you taunt, your voice dropping lower, dripping with mockery. “Prove how much self-control you have. Or…” You trail off, letting another soft moan spill from your lips, your eyes locked on his. “You can always give up that stupid bet and come help me.”

Renjun moves before he can stop himself, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stands. His body betrays his mind, the bulge in his sweats unmistakable as he strides toward you, breath shallow with desperation. 

Fuck the bet. Fuck Hyuck. He just wants to fuck you. 

“Alright, fine,” he growls, “You’ve made your point. Just—just stop, let me—”

But before he can close the distance, before he can even get a touch of what he’s been missing, you press your foot firmly against his chest, halting him mid-step. His eyes widen, lips parting as he gasps, completely caught off guard by the sudden force of it. For a long moment, he stands frozen, confused.

“Hmmm, I’ve changed my mind,” you say in a low voice. “You don’t get to make the rules and then break them the second you get hard. Sit. Back. Down.”

“Y/N,” he whines, the sound ragged and desperate. His hands hover around you like he doesn’t know whether to push forward or pull back. “I thought—”

You simply smirk, leaning back into the headboard with an air of defiance, your leg still pressed against his chest, keeping him in place and giving him a perfect view of your open-spread legs. The vibrator hums between your thighs, and you can feel his gaze searing into you, his eyes flicking down to where it rests beneath your wet soaked panties.

Fucking torture.

You drag the vibrator over yourself with steady, careful motions, breath hitching as you lean into the sensation (slightly making a show of it to tease him further). “You wanted to prove you could last, didn’t you? Prove it. Watch me.” You purr. 

He groans, his head tilting back as his hands curl into tight fists, helpless and frustrated. “You’re fucking cruel,” he mutters, his voice strained, barely keeping it together.

“Am I?” you tease, your words laced with finger-licking venom. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, Renjun. Ignoring me, turning your back, all for a stupid bet with Hyuck? Now you get to feel exactly how I’ve felt.”

His jaw clenches as his hips shift, the fabric of his sweats doing nothing to hide his need. His eyes lock on yours, pleading, his chest rising and falling with erratic breaths. “Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” you taunt. “Please stop? Please let you touch me?” You press the vibrator harder against yourself, letting out a loud, shaky moan, and his knees nearly buckle as you continue, your smirk growing as you watch him unravel. 

His body trembles, a curse escaping him as he sinks back into the chair, defeated and desperate, fighting the urge to touch you, to do something, anything. Renjun’s never felt a tightness in his body like this before. His muscles are tense, every inch of him on fire, but it’s not the good kind of heat—it’s raw and painful, like his body’s been caught in a vice that won’t let go. His breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, every shift only intensifying the ache. The throb is relentless. 

"Y/N, please," he whines desperately, the plea barely a whisper, but you hear it. He looks so broken, so beautiful, eyes fluttering closed as he tries to regain some shred of control. 

You smirk at his desperate pleas, the sound making your heart race faster. You’ve never seen him this far gone for you, and knowing you've been the one to drive him to the edge like this—it’s a rush.

You spread your legs even wider, the cool air of the room hitting you and you moan as you pull your panties down and toss them aside. He stares at you—eyes wide, face flushed, lips parted—as you slide your fingers between your slick folds. You’re so wet already, so hot, and all it takes is the combination of cool air and the vibrator on your clit to have you soaring. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering as you arch against the toy in your hand. “God, I’m so close.”

He groans in response, hips shifting against the chair as he fights the urge to move, his body desperate for friction, for any kind of touch.

“Y/N, please,” he tries again, voice so thick with need. “Let me help. Please. Let me—”

You press harder, your entire body starting to tingle as you drive yourself closer to the edge. His own hips roll desperately, and you wonder how close he is too. He doesn’t even need a hand, it seems. His body’s already learning to react without stimulation—and it would be his own fault for blue balling himself for two weeks. The thought of it almost sends you over the edge, but you want to draw this out a bit longer.

“Nope,” you grunt, breathy moans escaping you as your hand speeds up. “No touching.”

His breath hitches. “Fuck, you’re so fucking cruel,” he pants, his body writhing in the chair. His face is flushed, eyes wild, and you can tell he's not far from losing it completely.

You smirk. “And you’re so fucking desperate,” you reply. “So close, aren’t you? And I haven’t even touched you.”

He nods, his hips rolling desperately as he clutches the edge of the chair, knuckles going white with tension. You can almost feel the ache in his body as he strains against himself, fighting against his own needs.

Your eyes flick to where his sweats are straining and you let out a small whimper at the sight. God, he’s so big, and you can practically imagine him thrusting against you, his cock sliding in deep with a rough, possessive motion. Fuck you’ve missed that. You gasp, your body clenching around nothing, and you swear you can feel his touch on you, all over, everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“God,” you whisper, your hand moving the toy faster against your clit. “God, fuck—Renjun,” your voice breaks on his name, “Fuck, I’m close.”

His hips snap forward, his back bowing against the chair. “Oh fuck,” he moans, his eyes wide as they stare straight into yours. “Fuck, baby. So pretty—”

You cum with a sharp cry, your hand spasming against yourself as your body trembles through the orgasm. Renjun watches—desperate and hungry—for every second of it, just the sound of your orgasm sending his own body to the edge.

“God, yes,” he groans, eyes closing with a harsh curse. “Fuck, yes. Y/N, fuck, yes.”

You open your eyes to see him bucking in the chair, his body shaking as he stares at you—wide-eyed and panting. You watch his cum spill into his sweatpants, creating a dark, damp stain that makes your chest swell with satisfaction.

Your gaze stays locked on him—your body still twitching as your own orgasm fades—and a slow smile spreads across your face as you realise he came untouched, from just watching.

Your boyfriend sits frozen, completely caught off guard, his eyes staring blankly at his lap, cum stain splattered over his sweats. He blinks rapidly as he struggles to form coherent thoughts, his mind a mess. A long, long moment passes, and then he lets out an awkward cough, eyes darting around the room in search of an escape. There’s none. He’s just cum all over himself and can’t even blame it on someone else.

He looks mortified.

You bite your lip, a mischievous smile tugging on your face. “I’m sure Hyuck’s gonna love this.”

“Hyuck isn’t finding out,” he groans. 

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh, he will. You made a bet about not cumming for a month, and well…”

Renjun growls low in his throat, rising up and crawling onto the bed. “Exactly. I made a bet with him, and if I’m gonna lose $1,000, I might as well fuck my girlfriend properly, and cum inside her, and tell him that’s how I lost, since you wanna be such a fucking tease.”

You smile as he hovers over you, a challenging gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? Is that a threat?”

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s a promise.”

— inflection point ⟢

a jeongcheol poly series!

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x afab!reader x seungcheol

★ STATUS; complete ; adding side stories as requested

★ TAGS; established polyamorous relationship, fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; because i'm getting an influx of inflection point side story/blurb requests, i decided to compile everything into a single masterlist for easy access! this remains one of my personal favorites and i'd love nothing more than to share more of reader's daily life with her two hot and rich boyfriends :3c

— main story ✧

✧ part one ✧

word count: 5.7k words

summary: you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

tags: unresolved emotional tension, friends to lovers on the hannie side of things, lovers to exes to enemies to lovers again on the cheol side of things, established relationship, angst, smut

✧ part two ✧

word count: 8.3k words

summary:  things make a turn for the worse (or the better?) when jeonghan leaves you with the most insufferable person on earth. but maybe a few weeks alone is exactly what you and seungcheol needed after all.

tags: unresolved emotional tension, established relationship, angst, smut

✧ part three ✧

word count: 7.6k words

summary: after reconciling with your first love, all seems well in your relationship thus far. but when you notice jeonghan distancing himself from you and seungcheol, you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

tags: established relationship, angst, smut

— side stories ✧

(🧺) smut (🎻) angst (🧸) fluff (☕️) crack

— getting rawed by cheol | 🧺 — when you're having a bad day | 🧸 — cheol locker room sex for good luck + hannie fucking his cum back inside you | 🧺

⟢ notes from kai: requests are perpetually open for this series regardless of whether i'm accepting general requests or not :3c that's how much i love this story LOL i can NEVER put it past me it seems.... altho i can't say whether i can cook something up right away when you request it, but i'll definitely consider each and every one! just slide into my ask and abuse the inflection point privilege~

KINKTOBER 2022 by enluc !

a month full of nsfw content , im not new to writing tumblr but i’ve never participated in kinktober ! — there’s only a few rules : minors do not interact this entire masterlist includes nsfw content aka smut. your consumption is your responsibility ! and last but not least if you don’t like it, don’t read !

extra : mostly all of the writings are dom!idol x afab!reader / gn!reader ( y/n has a vagina ) this was heavily influenced by @jaylaxies ! if anything is the same feel free to send an ask and let me know bill change it <3.

taglist — to be added send in an ask with the certain members / idols you want to be added on to. ex. enluc id like to be added to beomgyu / txt kinktober posts !

day one — sex with yeonjun

day two — somno with heeseung

day three — handcuffs with soobin

day four — mirror sex with jake

day five — first time with beomgyu

day six — friend with benifits with jay

day seven — temp play with taehyun

day eight — sensory deprivation with sunghoon

day nine — exhibition with heeseung

day ten — mutual masturbation with taehyun

day eleven — morning sex with jay

day twelve — overstimulation with heeseung

day thirteen — thigh riding with yeonjun

day fourteen — voyeurism with jakehoon ( threesome )

day fifteen — corruption with beomgyu

day sixteen — pet play with soobin

day seventeen — edging with sunghoon

day eighteen — face fucking with taehyun

day nineteen — breeding with heeseung

day twenty — size kink with jake

day twenty - one — head with soobin

day twenty - two — fingering with sunghoon

day twenty - three — sex tape with yeonjun

day twenty - four — polaroids with jay

day twenty - five — marking with soobin

day twenty - six — praise with jake

day twenty - seven — kitchen sex with jay

day twenty - eight — pool sex with beomgyu

day twenty - nine — shower sex with taehyun

day thirty — orgasm denial with sunghoon

day thirty - one — dumbification with heeseung

ENLUC 2022 ©️ do not copy , repost or translate my work.

- ̗̀ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 ˎˊ-

✏︎ pairing: teacher!vernon x teacher!yn (gn)

✏︎ synopsis: falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband

✏︎ genre: fluff, romance, comedy

✏︎ warnings: food/drinks, innuendos, insecurities, language, mutual pining (you know that feeling you get when you really like somebody but you can't bring yourself to tell them so all you can do is enjoy the moment that you're spending with them? it's that), skinship, spirit week/rallies should be a warning itself imo, everything that happens in the last chapter

✏︎ wc: 8.8k

✏︎ a/n: the full vernon work husband fic is finally here ahh!! this one is dedicated to those with secret crushes and those who are too shy to confess. I hope this au can give you a bit of comfort, joy, and happiness. please let me know if I missed any warnings! + comments and reviews are always appreciated. I finished editing this A LOT faster than I imagined so pls enjoy my bbs &lt;3

“I need you to go on a double date with me.”

Your friend’s question appears out of nowhere and catches you off-guard. Some of the latte you drink dribbles out of your mouth, runs down your chin, and splatters on your slacks. Your friend quickly leans over the table and takes your cup out of your hand, handing you some napkins. You wipe your chin and dab away at your slacks, groaning at the thought of returning to class and standing in front of your science class with prominently stained pants – cinnamon oat milk flavored if it honestly matters.

“Absolutely not,” you put the soaked napkins on the table and grab a wet wipe from Jeonghan’s stretched hand. He learned to always be prepared when it comes to you – it’s not very often he doesn’t see you with some weird stain on your clothes; after all, you are an Environmental Science teacher. 

“Come on, Yn,” he whines while you rub furiously at the stain with the wipe. “I didn’t even tell you when or where the date is going to take place. How could you reject me so quickly?”

“Jeonghan, I really don’t have time right now,” you sigh and drop the wipe next to the wet napkins. He stares at you with pleading eyes, his hands in prayer. “You know how busy I get whenever Spring Break is almost here. We have midterms this week, there’s the spirit rally, and not to mention my errands…” you trail.

“But what if the person I’m meeting is sketchy?” he sulks.

“Then they should be the one afraid because you’re the sketchiest person I know,” you exclaim. “Where did you even meet them in the first place?”

“Tinder,” he takes a sip of his Iced Americano and places the glass cup back down on the beige café table.

“You know what…” you let the thought marinate in your head for a brief moment. “You’re right. They actually might be sketchier than you are.”

He quickly nods his head in agreement. To him, this is a more than good enough reason for you to go on the double date with him.

“But I’m not going on a double date with you. People already get the wrong idea about us.”

.

In the middle of the same café, Seungkwan thanks the barista at the cash register and walks over to the side of the counter to wait for his coffee. While stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, Seungkwan’s eyes gloss over the several artisanal coffee bean bags and teas on display along the white café walls before his eyes wander to the several people sitting in the café. His head gently bops to the music playing in the background while he people watches. There are a few college students hunched over their laptops and a couple of people near the windows having lunch. Sitting in the corner of the room is a familiar face he’s seen on social media and sometimes in passing when he drops by Vernon’s classroom for lunch.

You seem to be bantering with the guy sitting across from you, but Seungkwan can’t hear anything from where he’s standing. From the looks of it, his friend’s earlier apprehensions about your lunch plans seem to be confirmed. His cellphone vibrates in his hand, and he flips it open to look at the text from the same friend who stayed up worrying last night:

[text from: nonie]

nonie: wyd? i'm bored rn bc yn isn't here

kwan: apparently looking at yn on a date

nonie: should I be concerned?

kwan: yeah you should be bc he's pretty handsome

kwan: should be you tho

nonie: see? I told you it was a date bc they styled their hair differently

kwan: but don’t people normally dress differently for dates?

nonie: but yn always dresses nicely bc they spend too much time deciding what they're going to wear for the day. like they even take into consideration the weather changes throughout the day.

nonie: so nice hair = extra effort

kwan: I’m begging you to go get a life

nonie: bro call me

kwan: i'm picking up my coffee now. byeee

.

“You see my wallet?” Jeonghan opens his black wallet in front of him like a picture book for you to see. He tips it forward and opens it slightly so you can see the bills stacked neatly against each other. “I will literally pay you to go on this double date with me. If anything, maybe the friend will be hot and Vernon will get jealous and actually ask you out.”

You roll your eyes at him and motion for him to put his wallet away. You can’t believe he came prepared with his monetary bribe. “But Vernon doesn’t seem like the type to get jealous.”

Your phone pings and three consecutive messages wake your screen:

[text from: work husband]

work husband: I miss you. my lunch sucks today :P

work husband: I’m eating in my classroom today bc I’m avoiding Carl

work husband: fucking Carl

Jeonghan’s eyebrow arches while you try your best to avoid replying to Vernon. Not the type to get jealous my ass, Jeonghan thinks while reluctantly putting his wallet away. Telling you to do your hair differently was his idea. So, if his plan worked, Vernon probably sent you messages because he thinks you’re on a date with somebody. 

“How about you ask out Vernon yourself?” Jeonghan takes his provided fork to prod at his forgotten slice of cake in the middle of the table. He knocks off the strawberry at the top of the cake and plunges his metal fork into the tip of the cake. The fluffy spongey matcha cake that sandwiches diced strawberries and fresh crème fraiche? A perfect mouthful. 

His question doesn't mean anything in particular. Jeonghan usually asks you whatever he thinks, but you’re glad you aren't drinking anything this time. If you did, your latte was absolutely going to end up anywhere but in your mouth. So while Jeonghan enjoys his dessert, you’re faced with another problem:

“How? I don’t even know if he flirts with me because it’s a part of his work husband act or if it’s because he actually likes me.”

“You bring him lunches every day and he pays for your groceries. I’ve tasted your cooking before,” he says in between bites. “There’s no way that man isn’t in love with you.” He places his fork down and reaches over, taking a sip of his Iced Americano to cancel a bit of the cake’s sweetness. He nods in delight. Going to this café for afternoon tea was honestly such a good idea. 

“You know I only bring lunches for him because I always end up cooking extra,” you grumble while thinking about whether or not you should answer his texts.

Your phone pings again. Jeonghan props his elbow on the table and lazily rests his cheek against his knuckle. He notices you itching to pick up your phone and sighs to himself. He’s now halfway through his cake while your apple pie sits in front of you, idle and long forgotten. He thinks that maybe if he feeds you some of his cake you would forgive him for eating your slice.

“I’m literally your best friend. Shouldn’t I be the one you’re cooking for?” he huffs.

Your phone is in your hand. You’ve managed to go a few minutes without replying back to Vernon. Jeonghan is secretly proud of you.

He waves his fork in front of your lip to offer you a bite of the cake. When you notice, you open your mouth to accept his offer.

Fuck yes, he thinks after he sees you close your mouth and chew. He immediately reaches over to swap his half-eaten plate for yours.

[text from: work husband]

work husband: oh I signed us up for crowd control for this Friday’s spirit rally because I know you don’t want to participate in the spirit rally games.

work bb: oh thank god. I completely forgot signups were today.

work bb: if I knew I was going to have to attend spirit rallies again I would’ve never become a high school teacher

work husband: but you wouldn’t have met me :c

Jeonghan leaves his seat to walk to your side while you quickly reply back to Vernon. He tries to look over your shoulder while you shrug him off, turning your body toward the window. Jeonghan is positive that there is no way Vernon isn’t in love with you.

“Anyway,” Jeonghan gives up and returns back to his seat. “I already told my date you agreed to the double date. See you this Saturday.”

“What?” you look up at your best friend and he shrugs while picking up the half-eaten slices of cake and pie.

“Our lunch break is almost over. I’m going to go get these wrapped so you can take them with you to work. Can you throw away our trash? I’ll come back for the drinks.”

[text from: work husband]

work husband: I think some students are filming tiktoks outside my room. I’m going to go scare them.

You tell Jeonghan to order you another cake while he’s getting yours boxed at the counter.

chapter two: gymnasium; spirit rally

It honestly did not make sense at all that Friday’s Spirit Week theme would be called “Tie-Dye Friday,” when Tuesday or Thursday are arguably days that better suit the theme. Nevertheless, you’re standing with Vernon at the side of the school gymnasium wearing the sweatshirt he lent you during the few minutes before your second period class started. Your little interaction certainly caught the attention of some students, and it has been the subject of a majority of their conversations. Because when you have two young and hot teachers at your school who seem to be really close friends, word spreads, and ships sail.

The two of you were hired at the same time two years ago, both fresh out of college with a teaching certificate in hand. It is a pretty distinguished school district, a district that receives awards every year for its rigorous pedagogy. In all honesty, you and Vernon landed your jobs by an extreme stroke of luck. This school district? Hiring not one but two new teachers with little to no teaching experience? There were a few positions open because some teachers were retiring. The teacher who was hired before you had to leave the job for personal reasons, and the teacher hired after that one never showed up for training. It kept going on. You were their last option. Putting pride aside, you were just happy someone decided to hire you. But maybe it was the same stroke of luck that brought the two of you together.

You met Vernon during the summer orientation and quickly became friends, realizing that the two of you had to stick together to try to make it through your first year of teaching. Your classrooms are close together, and he would stop by for a quick chat during breaks, coming over to tease you or disrupt your class. You don’t know what he is doing half the time, but he’s a good teacher. His class is relatively easy as long as you do the studying, and the tests are hard enough that you can’t bullshit your way through and expect an A – they’re in essay question formats after all. Despite his easygoing personality and calm demeanor, rumor says that he’s the strictest person when it comes to testing season. (Mafia boss the students call it.) 

But here you are, standing next to your crush wearing one of his most cherished sweatshirts while a bunch of high schoolers sit on the bleachers and on the wooden floors. A student walks up to the two of you and asks if they could use the restroom. Vernon nods, and the student leaves. Vernon tells you that when a student directly asks you if they could leave the assembly, he would answer for you. He knows you’re the shyer one between the two of you.   

When you have a crush, a big and stinky larger than the sunflowers growing in the garden in front of your classroom type of crush, you cherish any moment spent with them because you never know when the next moment will come. 

“Don’t you have to go get your driver’s license changed?” Jeonghan asked you one night while the two of you were eating dinner at your apartment.

You scrunched your eyebrows together deep in thought, “I don’t think it’s expiring soon.”

“Your address doesn’t match the one on your license though,” Jeonghan pointed at your wallet on counter above the sink.

You got up from the couch and walked over to grab your wallet. You were pretty sure you had at least two years until your license expired, but it didn’t hurt to check. You opened your wallet and looked through the transparent slot in which you put your wallet.

“But my address is correct,” you walked back to the living room and pulled out your license for your best friend to see.

The crowd cheers as students are called from each year to participate in the next activity. It’s cacophonous, but you don’t mind. You join their rambunctiousness – laughing and cheering with those around you.

Vernon leans in and gently nudges your left arm, “You look nice.” He compliments loudly enough so only you can hear.

You grin and raise your left arm in front of you to admire the mix of blue, white, and grey. The fabric smells fresh and feels soft against your skin. It was probably treated with the fabric softener he bought the last time the two of you ran errands together. “I’ll return this to you after I wash it,” you promise him.

“Keep it,” his hands automatically reach to adjust the hood on your sweater so it lays nice and even against your back. “It looks good on you,” he murmurs when he stands in front of you while adjusting and pulling the strings in front of your neck so they’re even.

More cheers erupt from the crowd in front of you, but you are too busy trying to keep yourself from blushing to even care about what is happening in front of you. A few students could’ve exited the building without asking, and you still wouldn’t care.

“No, it’s definitely wrong,” he took the license from your hand and tapped his finger on the printed country.

You leaned in to look at the error on your card.

“It should say Simp Nation right here,” he snickers.

You snatched your license from his hand, “I’m kicking you out of my apartment.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, they make the teachers participate in an obstacle course, show a video about Spring Break safety, and have the school band perform. Vernon somehow procured two seats so the two of you could sit instead of stand the whole time. In the middle of talking to your co-worker about grading midterms, you hear the entire student body shouting for the both of you.

You look up to see some participants making their way to the center of the gymnasium for some game they were nominated to participate in. The two of you shake your heads and politely deny their request. They groan in response, but it can’t be helped. Everybody knew that the two of you rarely participated in assemblies, especially when it came to doing anything remotely physical. Although the two of you are the high school’s youngest staff members, the two of you are also some of the most unmotivated and uncompetitive people to ever exist. Everybody already knew that the two of you were going to reject their request, but it never hurt to try. The most the two of you have done during a spirit rally was walk across the gymnasium while holding a banner the students made. There was also that other time the two of you volunteered to participate in the spicy noodle challenge because the two of you were starving, but that was honestly about it.

When the assembly ends the two of you direct the students out of the gymnasium and stay behind to pick up forgotten belongings to bring to the lost and found.

“Let me take those for you,” he takes the sweaters out of your arms for you. “Do you have any lunch plans today?”

“Yeah I do,” you reply. You look at his face to see if he is at all disappointed. His expression remains blank and he purses his lips.

“It’s your loss,” he makes his way to the gym doors while you walk over to stack the chairs the two of you sat in. “My Rubiks Cube club is having a crazy pizza party,” he calls on his way out.

.

If you count a bunch of students lounging around a history classroom with a bunch of Star Wars and other pop culture memorabilia trying to solve their different types of collectible cubes a party, then this one is a banger. A rager even.

Mr. Chwe sits at his desk, right leg anxiously bouncing up and down while he holds his second slice of pizza in his hand. He thought that he managed to play it cool when you told him you had plans, but in reality, the thought of you having lunch plans for the second time this week is making him mentally scream on top of his imaginary mountain into the empty abyss below.

In the background, Dokyeom screams when he solves another side of his Megaminx and proudly holds it up for his club members to see.

[text from: nonie]

nonie: seungkwannn

nonie: help me

kwan: see, you wouldn’t be freaking out if you just asked yn on a date

kwan: you’re constantly flirting with them. I don’t see how you never accidentally asked them out

nonie: I have a bunch of times but they never take me seriously

nonie: yn told me they have plans for lunch

nonie: do you think they’re on a date again?

kwan: oh speaking of dates I have a double date this Saturday

nonie: wait keep talking about that so I stop thinking about yn

kwan: when do you not think about yn?

nonie: never

nonie: they’re actually wearing my sweatshirt today. can you believe it?

kwan: my best friend is a SIMP!

kwan: a shy one who won’t properly confess his feelings! but still!! a simp!!!

kwan: one of my friends from work needed someone to tag along because they’re meeting someone they met on Tinder. I only agreed because they said they would cover one of my overtime shifts for me

nonie: oh that’s scary. the tinder part. not the overtime part.

kwan: right?

nonie: but the idea of yn going on a date that’s not with me is scarier.  

kwan: no wonder you’re a history teacher

nonie: because the humanities is for hot people?

kwan: because you’re a loser

kwan: like I bet you’re actually enjoying the pizza party with your lame rubiks club rn

nonie: oh my god I’m a loser

kwan: a hot one tho!

kwan: wait yn’s classroom is literally under yours. can’t you just go downstairs and check if they’re there?

kwan: did you not do that before you started overthinking?

kwan: Vernon?

.

You adjust your sunhat to shield your face from the brazen afternoon sun. You’re in your gardening overalls, Vernon’s sweatshirt folded neatly and tucked away in your classroom for the time being. It’s finally Spring and you’re tending to the nursery pots in the small garden located outside of your classroom. Around you, your agriculture club works and chats amongst themselves.

Intrusive thoughts are distracting you from what would usually be a lovely day in your garden. Maybe you should’ve told Vernon that you were going to be in the garden with your club today. Vernon probably isn’t overthinking it like how you are, right? But still, was saying you had plans a little too much? Does it sound like you had something important to tend to?

You sigh and stand to stretch your knees. Behind you, your little garden is beautiful, lush, and thriving. The flowers are in bloom and provide shade for the vegetables in the dirt. Everything seems to be thriving and buzzing with life. It makes you happy to see how far the little seedlings have grown.

A student arrives with refreshments that they picked up for everybody. You tell your club to take a break under the shade. It would be a shame if one of them has heatstroke. You take off your gloves and shove them in your side pockets. Your phone pings in the front pocket of your overalls while you make your way into your cool classroom.

[text from: work husband]

work husband: hi love. you took the bus to work today, right?

work husband: let’s pick up some groceries after work and I’ll drop you off at your place

work bb: even when I smell like dirt?

work husband: you’re an envisci teacher. I’d be concerned if you didn’t smell like dirt

work bb: you don’t have anything to do tonight right?

work husband: did you just assume I have no plans on a Friday night

work bb: omg sorry it’s because we always hang after work on Fridays

work husband: no you’re actually right. I have no plans.

work bb: then I’ll cook dinner for us

work husband: I know I’m already work-married to you, but I’m going to marry you one day

work husband: lol

work bb: haha silly

“Teacher Yn,” a couple students approach you while you set your phone face down on your desk.

“Hmm?” you up at them while taking off your sunhat.

“Can we send you a list of ideas we came up for our club education trip? We know we have to fulfill the requirement before the end of the semester, but we wanted to get it out of the way.”

You nod at them, “Sounds fine by me.” You pull up a website on your desktop and show it to your students, “Did you guys include the city garden? It’s pretty close by and it’s pretty this time of year.”

“Did you choose that place so Mr. Chwe can tag along? I heard he likes running there.”

You look at your students in disbelief. How did they even find out things like that?

Just then, someone knocks loudly on your open door. All eyes turn to see Vernon standing at the opening with his gaggle of students behind him, Rubiks Cubes, pizza boxes, and packs of sodas in their hands.

“I brought nerds and pizza.”

One of your students leans in and whispers to you, “Looks like your boyfriend is here.”

You don’t know if you should be happy or if you should consider this to be one of the most horribly timed entrances of all time. You decide you’re going to be happy – it’s Vernon after all.

chapter three: grocery store; dinner

People are definitely staring at the two of you while you grocery shop together. It’s not because the two of you are wearing your tie-dye outfits from earlier today, but because of the fact that Vernon is handsome. At least that’s what you believe. It’s enough to make the other shoppers stare for at least a brief second before they return to their usual routes.

You think your shoes covered in dirt are a direct juxtaposition to his pristine white sneakers. There’s a part of you that will always be insecure whenever you’re in public with your crush, but your hand in his reassures you otherwise.

“Do you think people don’t approach you at grocery stores because I’m next to you?” you ask him while the two of you are hunched over the leafy green section. A handwritten sign states the organic kale is finally on sale.

“Why would you think that?” Vernon curiously asks you. His tone is a bit upset, but he still peruses through a few bundles of kale before choosing the one he like most. He drops it in the plastic bag you opened for him.

“I don’t know,” you shrug while placing the bagged kale into the shopping cart. “You’re handsome and people stare, but nobody is making a move.”

“I don’t care about other people,” he muses. He reaches for the baby carrots on the top shelf and passes the bag to you. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

You push the shopping cart to the fruit section and he follows closely behind you, happy his comment made your ears turn red. He knows you’re embarrassed and is purposely moving onto the fruit section when the two of you still have a few more greens to buy.

But it’s true, he only has eyes on you. Only you don’t seem to realize that he does. He constantly tells you his feelings, but you never seem to take him seriously. He clings onto you and holds your hand in public because he also sees people looking at you. Was it wrong of him to be jealous? Was it wrong to want to hold your hand at all times? Maybe it’s his fault you never do, yet he can only wish for you to take him seriously.

“Hey babe,” Vernon calls to you from the mountain of potatoes in front of him. He sees your figure shoot up like a meerkat standing among pyramids of fruit, looking side-to-side to try to locate the familiar voice. “Right here,” he calls to you again, this time holding a bag of potatoes above his head. He laughs when he sees you cover your face in mortification while you cart your way over to him. You’re cute, he thinks. His little meerkat.

.

The two of you pose while he takes a picture of the two of you in the black and white monitoring screen above the self-checkout machine. He scans his loyalty card and begins to scan the items in the cart.

“Hey Vern,” you pass him a box of pasta for him to scan.

“Yes, baby?” he winks while taking the box from you.

“Why do you call yourself my work husband even when we’re off work?” you ask him while passing him a bag of bagels.

“You’re right. If we’re off work then that just means I’m your husband,” he takes the bag from your hand and scans it. “Because the adjective describes the fact that we’re at work, but we’re not at work. So just call me husband.”

“Smartass,” you grumble to yourself. He’s constantly embarrassing you, but you somehow like it.

“What is that?” he pokes at the touchscreen. He clearly heard you grumble to yourself.

Checkout. Beep. No Bags. Beep. Credit/Debit. Beep.

“Are you filing for a divorce just because we’re not at work?” he purposely makes his voice louder than usual and brings his phone to the screen to pay for the groceries. “Do I mean nothing to you?” his tone clearly implies he’s poking fun at you, but it’s enough to let the workers around you two eavesdrop.

“Vernon, oh my god,” you quickly shuffle to his left to put the items in the reusable tote bags in the cart behind the two of you. “People are staring.” You pull your hood over your head and he gently pulls it back down, quickly running his fingers through your hair to minimize the mess.

The workers point and giggle at you two before going back to work, telling those in line to move to an open self-checkout machine.

“Just like how I stare at you at work?” he takes the receipt and consecutive coupons from the mouth of the machine and folds it before putting it in his back pocket. He moves the shopping cart behind the two of you and separates the cold items from the fresh and boxed items.

“Babe, I’m going to file for divorce,” you grab the bag of baby carrots and wave it in front of his face. “And I’m taking the children with me.”

“Aww you called me babe.”

.

You wish you could be as open as Vernon when it comes to flirting, but at the same time, the jokes and the act that the two of you put on around each other often times sound and feel a little too real. Your feelings for him are real, but you struggle to understand whether or not he’s joking with you. You know you could just ask him, but there’s a ninety percent chance he would joke with you and a ten percent chance he would tell you the truth. However, because of how the two of you normalized flirting with each other, you know you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between his truth and his jokes. You’re afraid of telling him the truth, but you’re also afraid of letting go of this false reality the two of you created.

Where is the thin line between flirting romantically and flirting jokingly? How do you find it? How do you cross to the romantic side?

The two of you are currently in you apartment. His shoes are placed in the usually open spot next to yours on the shoe rack, and his car keys are in the ceramic tray next to yours. You are prepping the ingredients for dinner while he sorts the groceries he bought into their rightful places in your tiny kitchen.

“You know my student, Chan, right? The one who I swear is out to get me?” your co-worker asks you nonchalantly while reaching above your head to open your white kitchen cabinet. “Right when I was about to play a video for the class, Chan raises his hand and has the audacity to ask me if I’m ever going to teach them.”

“How did you respond?” you lean over the kitchen counter to shut the microwave door and start the timer. You’re used to his daily post-class lunchtime rants, but he somehow forgot to tell you until he saw the picture of the two at orientation stuck on your refrigerator with a magnetic turtle.

Vernon sighs while looking through the cabinet contents, “I called him lame and told him to watch the damn Crash Course video.”

He gently places his palm on top of your head to shield your head from getting hit when he swings the cabinet door close, a colander in his other hand. He places the colander in the sink behind the two of you and turns back to you. He is interested in what is in the microwave and mimics your position, bending over to stare through the translucent screen. It’s hard to make out what is spinning slowly through the glass so he leans in, accidentally brushing his shoulder against yours for a brief moment. It is brief, but it is enough to make you question what you have done in your past life to deserve this moment.

“Wait,” you turn your head to look at your co-worker beside you, curiously asking, “students actually get annoyed when we show videos in class?”

“I don’t know,” he stands upright and scratches his head, his expression clearly showing that he was dumbfounded that a student would be against watching videos. He leans against the back counter and crosses his arms. He frowns. “I mean, am I ever going to tell them that watching videos stimulates different modes of cognitive learning? Of course not,” he answers his own question. “I’m the cool teacher.”

Spoken like a mantra.

“I’m just defrosting the garlic bread so I can pop it into the oven so you can snack while I cook.” You notice he is looking around your kitchen. You think it’s because he doesn’t have space to exit with the tote bags on the floor and the lack of mobile space in your kitchen. “Did you want to exit? Let me move out of the way so you can go chill or grade in the living room.”

It’s exactly the opposite of what you think.

Vernon loves your place despite how much you hate its small size. To him, your tiny apartment feels like home. You’ve told him several times how much you want to move out. You hate how you don’t have a desk to do your work on. You hate how your bed is literally pushed in the corner of your bedroom against the wall and window. You even hate how there’s no closet in your bedroom so you have to use the hallway closet as your closet.

He wishes you know just how much he loves it when he can hear the soft hum of the in-unit washer and dryer in the background while he lounges on your plush sofa. Because of the size of your apartment, the smell of your baking sometimes lingers for hours. Because of the lack of space, you’re forced to display many of your things for your guests to see instead of tucking them away in some storage bin or cabinet. There are postcards your friends sent from around the world, pictures on the fridge, awards hung on walls, and small trinkets placed all around your apartment. The sticky notes the two of you exchanged during orientation are pinned to your corkboard. Not to mention, the sectional sofa with the chaise you bought with your first paycheck proudly lines your living room. It’s one of the most comfortable things he’s fallen asleep on. Although the apartment may seem suffocating at times, this apartment is you personified.

Of course, it wasn’t like he never offered you to move into his place multiple times in the past. You slapped his arm in response every time he suggested.

.

Earlier, the two of you decided to power through grading midterm papers for your respective classes so the two of you could freely enjoy Spring Break without any worries. It is now nearing midnight when you blindly reach into the popcorn bowl on the side table beside you only to feel nothing. You are out of movie snacks. Your legs are stretched out on your chaise and Vernon’s head is still in your lap, pointed toward the second movie the two of you are watching that night. You decide to not get up to make more popcorn just in case he is sleeping.

Next to the empty popcorn bowl, your cellphone pings and Vernon stirs.

Damn you, cellphone.

There is another notification sound, and Vernon pushes himself off your lap to sit up. You look over at your phone. It’s fucking Yoon Jeonghan.

[text from: devil’s incarnate]

devil’s incarnate: don’t fowget about ouw double date t-tomowwow (//▽//)

devil’s incarnate: the reservation is at noon at the bistro opposite of the café we went for lunch

headache personified: WHY MUST YOU RUIN EVERYTHING FOR ME

Vernon somehow manages to quietly squeeze himself behind you while you lift yourself to text  Jeonghan. When you put your phone down he tugs your body closer to his, his legs stretched out and sandwiching yours. He points to the blanket at the foot of the chaise and he lets go of his arms around you so you can lean forward to grab the blanket.

You open the blanket so it covers both of you and his arms sneak around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. He puts his chin on your shoulder to see the screen in front of you. He emanates warmth like a human-sized hand warmer, like the warm summer sun on your skin the first day you met him.

About halfway into the movie your body naturally turned to lay against his. You’re not watching the movie anymore because he knows you’re tired. It’s not the first time the two of you have cuddled this closely before, but he only hopes you mistake his uncontrollable fast heartbeat as his reaction to the movie.

You’re fiddling with the strings on his clean hoodie and he takes your hand in his and puts it on his chest.

“The plot is really good,” he hopes you can feel his chest vibrate.

You do. You’re on cloud nine.

“You can stay over if you’re not comfortable driving back at this hour,” you suggest to him. Your hand goes back to playing with the aglet on his hoodie string.

“Mmm,” the thought of leaving makes him groan. “I’ll stay until the movie ends.”

In the closet toward the entrance, your dryer hums. The air smells like rose petals and warm vanilla. In his heart he knows the two of you are way past the simple “work spouse” phase. He hugs you tighter and wishes the movie never ends.

[text from: devil’s incarnate]

devil’s incarnate: btw I’m picking you up so you have no way of escaping (o¬‿¬o )

devil’s incarnate: see you soon baby <33 -xoxo

chapter four: bistro; double date

The loud knocking on your front door causes you to jolt awake and fling the blanket covering you onto the living room floor. You can recognize that impatient knock anywhere. However, what you’re afraid of is not the knocking sound, but the person currently knocking.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you repeat while you sit up and look around the living room. You realize it’s Saturday morning. The television is turned off, and you can still see the stacked pile of midterms pushed to the side of your coffee table. Is Vernon still in your apartment?

Your phone is ringing on the side table next to you. You look over your pillow from your bedroom. I don’t remember bringing one from my bedroom. You see the Caller ID. It’s Jeonghan trying to reach you from outside your door.

Then you see it, a light blue sticky note stuck in the empty popcorn bowl next to your phone. It’s his handwriting, tiny and scrawled. He says he took your laundry out of the dryer and took out the trash on his way out. He’s sorry he couldn’t lock the door. There’s a tiny heart next to his initials. He doesn’t tell you when he left.

The note is in your hand when Jeonghan barges into your apartment and shuts the door behind him. He stands in the doorway and stares at you, his hands on his waist. He’s annoyed.

Your apartment is silent. Even leaky faucet decides to rest for a while. You swear you can hear your best friend’s heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak while you stand up to face him, hiding the note behind your back.

“I. Sent. You. So. Many. Texts,” he roughly kicks off his shoes and storms into your living room.

You scream when you realize he is making his way over to you. When he reaches your sofa, the two of you circle around your coffee table.

“I’ve been outside your door knocking like a man trying to win back his ex. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?” He wants to strangle you at this point, but he can’t because he needs you to go on the double date with him. “And I couldn’t even park in your second parking spot because guess who I saw get into his car in your second parking spot in the morning?”

Does that mean Vernon slept over last night? And Jeonghan now knows about it?

He lunges. You scream again.

.

Seungkwan sits on Vernon’s barstool and faces the door, ready to read his friend to filth the moment he walks into the door. His legs are crossed and he’s counting the number of cardboard boxes stacked near Vernon’s front door. It’s Saturday morning and Vernon isn’t in his own apartment. He’s a loser who can’t even properly confess his feelings to his crush – where the hell was he last night?

Seungkwan has a double-date to attend in about an hour. For him, lecturing Vernon would take at least 15 minutes and asking for opinions for his outfits would take around 5 minutes. Driving would take at least 10 minutes if it was all green lights. However, if there is a stop light or two-

Vernon calmly unlocks his door and opens the door to see his friend sitting at his counter. It’s totally normal to have Seungkwan invite himself into his apartment – he gave him a spare key for a reason. However, when Vernon is halfway through the doorframe, he realizes he’s wearing his extra set of clothes he sometimes leaves at your place. He is also holding his work bag from yesterday. Seungkwan seems to have already noticed as his legs uncross and his eyes widen at the sight of his friend. Vernon slowly backs out and closes his front door ready to leave and never come back. Start a new life maybe.

“Get your ass back here,” he hears Seungkwan’s menacingly sweet voice from the other side of the door.

He audibly sighs. He has no choice but to open the door.

.

You’re folding your laundry in the backseat of Jeonghan’s car while he drives the two of you to the double date. You can tell he’s still angry – his sleeves are rolled up. He already undid his collar to let off some steam and pent up anger when you told him you didn’t want to go on the date. You can see the gorilla grip he has on his steering wheel. His arm veins protrude prominently, and you swear you can see them throb. Jeonghan glares at you through his rearview mirror every chance he can get, so you sulk in his backseat and quietly fold your clothes. You probably also lost your aux privileges. For the next week or month maybe.

He purposely makes a hard break at a stop sign when nobody is around, and some of your folded clothes launch themselves to his car floor. You look at your t-shirt crumple to the floor and bite your lower lip. You nod to yourself. You deserve this. You were on a winning streak last night so karma (Jeonghan) has to show up to make sure everything is set at equilibrium. There must be balance to this world.

“Did you shower last night?” Jeonghan softly asks you when he notices you’re a lot quieter than usual. He turns on his right blinker, ready to make a right.

“Of course I did,” you pouted when you realized your favorite pair of socks rolled under the front seat. “I smelled like dirt.”

“So you showered while a man was over?” he snickers. There’s a glimmer in his eye. “Naughty.”

“He was grading in my living room,” you protest while looking out the window. Your clothes are folded and placed back in the laundry basket.

You can tell Jeonghan’s anger is subsiding. He rolls his shoulder backwards and stretches his neck left and right. The gorilla grip is gone. You know he cares for you. That you are certain of.

The two of you are still relatively early when Jeonghan parks. He rolls down his windows and turns of the engine and then his car. He drops his car keys in his cupholder and turns back to look at you. He smiles.

“Spill.”

.

Seungkwan is holding onto the car handle above his seat for dear life.

“So I woke up with Yn in my arms, but their phone was going off like crazy because someone was spam texting them. I reach over to switch their phone to silent because I’m a good husband who cares about Yn getting a good sleep, but I see the same person texting them and calling them. Bro this person was using all the pet names that I use. So, already, in my mind I was like ‘oh my god am I a home wrecker?’ And then I looked at their phone again even though I shouldn’t have been looking through their notifications, but it was just right there and I saw that he said he was going to come over soon because they have a date. So I tidied up a bit and packed my bags and zoomed out of there. Because what if they’re really dating? What if he’s the same guy you saw at the café? Dude my mind was racing so much. But Yn looked so peaceful and serene. I was going to melt then and there and then reality hit me: I may have just been a homewrecker. But it all doesn’t make sense because their lock screen photo is the photo I took of us at the grocery story yesterday. Wouldn’t it make more sense if your lock screen photo was your boyfriend instead? So I was freaking out and I’m still freaking out. My non-existent love life is in shambles bro.”

“Is this car ride over?” Seungkwan’s eyes are closed and his knuckles are turning white. “Am I alive? Is the car in one piece?”

Vernon unbuckles his seatbelt and then Seungkwan’s, “Yeah dude. I parked a few minutes ago. Were you listening to me rant at all?”

“I’m going to step out and take a breather,” Seungkwan nods to himself. It was his fault for making Vernon drive. He knows how fast Vernon can drive, but he didn’t take into consideration that he would be sitting in the passenger seat. Was it worth it in the end to arrive early to a date he wasn’t even going to enjoy?

He opens the car door and stretches his legs. “Do you see that café across the street?” he points at the café he visited earlier this week. “Please stay in there and clear your head. Drink some tea. Coffee will make you even more jittery.”

Seungkwan exits the car and shuts the door. Before he starts walking towards the front entrance, he turns around and points at Vernon who looks like he is on the brink of a mental breakdown, “But stay in there in case I need an escape plan.”

.

Vernon recognizes this café as the same café printed on the tiny cake roll box you left on his desk earlier this week. The sticky note you attached to the underside of the box is tucked away in his wallet as are some of the other ones you wrote for him in the past. He keeps them all and occasionally switches them depending on his mood.  

Did you miss me? the note reads. I’m sorry you had to eat lunch alone. This roll reminded me of you because it’s round like your hair when it’s flat. HA! Did you think I was going to write “sweet?” -yn ;-)

He’s been staring at the chalkboard menu for the past few minutes, his eyes squinted and his head deep in thought. The baristas think he’s having a hard time looking at the menu up above and offer him a physical menu in larger print. It takes a few tries to get his attention, but he bashfully takes the menu from them and moves to the side so the incoming customers can order their drinks and other menu items.

He regrets not asking you out sooner. He’s sulking and mentally beating himself up in a café in which his crush had a date a few days ago. How lame is that? While you’re out enjoying your date and probably having the time of your life, he’s regretting all of the chances he didn’t take in the past. But the angel on his shoulder reassures him – he was still by your side despite not taking the chances in the past. It comforts him a bit. Maybe is all just a big misunderstanding. Maybe you don’t have a boyfriend. Vernon promises himself while walking up to the counter to order his drink: if the universe sends him a sign anytime soon, he is going to take it. No questions asked.

[text from: kwan]

kwan: sos

nonie: do you think I should go for a fruit tea today?

kwan: I s2g if you don’t get your ass over here

nonie: how bad can your date be?

nonie: did the food come out already?

kwan: my coworker is meeting yn’s bf

kwan: MY COWORKER IS MEETING YN’S BF FOR OUR DOUBLE DATE

kwan: YN’S BOYFRIEND IS A CHEATER

nonie: YOU FR?

nonie: WHO TF WOULD HAVE THE AUDACITY TO DO THAT TO YN?

kwan: YOU’RE A TEACHER. COME TEACH HIM A LESSON.  

nonie: I’M COMING

kwan: not the face tho. it’s a money maker

nonie: WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?

Vernon practically sprints out of the café. Thank you universe!

.

[text from: devil’s incarnate]

devil’s incarnate: did u grab my wallet?

devil’s incarnate: save me. my date came and I was totally catfished (╬`益´)

devil’s incarnate: and your date is sending me death glares for some reason O.o

headache personified: when we go home we’re signing you up for bumble

headache personified: I’m almost at the front entrance. you want me to act like you’re my bf?

devil’s incarnate: oh we haven’t used that tactic in a long time

headache personified: wait is that you three under the umbrella at the porch?

headache personified: is my date vernon’s seungkwan?  

devil’s incarnate: bro how should I know how vernon’s seungkwan looks like

devil’s incarnate: ahh fuck it I’ll just be mean and call my date out for catfishing me.

devil’s incarnate: can you record for me <3 -xoxo

You’re already outside the front entrance when you think about ways to try to avoid Seungkwan while you're inside the bistro. You think if you walk along the bistro’s perimeter instead of heading inside the bistro, you can get a better video angle of Jeonghan without having to show your face to Seungkwan. However, someone gently grabs onto your arm and tugs on it.

You turn around and you're surprised to see Vernon looking back at you. He looks frazzled and out of breath. You wonder if he really goes jogging in the city garden like what your students said.

“Hear me out. I have to tell you something,” he pleads.

Your heart is screaming Omg it’s Vernon! Vernon! but you’re worried Jeonghan might get mad at you if you don’t record him while he’s lecturing the catfish. You can probably email the bistro for a video recording tomorrow. If Jeonghan draws enough attention, you can probably have one of the bistro patrons text you a recording of the interaction.

“I had so many chances to tell you how I really feel, but I keep beating myself up for not telling you my feelings. I really like you. I really do,” he takes both of your hands in his hand. “And I don’t want you to go in and end up with someone who is on a date with another person.”

Fuck Jeonghan’s video. Vernon is actually confessing to you. Yet at the same time, something about his confession doesn’t really make sense. How did he find out about your double date?

“What do you mean you catfished me because you thought I was a catfish? Have you seen me?” you can hear Jeonghan’s shrill voice screeching from where you’re standing. You imagine he’s standing up and gesturing at his own face. “Why would I need to catfish as someone else?” You swear you can also hear Seungkwan laughing.

Vernon also seems to recognize Seungkwan’s laughter. His mouth hangs slightly agape and he looks at you and back at the patio in horror.

In that moment, everything made sense. Seungkwan probably texted Vernon that Jeonghan showed up to the date while believing you were dating Jeonghan. It’s honestly not the first time the confusion happened. You smile and pull him in a hug.

“The person I like thinks my best friend is cheating on me when in reality I was forced to go on a double date. So if anything, you just stopped me from going on a date with Seungkwan before I even went on a date with you,” you laugh into his chest. “Did you really run to try stop me from seeing my best friend cheat on me?”

He hugs you back and you can hear his heart beat slow down. He’s relieved.

“Baby,” he hums into your hair.

“Hmm?” you look up at him.

“Do you still want to call me your work husband at work even if I become your boyfriend?”

You groan in embarrassment while he laughs at you. He separates from you and starts walking backwards with his hand stretched out.

“Let’s go on a date. I heard the café across the street has really good cake rolls.”

He’s waiting for you to come hold his hand.  

You can still hear Jeonghan yelling in the background. You think Seungkwan is also yelling with him. Considering the fact that they haven’t been kicked out already, the two of you know they’ll be fine without the two of you.

“The ones that look like your hair when it’s flat?” you catch up to him and interlock your hand with his.

“Exactly.”

taglist: @jiminismybabymochi, @anissanightyoung, @bat-shark-repellant, @woozarts, @jaycheoluwu, @deadlyarepa, @hoothootreiber, @sleeplessdawn, @ryujined, @staysstrays, @carat-cakes, @whyisquill, @kitacore, @grannysdirtbag, @heeseung-lover686

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All My Love || j.w.w.

Summary: He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him.

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU, fluff

A/N: this one goes out to all the book nerds i did this for us besties. this was loosely based on an anime i watched, but in the end it was not really like it lol. I've worked on this for months now so please show a lot of love!

updates every saturday! want to join the taglist? send an ask!

masterlist

table of contents under the cut!

I. the gentle indifference of the world II. if you want to keep a secret III. so this is my life IV. a truth universally acknowledged V. more myself than i am VI. all this happened... more or less VII. we interrupt this program... VIII. if you want to keep a secret IX. i like you (first, second, and third) X. and so with the sunshine

bye bye, daddy | mark lee

synopsis: you and mark have a crying, upset toddler on your hands, and it seems there are only a few things that can make her happy, — like spending time with her daddy, and watching the grinch.

pairing: girl dad!mark x female!reader

genre: fluff, domesticity, established relationship

word count: 2.4k

contains: very loving husband and father mark. very patient mark. christmas themes, santa talk. daughter doesn't have a name, but he calls her "cookie". fluff galore.

author's note: christmas is around the corner so some of the future drabbles im planning to put out will be about christmas <3 meelings (mark feelings) are open (always) (so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3)

©️ kongjjen 2024. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

Mark’s keys jingle in his hand before he opens the front door, the delicious smell of dinner hitting his nose as soon as he steps foot inside the house. He knows this smell, the spices, the veggies, the sauces. You’re making a roasting — a dish he loves, that you cook very often during winters, because you know it’s one of his favourites. 

He thinks he could kiss you, if only he could find you. Where are you? 

He thinks you’re in the kitchen, but the roast is sitting perfectly inside the oven, the pan with veggies still cooking on the stove on a small flame, and the bowls with sauces and chutneys sitting on the kitchen counter far away from the edge, that you both know your daughter can reach to steal her mom’s delicious chutney — just to eat with her fingers stealthily by herself.

He throws the keys in the bowl by the entrance, finally taking his jacket off. He wanted to see you so badly that he didn’t even bother to do his routine when he came home, immediately going to look for you. 

There’s something odd going on, he thinks, because your daughter is nowhere to be seen, or heard, and she’s usually at the door the moment she hears the jingling of his keys right before he tries to open the door. Not seeing you and your daughter makes him unsettled just a tiny bit, considering there’s the stove that’s still on and he can’t find you.

He drags his slippers on the hardwood floor towards the living room, and his heart skips a bit seeing you looking through the boxes full of Christmas decorations. 

You and Mark love celebrating Christmas, and ever since you two got married you started establishing family traditions. And now you also have your daughter to pass everything on to. You’ve never skipped decorating the house, putting up a tree, Christmas films and singing carols and Christmas songs while baking cookies or cooking meals, and now you have your daughter to join in on the fun. And thankfully, when it comes to Christmas season, she’s just as enthusiastic as both you and Mark — and she’s a big Santa believer.

“Hi, baby,” Mark rasps from behind you, and you flinch, clutching a few Christmas lights to your chest. You turn around to look at him, your eyes big with what Mark thinks is fear by being taken by surprise, and he giggles. “I’m so sorry, did I scare you?” 

You nod, putting the lights down carefully, and then wrapping your arms tightly around him. 

“I didn’t hear your keys at all!” You sigh, your head falling in the crook of his neck. You inhale his scent, and you sigh once again. You always wondered how’s it possible for your husband to always smell so good, even after a busy and tiring work day.

“Maybe that’s why cookie didn’t come running to the door,” he laughs, pinching your back to make you raise your head from his shoulder. You know that’s his silent sign that he wants you to kiss him.

You giggle, grabbing his cheeks and bringing him in for a soft kiss. His lips are soft as always, and his nose feels cold while touching yours. You peck his lips repeatedly a few more times, before letting go of him. 

“I think cookie is upset, that’s why she didn’t come down from her room,” you finally respond, and Mark takes a seat on the armchair between the many boxes full of decorations. 

“Why?” Mark asks worried, and he picks up a few Christmas lights to untangle them.

“She wouldn’t tell me, but I’m guessing she’ll open up when her tummy is full,” you chuckle, and Mark laughs knowing that you’re right. You both know your daughter will forget about what made her so upset after she’ll eat something.

“What colour you wanna make it this year, baby?” He rasps, looking at the different boxes full with Christmas globes, while his fingers are fast at work untangling the strings full of lights. He really liked the white ones, but he knows you’ve always made it work no matter the colour. The year you found out you were having a baby girl you decorated the Christmas tree with soft pink globes and ornaments, and he loved it, even if he’s never thought pink could ever be a fit for Christmas.

You point at the blue ones, various tones of blue filling the huge box, but then you point your finger at the box containing the white ones, his favourites, and you let him know you’re indecisive. Blue is his favourite colour, but he really, really likes the white ones.

“You can choose what-” you’re interrupted by someone trying the front door handle, and Mark looks worried towards the from door, his neck lurching in its direction immediately.

Both you and Mark see your daughter wearing her warm hello kitty hat, open jacket around her small figure and her pink backpack hanging off her shoulders.

“Cookie? Where are you going?” Mark asks, still stretching his neck to look towards the front door. 

Thank god Mark has the habit of locking the door as soon as he comes home. 

“Bye bye mommy!” She blurts out, “Bye bye daddy!” She tries the door handle once again, but the door doesn’t open, so she’s left standing helpless in front of it.

Mark throws you a look, just to find you already looking back at him. You both look at her, and she doesn’t move for ten good seconds, before she turns around with tears in her eyes. 

You both know not to panic, knowing that your daughter can be a little drama queen sometimes.

“Bye bye mommy and daddy? Where are you off to?” He asks her, seeing as she’s still standing there.

“The North Pole,” she explains, her voice trembling a bit.

“The North Pole?” You ask, and you and Mark look at each other once again. He raises his eyebrows at you, asking you what’s going on, but unfortunately for him, you don’t have any idea either. “That’s where Santa lives,”

“Yes,” she blurts out, tears streaming down her puffy cheeks, “I’m bringing him my letter,” 

“Your letter? But it’s too early, cookie,” Mark intervenes, and it’s one of those times he doesn’t know where this conversation is going — and one of those very few times when he doesn’t know what’s going on inside his daughter’s head.

“It’s not! Yuka and Soo already sent theirs!” She speaks clearly this time, but she’s still full of rage, you can see it in her big expressive eyes, that she took from Mark.

It all clicks in your and Mark’s heads. It’s not the first time your four year old is influenced by her kindergarten friends, and it doesn’t matter how many times you and Mark tried telling her that she doesn’t have to do what everyone else is doing, she’s still a four year old child at the end of the day.

“Cookie, but you’re not Yuka, or Soo!” You explain, preparing your big Christmas traditions speech, hoping for Mark to jump in at some point, because she always listens to him and understands things best when he’s the one doing the explaining, or nagging. Even though the nagging part is almost never happening, coming from him.

“Mommy’s right, cookie,” Mark moves a bit in his seat, making eye contact with her, “We didn’t even set the tree up! We send the letter to Santa when we’re done with the tree here,” he points at the spot where you usually put the tree up. “But if you want to go to Santa’s house you can go, we’ll see you in January,”

She stays still for a bit, before she registers what her dad just said. 

“January? But Christmas is in December!” She freaks out, eyes already brimming with tears. 

“Yes, but Santa lives far away, by the time you'll come back me and mommy will have the tree already put back in the box,” he talks to her like he would to a grown up, and that’s what you love about Mark. 

He’s such a good father, he always treats her as a human first, and child second. He’ll try to explain to her why some things are good, why some things are bad, he always challenges her development and skills by treating her like a grown up. You and Mark always encourage her to speak her mind, express her feelings and what’s going on inside her mind, to tell you all her worries and fears. As a writer, Mark always challenges her imagination and creativity, making her come up with stories and all sorts of plots that he sometimes uses in his own books, discussing things with her like he would with his editor.

 And most importantly, as parents, you always work hard to make her understand that she doesn’t have to do everything her friends do. She’s still a baby, your baby, but neither you nor Mark would ever forgive yourselves if you knew something happened to her because you weren’t cautious enough and good parents.

“So you better go now, if you want to reach his house before Christmas,” Mark encourages, falsely busying himself with the Christmas lights in his lap. 

“But I can’t miss Christmas!” She throws a fit, panicking at the same time. She looks desperately at you, asking for help, but you know better than crossing Mark’s words and tactics. Parenting 101.

“Maybe you should wait a bit, cookie,” Mark turns to her once again, “Mommy is making some roasting, you should bring a bit to Santa as well, as a gift,”

“We have roasting?” She freaks out once again. The idea of missing the sauce and chutney brings her to the breaking point, and hearing her father instructing her to leave soon makes her cry immediately. 

She starts sobbing, unconsoled and alone in the entry hallway, holding her white teddy bear, Sugar, tightly. Your heart breaks for her, but you know she needs to learn not to sneak out of the house in the future, and to always come to you or Mark if she needs help.

“Why are you crying?” Mark asks, finally putting the lights away, still as tangled as before. “Come to daddy, cookie,” he instructs, opening his arms, and the crying girl launches towards him.

The moment she feels her daddy engulfing her in a warm embrace, she starts sobbing uncontrollably, holding his grey sweater tight in her small fist.  He pats her back, kissing her forehead trying to comfort her.

“I don’t wanna go!” She screams, snot already reaching her mouth, and between screams she licks her lips. You try your best to hold your laugh in, not wanting to distress her even more, but you know you and Mark will have the best talk later tonight after putting her to bed.

“Then you don’t have to go, cookie,” you reassure her, crouching down at Mark’s feet to get a better view of your daughter. “But what were you thinking? Sneaking out without telling me and daddy?” 

“Sorry,” she sobs, feeling ashamed. 

“Daddy will help you with the letter, but we always do it after the tree is up, yeah?” He reassures her, “Let’s do things the good way, cookie, the way we usually do, not the way others tell us to do, alright?”

“So you didn’t forget?” She whispers, fearing her father’s response. 

“Forget writing to Santa? Never!” He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, scoffing, all while looking at you. “Daddy will help you, like I always do!”

She stops crying, already sweating from wearing the big fluffy hat on her head, and Mark takes it off immediately, smoothing her hair with his gentle touch.

“Can daddy see the letter you wrote?” Mark pats her on the back to have her attention, gesture that’s the equivalent of the pinch he gives you when he wants your attention.

She separates herself from her daddy, sniffing briefly before reaching behind herself for her backpack. She takes a crumpled piece of paper out, handing it to Mark, who opens it so you can see as well.

Vertical, horizontal lines fill the otherwise blank page, only god knows what she meant when she wrote them. There are a few drawings at the bottom of the page, made hurriedly — you and Mark both recognise she hurried and wasn’t as careful as she usually is, desperate to finish it fast and leave to personally take it to Santa’s. A cat, a bunny, a bike, a few princesses scattered around, wearing all sorts of coloured gowns.

You and Mark already know what to get her for Christmas, but writing the letter for her will give you the confirmation of her wishes. You already smile thinking of Mark’s pretty handwriting filling the flimsy page.

“Can we watch the Grinch, daddy?” You daughter asks, licking the snot above her lip away. 

You look at Mark, who’s already looking at you, and he makes a small movement with his head, pointing towards the kitchen, clearly giving you a way out before it’s too late. You’re very lucky to have your daughter obsessed with your husband, and you’re even more lucky to have a patient husband who loves your daughter incredibly much, she’s his whole world. 

You take the opportunity to leave them alone, going back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roasting and the veggies still cooking slowly on the stove, hearing your daughter from the other room, and how she’s chewing her daddy’s ears off talking about scenes from the Grinch. 

And Mark, poor soul, he has to sit on the couch with his little girl, watching the cartoon as if he hasn’t already watched it thirty thousand times. He knows the jokes, the lines, it’s like he wrote the thing himself. And he wonders how his little girl doesn’t get tired of it, ever.

But hopefully, you’ll save him soon enough like you always do, bringing some lame excuse up just to save him. Hopefully, tonight you’ll need someone to stir your veggies.