cheollollipop

[cheollollipop]

[cheollollipop]

svthub official application post !

want to meet more writers and make friends? want to get involved in the caratblr writing community? svthub is looking for new members, and we might just be the place for you!

.∿⊹﹟ are you ready to join us ?

if you . . .

✔️ are an adult 18+

✔️ write seventeen fanfiction

✔️ reblogged this post

✔️ have read our rules and guidelines

. . . then you're ready to fill out our membership application form! we can't wait to meet you!

© svthub — est. 09.13.2022

[cheollollipop]

I love you

oh! thank you so much 🥹

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - Chapter 4. | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): mentions of drinking, swearing, yn has a few moments of anxiety, SMUUUUT!!!! (MDNI) seungcheol is big mad summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 12k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: this is a LOOOOONG one! happy reading<3

I woke up groggy and disoriented as soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains. For a moment, I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten here. The last thing I remembered was sitting on the couch with Subin, the two of us huddled under a shared blanket, the overly dramatic soundtrack of New Moon playing in the background.

My fingers brushed over the fabric of the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie. It was oversized, soft, and warm, still carrying that distinct scent of Subin: clean, woodsy, with just a hint of spice. The memories came back in flashes. We'd been laughing about how serious Edward looked when he left Bella in the forest, comparing it to the kind of over-the-top breakup scenes you'd see in old soap operas. At some point, I'd started talking about my mom—how she used to watch those movies with me, how much I missed her.

Subin hadn't said much, but his presence had been steady. Grounding. He had a way of making me feel like it was okay to say things I usually kept locked away.

The last thing I remembered was the slow monotony of Bella's heartbreak montage and the unbearable heaviness of my eyelids. I must have fallen asleep right there on the couch.

So why was I in my bed?

I swung my legs over the side and padded out of my room, tugging the hoodie tighter around me. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge. As I stepped into the living room, I spotted Subin sprawled out on the couch.

He was a mess. One arm slung over his head, hair sticking up in every direction. His long legs, too big for the couch, were bent awkwardly, and the throw blanket barely covered his torso. His face was peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, his usual teasing expression nowhere in sight. Without his smirk, he looked almost... vulnerable.

I hesitated in the doorway, watching him for a moment. It wasn't often I saw Subin like this—unguarded. The urge to grab my phone and snap a picture was strong, but I resisted.

"You know," his voice was rough with sleep, "staring at people while they sleep is kinda creepy."

I jumped, heart, lurching in my chest as his eyes cracked open, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I wasn't staring!" I blurted, crossing my arms. "I was just... making sure you were alive."

"Uh-huh." He pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking sleepily. His hair was even worse now, sticking out in all directions. "And? What's the diagnosis, Doc?"

"You look terrible," I said flatly, though my lips twitched upward. "Like you got run over by a truck."

"And yet, still devastatingly handsome," he shot back, running a hand through his hair.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't hold back a smile. "What are you even still doing here? Did you sleep on the couch all night?"

"You fell asleep first," he said simply. "I wasn't gonna leave you there. So I carried you to bed, and the couch looked... inviting."

"You carried me?" My voice rose slightly, my face heating at the thought.

"Relax, it's not like I tucked you in or anything," he teased, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. "But you're welcome."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you keep me around," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch. His T-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband. I quickly averted my eyes, pretending to focus on the empty takeout containers on the table.

"I guess I should thank you," I muttered, grabbing the containers and heading toward the kitchen.

Subin followed, leaning against the counter as I dumped the trash. "Thank me? Oh no, no, no. You should apologize."

"For what?"

"For making me sleep on that lumpy excuse for a couch." He gestured dramatically behind him. "I'm probably permanently disfigured. My spine will never be the same."

"You're so dramatic."

"This is serious, YN. I sacrificed my well-being for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You can have your hoodie back," I offered, tugging at the hem. "That's all you're getting from me."

His gaze flickered down to the hoodie, and something unreadable crossed his expression before he smirked. "Nah, keep it," he said, his voice softer. "It looks better on you anyway."

I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet so... intentional. My cheeks warmed, and I busied myself rinsing a coffee mug to avoid his gaze.

"So," he said after a moment, watching me with mild curiosity, "when's Sonya's engagement party again? I should probably start mentally preparing to meet the best friend."

My stomach dropped. I'd gotten ahead of myself last night and asked him to come.

"Um..." I hesitated, staring hard at the mug. "It's... tomorrow."

Subin froze. "Tomorrow? As in the day after today?"

"...Yes?"

He threw his hands up, pacing dramatically across the kitchen. "You've gotta be kidding me! Tomorrow? And you're just telling me now? I don't even have a suit ready! Or a tie! Do I need to match you? Is there a theme? Oh my god, what if there's a photo booth and I look terrible?"

I laughed, especially when he grabbed a dish towel and flung it over his shoulder like a damsel in distress.

"Subin, calm down. It's not that big a deal."

"Not that big a deal?" He pointed an accusatory finger at me. "You don't just spring an engagement party on someone! These things require preparation! Strategy! Emotional readiness!"

"It's not even your party!" I gasped, laughing so hard I had to set the mug down.

"That's not the point!" His lips twitched despite his dramatic rant. "What if I embarrass you? What if I trip and knock over the cake?"

"Then I'll laugh at you." I shrugged. "Like I always do."

He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. "You're way too calm about this."

"Maybe you're just too high-strung."

He took another step, the banter softening into something quieter. "Or maybe," he said, voice lower now, "I just don't want to mess up when it comes to you."

My breath hitched. His gaze was steady, uncharacteristically serious, and my heart skipped in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Subin..." I started, but the words tangled in my throat.

His grin returned, smaller this time. "Relax, YN. I'll make it work," he said, reaching out to flick the hood of his hoodie. "Besides, how bad can it be?"

Before I could respond, he turned toward the fridge.

"Eggs?" he called. "I also make a mean omelet."

I shook my head, smiling.

Subin might be impossible, but he was my impossible.

And I wasn't sure I'd have it any other way.

I rolled my eyes and reached for the eggs in his hand. "Sit down. I'll make something edible."

His eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. "You cook?"

"I can manage breakfast," I shot back, cracking an egg into the pan.

Subin settled onto one of the barstools, resting his chin in his hand as he watched me work. "So... the party. What's the game plan? Do I play the role of a doting fake boyfriend, or are we going for mysterious and aloof?"

I snorted. "You're incapable of being aloof."

"Fair point," he said with a smirk. "Guess I'll just be my usual, irresistible self then."

I shook my head, flipping the eggs. "Just don't embarrass me, and we'll be fine."

There was a pause before his voice turned quieter, more thoughtful. "You really think I'd embarrass you?"

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised by the hint of sincerity in his tone. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something unreadable.

"No," I admitted, my voice softer now. "I think you'll be fine."

Something passed between us then—unspoken but lingering—a quiet understanding.

I turned back to the stove, but I could still feel his gaze on me. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid of what that meant. But something else gnawed at me. Seungcheol. As if on cue, Subin must have sensed my shift in mood.

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Wh—Psh. No," I stammered.

"YN, come on. I told you I need to be mentally prepared. What, is there an ex coming or something?" His tone was joking, but he couldn't have been more right.

"Well..."

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" He started, but I quickly shook my hands.

"It's fine. Um... I guess since you brought it up, we should maybe... talk."

The look on his face made my heart sink. I sighed and dropped onto the stool across from him. He followed, watching me intently.

"Okay. So, I know there's a lot we still don't know about each other. It's only fair that I tell you this—especially since you'll potentially be meeting my entire friend group, including him."

Subin's gaze never wavered, his expression unreadable but steady, like he was bracing himself.

I let out a long breath before continuing.

"I grew up with these people. Some of them I've known since I was in diapers. I met Seungcheol in high school, and we ended up dating. Two years ago, I lost my mom, and after that, I just felt... lost. She was my best friend. My entire world. When she died, I felt so disconnected from everything. Like I was moving through life in a haze, and no one around me could understand what I was going through. So, I shut down."

I paused, swallowing hard.

"Hey, you don't have to—" Subin started, but I shook my head.

"It got to the point where I felt invisible. No one got it. And I hated them for not understanding, even though I knew it wasn't fair. Saying it out loud now, I realize how selfish it was, but... I couldn't help it."

Silence settled between us as I gathered my thoughts.

"Anyway, two years ago, on my birthday to be exact, Seungcheol threw me a surprise party. At the time, I thought it was the worst thing he could have possibly done. His intentions weren't bad—I know that now. But I was already so angry. And then, during the party, he proposed."

Subin's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"I said yes." My voice was barely above a whisper. "Not because I wanted to, but because we were in front of everyone—our friends, our families. It was humiliating. He was so happy. Everyone was so happy. And I was just..." My voice wavered, and I felt tears prick at my eyes.

Subin reached out, placing his hand over mine. He didn't say anything. Just let me sit with it for a moment.

"When we got home that night, we had the biggest argument of our lives. I said things I regret every single day. And one day, while he was at work, I packed up my things, called Sonya, and... well, now we're here."

The weight of the silence that followed felt suffocating.

Subin exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. I could tell he was searching for the right words, but none came.

"There's more," I said quietly.

He blinked. "Oh."

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Last week, Seungcheol found out about my dad. I guess he was on his way to see me when he got into a car accident." The words felt heavy on my tongue. "It was the first time I'd seen him since everything happened, and... it wasn't good. Old feelings—bad feelings—came up, and I just... lost it. I said things I shouldn't have. It got ugly."

Subin didn't interrupt. He just watched me, his gaze steady, like he was waiting for the rest.

I fiddled with the hem of the hoodie I was still wearing. "Remember when I told you I reconnected with some old friends in Gangnam? That's what I was talking about. Some of them have been reaching out—Jihoon, Dokyeom. But now Jihoon's mad at me, and... it's just a lot."

I let out a slow breath, finally looking up at him. "So yeah. That's where I'm at."

Subin sat quietly for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "Damn, YN."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Subin stays quiet for a long moment, his thumb absently tracing small circles against the back of my hand. His expression is unreadable—no teasing smirk, no easy joke to break the tension—just quiet contemplation.

Finally, he exhales, running a hand through his already messy hair. "YN." His voice is softer than I expected, laced with something that almost sounds like regret. "I had no idea."

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tightening around his without thinking. "Yeah. I don't really talk about it."

"I get that," he says, his gaze still locked onto mine. "But... you've been carrying all that by yourself? This whole time?"

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed. "I guess I just figured... it was easier that way."

Subin shakes his head, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "Easier doesn't mean better."

I huff out a small, humorless laugh. "Trust me, I'm aware."

There's another pause, and then Subin sighs, leaning back against the counter. "So... this guy. Seungcheol." He says the name carefully like he's testing how it feels on his tongue. "How do you feel about seeing him again?"

I swallow hard. "I don't know." It's the truth. "Part of me wants to pretend like none of it happened, like I can just show up, smile, and move on. But another part of me..." I trail off, shaking my head. "I just don't know."

Subin studies me for a second before nodding. "Okay."

I blink. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He straightens up, rolling his shoulders like he's shaking off the weight of the conversation. "If you don't know how you feel, then I'll just be there to make sure whatever happens, you don't have to deal with it alone."

My throat tightens. "Subin, you don't have to—"

"YN," he interrupts gently, tilting his head. "I know I don't have to. I want to."

His words settle deep in my chest, warm and steady, and I suddenly feel dangerously close to crying again. I look away, blinking rapidly. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

He grins, the tension in the air easing just a bit. "Yeah, but you like me for it."

I scoff, but there's no real heat behind it. "Debatable."

"Sure, sure," he says, pushing himself up and stretching. "Alright, let's talk new game plan. Am I going full 'supportive fake boyfriend' mode, or should I be ready to throw hands if Seungcheol so much as looks at you the wrong way?"

I snort despite myself. "You're ridiculous."

He winks.

I shake my head, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. For the first time since the engagement party came up, I feel like maybe—just maybe—I won't completely fall apart. Because no matter what happens, Subin will be there. And somehow, that makes all the difference.

Subin stretches his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated groan before hopping off the stool. "Alright, enough emotional damage for one morning. I vote we do nothing for the rest of the day."

I blink at him. "Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing." He gestures vaguely around the apartment. "No serious conversations, no stress, no thinking about... you-know-who. Just good, old-fashioned laziness."

I hesitate. Part of me wants to protest—there are always things to do, things to think about—but another part, the tired part, is tempted by the idea of shutting my brain off for a while.

Subin must see the indecision on my face because he nudges my shoulder. "Come on, YN. When's the last time you had a proper lazy day?"

I press my lips together, thinking.

"Exactly," he says before I can answer. "You deserve it."

I sigh, rolling my eyes for effect. "Fine. But if you think I'm letting you pick another Twilight movie—"

"Oh, no. No more sparkly vampires," he agrees, already moving toward the couch. "We're going for peak comfort today. Hoodies, blankets, and a movie that requires zero brain power."

This is how, fifteen minutes later, we find ourselves sprawled on the couch, wrapped in blankets, a bowl of popcorn between us. The hoodie I borrowed is still comfortably oversized on me, and Subin—now in a different hoodie of his own—looks way too pleased with himself.

"You're awfully smug for someone who just lost rock-paper-scissors," I point out as I scroll through the movie options.

"Because I'm still winning," he says, stretching his arms along the back of the couch. "I got you to actually relax for once."

I huff, but don't argue. He's not wrong.

We settle on some ridiculous action-comedy, the kind with over-the-top fight scenes and one-liners that make no sense. Every so often, Subin tosses popcorn in the air, trying to catch it in his mouth—and missing more than he lands.

"This is embarrassing," I tease, watching another piece bounce off his chin.

He points at me. "You say that, but I bet you can't do it either."

Challenge accepted. I grab a handful of popcorn and attempt my own toss—only for it to land squarely on my forehead before rolling onto my lap.

Subin bursts out laughing. "Oh, that was tragic."

"Shut up," I grumble, snatching another piece and trying again. This time, I get it—barely. I pump a fist in victory while Subin shakes his head.

We go back and forth like that for a while, the movie becoming background noise to our ridiculous competitions—who can catch the most popcorn in a row, throw one the farthest, and balance a piece on their nose the longest.

It's stupid. It's childish.

And it's exactly what I need.

At some point, we migrate to the floor, blankets dragged down with us, and an old deck of cards between us. Subin insists on teaching me some convoluted game I don't think even he fully understands. I lose spectacularly—twice.

The afternoon melts away in lazy conversation, playful bickering, and laughter that comes easier than it has in a long time.

By the time the sun started to dip, casting warm orange light through the windows, I realized that, for the first time in days, I hadn't thought about anything outside this moment. No nagging worries, no engagement party looming over me, no weight of the past creeping in.

Just this. Just us.

Subin flicks a playing card at me with a triumphant grin, and I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the flutter in my stomach. But it's there—the warmth, the lightness, the quiet thrill that's been creeping up on me all day.

He tilts his head slightly as if catching onto something, and before I can overthink it, I lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Oh?" He blinks, grinning.

"What was that for?" he asks, voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

"I just felt like it," I say with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, though my heart pounds harder than it should.

"Hm." He hums, eyes studying mine. "That won't do."

Before I can ask what he means, he closes the distance between us, his lips meeting mine again—this time slower, deeper. The shift is subtle but unmistakable. What started as something light turned into something else entirely.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin as our lips move together. There's something about the way he kisses me—like he's memorizing the shape of my mouth like he's been waiting for this longer than he'll admit.

I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and the groan that escapes him sends a shiver down my spine. The sound sparks something in me, something hungry, something desperate. I kiss him harder, chasing that feeling, letting it consume me.

We move without thinking, without breaking apart, until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he sinks down onto it, pulling me with him. I straddle his lap, my hands still buried in his hair, his fingers pressing into my waist. The movie flickers on in the background, long forgotten.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and the way he hums against my mouth makes my breath hitch.

By the time we finally pull back for air, his pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

I've never seen him like this before—eyes dark, lips slightly parted, expression unreadable.

And God, I want more.

"I want you," I whisper as our foreheads connect, our breaths mixing together.

"You sur-"

"Subin."

He crashes his lips against mine, the kiss messy and desperate. His tongue brushes against my lips, asking for permission, and I part them without hesitation. When he nips at my lower lip, a moan slips out before I can stop it, and he groans in response, his hips bucking involuntarily.

It's only then that I feel just how hard he is, and the realization sends a rush of heat through me, leaving me breathless.

"Bed. Now," I murmur against his lips, and he doesn't hesitate. In one swift motion, he lifts me into his arms, kissing me fiercely as he stumbles toward my room. We both chuckle into the kiss, the urgency laced with amusement before he finally reaches the bed and sets me down.

He tugs off his hoodie without breaking eye contact, revealing his bare chest. My gaze trails over him, taking in the definition I hadn't quite expected, the way his muscles shift as he moves.

I bite my lip, fighting back a grin, but from the way his eyes darken, I know he notices.

"You mind if I?" Subin murmurs, nodding toward my lower body, his voice thick with anticipation.

I swallow, my pulse hammering as I give a slight nod and scoot back on the bed.

He follows, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips find mine again, softer this time, almost reverent. There's something mesmerizing about the way he kisses me—like he's savoring every second. He trails a path down my jaw, then lowers it, his breath warm against my skin. My body arches instinctively as he reaches for the hem of my hoodie, his fingers grazing my sides as he lifts it over my head, my shirt coming off with it.

His gaze darkens as he takes me in, but he says nothing—just presses a lingering kiss to my sternum before continuing downward. Every touch, every brush of his lips against my skin, sends a shiver through me. He pauses at the waistband of my shorts, glancing up through his lashes, silently asking.

Another nod.

The fabric is gone in an instant, leaving me bare beneath him. He lets out a quiet, satisfied hum, his hands firm on my thighs as he pulls me closer. The heat between us is nearly unbearable, my skin burning everywhere he touches.

"Subin," I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. "Please."

His lips curve into a smirk against my skin, teasing, testing my patience. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open, and I feel his breath against me—warm, tantalizing, making my head spin.

The first brush of his lips is gentle, almost unbearably so, sending a shockwave through my body. My breath catches as he finds a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands keeping me exactly where he wants me. A strangled moan escapes me before I can stop it, my fingers tangling in the sheets as I fight for control.

But control is slipping—fast.

My body reacts before my mind can process it, arching into him, desperate for more. The pressure builds, unbearable and intoxicating all at once. The world narrows to the sensation of his touch, the way he reads my body so effortlessly, coaxing sounds from me I didn't know I was capable of making.

A sharp gasp leaves my lips as he changes pace, teasing, pulling me to the edge only to draw me back. I don't realize I'm begging until the words tumble out between breathless moans.

"More," I plead. "Please, more—"

Subin hums in satisfaction, the vibration sending another shudder through me. His fingers join the slow, intoxicating rhythm, pushing me closer and closer until the pressure finally snaps.

I come undone with a strangled cry, the pleasure crashing over me in waves, my vision hazy as I struggle to catch my breath.

When I finally open my eyes, he's already moving, crawling back up to meet me, his lips capturing mine in a slow, lingering kiss.

"Holy shit," I pant against his mouth, still breathless.

He chuckles, brushing his nose against mine. "Gonna be honest—I didn't think you had it in you."

A breathy laugh escapes him. "Ouch."

"Well, I'll have you know—that was just the beginning." His voice is low and teasing, lips grazing my jaw as he speaks. "Up for more?"

A thrill rushes through me, my pulse quickening all over again. But I'm not about to let him take the lead this time.

"Aht," I murmur, flipping us over in one swift motion. His eyes widen, startled, before he lets out a low, surprised chuckle.

"My turn."

He barely has time to react before I'm kissing him, slow and purposeful, trailing down his neck. His breath hitches as I find a sensitive spot, his hands twitching at his sides.

"You're so beautiful, YN," he murmurs, his voice rough with admiration.

I pause, lips still brushing his skin. "You can't say stuff like that."

"What?" He exhales sharply when I nip at his collarbone. "I'm telling the tru—ahh—" His words cut off as I continue my descent, leaving him breathless beneath me.

I smirk against his skin. "Stop talking."

And then I go lower.

Slowly and deliberately, I trail my lips down his neck, savoring the way his breath hitches beneath me. My hands roam over his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense under my touch as I move lower. When I reach his waistband, I glance up through my lashes, then tug at the fabric with my teeth.

"Mind if I?" I murmur, a teasing lilt in my voice, throwing his own words back at him.

He exhales a breathy laugh, though his voice is rough when he replies. "Ha ha, very funny."

But the humor barely lingers as I pull his pants and boxers down, freeing him. He's painfully hard, the tip flushed deep red, glistening in the dim light. I take a moment to admire him, wrapping my fingers around his thick length, barely able to close my hand around him.

"Jesus, YN," he breathes, his head falling back against the pillow as I give him a slow stroke. His hand twitches at his side like he's fighting the urge to grab and guide me.

I let my lips ghost over him, just barely touching, teasing. "Impatient?"

He lets out a low groan, lifting his head to glare down at me. "You have no idea."

I smirk, but before he can say anything else, I take him into my mouth, inch by inch.

A sharp inhale leaves him, his fingers threading into my hair as I begin to move. I start slow, testing, teasing, feeling the way he shudders each time my tongue swirls around him. With every downward motion, I take him deeper, feeling his grip tighten slightly, his restraint slipping.

"Fuck," he hisses, his voice strained. "Feels so—shit, just like that."

On the next descent, I pause halfway, letting my tongue press against that sensitive spot just beneath his tip. His reaction is instant—a deep, guttural moan as his grip in my hair tightens, his thighs trembling beneath my palms. He's holding himself back, barely. I can feel it in the way his muscles tense, in the way his hips twitch, fighting the urge to thrust deeper.

"God, YN, you're gonna drive me insane," he groans, voice shaky.

I smirk around him, giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze before I start moving again. This time, I hollow my cheeks, increasing the suction. The effect is immediate. His breaths turn ragged, his moans raw, his fingers flexing in my hair with every stroke.

"Shit—" His voice cuts off into a choked gasp as I take him deeper, my tongue teasing along the underside.

"You're—fuck—you're so good at this," he breathes out, his head dropping back against the pillows. "I—God, I wanna—"

He stops himself, breathing heavily, hands tightening in my hair like he's barely holding on.

I pull back slightly, stroking him slowly, looking up at him. "What do you want, Subin?"

His half-lidded eyes meet mine, dark and desperate. "I wanna come, but—fuck—I don't wanna stop."

His words send a thrill through me, and I hum around him in response. The vibrations make him shudder, his whole body tensing.

"Shit, YN—" He swears under his breath, his thighs trembling. "I'm close. You need to—"

His hand moves as if to gently pull me away, but I press my palm against his abdomen, pushing him back down. Not yet.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back against the pillow. "You're really not gonna let me stop, huh?"

I shake my head, keeping my mouth on him, making sure he feels every inch of warmth, every flick of my tongue.

His restraint finally snaps. His hips jerk up, his hands tightening in my hair, and a deep, broken moan rips from his throat as he unravels completely.

I swallow every last drop, milking him through the aftershocks, until he finally lets out a shaky breath and pulls me off, the sensations too much.

I rest my head against his knee, licking my lips as the taste of him lingers on my tongue. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hand dragging through his damp hair as he blinks down at me, still dazed.

"Fuck," he mutters, voice wrecked. "You're actually trying to kill me."

I smirk, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. "That was the plan."

His lips twitch, still catching his breath. "Evil."

I laugh softly, kissing his knee. "You love it."

He reaches for me then, tugging me up until I'm straddling his lap. His fingers thread through my hair, his eyes dark but playful as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"You're dangerous," he murmurs against my lips. "And I fucking love it."

I grin, letting my hands roam over his chest. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh, is that so?" he laughs and flips us over as begins to hover over me. His eyes scan over my face as if he's trying to memorize every inch of it before leaning down to kiss me deeply.

I moan softly, lifting my hips to press against him, feeling the heat of his body and the new hardness pressing between my thighs. A sharp inhale leaves his lips as he positions himself, sliding his length between my folds before pushing into me with one deep, unrelenting thrust.

I gasp, pleasure and the slight sting of fullness mixing into something intoxicating. My fingers grasp at his arms, needing something to hold onto.

"Move, please," I beg, voice breathless.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, he obeys, setting a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against mine with an intensity that has me unraveling in seconds.

"Harder. Please. Harder," I plead, needing more.

A groan rumbles from his throat as he shifts, angling himself just right, his thrusts now deeper, sharper, faster. His fingers dig into my hips with a bruising grip, as if he's afraid to let go. My moans echo through the room, feeding his desire, and his own noises—low, desperate, absolutely sinful—only push me further toward the edge.

I claw at his back, nails raking against taut muscle, trying to ground myself in the overwhelming pleasure. My orgasm builds rapidly, my body coiling tight as I pant his name. He already knows. He can feel it.

"I want you to cum for me, baby," he rasps, voice rough with restraint.

I whimper at the pet name, clinging to him, needing to feel him everywhere.

"Subin..."

"I've got you, gorgeous. Let go for me."

With one more deep thrust, pleasure crashes over me in violent waves. I cry out, body shaking beneath him, mind going blank except for the feeling of him.

Subin works me through it, slowing his movements just enough to let me breathe. When my body stops trembling, he gently rolls me onto my stomach. I try to lift my hips to accommodate him, but he presses me back down with a firm hand on my lower back.

"I've got this, pretty," he murmurs, lips grazing my ear. "Just get comfortable."

He slides into me again, his body covering mine like a heated blanket, his weight grounding me. The new angle has me gasping, pleasure striking through me like lightning.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his breath hot against my skin. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I feel myself tightening around him. Each thrust sending me spiraling, my body a mess of sensitivity and pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely think.

"You're close again, aren't you?" His lips brush against my shoulder. "I can feel it."

I can only moan in response. My words lost in the pleasure he's giving me. His pace remains relentless, his hips driving me further into the mattress.

"Tell me what you need, pretty."

"Don't stop—" I gasp.

He doesn't. He knows exactly what I need, keeping his rhythm steady, dragging me toward another high. His lips hover over my shoulder, teasing, waiting—until he bites down gently, just enough to send me over the edge.

I scream his name, my body shattering around him, pleasure blinding and all-consuming.

He slows his motions but doesn't stop, still chasing his own release. He kisses the bite mark soothingly, whispering praises against my damp skin.

When my breathing steadies, Subin eases me onto my back, still buried deep inside me. He starts slow and gentle, letting me feel every inch of him as he waits for my eyes to meet his.

When I finally focus, he smiles down at me. "There you are."

"Subin..." I whisper voice barely there.

"I'm right here, baby." He strokes my cheek, his touch impossibly tender.

"I want you to finish," I say softly, running my fingers through his damp hair.

He groans, dropping his forehead against mine. "You keep squeezing me and looking at me like that, and I'm a goner."

A weak smirk tugs at my lips, and I clench around him just to prove a point. He gasps, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"Cum for me, please," I whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

His body tenses, his rhythm faltering as he chases his release. "S-so close," he pants.

I wrap my legs around him, holding him tight, my palm pressing gently against his cheek, forcing him to keep his eyes on me. His thrusts grow erratic, his breath hitching, and then—

"YN—" he groans, his body shuddering as he finally lets go, spilling into me with a deep, guttural moan.

His hips slow to a stop, his body trembling slightly as he presses kisses against my flushed skin. He stays inside me for a moment, letting the aftershocks settle before finally collapsing onto me, breathless and spent.

For a while, neither of us speak, both lost in the lingering warmth of each other. Then, finally, he exhales a breathy laugh.

"Fucking hell," he murmurs, voice still wrecked. "That was... wow."

I smile, tracing my fingers lazily along his back. "Yeah," I whisper. "Wow."

He lifts his head, looking down at me with tired but adoring eyes. "You okay?"

I nod, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "More than okay."

His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. "Good," he murmurs, letting his eyes slip closed.

As we both come down from our highs, the heat between us settling into a quiet hum, Subin lets out a deep breath and presses one last kiss to my shoulder before rolling onto his back. For a few moments, the only sounds in the room are our breathing and the faint rustling of the sheets.

Then, he props himself up on one elbow, glancing down at me. "You okay, pretty?" His voice is rough, still laced with exhaustion and satisfaction.

I nod, stretching slightly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

He smirks. "I would hope so."

I roll my eyes, too spent to fire back. Instead, I groan as I attempt to sit up, but Subin is already moving. "Stay put," he says, pushing himself off the bed. "I'll be back."

I watch him walk toward the bathroom, his bare back disappearing behind the door. A few seconds later, I hear the water running. When he returns, he has a warm, damp towel in his hand.

"You really don't have to—" I start, but he raises a brow, giving me a look that immediately shuts me up.

"Relax," he says, kneeling onto the bed. "Let me take care of you."

I sigh, letting my head fall back against the pillow as he gently wipes between my legs, cleaning me up with slow, careful movements. I squirm slightly at the sensitivity, but he keeps his touch light. When he's done, he tosses the towel toward the laundry hamper and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my thigh before pulling the blankets up over me.

"Better?" he asks, slipping back under the covers beside me.

"Much," I murmur, already feeling the pull of sleep.

Subin lets out a satisfied hum and tugs me against him, his body warm against mine. "Good. Because I'm not carrying your ass to the shower."

I laugh sleepily, my fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. "Noted."

After we both showered and dressed, the sun has fully set, casting a soft glow through the window. The night air hums with distant city sounds, a soothing backdrop as we lie tangled together in bed, warmth radiating between us.

"So," Subin starts, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm. "How was it?"

I glance up at him. "Are you seriously asking if the sex was good?" I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Jeez, YN." He scoffs, feigning offense. "I was asking how it felt to do absolutely nothing all day. But, hey, if that's where your mind went..." He smirks.

I nudge his side, suppressing a grin. "Well, for starters, I wouldn't exactly call what we did 'nothing.' But yeah, it was nice. No responsibilities, no stress... just us." As I speak, I absentmindedly intertwine our fingers, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

"See? Lazy day was a success!" He fist-pumps triumphantly.

I snort. "You're such a nerd."

"Oh, really?" His voice takes on a mischievous lilt. Before I can react, his fingers find my sides, tickling me mercilessly.

"Stop, Subin—oh my god—" I gasp between uncontrollable laughter, squirming beneath him.

"Never!" he declares dramatically, peppering my face with playful kisses.

When he finally relents, I'm breathless, my stomach aching from laughter. He stretches with an exaggerated yawn. "On a serious note, I'm wiped. Wanna call it a night?" He starts to sit up, making me frown.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To the doghouse," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"...What?"

"The couch," he clarifies. "You know, so I don't overstay my welcome."

I sit up, gaping at him. "Subin. You just had your tongue down my throat and—inside me. And now you think I'm making you sleep on the couch?"

He raises his hands in surrender. "Whoa. That was wildly vivid."

"Oh, now you want to act innocent?" I deadpan, patting the empty space beside me. "Get back here."

He shakes his head but climbs back in any way, grinning like an idiot. "You're funny," he murmurs, bopping my nose before flopping onto his side.

"Nerd."

He pulls me closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck with a deep, exaggerated sigh.

"Goodnight, beautiful," he mumbles sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of my head.

I smile against his skin, my body sinking into his warmth. "Goodnight, Subin."

I wake up to the sound of my bedroom door opening and closing, the soft creak of the hinges pulling me from sleep. The sunlight filtering through the blinds is just bright enough to sting my barely opened eyes, making me instantly regret waking up. I groan and burrow deeper into the sheets.

"Oh, you're up? I was just about to wake you," a familiar voice teases.

Blinking against the light, I force my eyes open to find Subin standing near the door, already dressed. He looks effortlessly put together, his tousled hair the only sign that he was in bed with me just moments ago. I frown at the realization.

"Running out on me already?" I mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

He chuckles, stepping closer. "I got a call from Nayeon. She needs me to cover her shift—something about her mom's car breaking down."

I stretch, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Ah, got it. No worries. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course. I should be off in time," he assures me, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. It's warm, lingering just enough to make me wish he didn't have to leave.

He pulls back with a smirk. "If you miss me too much, you know where to find me."

"Smooth," I deadpan, though I can't help but smile. "Now go before you get yelled at. Again."

He groans dramatically. "You bring it up one time, and suddenly, it's a pattern."

I laugh, shooing him toward the door. He hesitates for a second, then calls over his shoulder, "Oh, by the way—I made you breakfast."

My head snaps up. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me!" he yells back, already halfway down the hall. "Enjoy it, princess!"

I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest. After a few more minutes of lounging, I finally drag myself out of bed, curiosity getting the better of me.

Padding into the kitchen, I stop in my tracks at the sight before me.

On the counter sits a beautifully plated breakfast—perfectly golden pancakes stacked neatly with fresh fruit and syrup drizzled over the top, alongside scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. A fresh cup of coffee stands beside it, and a small sticky note sits beside the plate.

I pick it up, smiling as I read Subin's messy scrawl:

"Breakfast for my queen. Hope it's edible. If not, pretend it is. See you tonight. :) - S"

I shake my head, a laugh escaping me as I take a seat at the counter. Picking up my fork, I take my first bite, and to my surprise—it's actually good.

"Okay, chef," I mutter under my breath, grinning as I eat.

Even though he's already gone, I feel his presence lingering in the apartment, and somehow, that makes the morning a little brighter. But, after finishing the last bite of breakfast, I sit at the counter for a few extra minutes, sipping my now-lukewarm coffee, staring at nothing in particular. The weight of tonight's engagement party slowly creep back into my mind, and with it, a wave of nerves.

I push the thought aside and force myself to move, heading toward the bathroom. Maybe a shower will help clear my head.

The warm water cascades over my shoulders, loosening my tense muscles, but my mind refuses to relax. Tonight should be a celebration—good food, good company, and, most importantly, Subin by my side. That alone should make me feel better. But I can't shake the nagging feeling that not everyone will be thrilled about my presence.

I think about the forced smiles and the passive-aggressive comments disguised as well-meaning advice. The silent stares from certain people who still see me as an outsider, no matter how much time has passed.

I let out a frustrated sigh, resting my forehead against the cool tile.

"It's just one night," I murmur to myself. "You can handle this."

Just as I shut off the water and step onto the bath mat, my phone buzzes from the sink. Wrapping a towel around myself, I glance at the screen.

Sonya.

I exhale, already knowing she's about to go full interrogation mode.

I swipe to answer, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I reach for my lotion. "Hey."

"Okay, tell me the truth," she says immediately. "On a scale of one to completely losing your mind, how stressed are you?"

I let out a breathy laugh. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? It is your engagement party, after all."

"Oh, please," she scoffs. "I'm thriving. The centerpieces are perfect, the playlist is fire, and my fiancé is obsessed with me. Nothing can ruin my night."

"Must be nice," I mutter, rubbing moisturizer onto my arms.

"Knew it," she sighs. "You always do this. It's just a party, babe."

"An engagement party," I correct, reaching for my hairbrush. "Big difference."

"Right, because people getting engaged totally means everyone else suddenly stops having basic human decency," she deadpans.

I snort, shaking my head. "You say that like you don't remember how these things go."

"I do remember," she says. "I also remember that you're not the same person you were the last time you dealt with this kind of thing. And, hello, you have Subin now. That man is obsessed with you. Let him take some of the stress off your shoulders."

I pause, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "I know. I just—"

"Just what?" she presses.

I hesitate. "I guess I just don't want him to see... all of it. The weird looks, the whispered comments. The fact that some of them hate me."

Sonya is quiet for a second before sighing. "Did you tell him about everything? About Seungcheol?"

I chew on my lip. "Last night."

Her silence is loaded. "And?"

"And..." I take a deep breath. "He took it well, actually. He listened, asked questions, and didn't judge me. When I told him about the accident, how things spiraled after that, and how messy it all got the second, I saw everyone again after two years... he didn't flinch. He didn't run."

Sonya lets out a soft hum as if processing the situation. "Okay, that is a good sign."

I let out a short laugh. "Right? I mean, considering everything? I wouldn't have blamed him if he did."

"Well, I would," she says flatly. "Because he's not some random guy. He knows you. He wants to know you. And if he stuck around after hearing all of that? It means he's serious, YN. He's in this."

I swallow, letting her words sink in. "Yeah. I guess he is."

"And that means tonight? You don't have to face it alone."

I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face. "Yeah."

"Speaking of tonight," she continues, "Jihoon and Jeonghan can stay mad about the whole Seungcheol situation if they want. And Seungcheol? He can pout all he wants. They finally know the truth about why you left, and yeah, they have the right to be upset about how things played out, but if they can't at least accept it? If they can't let it go? Then you need to move on."

I close my eyes, gripping the bathroom counter.

"You did what you felt you had to do," Sonya reminds me. "You don't owe them anything. And you especially don't owe Seungcheol your guilt. He, of all people, should know that was the hardest decision you've ever made. So, if he wants to sulk, let him. If Jihoon and Jeonghan want to be bitter, let them. But you?" She pauses for emphasis. "You deserve to have fun tonight. You deserve to enjoy yourself, with your man next to you, at a party that has nothing to do with all that old drama."

I exhale slowly.

"You're right," I finally admit. "You're annoyingly right."

"I usually am." I can practically hear her smirk. "Now, are you gonna stop spiraling and start getting hyped for tonight?"

"I'll try," I laugh.

"That's all I ask."

I hear a muffled voice in the background, followed by Sonya groaning. "Ugh, I have to go—apparently, I'm 'needed' at work. Disgusting. But I better get a full recap after the party."

"Of course," I say, a small smile forming. "Thanks, Sonya."

"Anytime, babe."

As the call disconnects, I take a deep breath, standing a little taller. Maybe tonight won't be as bad as I'm making it out to be. Maybe, with Subin next to me, I can handle whatever comes my way.

And if not? At least I'll have Sonya to vent to afterward.

I spend the next few hours mentally preparing for the evening ahead. To ease my nerves, I indulge in a comprehensive self-care routine.

I start with a full skincare regimen, applying a soothing face mask and allowing it to work its magic as I lounge on the couch, ambient music playing softly in the background. After thirty minutes, I rinse off the mask, feeling a renewed sense of calm.

Returning to the bathroom, I meticulously pluck my eyebrows, ensuring they frame my face just right. I then section my hair, carefully rolling each piece into curlers, anticipating the soft waves they'll create.

As the hours pass, I focus on the positive, envisioning laughter, reconnections, and the joy of celebrating Sonya's special moment. With each step of my routine, I feel more grounded, ready to face whatever the evening holds.

As the final hour before the engagement party ticks away, I find myself standing before my closet, deliberating over what to wear. The anticipation of the evening's events mingles with a lingering apprehension, but I remind myself of Sonya's unwavering support and Subin's steadfast presence.

I select an outfit that exudes confidence—a deep emerald dress that complements my complexion and brings out the warmth in my eyes. As I slip it on, the fabric feels like a protective armor, bolstering my resolve. I remove the rollers from my hair, letting soft waves cascade over my shoulders, and apply makeup that enhances my features without masking them.

With each step of my preparation, I focus on the positive aspects of the evening: celebrating Sonya's happiness, reconnecting with old friends, and introducing Subin to the people who have shaped my past. I take a moment to breathe deeply, centering myself and embracing the excitement that now outweighs my anxiety.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The reflection staring back is one of strength, resilience, and readiness. Tonight is not just about facing the past; it's about embracing the present and looking forward to the future.

My phone vibrating brings me out of my thoughts, and I walk over to see a text from Dokyeom.

New Message: Not Donkey Kong 😔: Please tell me you haven't backed out and are still coming tonight

I sigh. I love Dokyeom. And I hate that he's in the middle of all this drama. He's probably the most kind-hearted person out of all of us and definitely an empath. I know he's just looking out for me, so I unlocked my phone to respond.

Me: Kyeomie. I wouldn't miss tonight for the world. Don't worry about me so much, okay?

New Message: Not Donkey Kong 😔: Whew. That's a relief!!! (✿ŎヮŎ) cheer up, YN!!

Just as I hit the heart reaction on Dokyeom's text, a knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I assume it's Subin, so I smooth down the fabric of my dress, do a quick once-over in the mirror, and head toward the door.

But when I open it, my breath catches in my throat.

Subin stands there, looking—well, amazing is an understatement. He's dressed in a sleek black suit, the jacket perfectly tailored to his frame, the dark fabric contrasting against his warm skin. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, revealing just a hint of his collarbone, and his hair is styled effortlessly like he just ran his fingers through it, and somehow it turned out perfect.

His eyes flicker over me in return, widening slightly before a slow, appreciative smile spreads across his lips.

"Wow," he exhales, stepping closer. "You look... stunning."

I feel heat rush to my cheeks as I tuck a loose curl behind my ear. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

He tilts his head, smirking. "Pretty well? That's all I get?"

I roll my eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Okay, fine. You look ridiculously good."

"That's more like it," he chuckles, then reaches out, his fingers gently brushing my waist before settling there. "Are you ready?"

I take a deep breath, nodding. "As I'll ever be."

Subin searches my face as if checking for any signs of doubt. "Hey," he murmurs, squeezing my waist. "No matter what happens tonight, you've got me, okay?"

His words settle something deep inside me, the lingering nerves still present but slightly less suffocating. I nod again, more sure this time. "Okay."

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back and offering his arm. "Then let's go show them how good we look together."

I laugh, linking my arm with his. "You just want to make everyone jealous, don't you?"

"Absolutely," he grins. "And because you deserve to enjoy tonight. No weird looks, no whispered comments—just us celebrating Sonya."

I squeeze his arm as we step out the door. Maybe tonight won't be so bad after all.

The drive to the venue is quiet at first, the soft hum of the car filling the silence between us. The city lights blur past the window, a gentle reminder of how much time has passed since I was last here, last surrounded by all the people I once called my closest friends.

Subin glances over at me, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. "You're doing that thing again," he says lightly.

I blink, turning toward him. "What thing?"

"That thing where you get stuck in your head," he replies, stealing another glance at me before focusing back on the road. "Whatever you're overthinking, stop."

I huff out a small laugh. "Easier said than done."

He chuckles, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Alright, then, let's get your mind off it. How about this—if you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be?"

I tilt my head, considering it. "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere," he confirms.

I pretend to think for a second before smirking. "Somewhere far away from this party."

Subin laughs, shaking his head. "Okay, that was too easy. But really, if you could be anywhere, no obligations, no expectations—just you, picking a place."

I sigh, leaning back against the seat. "Maybe... a quiet beach somewhere. Somewhere warm, with soft sand and water so clear you can see straight to the bottom."

He hums in approval. "That sounds nice."

"What about you?" I ask.

Subin grins. "Same place, but only if you're there too."

I roll my eyes, but I can't fight the small smile tugging at my lips. "Smooth."

"Always," he teases, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

I glance down at our intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing soothing circles against my skin. The tension in my shoulders eases just a little.

"Thank you," I say softly, turning to him.

"For what?"

"For coming with me. For... making this easier."

Subin squeezes my hand again. "You don't have to thank me, YN. I'd follow you anywhere."

His words settle something deep in my chest, pushing away some of the lingering nerves.

As we pull up to the venue, I take one last deep breath.

Whatever happens tonight, at least I won't be facing it alone.

As we pull up to the venue, I take one last deep breath, steeling myself for what lies ahead. Subin turns off the engine, and for a moment, the quiet of the car wraps around us like a cocoon. I glance at him—his steady gaze and gentle smile remind me that, no matter what tonight brings, I'm not alone.

"Ready?" he asks softly, his hand still resting on mine.

I nod, swallowing away the last remnants of anxiety as we gather our things. The cool night air hits me as we step out of the car. The venue is bathed in a warm glow—string lights crisscross overhead, and soft laughter mingles with the hum of conversation. I can see familiar faces through the large windows, some smiling in recognition, others offering cautious glances.

Subin squeezes my hand. "Let's go show them how good we look together," he teases, a playful lilt in his voice.

I manage a small smile as we walk toward the entrance. Inside, the room buzzes with energy. The soft glow of chandeliers, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of reunions all blend together into a comforting symphony. I catch a few nods of acknowledgment from Sonya's family and even a few tentative smiles from those who might have once doubted my place here.

Sonya had mentioned that Joshua had reserved a private area just for us—and she wasn't kidding. We make our way to the roped-off section, and as we pass, several heads turn in our direction.

"Speak of the devil," Joshua calls out with a grin.

"Joshie, my goodness, it's so good to see you!" I hug him tightly.

"Looking beautiful as always. I've missed you," he says, letting go slowly, his eyes warm with genuine affection.

"Oh, stop it. I've missed you too—missed all of you!" I reply, moving through the small crowd to hug everyone. I awkwardly navigate around Seungcheol and the woman beside him.

"Jeon! Congratulations. I'm happy for you two," I say as I give him one last hug, and he places a friendly kiss on my cheek.

"About damn time!" DK chimes in, and we all burst into laughter.

"Hey, who's this, YN?" Chan asks, nodding toward the quiet figure lingering behind me.

"Oh, this is Subin—YN's friend," Sonya announces with a playful smirk. I sigh inwardly, feeling the weight of recent awkwardness.

"Sorry about that awkward encounter last week. We were just worried," she adds quickly.

Subin steps forward with an easy smile. "No need to apologize. You were just looking out for her. It's a pleasure to finally meet you—and congratulations to you both," he says, bowing slightly in a manner that makes everyone chuckle.

"Everyone, this is Subin," Sonya declares. I roll my eyes affectionately as I turn to him. "Subin, meet Jeonghan, Joshua, Soonyoung, the man of the hour Wonwoo, Jun, Mingyu, Minghao, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan—also known as Dino. You've kind of met DK and Jihoon already. And that's Seungcheol, and—sorry, I didn't catch your name," I say, nodding toward the stunning woman next to him.

She's striking: long, sleek black hair, a dazzling smile, a red dress that slips off her shoulders just enough, and matching deep red lipstick. I see Seungcheol tense beside her as she speaks.

"Hello! I'm Haneul. It's so nice to finally meet you; I've heard so much about you," she chirps brightly.

God, I hate how effortlessly kind she seems.

"Hm. Haneul, what a pretty name. Nice to meet you, too," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. I steal a glance at Jihoon, who's watching me, and offer a small wave—only to see him turn away, and it stings a little more than I'd like.

"Big friend group you've got there. You sure there's room for me?" Subin jokes and laughter ripple through the crowd—everyone except Jihoon and Seungcheol, whose expressions remain guarded.

"Ah, plenty of room. The more, the merrier, right?" Joshua adds with a light laugh.

"Well, now that introductions are over, let's get this party started!" I declare, and Sonya shoots me a look that's both amused and a little puzzled.

The room erupts in cheers as drinks are poured and conversations overlap. Subin and I find seats across from Seungcheol and Haneul. I can feel his eyes on me—steady, calculating—and it reminds me that tonight is bound to be complex.

I spend a moment absorbing the scene—the clink of glasses, the buzz of reuniting voices, and the undercurrent of tension in every sideways glance. Despite the festive chaos, my mind flickers back to all that I shared with Subin last night about Seungcheol, the accident, and how things got so messy the moment I reappeared after two long years.

Later, during a lull in the mingling, Sonya corners me near the bar. "So," she says in a hushed tone.

"Sonya, you know I love you. But, this is your party. You do not need to check on me every five minutes," I groan.

Before she can respond, Dokyeom makes his way over.

"You and Subin look cozy," DK teases, and I shoot him a playful glare.

"Not a dig, I swear! You two look good," he insists, grinning.

Sonya chimes in, "Yeah, so, what's the status on that?" Her tone is light but curious.

I roll my eyes. "It's not official, I think... I don't know. He's been staying over," I admit before their eyes practically pop out in shock.

"He what!?" they all exclaim in unison.

"Oh, my bestie finally got a man!" Sonya teases and I lightly smack her arm in mock reprimand.

"Speaking of," DK says from behind me, and I turn to see Subin approaching with two cups in hand.

"Those better both be for him," Sonya remarks as Subin hands me one of the cups. I offer her an awkward smile and clink my cup with his before downing the mysterious liquid. I scrunch my nose as the alcohol burns down my throat.

"I told them to surprise me. Remind me never to do that again," Subin grumbles, setting the cups aside.

Sonya shoots me an unamused look. "We'll talk about this later," she warns, and I roll my eyes in return.

"Jihoon's been shooting daggers at you all night," DK continues. "I get Seungcheol's grumpiness, but how come you two still haven't made up? We were always three peas in a pod."

I laugh, "It's two peas, Kyeomie. And besides, he'll get over it." I cringe when Seungcheol's name is mentioned.

DK's expression darkens. "You get what I mean. He's been up Jeonghan's ass all night, too. Won't even drink with me. Why's he mad at me!?" he pouts dramatically.

I put my hands up in surrender. "Love, can we table this? Tonight's about Wonwoo and Sonya. Save the intervention for later—just give him time."

He sighs, clearly frustrated. "Whatever. I'm going to find Mingyu," he mutters, storming off.

"Seokmin, come on!" I call after him, trying to stop him, but Sonya places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Let it go. Enjoy the night," she says softly before walking away.

I lean back, smiling to myself. Even amidst all the teasing and drama, it's moments like these—full of laughter, banter, and genuine care—that remind me why tonight is worth embracing.

Subin sits on the stool next to me and places his hand on my knee.

"How are we feeling?"

I sigh. "Honestly, it could be worse. Enough drama, though. How are you? They seem to like you. Well, most of them, anyways," I let out a breathy laugh.

"I'm alright. If it becomes too much, just say the words, and we can leave," he squeezes my hand, and I give him a small nod.

"You should mingle. I want to check on DK, and I need to stop avoiding Jihoon—for his sake," I say firmly, pulling away with determined resolve.

"Good luck," Subin replies, kissing me one last time before we part.

I stride over to the table where Jihoon, DK, and Seungcheol are gathered, their faces drawn into a silent tableau. The room's buzz seems to pause around us for a moment.

"This is a sight for sore eyes," I remark, attempting to pierce the tension. Jihoon scoffs.

"I thought you two were just friends?" he mutters under his breath.

"Is that all you have to say? Really? Come on, Jihoon," I plead, frustration lacing my tone.

"Not mad. Just... I have nothing to say," he replies coolly, his eyes avoiding mine.

I lean over toward Seungcheol. "Is he giving you the silent treatment, too?" I ask, trying to catch even a flicker of concern in his gaze.

Seungcheol merely shrugs, his expression unreadable, his tone flat. "Pretty much."

That is the final straw. I straighten up, my voice rising over the pulsing music. "Alright, listen up!" I snap louder than I intended. "I know this isn't ideal, but can you guys at least pretend to care about your best friends getting engaged? Put your pride aside for two fucking seconds!"

For a split second, their eyes—some amused, some indifferent—are on me.

"What she said!" DK chimes in.

"And you, Seokmin, stop instigating," I added sharply.

"Hey!" Seokmin protests.

I turn back to Seungcheol, my gaze piercing. "Seungcheol, you're here with a beautiful woman, why are you sitting there pouting like you couldn't care less? Go dance with her! Jihoon, find a cute girl to dance with—or even dance with Seokmin if that's your style. Stop being mopey and act like you care about something other than yourselves tonight!"

The words hang in the air. Jihoon grumbles, "Alright, alright! Damn," and he stands, clapping DK on the back. "Seungcheol, if I have to, so do you. Get up," Jihoon adds with a nudge.

Seungcheol finally stands and grabs his crutch, his movement is sluggish, his eyes cold and indifferent as if my outburst barely registers. "Still scaring people, I see," he mutters, his voice void of any real emotion. His detached gaze sends a jolt through me—a reminder that beneath all this chaos, some wounds run deeper than playful banter.

"Told you. She hasn't changed," DK jokes and the rest of them start to disperse under my parting death glare.

For a moment, the tension lingers like a heavy fog, and I can't help but feel that sting of indifference from Seungcheol as it slices through the festive atmosphere. The noise of the party swells back around us, but a piece of my mind remains fixed on his icy detachment.

Two hours later, after rallying Jihoon, DK, and the others into a semblance of celebration, I find myself immersed in the dance floor's energy. The music pulses through my body, and laughter mingles with the clink of glasses. I let the moment wash over me, trying to forget that earlier confrontation.

Yet, even amid the swirling joy, I can't shake the memory of Seungcheol's unmoved expression. His indifference lingers like an aftertaste, a stark contrast to the warmth of our shared memories. Still, I push it aside. Tonight, I'm here to celebrate new beginnings—even if some old ghosts refuse to be exorcised completely.

As I dance with friends, I catch glimpses of their encouraging smiles, and even Jihoon eventually joins in, his earlier aloofness replaced with reluctant amusement. DK claps me on the back during a particularly energetic song, and for a fleeting moment, the night feels bright, unburdened by past dramas.

In the midst of it all, I steal a glance toward the quieter corner of the room, where Seungcheol stands apart, still wrapped in his-whatever you want to call it. A mixture of longing and frustration wells up in me—but then Subin squeezes my hand, grounding me with his reassuring warmth.

With each beat of the music, I choose to let the laughter and camaraderie carry me forward. Tonight, I decide, I will dance, I will celebrate, and I will embrace every moment—knowing that despite the lingering shadows, I am not defined by them. And if Seungcheol's indifference remains, so be it. I have Subin, I have friends, and most importantly, I have the strength to keep moving toward a happier tomorrow.

As the night slowly winds down, the energy in the room begins to shift. The once pulsating beat of the music softens, and the vibrant chatter mellows into gentle murmurs. Groups that had been dancing wildly now huddle in small clusters, sharing stories and laughter laced with fatigue and contentment. Some guests, still buoyant on a heady mix of excitement and alcohol, stagger out with bright, unsteady smiles, while others lean back into worn couches or chairs, their eyes heavy with tired joy.

I watch as the party gradually empties. Glasses clink softly on nearly empty tables, and the once-busy dance floor now hosts only the occasional slow sway of a few lingering souls. In the midst of it all, Subin catches my eye and offers a warm, understanding smile—a silent promise that our night isn't over just yet.

Just then, as the final strains of music begin to fade, Subin moves closer. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans in and whispers, "One last dance?"

I can feel my heart skip a beat at his request. Without hesitation, I take his hand, and together, we step onto the near-empty dance floor. The soft lights bathe us in a gentle glow as we sway slowly, our bodies moving in quiet harmony. The world around us has nearly vanished, leaving only the rhythmic pulse of our hearts and the lingering warmth of the night.

As our final song drifts softly over the dance floor, I catch a glimpse of Seungcheol standing abruptly, his face a mix of anger and sadness. Without a word, he slips away from the group, leaving an uneasy silence in his wake. For a split second, I worry—wondering if his departure might cast a shadow over the night.

But just as the tension begins to rise, Sonya and Wonwoo make their way over, grinning and determined to turn the moment around.

"Alright, let's show them how it's done," Wonwoo declares, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Before I can protest, Subin slides back, giving my Wonwoo permission, and a lighthearted ritual quickly unfolds. Subin and Wonwoo take turns dancing with me—a slow, teasing waltz that blends silly twirls with genuine laughter. Every awkward step becomes a joke, every shared glance a burst of fun that chases away the earlier gloom.

As if catching the contagious joy, Sonya can't resist any longer. With a bright laugh, she steps onto the dance floor, joining in the merriment. Soon, Subin, Sonya, and Wonwoo rotate partners, swapping off with me in a series of impromptu slow dances. Our playful banter fills the air, and even as I steal a fleeting glance at the spot where Seungcheol had been, the energy around me feels overwhelmingly joyful.

In the midst of our dancing, Jihoon steps onto the floor and catches Subin's eye with a questioning look. Before I know it, Subin gently takes my hand and places it in Jihoon's, then makes his way back to the table. I meet Jihoon's gaze, and unexpectedly, tears begin to well up in my eyes. He sighs, lowering his voice as if afraid the noise might shatter the fragile moment.

"YN, I'm sorry," he says softly.

I remain silent for a beat, the memories of that long-ago day at the park—the promise we made to stay together no matter what—flashing unbidden through my mind. Finally, Jihoon continues, his tone laced with regret. "I just... I don't know what got over me. I couldn't help but think about that day at the park when we promised we'd never let anything tear us apart. And then you left... I never understood why. It's not fair to you, and I am so sorry."

Tears stain my cheeks as his words sink in. "You hurt me, Ji," I manage to whisper, the pain of abandonment mingling with the bittersweet nostalgia of lost promises.

"I know. I'm sorry," he replies, his voice barely audible, before pulling me into a tight, apologetic hug that speaks of longing and regret.

After a moment, he releases me gently. "Subin seems good for you. I'm happy you have him," Jihoon adds, glancing sideways at Subin, who now watches from a distance with quiet composure.

I pull back, meeting Jihoon's eyes, a small, rueful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Are you saying you enjoy him?" I tease softly, the tension easing into a fragile humor.

"Don't make it weird," Jihoon retorts with a playful roll of his eyes. "I now understand that you did what you needed to do."

A charged silence passes between us—a mixture of apology, acceptance, and the unspoken acknowledgment that things have changed. Then, with a slight shrug and a tentative smile, Jihoon turns back toward the edge of the dance floor, leaving me with a heart that feels both heavy and strangely hopeful.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading energy of the night and the lingering warmth of our impromptu slow dance, I realize that tonight is a tapestry of emotions—joy, regret, acceptance, and the promise of new beginnings. And though the past still echoes in the quiet corners of my heart, I'm learning to embrace the present, one step—and one dance—at a time.

Sonya catches my arm and pulls me aside near the bar. Her eyes, usually brimming with playful mischief, now hold genuine concern.

"Hey, YN," she says quietly, "what was that conversation with Jihoon all about?"

I pause, glancing over at the remnants of our earlier dance with Jihoon and the others. Taking a slow breath, I meet her gaze. "It wasn't anything explosive," I reply softly. "Just a quiet understanding between us. I guess I realized that, despite everything, it's all going to be okay."

Sonya's expression relaxes, and a small, reassuring smile tugs at her lips. "That's good to hear," she murmurs. "I just needed to know you're alright."

"I am," I say, giving her a gentle squeeze of my hand. "Sometimes a quiet moment says more than all the drama in the world."

With that, Sonya nods and gives me one final hug before Subin and I head out. I step away, still feeling the warmth of her embrace as if it were a promise that everything will be alright. Outside, the cool night air greets us like a gentle reminder that a new day is on the horizon. Subin catches my hand as we make our way toward the exit, his grip firm and reassuring.

I glance back at the fading lights of the venue, letting the lingering hum of laughter and music sink in for a moment—a farewell to the chaos of the night and a silent vow to carry its lessons forward. "Everything's going to be okay," I whisper to myself, echoing the quiet understanding I just shared with Sonya.

Subin smiles at me, and in that smile, I see both comfort and resolve. "Let's go," he says softly, and together we step into the night, leaving behind the remnants of a bittersweet evening. Each step away feels like a small act of defiance against the past—a step toward new beginnings.

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - a perfect day. (misc.)

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): fluff. just fluff. summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 1.4k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: more random thoughts. this takes place during the beginning stages of cheol's and yn's relationship. just a little insight on how their friendship was. more jeonghan and yn teasing moments. i really want to touch on their friendship a bit more so you all can understand why he seems to be hurt the most (aside from jihoon of course).

The sun was warm against my skin, and the breeze was just enough to keep the heat from becoming overwhelming. It was one of those rare, perfect days—the kind that made everything feel lighter and easier. The park stretched wide before us, with lush green grass dotted with wildflowers—the sound of kids playing and birds chirping blended into an easy, peaceful atmosphere.

I sat on the picnic blanket next to Seungcheol, our shoulders brushing occasionally. It wasn't much, just a simple touch, but it sent little jolts of awareness through me each time. We weren't exactly official yet, but something was happening between us, something new and exciting. I could feel it in how he looked at me and leaned just a little closer when I spoke.

"Alright, who's in charge of snacks?" Jeonghan asked, stretching his arms over his head lazily.

"I brought chips, but someone—" Jihoon shot a look at Dokyeom, who was currently chewing with a guilty expression, "—decided to open them early."

Dokyeom swallowed quickly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Listen, they were calling my name. You can't just bring chips and expect me to wait."

Jeonghan scoffed. "Typical. What about drinks?"

"I brought some," I said, reaching for the small cooler beside me. Seungcheol beat me to it, grabbing a water bottle and handing it to me first before passing others around. It was such a small gesture, but it made my heart skip a beat.

"Thanks," I murmured, glancing at him.

His lips curved into a soft smile. "Anytime."

Jeonghan, who had been watching us with sharp eyes, let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, young love. So sweet. So innocent."

I felt my face heat up. "Oh my God, shut up."

Seungcheol just laughed, shaking his head. "Jeonghan, don't start."

Jihoon, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly leaned back on his hands and stared at the sky. His expression was thoughtful, and his usual sharp eyes were a little softer. "You guys ever think about where we'll all be in ten or twenty years?"

The group fell silent for a moment. It wasn't often that Jihoon got like this, so when he did, we listened.

Dokyeom was the first to speak. "Hopefully, we're still stealing each other's snacks."

Jeonghan chuckled. "And annoying each other to death."

Jihoon smiled, but there was something deeper in his gaze. "No, but really. I hope we're still like this. Still friends. No matter what happens, no matter how busy life gets."

Something about his words hit me harder than I expected. I looked around at them—Jeonghan with his effortless charm, Dokyeom with his bright energy, Jihoon with his quiet depth, and Seungcheol, steady and warm beside me. These were my people. My safe place.

"I hope so, too," I said softly. "I don't want to imagine a life without you guys in it."

Seungcheol reached over, his fingers brushing against mine for a moment before he laced them together. It was the first time he'd held my hand like this in front of our friends, and I knew without looking that he was watching my reaction. My heart pounded, but I didn't pull away. Instead, I squeezed his hand gently.

"We won't let that happen," Seungcheol said firmly. "No matter where we end up, no matter what changes, we'll always have each other."

Jihoon nodded, his expression determined. "Promise?"

Jeonghan held out his pinky. "Pinky promise."

Laughing, we all linked pinkies, sealing the unspoken vow between us. It was a silly gesture, maybe, but in that moment, it meant everything.

Eventually, the sun had almost disappeared beyond the horizon, casting long shadows over the park. The warm twilight glow wrapped around us, painting the sky in soft purples and oranges. The day had been perfect—full of laughter, teasing, and quiet moments that reminded me how much I loved being with these people.

But something in the air shifted. I felt it before I even turned to look at Seungcheol.

He was sitting beside me, his posture more confident than before, his fingers lightly drumming against his knee like he was gathering his thoughts. But when I met his gaze, there was no hesitation—only certainty.

He exhaled once, steady and calm. Then, with the same confidence that made him the natural leader of our group, he spoke.

"YN."

The way he said my name sent a quiet thrill through me.

I turned toward him fully. "Yeah?"

He didn't look away. If anything, he leaned in just slightly as if making sure I could feel the weight of what he was about to say.

"I've asked you this before," he began, his voice even but laced with something deeper, "but it never felt like the right moment. I always felt like we needed more time or that I needed to wait until I was sure." His thumb grazed my hand, a touch so soft I almost didn't notice it. "But today, sitting here with you, with them—" he gestured toward the others, who were pretending not to eavesdrop "—I realized I don't want to wait anymore."

My heart pounded as he shifted, turning to face me completely. His dark eyes were warm and unwavering.

"I like you. More than just in the way I've been acting. More than just as a friend. And I don't want to keep skirting around it." He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. "So, YN, will you be my girlfriend? For real this time?"

It wasn't a question laced with doubt. It wasn't nervous or hesitant. It was a statement—a choice he had already made.

And the best part? I didn't have to think about my answer.

A slow smile spread across my face, my chest feeling light and warm all at once. "Yes. Of course, I will."

Seungcheol's lips curved into a full grin, the kind that made his dimples appear. Without missing a beat, he tugged me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a strong, secure embrace. I hugged him as tightly, letting myself get lost in the moment.

And then—

"FINALLY!" Jeonghan's voice rang out, full of exasperation.

We pulled apart just in time to see him dramatically flop onto the picnic blanket. "Do you guys know how painful it was watching you two dance around each other?"

Dokyeom clutched his chest. "I almost lost faith in love, waiting for this to happen."

Jihoon smirked. "Speak for yourself. I always knew it'd happen—just a matter of when."

I groaned, covering my face. "You all knew?"

Jeonghan snorted. "YN, please. A blind man could see it."

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but didn't let go of my hand. "Alright, alright. That's enough."

Jeonghan smirked. "Oh, it's never enough."

Seungcheol groaned, “You guys are the worst," he muttered, but his voice had no real annoyance—just amusement.

Jeonghan leaned back on his hands, grinning. "I mean, we did have a bet going."

I blinked. "A bet?"

Dokyeom nodded eagerly. "Yep! I said Seungcheol would confess first, but Jihoon thought you would!"

I turned to Jihoon. "You bet against me?"

Jihoon shrugged. "I thought you'd get impatient waiting for him."

Seungcheol scoffed. "Wow. So much faith in me."

Dokyeom nodded eagerly. "Yeah! We need to set ground rules. Like, no excessive PDA around us lonely people."

"Speak for yourself," Jeonghan muttered. "I think it's adorable. Just, you know, not in front of me."

I laughed, feeling my cheeks warm. Seungcheol just squeezed my hand, glancing at me with a smile that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Jeonghan, ever the mood-breaker, smirked. “Alright, since we’re making promises and getting all sentimental, should we make it official?”

Dokyeom’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Like a blood pact?”

Jihoon groaned. “Why is that your first thought?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “We are not doing a blood pact, Dokyeom.”

Seungcheol, still holding my hand, gave it a light squeeze before letting go to stretch. “Let’s do something more fun. Like… a game.”

Jeonghan’s grin turned mischievous. “I like where this is going. Truth or dare?”

Jihoon immediately protested. “Absolutely not.”

“Jihoon,” Jeonghan sighed dramatically, “this is why you have no fun.”

“I am the reason I have no fun?” Jihoon shot back. “I have plenty of fun—just not with games that involve embarrassing myself.”

Dokyeom patted Jihoon’s back. “We’ll go easy on you. Maybe.”

I laughed. “Okay, okay, let’s do something safe. How about… ‘Most Likely To’?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. It was a simple game—someone would say a scenario, and we’d all vote on who was most likely to do it.

Jeonghan smirked. “I’ll go first. Who’s most likely to accidentally marry a stranger in Vegas?”

Before anyone could speak, everyone pointed at Dokyeom.

“HEY!” Dokyeom pouted. “Why me?!”

Seungcheol chuckled. “You literally almost signed a contract once without reading it because the guy seemed nice.”

Jihoon snorted. “We had to physically stop you from agreeing to a ‘lifetime subscription’ for free samples.”

Dokyeom huffed. “Okay, fair, but still. I’d like to think I’d know if I was getting married.”

“Would you, though?” I teased.

He muttered something under his breath about betrayal, making everyone laugh.

Seungcheol sat up a little, looking at me. “Your turn.”

I pretended to think for a moment before smirking. “Who’s most likely to cry at a rom-com and pretend they didn’t?”

Jihoon immediately pointed at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“Don’t ‘excuse me’ me,” Jihoon said, crossing his arms. “I saw you wipe your eyes during that one movie.”

“It was dusty!” Seungcheol defended.

Jeonghan grinned. “Right, because the movie theater was so full of dust right when the main character confessed their love.”

Seungcheol groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are the worst.”

I nudged him with my shoulder, teasing. “It’s okay, Cheol. I think it’s sweet.”

He glanced at me, something softer in his gaze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He held my gaze for a moment before nodding. “Fine. I may have teared up a little. But only because the soundtrack was really well done.”

We all burst into laughter, and the game continued, each question bringing more teasing, more memories, more laughter.

The teasing continued, but I barely heard it. Because right now, with Seungcheol beside me, his fingers still intertwined with mine, and our friends surrounding us, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Perfect.

[cheollollipop]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to me and jungwoo 🥳🤭

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - Seungcheol's POV 1. (misc.)

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): sonya goes OFF! mentions of not wanting to be alive. YN suffering. summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 1k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: this takes place during ch. 1 after YN leaves the hospital.

She's gone.

Again.

And this time, I know—really know—she's never coming back.

The room feels suffocating like the walls are closing in like the weight of everything I've refused to acknowledge is finally crashing down on me. No one moves. No one speaks. The silence is deafening, ringing louder than any argument we just had.

Jeonghan exhales sharply, rubbing his hands over his face. "She's really gone, isn't she?"

I let out a bitter laugh, my head falling back against the pillows. "Yeah, Jeonghan. She is."

"You were mad at her too," I say, looking between Jeonghan and Jihoon, my voice raw. "Both of you. You were just as hurt when she left."

Jihoon crosses his arms, his jaw tight. "Of course we were." He hesitates, then sighs. "But that doesn't mean—"

"We all took it personally, Cheol," Jeonghan cuts in, his voice tight with emotion. "She abandoned us. We needed her too, and she just... disappeared."

I nod slowly, staring at the empty space where she stood just moments ago. "Then why does it feel like I'm the only one who still hates her for it?"

The door suddenly swings open with a force that makes everyone flinch.

"Seungcheol!"

Sonya's voice is frantic, her expression filled with panic. She rushes inside, eyes scanning the room wildly before landing on me.

"Oh my god," she breathes, making a beeline for my bedside. "I just heard—Wonwoo called me—are you okay?"

I blink at her, startled by the sheer panic in her voice.

"I—yeah," I manage, but Sonya isn't having it.

Her hands hover over me like she's afraid to touch me, afraid I might break. "Jesus, Seungcheol, you were in a car accident! You could've—" Her voice catches, and she takes a sharp breath, shaking her head like she's trying to compose herself. "Are you seriously okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, though I don't even believe it myself.

Sonya narrows her eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"Sonya, I—"

She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "We'll deal with that later." Then, she turns, scanning the room again. "Where is she?"

Silence.

"Where's YN?" she repeats, her voice quieter but more urgent.

Jeonghan shifts uncomfortably. "She was here."

Sonya blinks. "She was here?"

"She left," Jihoon mutters.

The worry on Sonya's face vanishes, replaced by something much darker.

Her gaze snaps back to me, sharp as a blade. "What did you fucking say to her?"

I scoff. "Oh, so now you're defending her?"

"Yes!" Sonya snaps. "Because for two years, I let you guys talk about her like she wasn't suffering, too. I let you be mad, let you blame her, but not once did any of you stop and think about why she left in the first place."

Jihoon lets out a frustrated sigh. "She left us, Sonya."

"And you think that was easy for her?" Sonya's voice rises. "You think she wanted to lose you all? You think she wanted to spend the past two years punishing herself for it?"

My jaw tightens.

"You act like she just ran off without a care in the world, but she was drowning, Seungcheol," Sonya continues, her voice laced with something almost desperate. "She needed help, and none of you saw it. None of us did. And you, of all people, should have seen it first."

That hits like a punch to the chest.

"Sonya, come on," Jeonghan mutters, but she whirls on him.

"No! Don't 'Sonya, come on' me, Jeonghan! You were mad at her, too! You and Jihoon acted like she betrayed you when she left, like she didn't just lose her mom and have her entire world fall apart!"

Jeonghan flinches slightly but stays quiet.

"And you," she turns back to me, fury burning behind her eyes. "You think she just threw everything away? That it was easy for her to walk away from the people she loved? From you?"

I don't answer.

Sonya lets out a bitter laugh. "You have no idea what these past two years have been like for her. Do you even know what she almost did? Do you even know how close you were to losing her for good?"

A heavy silence settles over the room.

"What are you talking about?" Dokyeom finally asks, his voice careful.

Sonya clenches her fists. "The only reason she's still here today is because she fought like hell to pull herself back from the edge. And she did it alone. While you were hating her and all so busy being angry, she was trying not to fall apart completely."

My stomach twists.

"You weren't there the night I found her," Sonya whispers, her voice trembling. "You didn't see the way she looked at me—like she had nothing left. Like she was already gone. I had to pull her back from the edge, Seungcheol. I had to remind her that she was worth something."

The words hit me harder than I expected. My throat tightens.

"And do you know what the worst part is?" Sonya's voice is barely above a whisper now.

I shake my head slowly, afraid of what she'll say next.

"The whole time, she still loved you." She exhales sharply. "She still loves you. Even after everything, she still loves you. But after this? I don't think she's coming back."

The finality in her words makes my chest cave in.

I already knew that, but hearing someone else say it makes it real, makes it final.

She's really gone.

And it's my fault.

The weight of Sonya's words suffocates the room.

Jihoon swallows hard. "We were wrong, weren't we?"

Sonya lets out a slow, exhausted breath. "Yes. You were all wrong."

Jeonghan rubs his face, his voice barely audible. "God... we should've known."

Soonyoung exhales sharply, looking away. "We just let her leave."

"And now," Sonya says, her voice heavy with finality, "she's never coming back."

I close my eyes, my head falling against the pillow as a sinking realization settles deep in my chest.

I lost her.

And I will never, ever get her back.

No one speaks.

Until finally, Sonya clears her throat, her voice cold and final.

"We don't speak of this conversation," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Ever."

We all turn to her, confused.

Her expression is unreadable, her eyes sharp and unwavering.

"She'd kill me."

[cheollollipop]

in the soop 2.3

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - bar fight. (misc.)

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader genre: angst, fluff, smut (minors fuck off, in the nicest way possible) warning(s): mentions of drinking, seungcheol gets into a fight smh. blood. c*ps.

summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly. word count: 1.6k start date: nov. 20, 2024 end date: -

A/N: heyyy... long time no see... so, I may or may not have been writing more misc. stuff. don't worry though! the next few chapters are complete, my mind has just been coming up with the randomest ideas for this fic and I'm honestly not mad. anywho, here is the famous cheollie bar fight that was talked about in ch. 1

The first punch didn’t hurt.

Seungcheol barely even felt it. The impact was dull, numbed by the alcohol in his system, by the frustration clawing at his chest, by the unbearable weight of everything he had spent the past year trying to ignore.

The second punch, though—that one he felt.

It split his lip and sent the metallic taste of blood spilling over his tongue, but he barely registered it. If anything, it only made his vision clearer, his mind sharper, the pounding in his head aligning with the rhythm of his pulse.

Maybe this was exactly what he needed.

He wasn’t sure how it started. Maybe some guy had looked at him the wrong way. Maybe he had bumped into someone without realizing it. Perhaps he had just been looking for an excuse.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” the guy had snapped, shoving him back.

Seungcheol should’ve walked away.

Instead, he laughed—low, humorless, empty. “Or what?”

The guy didn’t hesitate. Fist to his jaw, hard and unrelenting.

Seungcheol staggered back, running his tongue over the blood already pooling in his mouth. His fingers flexed at his sides. His heart pounded in his ears.

He could leave. Right now, he could turn around, step away, let it go.

But that would mean going back to his empty apartment. Back to silence. Back to himself.

And right now, himself was the last person he wanted to be alone with.

So, instead, he swung.

The impact sent the guy stumbling back into a table, knocking over a half-empty glass. Someone cursed. Chairs scraped against the floor. Shouts erupted around them, but all Seungcheol saw was the fire in the guy’s eyes as he lunged forward again.

A fist caught Seungcheol’s ribs. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him against the bar.

The guy, either too stupid or too drunk to back down, spat blood onto the floor and swung. Seungcheol ducked effortlessly, countering with a sharp right hook to his ribs. A pained grunt escaped his opponent, but Seungcheol wasn’t done. He drove his knee into the guy’s stomach, making him gasp for air before throwing him onto the floor like a dead weight.

“Cheol, stop!” A voice cut through the haze, but he barely registered it.

The guy groaned, trying to push himself up, but Seungcheol grabbed him by the shirt again, yanking him up to land another punch—harder this time. His knuckles ached, but the satisfaction of seeing the guy crumple made it worth it.

Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor. “That’s enough!” A bartender yelled, and before Seungcheol could throw another punch, he felt strong arms pulling him back.

“Let me go!” He snarled, struggling against the grip.

“Calm the fuck down!” Another voice—Joshua’s—hissed in his ear.

The voice barely cut through the haze, but something about it—sharp, desperate—made his grip falter.

“Seungcheol, what the fuck are you doing?!”

His hands were on him now, pulling him back, but the guy wasn’t done. Another punch landed against Seungcheol’s side, and he cursed, instinctively shoving forward again—only for another set of hands to grab his shoulders.

“Enough!”

Mingyu, this time, voice firm, face tight with worry.

“Let me go,” Seungcheol growled, but Joshua tightened his grip.

“No. You’re done.”

The guy he had been fighting wiped blood from his nose, glaring. “Fucking psycho.”

Seungcheol tensed, but Joshua was already dragging him back, voice strained. “Yeah, yeah, he gets it. Just go before we all end up in the back of a police car.”

The sirens in the distance weren’t a threat anymore—they were real.

Seungcheol’s chest heaved, adrenaline still coursing through him, his hands shaking with the need to do something. But as the bartender sputtered into the phone, and Joshua’s grip didn’t waver, reality finally sank in.

This wasn’t just a fight.

This was him unraveling.

And everyone could see it.

Mingyu exhaled sharply. “What the hell, man?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer. What could he say?

That he hadn’t felt alive in months? That the silence in his head was worse than the fights in bars, worse than the blood on his knuckles, worse than waking up next to someone who wasn’t her?

Joshua sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Seungcheol didn’t resist as they pulled him toward the door, past the glares, past the wreckage.

Joshua let out a sharp breath as they stepped into the cold night air. “You need to talk to us, Cheol. This? This isn’t—”

“I don’t want to talk,” Seungcheol muttered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah, no shit.” Joshua scoffed. “You’d rather throw punches at strangers and drink yourself sick than deal with—”

Seungcheol cut him off. “I am dealing with it.”

Joshua shook his head. “No, you’re avoiding it. And you know it.”

Silence stretched between them.

Mingyu’s voice was softer this time. “Cheol… this isn’t you, man.”

But maybe it was now. Maybe this was all that was left of him.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t even sure he cared.

The cold metal of the handcuffs burned against Seungcheol’s wrists.

He barely fought when the officers pulled him away from the bar, shoving him toward the waiting squad car. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only exhaustion and the dull, throbbing pain of bruises forming beneath his skin. Blood from his split lip dripped onto his shirt, the taste of iron lingering in his mouth.

“Got anything on you I need to know about?” The officer’s voice was firm, distant. Seungcheol barely registered it.

“No.” His voice was hoarse, and he wasn’t sure if it was from yelling or the fact that he hadn’t really spoken in days.

The officer patted him down anyway before pushing him into the backseat. The smell of cheap leather and stale sweat filled his nostrils. The door slammed shut.

Outside, Joshua was arguing with another officer. His face was tight with frustration, his hands moving in sharp, frantic gestures. Mingyu stood beside him, running a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to punch something himself.

Seungcheol leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

—

Holding was cold.

The walls were gray, the bench was hard, and the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, making his headache worse. The fight had drained him, leaving only the hollow emptiness he had been trying so damn hard to escape.

He should’ve seen this coming.

Hell, everyone probably saw it coming.

He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers brushed over the forming bruise on his temple. His knuckles were raw, split open in places, but he barely felt it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, dropping his head into his hands.

How did it get to this?

The last year had been nothing but a downward spiral. Drinking too much, sleeping too little, and shutting everyone out. It was easier that way. If he let them in, they’d see the mess he had become, and he couldn’t let that happen.

So, he drowned himself in distractions. In anything that would make him forget. But the memories always crept back in—her voice, her laugh, how she used to look at him like he was her entire world.

And now?

Now she was gone, and he was here.

The sharp sound of a door opening made him look up.

Joshua stepped inside, looking exhausted, frustrated, and worried all at once.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Seungcheol didn’t respond.

Joshua sighed, rubbing his temples. “You know I had to call someone to bail you out, right?”

Seungcheol swallowed, his throat dry. “Who?”

Joshua hesitated.

The door opened again, and Seungcheol’s stomach dropped.

Jihoon stepped inside, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“You know,” Jihoon said, voice tight, “when I imagined getting a call about you in the middle of the night, I really hoped it wouldn’t be about this.”

Seungcheol huffed a humorless laugh, looking away. “Guess I never stop disappointing, huh?”

Jihoon’s jaw clenched. “That’s not funny.”

Silence stretched between them. Joshua exhaled sharply.

“You’re lucky they’re letting you off with just a fine,” he muttered. “If that guy had pressed charges, you’d be screwed, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol just stared at the floor. He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jihoon took a step closer. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, man?” His voice was softer now, and his anger was laced with something else—something closer to concern.

Seungcheol didn’t have an answer.

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Seungcheol stood, his movements slow, his body aching.

As they walked out of the station, the cold night air hit Seungcheol like a slap in the face. It was sobering, but not enough to drown out the weight pressing against his chest. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched, like he could somehow make himself smaller. Jihoon and Joshua flanked him on either side, silent for a while.

Then Joshua spoke.

“You need to talk to us, Cheol.”

Seungcheol swallowed hard, his throat tight.

They wanted him to talk. To open up. To tell them what was going on in his head. But how could he explain the black hole sitting in his chest? How could he put into words the way he had been unraveling, piece by piece, since the moment she walked away?

He clenched his jaw, keeping his gaze fixed on the pavement. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Jihoon let out a sharp breath, frustration clear in his voice. “Bullshit.”

Seungcheol stopped walking.

Jihoon and Joshua turned to face him, both of them watching him carefully.

“You think we don’t see it?” Jihoon asked, his voice quieter now but firm. “You think we don’t know that you’ve been drowning yourself in distractions, in anything that can keep you from actually feeling?”

Seungcheol let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And what do you think talking about it will fix anything?”

“No,” Jihoon admitted. “But at least it’s better than this. Better than you throwing punches in some shitty bar like you don’t care what happens to you.”

Silence.

Seungcheol exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, waiting, hoping for something—anything—that would prove he still had a little bit of himself left.

But all he could do was run a tired hand down his face and mutter, “I just want to go home.”

Joshua and Jihoon exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them, before Joshua sighed.

“Alright,” he said, voice softer now. “Let’s go home.”

Seungcheol nodded, though the word home felt foreign now. It was like something he wasn’t sure he even had anymore.

[cheollollipop]

i see you (always, forever). - l.hs

synopsis. following your ex boyfriend’s sudden disappearance, lee heeseung seemingly enters your life at the perfect time.

pairing. stalker bf!heeseung x fem reader

genre. dark romance, smut, light humor.

word count. 6.1k+

warnings. swearing, obsessive behavior, stalking, brief mention of drink spiking (doesn’t actually happen), mention of alcohol consumption, person held in captivity, mention of past infidelity, extremely brief mention of childbirth, smut [ consensual somno, oral (fem receiving), p in v, sex toy usage ]. this fic contains dark content and is not at all how i view these idols. minors and ageless blogs dni. 18+ content read at your own discretion.

featuring. hwang yeji & shin ryujin (itzy)

a/n. happy valentine’s day babies!! wanted to do something cute and light but i fear it just wasn’t working out … so this right here is for my dark romance girlies hehe enjoy! drew inspo from the television show “you”! shoutout to bae @yangkkomi for beta reading

Lee Heeseung has the worst case of separation anxiety when it comes to you.

The mere thought of being away from you for too long is enough to send him into a spiral, and you barely even realize the effect you had on him. His naturally clingy nature raised no concerns to you; in fact, you relish in his borderline unhealthy infatuation with you — seeing as your previous boyfriend of ten months disappeared on a random Tuesday afternoon, leaving nothing behind but a note claiming he needed to start a new life.

The week of Park Jongseong’s sudden disappearance was agonizing. Yes, he assured everyone he was okay and simply was moving onto a new chapter in his life, and that no one drove him to make such a rash decision, but something about the situation didn’t sit well with you.

Jongseong wasn’t impulsive in the slightest, and you would argue he was one of, if not the most, mature, level headed men you’ve dated. He was distant at times which often felt unsettling, but had his reasonings and assured you he couldn’t have been happier in the relationship. That was one of your favorite things about Jongseong, how he always knew just what to say to calm your nerves, and how he always had a rational explanation for everything.

Running away so suddenly was out of character for him, and a part of you feared that, despite the note left behind, there was something malicious going on that led to his disappearance.

Your older sister, Yeji, had just given birth and was in the midst of planning her wedding, while your parents deemed themselves as “too busy to deal with your issues”, leaving you to become a shell of yourself without having anyone to confide in. Days turned into weeks of you locking yourself in your apartment, typing your ex boyfriend’s name into the search bar over and over, hoping something new would pop up; but nothing ever did.

After a long, tiring day of Zoom meetings and doing more research on Jongseong, your eyes had begun to flutter shut when a knock on your front door wakes you. Expecting it to be your Doordash driver dropping off a greasy, million calorie cheeseburger and a can of soda, you yell out to leave it at the front door. The knocking persisted, and with a sigh, you dragged your feet all the way to the front door, certainly shocked at the man that stood before you.

You don’t even give him the chance to explain himself before you’re asking, “Why do you look familiar?”

He grins at you, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the cardboard box in his hands. “Unless you’re a book lover we probably don’t know each other; I’m a manager of a bookstore downtown, I’m there all the time.”

“Is it… Brookhaven? You guys have K-pop albums too, right?”

“Book-haven,” he corrects you with a polite nod, “and, yeah, we have albums. Have you been to the shop?”

“A few times.” You mumble, suddenly feeling very self conscious of your outfit choice. With the option to have your camera off during the Zoom meetings, you felt no desire to get dressed for the day, opting to work in your oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts. 

The unnamed man wore casual clothing — a grey North Face jacket atop a black t-shirt and white cargos — yet, you felt completely underdressed in comparison to him. His gaze was piercing yet gentle, like he carried a certain confidence about himself in a way that didn’t come off as cocky or arrogant. Though, you really couldn’t blame him if he were the conceited type; he was definitely an attractive man.

The silver chain on his neck had been paired perfectly with matching earrings, including a silver hoop on his helix. His hair, though likely not his natural color, suited him perfectly; the subtle curls and waves giving him a classic, boyish look with bangs that fell just beneath his eyebrows.

You clear your throat, gesturing towards the package in his hands, “Are you dropping this off?”

“Yes! Uh, FedEx dropped off some packages at my store yesterday and it looks like this must’ve gotten mixed in,” he explains, extending the package towards you, “I tried calling the number on the label yesterday but no one answered, so I’m just swinging by to drop it off.”

You accept the package, rolling your eyes at the mixup. “FedEx is always doing bullshit.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Trust, I’m fully aware. The driver for our block is this old-ass man; I once caught him asleep in his truck.”

You laugh a little too loud at this, inwardly cringing at yourself afterwards as you tuck the package beneath your arm. “Well, thanks for bringing my package…?” You trail off, hoping he’ll complete your sentence by offering you his name.

“Heeseung, Lee Heeseung.”

“Thank you, Heeseung, Lee Heeseung.” You repeat, earning a grin from him.

“No worries,” he responds, fishing something out of his pocket, “and feel free to stop by the store sometime, especially now that you have a coupon.” He says, offering you the small slip of paper from his pocket.

You accept it, eyes widening at the “BOGO FREE KPOP ALBUM” staring back at you. “I…is this real? You really don’t have to.”

Heeseung shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, “It’s no big deal, I keep coupons on me to hand out, anyway. Plus, we’re trying to make room for more stock.” He says, slowly walking backwards down the hall as he inches away from your door. Like a magnet, your body automatically angles towards him, hoping he’ll say something else.

“You’ll just have to request a manager when you’re ready to use it, regular associates can’t process certain coupons under their employee number.”

You nod, free-hand gripping the doorframe as your eyes follow Heeseung, “What days do you work?”

He shrugs again, “Doesn’t have to be me, I have two assistant managers that are there pretty often.”

“Right, but, when are you there?”

He pauses, titling his head at you before responding, “Monday through Friday, eleven-to-eight. Sometimes I stop by once or twice on the weekends to check in.”

“Will you be there tomorrow?”

“All day, eleven-to-eight.”

The following morning, you had the sudden urge to buy a K-pop album and get another one for free.

Heeseung had spent a good portion of that morning conversing with you from behind the counter, listening intently when you got on the topic of your previous boyfriend’s disappearance. It’s still a touchy subject for you, and probably not the best thing to talk about while getting to know a guy you’re interested in, but Heeseung’s question on how “such a pretty girl” like you was single required a truthful answer. Initially, you feared your response of “my boyfriend went missing” would be enough to scare him off, but Heeseung didn’t seem phased in the slightest.

In fact, in the two-and-a-half months you’d been dating Heeseung there was almost nothing you could say or do that would phase him to the point of genuine concern. Not how it took an insane amount of motivation for you in order to clean your apartment (he was fine cleaning it himself), or how often you’d forget to take your very much needed medication (he was more than happy to remind you every morning and night, and even went as far as requesting a refill when the bottle was nearly empty and picking it up for you). Catering to your every need was just another simple task for him, and you’re more than grateful that the universe seemingly dropped him right in your lap when you needed it most.

Heeseung was patient, understanding, and was absolutely devoted to your relationship. In his eyes, you deserved nothing but the best, and was keen on making sure to provide for you. 

Cooking for you was probably his favorite task. He wasn’t the best at it per se, but improved with every attempt, and you seemed to enjoy his meals despite them not being to his liking.

He’d woken up early this morning to prepare a Valentine’s day breakfast for you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as he slipped out of bed and into your kitchen. The original plan was to go all out and cook a ridiculous breakfast feast he’d seen on TikTok that featured cinnamon rolls, sausage, and fluffy pancakes.

He burnt the first batch of cinnamon rolls and decided it best to simplify your feast down to eggs, bacon, and french toast sticks. Slightly disappointed that his original plan didn’t work out, your boyfriend sighs at himself as he pours a glass of cranberry juice before setting it on a wooden tray table. How he made it to your bedroom without dropping everything was beyond him, considering how he was still weak from sleep and could hardly keep his eyes open.

Heeseung pushed the door open with his foot, peeking his head in slightly and furrowing his brows at your sleeping figure. If not from the noise of clattering dishes, he was almost certain the smell of food would be enough to wake you up. He knew you were a heavy sleeper, but never realized how heavy.

“How are you still asleep?” He mumbles to himself with a sigh, setting the tray of food on your desk before retreating to your bed. He digs his knee into the edge of the  mattress, gently shaking your leg in an attempt to wake you. You don’t budge, your slumber remaining unaffected as the sounds of your light snoring continue to fill the room. His fingers trail down your leg until they reach the sole of your foot, his fingernails softly tickling the sensitive area until you’re jerking your leg away in discomfort.

“Weirdo.” You say through a yawn, angling your body until you’re laying on your side.

Heeseung rolls his eyes at your insult, grabbing ahold of your leg as he responds, “A true weirdo would’ve put their mouth on it, you’re lucky it’s just me. Now get up, I made breakfast.”

Waking you up was no easy task, whether it was seven in the morning or half past noon. Heeseung suspects you’re still recovering from sleep debt after all the nights you’d spent lying awake researching Jongseong’s disappearance. The nights you could sleep didn’t typically didn’t last long; it’d either take hours until you finally drifted off, or you’d wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare; leaving you unable to go back to sleep.

Your sleep schedule hadn’t gotten back on track until you met Heeseung, who made sure you were taking melatonin, iron pills, and just about anything that would help you sleep soundly and feel less tired during the day. And while the extra supplements may be working, there was still a lot of sleep debt you were recovering from; an almost concerning amount that made it difficult for you to get up most days.

You groan into your pillow when the smell of Heeseung’s freshly made breakfast hits your nose, your mouth nearly salivating from the scent alone. As much as you wanted to sit up and start eating, your limbs were still heavy with exhaustion. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be up,” you plead, “I promise.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “Y/N,” he whines, “just get up, I wanna spend time with you before work. You can go back to sleep after I leave.”

Today was the release day of author, Shin Ryujin’s, newest sapphic romance novel that Heeseung could not remember the title of; just that it featured a lot of smut, has over twenty-four chapters, and was highly anticipated. Her team had reached out to Bookhaven not too long ago, inquiring about hosting a Q+A session and book signing event on the day of its release. Initially, Heeseung had planned to reject the offer since it fell on Valentine’s day and that type of event required his presence, and he’d originally planned on spending the entire day with you. The payout of said event, however, was more than enough to get him on board.

He’d be leaving the shop and heading over to you around five, and have Sunoo or Jungwon close up, leaving him with just seven hours with you that he’d planned to make the most of. All he needed now was for you to wake the hell up before he has to leave.

You still don’t budge, mumbling something incoherent before the snores resume and you’ve drifted back to sleep.

“Babe,” he says flatly, shaking your leg. “Y/N. Baby. Dude, get up.”

Still nothing, and Heeseung’s on the verge of kissing your forehead and calling it a day, but there is one thing that could get you up.

Slowly, he peels the thick comforter off of your body, relishing in the fact that you chose to sleep in one of his shirts. Allowing himself further onto the mattress, Heeseung’s hand reahes for the hem of your shirt, pushing it up just enough to reveal your lavender colored panties. He pauses, glancing up at you momentarily before lowering his head and nestling it between your thighs.

He starts off slow, placing a light kiss on your inner thigh before trailing his lips upwards. Pausing right at your hip bone, Heeseung’s fingertips move to the core of your underwear, lightly scratching at your cunt through the soft material. Frustrated, he whines your name once more before slowly trailing your panties down and off your legs, discarding of them on the other side of the mattress.

Fingernails digging into your flesh, he grips your thighs as he repositions himself at eye level with your cunt, inching forward slowly until he’s pressing his lips right against yours. It’s gentle at first, much like how he’d kiss you any other time, a few gentle pecks until he was desperate for more.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, and finally has his tongue fall flat against your entrance. The groan that escapes his mouth from the contact comes from deep in his chest, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indents on your thighs from how hard he’s gripping them.

He licks a long, slow strip along your cunt upwards towards your clit, licking and sucking at the bud as if savoring the feeling of your taste on his tongue. He repeats his movements a few more times, growing desperate as the seconds pass by, each moan and whine from him becoming more desperate and whiny than the last. You shift around slightly, furrowing your brows a bit, but still not fully awake.

Another minute passes by and you’re still asleep. Your body automatically responding to Heeseung’s touches, but they’re still not enough to wake you. He’s not bored in the slightest, though, and would argue that he could probably go on for hours if that’s what it took; but he has to leave soon, and needs you awake as soon as possible.

With a sigh, he kisses your thigh once before twisting his body and reaching over to your nightstand, opening the bottom drawer and digging around slightly until his fingers brush against the rubber vibrator he’d been searching for. It’s an air pulsing one you’d bought before you’d met Heeseung, and when he’d discovered it in your room for the first time, he’d insisted on implementing it into your sex lives as much as possible.

He turns it on, choosing to keep it on the first setting before pressing it directly on your clit. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the contact, with Heeseung keeping his gaze fixed on your face. Gently massaging the toy against your cunt, your eyes slowly began to flutter open, a loud moan echoing through the room as Heeseung turned the toy up to a medium setting.

You grab a fistful of Heeseung’s hair, yanking him forward until his mouth is on your cunt again. The sudden roughness takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest; in fact, he can feel himself stiffening in his boxers from you gripping his hair alone.

Moaning into your cunt, Heeseung does his best to keep the vibrator pressed against you while he eats you out. His desperation was astonishing, his moans nearly being as loud and whiny as yours as he continued.

When you’re finally close, which doesn’t take very long; Heeseung discards the vibrator completely; mindlessly tossing it on the floor to lap at your cunt with his tongue. He presses it flat against you, dragging your wetness up to your clit before sucking the swollen bud between his lips.

You orgasm almost instantly at that, trapping Heeseung's head between your thighs as you come on his face with your back arching off the bed and swears pouring from your lips.

You’re panting as you come down from your high, breath rigged as you drape your arm against your forehead, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Heeseung asks, voice muffled as you finally release his head was still trapped between your thighs.

“Shit,” you loosen the grip, “sorry, Hee.”

“Don’t apologize. Oh my God, I could’ve died like that and would’ve been okay with it.”

Weirdly enough, you don’t think he’s joking.

“Anyways,” he continues, “you okay?”

You nod, pressing your lips into a thin line, “I’m definitely up.”

“Yeah, me too,” He responds, tapping on his painfully hard erection. “Can I…?”

“If you do all the work, sure.”

Heeseung scoffs, already moving to tug his pajama pants down, “As if I ever let you do any of it.”

It’s not a complaint, Heeseung was more than happy being the more assertive one when it came to your sex life. He didn’t mind doing most of the work as long as it meant you were getting off.

When he turns you to lay on your side you let him, resting your back against his chest as he teases his tip at your entrance. You bite down on your bottom lip, hand gripping the bed sheets when he finally does slide himself in. Heeseung grunts into your ear, placing a gentle hand on your hip, “ ‘m gonna go a little bit fast, okay? We don’t have a lot of time.”

He wasn’t exaggerating, either.

At your confirmation, Heeseung pulled out of you entirely before pushing himself back in; his thrusts overwhelmingly fast but not painful or rough. You yelp when he bites down on your neck, though, a habit he picked up upon finding out you enjoy being marked up.

He was certain that neither of you will last long like this, so it doesn’t surprise him that after a few minutes you’re already creeping up on your orgasm. Heeseung takes this as a sign to speed up his already quick thrusts, his nails digging into your hip as he presses his head onto your shoulder.

You finish first with Heeseung just a few seconds behind you, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of him filling you up with his cum. As always, he keeps his dick buried in you for another minute longer, only pulling out when he’s reminded of how little time he has.

Sitting up, Heeseung moves a few stray strands of hair out of the way to plant kisses on your face, but you stop him with the excuse of not having brushed your teeth yet before he’s able to properly kiss you on the lips.

He scoffs, “You just came on my face, do you think I care if you have morning breath? Don’t insult me.”

“At least let me eat first so I can get this weird taste out of my mouth,” you counter, reaching over your shoulder to pat Heeseung on the cheek. “Can I do that?”

Heeseung lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, “If you insist. Let me clean you up first, though.”

He stands from the bed, awkwardly pulling his boxers and pajama pants back up before excusing himself to your bathroom. He takes care of himself first before running a rag under the sink faucet and returning to your bedroom.

After cleaning you up with practiced ease, Heeseung discards of the rag in your bathroom hamper and slips back into your bedroom, finally delivering you the breakfast in bed he’d been anticipating all week, a wide grin on his face as he sets the wooden tray down on your lap. “All your favorites: french toast sticks, bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a glass of cranberry juice. Bone apple teeth.”

You chuckle at his joke, admiring the feast laying in your lap as you grab a strip of bacon, “Where’s your food?” You ask, noticing there was only enough servings for one person.

Heeseung shakes his head, resting the palm of his hand on your bare knee as he sits across from you, “I’ll pick up something on the way to work, didn’t have time to make enough for both of us.”

With a pout, you take a bite of the bacon strip, “Now I feel bad.”

Heeseung grins, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “Don’t, consider this part one of your Valentine’s gift.”

You’ve finished the first strip by now, moving onto the second one as you use your free hand to retrieve your phone from the nightstand. “Well, at least let me pay for your breakfast then.”

He shakes his head at you, reaching for your phone that you manage to pull out of reach. “Babe, you seriously don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you respond, halfway through Venmo-ing him fifteen dollars, “that should be enough.”

“Y/N…”

“Done! And don’t send it back or else I’ll be really sad, you know gift-giving is my love language.”

He chuckles, using the fork and knife on the tray table to cut a piece of the french toast stick, “Thank you, baby. You spoil me.” He dips the fork into the container of maple syrup before bringing it up to your parted lips, cupping his hand underneath to prevent the syrup from dripping onto the bed sheets.

You hum, cupping Heeseung’s face as you chew, “Anything for my princess. Also, you said this was part one of my gift?”

Heeseung nods, cutting another square off the french toast, “Part two is still later tonight, once I’m off work.”

“Can you tell me what it is now, please?” You plead, clasping your hands together as you jutt out your bottom lip, staring up at him with a pout. For the past week, Heeseung had been teasing about this big Valentine’s day surprise he had planned for you, claiming it would be the “surprise of a lifetime”.

He hums, feeding you another forkful. “I’ll tell you this, when you have the time, you’re gonna have to pack an overnight bag.” Your eyes light up, waiting patiently before speaking as Heeseung continues, “And, you’re gonna have to be dressed up once I pick you up after work. Nothing crazy fancy, just… something nice.”

Heeseung can tell you want to bombard him with more questions, and brings another forkful of food to your lips before you have the chance. “I’ll be picking you up around five-forty-five, ‘m sorry I’ll have to be at the shop most of the day.”

You shake your head, picking up the glass of cranberry juice, “Don’t be, I hope the event goes well. If you have extras, can you bring me a copy of the book?”

“For sure, and I’ll see if I can leave any sooner so we have some extra time together.”

“You seriously don’t have to,” you assure him, taking a sip of your drink, “besides, I have some errands to run in the meantime.”

Heeseung raises a brow at you, “Oh? You’re going out today?”

You nod excitedly, setting the cup on your nightstand, “Yeji and I are taking the baby to a Mommy-and-Me yoga class then doing some shopping.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at the mention of your sister, setting the fork and knife back onto the tray table. You frown at him, shoulders slouching as you tilt your head, “Why do you hate my sister so much?”

“I never said I hated Yeji.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s pretty obvious. You never wanna talk to her when she’s around and you roll your eyes whenever I mention her.”

Heeseung shrugs, “She’s just not my cup of tea, is all. Our personalities clash.”

Of course there’s more to it than clashing personalities, but you’re not quite ready for the full truth just yet, so he decides to leave it at that. “Anyways, how are Jake and Jihan?”

Your eyes light up at the mention of your future brother-in-law and nephew, “I talked to Yeji yesterday and she said things are good! Jihan is starting to roll over and Jake plans on asking his friend, Sunghoon, to be his best man. Oh, and Yeji says the baby is finally starting to look like Jake.”

“Really?”

You nod, “Mmhm, Jake is so happy.”

“Good for him,” Heeseung mumbles, watching as you take a bite of the eggs. “Gonna have to head out now, but I loaded my card onto your Apple Wallet, ‘kay? Use that while you shop.”

You blink at him, “When’d you do that?”

“Last night, consider it part one-and-a-half of your gift.”

“You spoil me.”

Heeseung grins, “Anything for you.”

The drive to Bookhaven is quiet, with Keshi playing from the stereo as Heeseung made his way to the shop and parked by the employee entrance.

Stepping right into a pile of snow, he shuts the car door behind him before making his way across the street and stopping by his favorite breakfast cafe, Heaven’s Treats. He ordered his usual: two bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches on croissants and two bottles of water; using your fifteen-dollar Venmo gift to pay and tipping the staff with a few dollars cash.

He heads back over to his shop afterwards, unlocking and entering through the employee entrance. Once inside, he unlocks his office door first, setting the bag of food down on his desk before heading into the main area of the shop. Taking a few minutes to wipe down tables and put away loose books, Heeseung hums to himself as he enjoys how quiet and peaceful the shop is. Shin Ryujin was sure to bring in a crowd later today, and he can already tell he’d be leaving the shop with a headache.

Once finished, Heeseung retreats back to his office and shuts the door behind him, grabbing the bag of food from the desk before walking over to the closet door. With a sigh, he opens it up, pushing the file cabinet to the side to reveal the door to the hidden basement. His eyes jot down to the keypad under the doorknob, where he quickly types in your anniversary before twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

Staring down at the wooden staircase, Heeseung sighs once again, “Let’s get this over with.”

Carefully, he retreats down the steps and into the basement, looking over into the glass chamber and finding Jongseong, your ex boyfriend, sound asleep on his mattress. Heeseung chuckles once he’s made it down the stairs, walking over to the pass-through attached to the glass chamber and opening it, sliding in the breakfast sandwich and bottle of water before shutting it with a loud click!

Heeseung retreats over to his desk and computer monitors that sat opposite of the glass chamber, sitting on his office chair before grabbing and turning on the intercom microphone. “Sleeping in?”

His voice comes out ten times louder in the glass chamber’s speaker, jolting Jongseong out of his sleep as he presses the palms of his hands onto his ears. “Jesus fuckin’… is the intercom necessary?! You’re right there! I can hear you through the glass!”

Heeseung shrugs nonchalantly, setting the microphone back on the desk, “You’re a heavy sleeper.” Jongseong sighs in response, rubbing his eyes as Heeseung continues, “Brought you breakfast, it’s in the pass-through. Eat before it gets cold.”

“How do I know you didn’t do something to it? Sick fuck.” Jongseong spits, arms folded across his chest as he stares at Heeseung through the glass.

“Do something like what?”

“I don’t know, spike my drink like last time?”

Heeseung lets out an agitated groan as he slumps in his chair, retrieving his own food from the takeout bag as he responds, “How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t fucking drug you that night? You actually made everything a lot easier by getting blackout drunk at a fucking nightclub.”

“Yeah, and if I didn’t blackout? Then what?”

“Who cares? It doesn’t matter, what matters is that you’re away from Y/N.”

Jongseong shivers at the mention of your name, immediately looking away from Heeseung and focusing his attention on the food in the pass-through.

Around six months ago, you’d showed up to Bookhaven hand-in-hand with Jongseong, and Heeseung had been enthralled with you ever since. He spent is every waking moment doing his research on you, which included doing a deep dive on the people closest to you: your immediate family, close friends, and stupid fucking boyfriend.

Heeseung knew the moment he laid eyes on Jongseong that he was no good for you, and was clearly putting up a facade when the two of you were together. Heeseung saw right through it, how quickly he’d pull out his phone to snap a text when you were looking, how he’d roll his eyes whenever you got too excited about something, how he almost never responded to your PDA — he was the fucking worst, and you deserved so much better. You deserved Lee Heeseung.

Days leading up to Jongseong’s disappearance, Heeseung had been watching him like a hawk; cyber-stalking him as closely as possible without being caught, until, finally, Jongseong decided to go clubbing one night.

Heeseung’s original plan was to wait until Jongseong was slightly drunk and knock him out, but Jongseong getting blackout drunk on his own accord made things way easier for Heeseung — all he had to do was pretend to be a friend to Jongseong and convince everyone else he’d be getting him home safely.

Dumbasses, all of them.

Jongseong stands, scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the pass-through.

“Anyways, it’s Valentine’s day,” Heeseung says after biting into his own sandwich, “you have any plans? Oh wait.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes again, mumbling “Fuck you” under his breath as he retrieves his food and drink. He inspects the sandwich thoroughly before taking a bite, chewing slowly as if trying to taste each and every spice and flavor.

“Wait,” Heeseung speaks, suddenly realizing something, “if you just woke up, that means you missed the show.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes a third time, already knowing what Heeseung was getting at. “I’m sure I didn't miss much.”

Heeseung swivels around in his office chair to face the three monitors, each one surveilling different areas in your apartment. You were blissfully unaware of the hidden cameras he’d set up in your home that have been recording your every move for months on end. He’s doing it for your own safety, really; keeping an eye on you at all times.

You’re in the kitchen now, loading up the dishwasher with music playing from your phone, stopping every few seconds to belt out the lyrics or make an attempt at doing the choreography. Heeseung enjoys watching you like this, when you truly get to be yourself because you think no one is around.

He grins, switching over to the center monitor and hitting the rewind button until he sees himself entering your bedroom, “There we go.” Heeseung monitors himself closely, watching as he sets the tray of food down on your desk before walking over to your mattress.

He moves out of the way so Jongseong has a better view of the screen, a smug expression on his face as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. The monitors were on at all hours, meaning the only entertainment Jongseong had was watching you stroll around your house. Weirdly enough, it pleases him to keep an eye on you like this, making sure you’re still okay after all this time.

He can do without watching you and Heeseung have sex, though.

Jongseong turns his head away the moment Heeseung removes the blanket from your body, groaning in disgust as he takes another bite from his sandwich. “I don’t need to see this.”

Heeseung shrugs, mumbling, “Your loss” as he speeds up the replay. He prefers to focus on the key moments anyway, like the face you make right before you come on his, or how your entire body tensed when he leaned down to bite on the nape of your neck.

As arousing as it was to play back all those moments, he primarily used it as a personal study guide on what you liked the most, so he’d be better at pleasing you going forward. This behavior had started before the two of you even got together, if he’s being completely honest. One simple, playful retweet from you about preferring to receive oral rather than give it had him ordering a pocket pussy the very next day to practice on.

The first time the two of you hooked up, Heeseung had spent approximately twenty-four minutes going down on you, only stopping when you expressed concerns about his jaw locking up — not that he cared.

“Wait a second,” Jongseong pauses, crumbling the empty food wrapper into a ball before tossing it to the floor, “what happened to that big breakfast feast you kept talking about, huh? With the, uh, the pancakes and cinnamon rolls?”

When Heeseung doesn’t respond, Jongseong continues taunting, “What, realized you couldn’t do it? That you can do something as simple as prepare a meal? Wow, are you—”

“Shut up, dumbass.” Heeseung interrupts him with a shake of his head, swiveling around in his office chair until he’s facing Jongseong, “You think you’re better than me because you know how to cook? Go on then, cook something. Go to the stove and prove you’re better at me than cooking.”

Silence falls between the two, with Jongseong glaring daggers at Heeseung as he tightens his fists.

“Oh, wait,” Heeseung continues, tapping his chin, “you can’t cook; you’re trapped in my basement while I fuck your girlfriend.“

“Whatever.”

“Oh, now it’s whatever, but just a second ago you were so much better than me for knowing how to cook — you also know how to lie and cheat.”

“Whatever, Heeseung, just drop it.”

“How do you think Y/N would feel if she found out you were cheating on her with her own sister? How old do you think Jihan will be before Jake realizes why they look nothing alike?” Heeseung questions, tilting his chin at Jongseong, as if expecting a legitimate answer.

The mere thought of Jongseong and your own sister getting together behind your back is enough to make Heeseung gag; he couldn’t fucking believe two of the closest people in your life would deceive you like that. It was beyond disgusting, and he had a strong distaste for Yeji the moment he found out.

Ashamed, Jongseong turn away from Heeseung’s gaze. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, turning around in his seat until he’s facing the monitors, “Anything involving Y/N is my business, fuck-face, including you and anyone else that bothers her.”

He navigates the surveillance controls until he’s back to watching you in real time, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile when he sees you facetiming someone. He shushes Jongseong, who hadn’t even been speaking, as he turns the volume up in order to hear you better.

“…and I think he looks just like you, seriously…Jake?…I mean, I don’t know…I’m not really seeing the resemblance yet…”

Realizing who you were talking to and what the topic of conversation was, Heeseung clicks his tongue, “They may even find out sooner than you think.”

The sound of Yeji’s voice through the speaker has him rolling his eyes as he turns down the volume, not that it mattered, considering you disappeared into the bathroom a few moments later.

“Hey,” Jongseong taps on the glass, “let me ask you something.”

“No.”

“Why do you have a camera in every room except the bathroom?”

It’s a genuine question, but it comes out more perverted than Jongseong had intended it to.

As if the answer was obvious, Heeseung raises a brow as he responds, “I’m giving her privacy, pervert.”

[cheollollipop]

i love when vernon

[cheollollipop]

462 days until jaehyun's discharge

[cheollollipop]

jaehyun & vernon: 🧍🏻

anyways free my man!!!!

[cheollollipop]

the fact that i share a birthday with jungwoo is pretty rad. that’s twinnem

[cheollollipop]

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?” 

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop. 

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?” 

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant. 

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often. 

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.” 

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan. 

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab. 

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!” 

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops. 

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably. 

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours. 

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible. 

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return. 

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone. 

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?” 

“Hm?” 

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!” 

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?” 

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. 

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break. 

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up. 

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers. 

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing. 

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that. 

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication. 

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed. 

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning. 

It’s all free game once the session ends, though. 

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin. 

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything. 

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” 

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha. 

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?” 

“Riiight.” 

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt. 

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says. 

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.” 

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea. 

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing. 

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.” 

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin. 

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why. 

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun. 

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to. 

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night. 

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.” 

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is. 

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression. 

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark. 

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly. 

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—” 

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.” 

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!” 

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win. 

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly. 

☑ You go home together after happy hour 

“Can we—” 

“Shhh. No, not yet.” 

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—” 

And so he does. 

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.” 

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains. 

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—” 

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.” 

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. 

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

[cheollollipop]

since i now have zero distractions (tiktok) i’ll probably be able to write full time - after work, of course. sigh. rip to all my svt edits 💔😫

[cheollollipop]

i have some things to say about vernon’s buzz cut but i’d be locked away