#Jeonghan x Reader

[svtiddiess]

Revved Up

Synopsis: Yoon Jeonghan, the undisputed king of the tracks, with an ego that goes at par with his unshakeable record, finally meets his match when a rookie appears, determined to snatch victories right out from under his nose.

Pairing: underground racer!Jeonghan x underground racer!afab!reader

Genre: rivals to ??, underground racer au, smut, oneshot

Rating: mature

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Jeonghan's kind of an asshole, some misogynistic remarks, hate sex, semi-public sex (but nobody's around), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), marking, Jeonghan smokes, lemme know if I've missed anything!

Note: This was inspired by this edit. Thank you so much to @tusswrites @nothoughtsjustfic and @soo0hee for helping me with the fic, this fic wouldn't have left the vault without your help!

Thank you so much to @shadowkoo for the amazing banner!

Also, I'd like to thank @tomodachiii for making me make them fuck on top of the car.

Click here to join my taglist!

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Reblogs are appreciated ♡

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On top of the world.

That's how Jeonghan feels at the moment as he passes the finish line, winning first place once again. He leans back in his seat, chest heaving from the adrenaline and a smirk painted on his face. 

A crowd gathers around his car, cheering and congratulating him on yet another victory—his tenth consecutive win. He steps out, removing his helmet and running a hand through his slightly damp blonde hair. Catching sight of a group of girls nearby, he flashes them a flirty wink and a smug grin, sending them into a fit of squeals and giggles. While the adrenaline rush fuels his passion for underground racing, this moment is undoubtedly his favourite: the unmatched fame, glory, and attention that come with it.

He walks over to where his friends are waiting. They greet him with a smile and several pats on the back, each congratulating him on his victory.

"That's your tenth win. It looks like your winning streak is still going strong," grins Seungcheol, his childhood best friend. It was Seungcheol who first introduced Jeonghan to the underground racing scene, and after just one race, Jeonghan was hooked on the thrill of the lifestyle.

"Of course it is," Jeonghan scoffs. "I'm Yoon Jeonghan, after all."

"Your ego seems to grow with every race you win," grumbles Woozi, another friend and the group's reluctant mechanic. They met on a random Tuesday night when Jeonghan crashed his car right into Woozi's workshop. Angry didn’t even begin to cover how Woozi felt, but that incident sparked an unexpected friendship. After being introduced to Seungcheol, Woozi was roped into the role of the group's mechanic, though not exactly by choice.

"You'd think he'd have reached his peak by now, but nope. I’m always amazed at how much his ego grows with every race," Mingyu snickers. He's a racer too, though he prefers bikes over cars. His tall, muscular build gives off the impression of a tough guy; he’s anything but—Mingyu is a complete softie. It’s a mystery how someone like him ended up in a world as cutthroat as underground racing.

"You better watch that ego of yours. Your hubris will be your downfall," warns Minghao, a close friend of Jeonghan's who somehow managed to stumble into the underground racing scene. He seems to also have found a talent for racing, but he prefers to watch the races rather than participate in them.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes at the familiar jab. His friends never miss an opportunity to comment on his so-called massive ego. He doesn’t see it that way—he’s just got skill, luck, and the confidence to show it off. Why shouldn’t he?

Handsome, talented, charming, and lucky, Yoon Jeonghan truly is God's favourite after all.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jeonghan brushes off the remarks, already distracted by thoughts of the after-party. This is his tenth win, after all, so it needs to be memorable: top-shelf whiskey, a VIP booth, and a few girls to top it off.

Grinning to himself, he slings an arm over Seungcheol’s shoulder as the group heads toward the exit. But then, a figure catches his eye, halting him in his tracks.

"Hey, who’s the chick?" Jeonghan asks, nodding toward a girl wearing a racing jacket, tinkering with what looks like her car.

"Oh, that's Y/N. I heard she’s new. Just signed up today," Mingyu informs them.

"A girl racing?" Jeonghan scoffs. "Good luck with that."

"Jerk," Seungcheol mutters, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Hey!" Jeonghan protests, raising his hands in mock defence. "I’m just saying! Girls aren’t exactly known for being good drivers."

"And she’s a newbie," he adds with a smirk. "I bet she’ll be running home crying after her first race."

A sharp voice cuts through their conversation.

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

Jeonghan turns to see the same girl standing in front of him, arms crossed, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

"I’m just saying," Jeonghan shrugs, his lazy grin unfazed. "Newbies don’t usually last long here—especially cute ones like you." He winks at her.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"And who are you to assume something like that?" she snaps.

"I’m Yoon Jeonghan, baby," he replies smoothly. "Longest winning streak in the game. Just got my tenth win, actually." He winks again, clearly enjoying himself.

"Never heard of you," she mutters.

Jeonghan’s smile falters for a split second, but he quickly recovers, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he steps closer.

"You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot," he says smoothly. "We’re heading out to celebrate my win at a party—why don’t you join us?" His grin widens as he adds, "Who knows, you might even get lucky and end up in bed with me." He throws in a wink for good measure.

"Fucking asshole," she mutters, brushing past him and deliberately bumping his shoulder, which only makes Jeonghan chuckle.

"You’ve really got to work on your attitude," Woozi sighs, shaking his head.

"I don’t see the problem," Jeonghan says with a shameless grin. "Hey, it’s her loss for passing up on this."

Woozi rolls his eyes and heads for the exit, the rest of the group following behind. Jeonghan lingers for a moment, glancing back at her one last time before turning to join them.

After downing his seventh shot, Jeonghan leans back into the booth, savouring the lingering burn in his throat. He feels a girl press against him—a chick he picked up earlier. What was her name again? Patty? Petunia? No, Patricia. Right, Patricia.

Glancing down at her, he smirks. She had mentioned coming here with a friend. Maybe tonight’s a two-for-one kind of night, he thinks with a sly grin.

He leans down and asks Patricia where her friend is. She points towards the dance floor, where a girl is surrounded by a crowd. Jeonghan squints, trying to get a better look. For a moment, it almost seems like that hot-headed chick he pissed off earlier—Y/N.

No way she’d show up here after the scene she made earlier. Guess she’s just like every other girl, after all, he thinks with a chuckle.

Smirking, Jeonghan makes his way onto the dance floor. He grabs the girl’s shoulder and spins her around, only to stop in his tracks. It’s not Y/N.

"Shit, sorry. Thought you were someone else," he mutters before retreating back to his seat.

Dropping into the booth, he groans, rubbing his face. The alcohol is definitely kicking in now. Why the hell is he even thinking about Y/N? He's got plenty of other girls grovelling at his feet for his attention.

Whatever.

Jeonghan grumbles and downs another shot, trying to shake her out of his mind. Sliding an arm around Patricia again, he leans in, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, earning soft giggles and a blush in return.

Girls are so easy, he muses with a smirk.

"You really need to check that ego of yours," a familiar voice cuts through his thoughts. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, turning toward the source—Minghao.

"Having an ego is fine," Minghao says, shrugging, "but your level of ego? That’s going to be your downfall. Just saying."

Jeonghan sighs, grabbing his whiskey. "How many times have you said this already?"

"I’m pretty sure this is his fifth time," Mingyu mumbles.

"It’s actually the seventh," Woozi interjects, sipping his water; he prefers not to drink and only goes to clubs if the others quite literally drag him there. "You weren’t around for the other two."

"Really?" Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise.

"I’m just saying," Minghao continues, undeterred. "I’ve seen people crash hard because of their egos. As your friend, I’d hate to see that happen to you."

Jeonghan chuckles, waving him off. "You worry too much, Hao. I’m Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve got nothing to worry about. Life’s great and only getting better." He leans back, taking another sip of his drink. Minghao shakes his head, sighing, as he takes a sip of his martini.

Just then, Seungcheol, who had been off picking up girls, returns with a girl under each arm.

"Hey, turns out Leah here is Patricia’s friend," Seungcheol smirks, gesturing to the girl on his right.

Jeonghan’s grin widens. "This is why you’re my best friend, Cheol," he laughs.

Seungcheol chuckles, helping Leah settle into the seat beside Jeonghan. Now surrounded by two girls, Jeonghan’s smile grows even bigger.

"Tonight’s going to be a great night," he says, laughing softly before leaning in to tease Leah with kisses while his hand moves to caress Patricia’s thigh.

Booze, friends, and girls—what better way to celebrate a race win?

The next race day rolls around, and Jeonghan is casually chatting with a group of girls while the other racers prep their cars. Checking on his own car? That’s Woozi’s job, after all. Jeonghan has more important things to do—like charming his fangirls.

As he scans the lineup of racers, his eyes land on Y/N. To his surprise, she’s here, busy with some last-minute prep near her car. A smirk spreads across his face as he saunters over to her.

"Well, well. Didn’t think you’d actually show up, babygirl," Jeonghan taunts, breaking her focus.

Y/N looks up, her expression already annoyed. "Don’t you have better things to do than bother me before the race?" she snaps.

"Nope, can’t think of anything better, baby," Jeonghan replies, his signature smirk firmly in place.

With a frustrated huff, Y/N rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her car, clearly done with him. As she bends down to grab something, Jeonghan lets out a low wolf whistle, his grin widening.

"Damn, you might have the finest ass I've ever seen; almost make me wanna bite into it," Jeonghan whistles with a low chuckle.

Y/N snaps her head around, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You better fuck off before I do something I regret," she snarls, her tone sharp enough to cut.

Jeonghan grins, completely unfazed. "Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do, little rookie?"

Her glare intensifies. "I’m gonna smack you so hard, you’ll forget which way the track goes," she growls through gritted teeth.

Jeonghan laughs, stepping closer until their faces are inches apart. He tilts her chin up with his hand, his cocky smirk growing.

"I’d love to see you try, little rookie," he whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Fucking asshole!" Y/N spits, smacking his hand away and storming off, her footsteps heavy with frustration.

Jeonghan watches her retreat, amused. His smirk lingers as he turns back to his car, throwing a final wink at his fangirls before sliding into the driver’s seat and strapping on his helmet.

"Can't wait to see you cry, little rookie," he mutters to himself, revving the engine.

Jeonghan drives to the starting line, aligning his car with the others. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and feels his heartbeat thumping in his ears as the adrenaline surges through his veins. Letting out a slow breath, he opens his eyes and smirks. Today will be the day he claims his eleventh win, he tells himself.

The starter steps forward, raising the green flag. Jeonghan grips the steering wheel tighter, revving the engine in anticipation. The flag drops, and the cars launch forward. As always, Jeonghan takes the lead.

He smirks, watching the growing gap between himself and the other racers.

"This’ll be a breeze," he chuckles to himself.

But his smirk falters when he notices Y/N's car tailing him, closing the gap fast.

"Hmm, not bad," he thinks, pushing the pedal harder to create more distance. But Y/N stays right on his tail, getting closer with each turn. Jeonghan's eyes widen as he realises the speed at which she's gaining on him. He quickly regains composure and focuses on maintaining his momentum.

As Y/N’s car continues to close the distance, Jeonghan’s frustration builds. He curses under his breath and slams the pedal to the floor, opting for raw speed over caution.

A sharp corner approaches and Jeonghan takes the inner road, determined to block Y/N from passing. But to his surprise, she takes the outer road and overtakes him. As she pulls ahead, their eyes meet, and Jeonghan swears he catches a smirk beneath her helmet.

Y/N speeds away and is now in the lead. Scowling, Jeonghan attempts to overtake her, but she doesn’t give him an inch. With each failed attempt, his frustration grows. The finish line is nearing, and if he doesn’t pass her, he’ll lose—and Yoon Jeonghan never loses.

Jeonghan slams the pedal again and attempts a sharp turn to pass Y/N, but she expertly dodges his move, blocking him out.

"Fuck!" Jeonghan curses, his frustration boiling over.

The finish line looms ahead, and despite his efforts, Y/N crosses it first, claiming victory. Jeonghan finishes in second place, seething with disbelief.

Jeonghan sits in the car for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He… lost. Yoon Jeonghan, the guy with an undefeated streak, just lost to some rookie. Unbelievable. He scoffs, slamming his hand on the steering wheel before getting out of the car. In a rush, he yanks off his helmet and tosses it aside, storming towards Y/N.

He takes a second to compose himself, then flashes a smirk as he leans against her car.

"Not bad… for a rookie," he says, his tone dripping with mock approval.

Y/N looks up at him from the driver’s seat, smirking in return.

"This rookie just beat your ass," she retorts, her voice full of playful challenge. "What happened to your winning streak? Must suck to get beaten by a girl rookie."

Jeonghan's smirk falters for a moment, the sting of defeat hitting him harder than he expected.

"I don’t know how you managed to get ten wins with that lousy driving," she continues, a teasing laugh escaping her lips. "The other drivers must’ve been really bad."

Jeonghan chuckles, trying to mask his frustration.

"You just got lucky, little rookie. Beginner's luck," he shrugs, leaning in closer to her. "You'll be eating my dust next race; I’ll make sure of it, baby."

"We’ll see about that, Jeonghan," she smirks, the challenge still in her eyes.

Jeonghan grins wide, full of cocky confidence.

"It’s official, you’re now Yoon Jeonghan’s rival," he says.

Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Wow, what an honour," she replies sarcastically, her tone dripping with irony.

Before Jeonghan can respond, she speeds off, leaving him stumbling behind, caught off guard.

"Fucking bitch," he mutters under his breath, shaking off his frustration as he regains his balance.

"Just you wait. I'll make you regret your actions, little rookie," he growls before walking to where his friends await him.

The next few races, much to Jeonghan's disappointment and frustration, followed the same infuriating pattern—he’d dominate the track, taking the lead and building good momentum, only for Y/N to overtake him at the last corner, snatching victory right out of his grasp.

And with every win, Y/N’s taunts grew bolder and more irritating. She had the winning streak now—not him. Jeonghan was stuck with second place, which, in his mind, was just first place for losers.

Still, Jeonghan kept up his confident facade. He’d smirk, laugh it off, and dismiss her wins with a nonchalant wave. "Beginner’s luck," he’d say every single time. And Y/N would roll her eyes and scoff at his excuse. Every single time.

Another race, another loss—his fifth in a row. Jeonghan stormed out of his car, tossing his helmet somewhere without care, running a hand through his damp hair in frustration. He strode over to Y/N’s car, only to see her climbing out with an obnoxiously big grin plastered across her face.

"Five losses, Yoon. Looks like you’re on a losing streak," she says, laughing in his face.

Jeonghan scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "I’m just letting you have a taste of what victory feels like. Don’t get too comfortable, little one," he shot back, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Sure you are," she replied with a mocking smirk. "Maybe it’s time you retire, old man. Looks like you’re not fit for the track anymore."

"Old man?" Jeonghan repeated, incredulous, stepping closer until their noses almost touched. His voice dropped dangerously low. "I’ll make you regret saying that, little rookie."

"Go ahead," she challenges, leaning in slightly, her gaze unwavering as it locked onto his.

"Han," a familiar voice cut through the tension. Jeonghan turns his head to see Seungcheol standing with the rest of his group, watching him expectantly.

It was then that Jeonghan noticed the sudden hush around them—everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the standoff unfold.

He turns back to Y/N, his smirk returning. "Consider this a warning, little rookie," he said coolly before stepping away and heading off with his friends.

Y/N just rolled her eyes and turned back to her car, ignoring the stares of the crowd still lingering around her.

Sighing, Jeonghan steps onto the track. It’s the night before a race, and restless energy had dragged him out of bed. Somehow, his legs had brought him here, to the place that always seemed to quiet the chaos in his mind. Maybe it was the strange connection he had with racing, but the track always had a way of grounding him.

He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling it into the cool night air. Closing his eyes, he feels the warmth of the nicotine spread through his body, contrasting with the crisp chill around him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" a sharp voice cuts through the silence.

Jeonghan spins around, and there she is—Y/N, arms crossed, her glare piercing through the dark.

"I should be asking you that," he retorts, narrowing his eyes and throwing away the cigarette bud.

"I’m here to scope out the track before the race," she says defensively, her lips curving into a smirk. "But you? I bet you’re here to sabotage it. Face it, that’s probably the only way you’ll win at this point."

His jaw tightens, and in two quick strides, he’s in front of her. His hand shoots out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him.

"You really think I’d stoop so low as to cheat?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain.

"I think you’d do anything to win," she counters, her smirk unyielding as she leans closer. "Cheating included."

"I’m not you," he growls, their faces so close their breaths mingle in the cool air.

Her expression darkens. "Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"How else would someone like you manage to win?" he sneers, his voice laced with mockery.

"Talent and dedication," she snaps back. "Two things you lack. Clearly."

"All you have is luck, little rookie. And we both know it’s going to run out," he fires back, smirking.

Her eyes glint with challenge. "Well, it looks like your luck’s been gone for a while, Yoon," she says smugly.

Scowling, Jeonghan doesn’t bother with another word. Instead, he closes the distance between them, crashing his lips against hers in a heated, impulsive kiss. She lets out a startled squeak, her hands instinctively clutching at his shirt as he pulls her closer, pouring all his frustration and fire into the kiss.

"Jump," he murmurs against her lips. Without hesitation, she wraps her legs around his waist, locking herself against him.

Still lost in the kiss, he strides toward his parked car nearby, effortlessly hoisting her up before laying her down on the hood.

He breaks the kiss briefly, just long enough to strip away both their shirts, before crashing his lips back onto hers. His hands explore her bare skin, sending a shiver through her as his touch lingers. With practiced ease, he slides a hand behind her and unhooks her bra in one swift motion, letting it fall away and exposing her.

Pulling back slightly, his gaze sweeps over her, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Not bad," he remarks teasingly.

She rolls her eyes and tugs him back into the kiss, her lips silencing further remarks. His hand sneaks up and toys with her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her. Their tongues fight for dominance as he continues to abuse her nipples.

"Are you gonna fuck me or what?" she growls against his lips.

"So impatient," he chuckles, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Didn’t know you were such a slut," he taunts, earning a sharp scowl from her.

Without missing a beat, he makes quick work of the buttons on her pants, and she lifts her hips to help slide them off along with her panties. Now completely bare, she lies sprawled across the hood of her car, her defiant gaze locked on his.

Running a finger through her slit, he chuckles. "Hm, so wet already. Knew you couldn't resist me, little rookie."

"Fuck you," she spits.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," he teases before inserting a finger into her tight hole.

She throws her head back with a curse as Jeonghan's finger moves inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts. Leaning down, he trails his lips along her neck and collarbones, leaving a series of love bites—each placed carefully to ensure they’ll be visible, even beneath a shirt.

Sliding in another finger, he curls them until he finds that sensitive, spongey spot deep inside her. A loud moan spills from her lips as he presses against it, his smirk widening with satisfaction. He focuses on that spot, relentlessly drawing out her moans and whimpers.

"Shit, I’m so close! Fuck!" she cries out, her brows furrowing as she chases her release.

But just as she’s about to tip over the edge, he cruelly withdraws his fingers, leaving her trembling and frustrated.

She lets out a loud, furious wail, her eyes blazing as they lock on him. "What the fuck?!"

Jeonghan tilts his head, his smirk lazy and infuriating. "What, you thought I’d let you finish that easily, little rookie?" he taunts, his tone dripping with playful malice.

"You fucking assh—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Jeonghan quickly slips out his dick and thrusts into her without any warning.

"Shit!" she cries, her hands clutching Jeonghan's shoulders for stability.

He thrusts into her with an unrelenting, almost primal rhythm, the car beneath them shaking with each movement. The night air fills with a symphony of grunts, moans, and the metallic creak of the car's hood. Their heated bodies contrast sharply against the cool breeze, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations.

"I hate you—fuck—I hate you," she moans, her voice shaky with every thrust.

"Yeah? I hate you too, little rookie," he growls in response, his words laced with defiance and desire.

"I'm close," she whimpers out, nails digging into his shoulders. Sneaking a hand between their bodies, Jeonghan starts circling her clit.

With a loud cry, her body trembles beneath him as she climaxes, gripping him tightly. Jeonghan lets out a low groan, continuing to thrust into her, drawing out every wave of her release as her juices coat him.

After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and jerks himself off before cumming onto the track with a groan.

They take a moment to catch their breath before slipping back into their clothes. Jeonghan lights another cigarette and leans against the hood of the car, settling down beside Y/N; both of them staring at the track ahead.

Jeonghan extends the hand holding his cigarette toward her, a silent offer.

"I don’t smoke," she scoffs.

"Wow, how thrillingly boring," he chuckles, taking another drag.

"Sorry for wanting to keep my lungs functional," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

Jeonghan laughs softly and exhales a puff of smoke. Y/N pulls her knees to her chest, shivering slightly as the cold night air wraps around them. Silence falls between them, broken only by the occasional crackle of Jeonghan’s cigarette.

"Why do you do it?" she suddenly asks, her voice quiet.

Jeonghan glances at her, puzzled. "Do what?"

"Racing," she says, turning her head to meet his gaze. "Why do you do it?"

He takes a long drag, tilts his head back, and exhales slowly into the crisp night air. Stubbing out the cigarette, he shifts his focus back to her.

"I didn’t have… the best parents," he starts, his voice low. "Honestly, I wouldn’t even call them parents."

She listens intently as his brows furrow. "They hated me from the second I was born. Treated me like I was invisible—like I didn’t even exist."

His fingers fidget with a loose thread on his shirt. "Growing up, I was always the kid in the shadows. The loner. The weird kid no one wanted to talk to."

Jeonghan chuckles dryly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I didn’t make my first real friend until my last year of high school. Pure accident. But somehow, me and Cheol hit it off."

"Cheol’s the one who dragged me into underground racing. I didn’t think much of it at first but after just one race…I was hooked. The adrenaline, the thrill…it was addictive."

He pauses, his gaze softening as a faint smile tugs at his lips. "Then came my first win. When I stepped out of that car, everyone swarmed me, congratulating me. For the first time in my life, I felt…seen."

His eyes drift to the stars above. "I wasn’t a shadow anymore. People knew my name. They cheered for me. They loved me."

His voice softens as he turns to her. "That’s why I race—to be seen. To matter. To finally step out of the shadows and into the light."

For a moment, their eyes lock in a shared silence, his words lingering in the air between them.

Then she looks away, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Wow. You’re a special kind of asshole," she mutters.

Jeonghan blinks, startled. "What?"

"Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Yoon," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he replies, feigning innocence.

"Spare me," she snaps. "You’re trying to manipulate me with your little sob story, so I’ll throw tomorrow’s race. But it’s not gonna work, Yoon. I see right through you."

Jeonghan stares at her, caught off guard. He opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. She laughs in his face.

"God, you’re pathetic," she says, shaking her head as she hops off the hood. "Get ready to lose again tomorrow."

With a smirk, she saunters off to her car, leaving Jeonghan speechless. He watches as her silhouette fades into the night, a mixture of shock and frustration etched on his face.

The next day arrives, Jeonghan scans the area, searching for Y/N. Maybe he can explain himself, convince her he wasn’t trying to manipulate her into throwing the race—that he was being genuine. Even though that’s exactly what he had been trying to do.

Spotting her by her car, checking it over one last time, he strides toward her purposefully.

"Y/N, I—let me explain, please," he begins, his tone uncharacteristically earnest.

Her only response is to put on her helmet, flip him off without a word, and climb into her car. She drives off toward the starting line, leaving Jeonghan stunned and frustrated.

Muttering under his breath, he storms back to his car, slamming the door as he gets in. He pulls on his helmet, his jaw tight as he rolls up to the start line beside her. For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and even through her helmet, he can tell she’s smirking.

Scowling, he looks away, trying to focus on the race ahead.

But it ends just like the last five—Y/N taking first place, and Jeonghan trailing behind in second.

Scoffing in disbelief, Jeonghan climbs out of his car, tearing off his helmet as he runs a frustrated hand through his damp hair. His gaze drifts to Y/N, surrounded by a cheering crowd congratulating her on another victory. She looks radiant, basking in their admiration, which only deepens the scowl on Jeonghan’s face.

Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and Jeonghan can see the triumphant glint in hers.

He smirks, despite himself. "Enjoy it while it lasts, little rookie," he mutters, his voice low but filled with determination. "Because I’ll make sure this is only temporary."

His eyes darken, a wave of anger and frustration crashing over him as he watches her revel in what should have been his victory—a victory she snatched right out of his grasp. His fists tighten at his sides, resolve surging through his veins like fire. He will beat her. He’s Yoon Jeonghan, after all—the one on top of the world.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ CAN I BE HIM?

❛ 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰. 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴— 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯? 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮? ❜

timeline: 2017 & 2018

synopsis: Amid the tangled emotions between Luna, Jeonghan, and Mingyu, unspoken confessions and lingering hopes weave a bittersweet narrative of love, regret, and the desperate longing to be chosen.

warnings: angst, multiple povs, narrative description heavy, cursing, crying, mentions of rejection, heartbreak, jealousy, regrets, unrequited love (?), sad!Luna, jealous!Jeonghan, jealous!Mingyu, lowkey possessive Jeonghan, secret feelings, confusions and realizations, acceptance, unrequited love, everyone is lowkey sad

read If Only first before this if you haven’t already! this one-shot is the aftermath of that story. this is also inspired by these request by you lovely humans: (request 1), (request 2), (request 3) & (request 4) happy reading, my loves 🤍🤎

sidenote… my heart aches for the three of them cause i have been on their shoes before… all three of them (also, i made myself cry again)… i promise, they’ll be fine 🥹🤍

“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.” listening to Cardigan while writing this is not for the faint hearted…

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Can I be him?

The thought crossed Mingyu’s mind as he sat on the cold floor of the practice room, his back propped against the wall. His dark eyes were fixed on Luna, who was across the room, quietly stretching. Her movements were methodical, almost robotic, as if her body was going through the motions her heart wasn’t in. She tilted her head to one side, letting out a soft laugh at something Dokyeom had said, but Mingyu wasn’t fooled.

That smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Her eyes told a different story.

Slightly swollen, rimmed with a faint red that hadn’t been there the day before, they seemed heavier today, carrying the kind of weight that only came with a sleepless night and a broken heart.

Luna’s smile faltered just slightly as she stretched her arms over her head, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor. But she recovered quickly, plastering on the same bright expression that fooled most of the room.

Most of the room— but not the members, not him, and definitely not Jeonghan.

Mingyu’s gaze drifted from Luna to her shadow.

Jeonghan sat across the room, leaning against the mirrored wall, legs sprawled in front of him. His usual air of calm amusement was absent. Instead, he looked subdued, almost tired. His sharp eyes followed Luna’s every movement, his expression unreadable except to those who knew him best.

Mingyu could see the sadness there, the guilt. Jeonghan wasn’t the type to wear his emotions plainly, but Mingyu knew him too well to miss the subtle signs.

Mingyu let out a quiet sigh, his chest tightening as he turned his attention back to Luna.

She was so good at pretending.

Too good.

But not good enough to fool him.

Despite his reputation for being loud and playful, Mingyu was surprisingly perceptive, especially when it came to his members. He had a knack for reading the room, for picking up on the things people didn’t say.

And Luna, with her slightly too-wide smile and tired eyes, was screaming in silence.

His mind wandered back to the night before, right after they had wrapped up a grueling day of comeback promotions. They’d all piled into the van, worn out but satisfied with their progress. But something had been different. The usual chatter and teasing had been dampened by a palpable tension that no one could quite name.

He remembered how Jeonghan had broken the silence as they pulled up to the dorms.

“Can you guys give me a moment with Jiyeon?” Jeonghan had asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency that couldn’t be ignored.

The members had exchanged glances but ultimately agreed, leaving Jeonghan to chase after Luna to the elevators.

Mingyu had lingered just a moment longer, glancing back to see Jeonghan jogging after Luna, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

Desperate, almost.

The elevator doors had closed, muffling whatever conversation took place between the two.

By the time they arrived at the practice room today, they had both looked… normal. Talking, laughing, pretending nothing was wrong. But it was clear as day that something had changed. Luna moved with less energy, her usual spark dulled. And Jeonghan— he looked like a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear.

Then there was the matter of Luna’s swollen eyes. She’d walked in and mumbled something about it being allergy season.

Allergy season.

The excuse might have flown with someone else, but Mingyu wasn’t buying it. He knew better.

Luna wasn’t allergic to pollen— or anything but mushrooms, for that matter. And while the other members had let it slide, choosing not to push her, Mingyu had spent the entire morning unable to shake the image of her red-rimmed eyes.

It wasn’t allergies. It was something else.

Mingyu’s chest tightened again as he watched Luna push her hair behind her ear, her focus entirely on her stretches.

Luna wasn’t looking at Jeonghan. She hadn’t looked at him directly all morning. And yet, her entire body seemed to lean in his direction, like she couldn’t help but orbit him.

Her heart was crying for Jeonghan, Mingyu realized.

Whatever had happened between them last night, it had left her raw. She was trying so hard to act normal, to be okay, but it was written all over her face.

And Jeonghan— Jeonghan’s face held an ache that mirrored hers.

Mingyu had always known Luna to be someone who wore her strength like armor. She was tough, fiercely independent, and had an almost stubborn determination to handle her own struggles.

Over the years, he’d watched her laugh off bad days, push through injuries, and hide her tears behind radiant smiles.

He knew why she did it— she hated the idea of being a burden to anyone.

Even now, when her swollen eyes and tired demeanor betrayed the storm inside her, she continued to act as though everything was fine.

But Mingyu also knew her tells.

He knew the little cracks in her facade that most people missed. The way her laughter came a beat too quickly, or how she busied herself with menial tasks when her thoughts became too loud. And he especially knew how she would retreat into herself, bottling everything up until she couldn’t anymore.

In those moments, there was always one person who could reach her— Jeonghan.

Jeonghan had a way of being exactly what Luna needed.

He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the first to drop whatever he was doing to listen to her. No matter how busy or chaotic things got, Jeonghan would sit with her, offering his undivided attention and quiet reassurances until she felt safe enough to open up.

But not today.

Today, Jeonghan was the reason for the sadness she was hiding, and Mingyu knew she wouldn’t be going to him. Not with the way she avoided looking in his direction or the way she flinched just slightly when his name was mentioned.

Mingyu had decided then and there that if Jeonghan couldn’t be the one to catch her this time, he would.

Even if it wasn’t his place.

Even if it hurt.

He’d made it his mission to be the shoulder she could lean on, at least until she and Jeonghan could figure things out.

Mingyu didn’t need to replace Jeonghan in her life— though the selfish part of him ached to hold even a fraction of the space Jeonghan held in her heart.

No, Mingyu would happily be whatever Luna needed him to be. Because she deserved to have someone in her corner.

The practice session dragged on, but Mingyu barely registered it. His attention kept flickering to Luna, who worked quietly in the corner, tying her hair up into a ponytail as the rest of the members milled about the room. She was doing her best to blend into the background, her movements measured and unhurried. But Mingyu could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the hair tie around her fingers.

He didn’t hesitate.

Before she could finish, Mingyu crossed the room in a few long strides, his heart thudding in his chest as he approached her. Without a word, he gently turned her around to face him and wrapped her in the biggest, warmest hug he could manage.

Luna froze in his arms, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. For a split second, she didn’t know who it was, but the familiar weight of Mingyu’s biceps around her shoulders was a dead giveaway.

Her body tensed at first, stiff and uncertain, but then it melted against him. Her arms came up to wrap loosely around his torso, and Mingyu felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She sank into the hug as though it was exactly what she needed but didn’t know how to ask for.

Neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to fade away, the noise of the practice room becoming distant and inconsequential.

Mingyu rested his chin on the top of her head, his large hands moving gently to the loose tie of her hair. He pulled it free, his fingers working carefully to gather her strands and tie them properly. Luna stayed in place, her arms still around his waist, her face pressed lightly against his chest.

When he finished, Mingyu pulled back just slightly, cupping her neck with both hands as he tilted her head up to look at him. His thumbs brushed softly against her skin, and he offered her the gentlest smile he could muster.

“You did good today,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m proud of you, Lulu-ya.”

Luna’s eyes went misty at his words, her lips curving into a sad, soft smile. “Thank you, Gyu-Gyu,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mingyu’s chest ached at the sight of her.

That smile— bittersweet and fragile— made him feel both helpless and fiercely protective all at once. He knew his words weren’t much, but she deserved to hear them.

Luna’s heart ached, too.

Jeonghan was always the one to tell her these things. After every practice, every performance, every small accomplishment, he would praise her for things she didn’t even realize mattered. “You did so well,” he’d say, whether it was after a grueling practice session or after a performance or something as simple as finishing her meal.

Mingyu wasn’t trying to replace Jeonghan, and deep down, she knew that. But it hurt all the same because his words reminded her of what she had with Jeonghan. And yet, it also made her heart swell with gratitude for Mingyu.

Mingyu felt the weight of her emotions, even if she didn’t voice them. He didn’t say anything, letting the moment hang between them before speaking softly again.

“Let’s eat together later,” he offered, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll come to your place, and we can hang out. Just you and me.”

Luna hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly as she considered his words. “You don’t have to, Gyu…”

“I want to,” he interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You can tell me everything if you want or we can just watch something, okay?”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said softly.

Mingyu smiled again, his hands still cupping her neck as he gave her a small nod. “Good. I’ll bring something over later. We’ll make a night of it.”

“Okay,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier this time.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

Across the practice room, Jeonghan now stood, his against the mirrored wall, his arms crossed against his chest. Dino and Dokyeom were animatedly chattering beside him, their voices rising and falling with excitement as they recounted some trivial story from their schedule earlier that week. Jeonghan nodded absentmindedly, his lips curling into an occasional smile to show he was listening.

But he wasn’t.

His eyes were elsewhere, fixed on Luna and Mingyu, who were still locked in that quiet, private moment.

Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on the way Mingyu’s large hands cradled Luna’s neck with such gentleness, the way he tilted her head up to meet his gaze as if she were something precious. The way Luna’s tired face softened in response to Mingyu’s words, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Jeonghan didn’t even realize he had stopped nodding along to Dokyeom and Dino’s conversation until Dokyeom nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. “Hyung, are you even listening?”

Jeonghan blinked, his head turning slightly toward them. “Hmm?” he murmured, feigning nonchalance as he offered them a distracted smile. “Yeah, I heard you.”

Satisfied, Dokyeom launched back into his story, and Jeonghan gave another vague nod. But his attention drifted back almost immediately, his gaze locking onto Luna once again.

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

There was a tightness in his chest, a gnawing sensation that twisted uncomfortably in his gut. It wasn’t something he was particularly familiar with, and yet, it felt impossibly loud in his head.

He watched as Mingyu’s hands lingered at Luna’s nape, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he stepped back, giving her a reassuring smile. He watched the way Luna’s shoulders seemed to relax under Mingyu’s touch, how she nodded at whatever Mingyu said with an almost imperceptible hesitation, as if she was letting down a guard she didn’t even know she had raised.

And then, like a whisper in his mind, the thought came unbidden— Can I be him?

Jeonghan’s chest constricted at the question, his heart skipping a beat as if the thought itself had startled him. The weight of those words settled heavily in his mind, lingering like a bitter taste he couldn’t shake.

But almost as quickly as it had come, the thought shifted, his mind backtracking with a sharp pang of realization.

I was him.

His fingers curled against his thighs as the words echoed in his head, quiet but insistent. He was the one Luna used to lean on, the one she sought out when the weight of the world became too much to bear. He was the one who used to coax those smiles out of her, who knew exactly what to say to make her laugh, to make her feel seen.

And now, someone else was standing in his place.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, his eyes dropping to the floor. He hated how his thoughts were spiraling, how his emotions felt tangled and messy in a way he couldn’t quite unravel.

“Hyung?” Dino’s voice pulled him back to reality again, and Jeonghan glanced up, his expression carefully composed.

“Yeah?” he asked, his tone calm and even.

“Are you okay? You seem… distracted,” Dino said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Jeonghan gave a small laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the concern. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

But as he glanced back across the room, his eyes catching the tail end of Luna and Mingyu’s conversation, that gnawing feeling in his chest remained.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a passing moment of jealousy, perhaps. Nothing he couldn’t shake off.

But deep down, Jeonghan knew better.

Luna knew better as well.

She knew this quiet evening with Mingyu, as comforting as it was, would inevitably end with her peeling back the layers of her conflict with Jeonghan.

She knew Mingyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t here just to keep her company or to feed her. He was here because he cared, because he had always been the kind of person who would wait patiently until she was ready to share the weight she carried.

Later that night, just as planned, Luna and Mingyu found themselves in her cozy apartment. The smell of her vanilla perfume lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the soft citrus scent of the candle she had lit on her kitchen counter. They were supposed to order takeout, but Mingyu, ever the culinary enthusiast, had other plans.

“You know, you could just sit there and be pretty while I do all the work,” Mingyu teased as he rummaged through her fridge, pulling out ingredients with practiced ease.

Luna, standing across the kitchen island with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow at him. “And why would I do that when I can help? You do realize I’m capable of cooking, right?”

Mingyu paused, a dramatic look of skepticism plastered on his face. “Capable? Sure. But am I willing to risk my life testing that theory? Not really.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward despite herself. “Oh, please. I could outcook you any day.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu leaned against the counter, smirking at her.

“Really. I’m an amazing cook, Gyu,” Luna huffed, grabbing a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer. “I’m helping, whether you like it or not.”

Mingyu grinned, knowing she wouldn’t back down. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a task so you don’t feel useless.” He gestured toward the living room with his chin. “Go pick something for us to watch. Something good, okay? No pressure.”

Luna narrowed her eyes at him, but she set the spoon down and wandered into the living room, already knowing exactly what she’d choose.

When she returned a few minutes later, the television glinting as the screen flashed and showed what she chose. Mingyu burst into laughter. “‘Tangled’,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s wrong with ‘Tangled’?” Luna asked, feigning offense as she arranged the table in front of her.

“Nothing,” Mingyu replied, turning back to the stove. “I just knew you’d pick it. You’re predictable, Lulu-ya.”

“Predictable? I’ll have you know that this is a classic,” she said, plopping down on the couch and throwing a cushion at him for good measure.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Mingyu called back, dodging the cushion with a grin.

The sound of vegetables sizzling in the pan and the faint background score of the movie filled the apartment, creating a warmth that wrapped around them like a blanket.

When the food was finally ready, they settled on the couch with plates in hand, the coffee table serving as a makeshift dining area. The meal was simple— kimchi fried rice with chicken and some stir-fried vegetables— but it was perfect.

As the movie played, Luna found herself laughing more than she had in days. Mingyu kept up a steady stream of commentary, poking fun at Flynn Rider’s exaggerated smolder and mimicking Maximus the horse with over-the-top gestures.

It was silly and endearing, and it was exactly what she needed.

But Mingyu never pushed. He didn’t ask her how she was feeling, didn’t pry into the thoughts she was clearly holding back. He just let her exist, let her enjoy the moment, and it made all the difference.

For now, Luna didn’t have to think about the ache in her chest or the unspoken tension that lingered between her and Jeonghan.

For now, she could just be.

But deep down, she knew better. She knew that before the night was over, the words she had been swallowing all day would finally spill out. And somehow, she also knew that Mingyu would be ready to catch them when they did.

And then it did happen.

It happened in a flash, so subtle yet so significant, that Luna barely registered the words leaving her mouth until it was too late.

Mingyu stood from the couch, stretching his long limbs before heading toward her pantry. He ran a hand through his hair and casually asked, “You want a glass of wine? Thought it might as well be our dessert.”

She was mid-laugh, relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages, when the words slipped out, unbidden. “The last time I drank, I got fucking drunk and told Han I–”

The room fell into an unnatural stillness as her sentence cut short. Her breath hitched, and she froze, eyes dropping immediately to her hands. Her fingers instinctively twisted the gold rings she always wore, a habit Mingyu had seen countless times before. It was her tell, her silent admission of unease.

Mingyu turned slowly, his hand still hovering over the wine bottle. He studied her with the kind of calm that came only from years of reading people. He released the bottle without a sound and walked back toward her.

He didn’t speak, didn’t push, simply sat beside her, his broad frame a steady presence in the quiet room.

Luna felt the couch shift under his weight, but she couldn’t look at him. Her fingers kept twisting, the band of her rings cool against her warm skin. She felt a hand gently rest atop her head, and her tense shoulders eased just slightly at the comforting gesture.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until she finally closed her eyes and sighed, long and weary. She knew Mingyu wouldn’t force her to speak. But that was precisely why she wanted to.

He deserved to know.

After everything he had done for her tonight— his lighthearted banter, the warm meal, the quiet reassurance he provided without ever needing words— he deserved this piece of her, no matter how raw it felt to offer.

And maybe, just maybe, she needed this too.

“The last time I drank…” she started, her voice shaky, barely above a whisper. She forced herself to keep going, the words tumbling out like a confession she had been holding too tightly for too long. “I got drunk and told Han… told him that I liked him.”

Her voice cracked at the last word, and she bit her lip, still unable to meet Mingyu’s gaze.

Mingyu had known.

He had always known.

From the moment they had met as trainees, it was as clear as daylight. Luna’s feelings for Jeonghan were written in every lingering glance, in the subtle softening of her features whenever he walked into the room, in the way she instinctively gravitated toward him no matter the situation.

It was in the way her eyes sparkled like stars whenever Jeonghan praised her, the way she seemed to orbit around him without even realizing it.

Mingyu knew it because he felt the same way about her.

He knew how it felt to linger in the background, to notice every small detail about someone and hope they’d see you too. He knew how it felt to hide his feelings behind jokes and smiles, burying them so deeply that no one would ever guess.

The difference between them was that Luna’s feelings were as evident as the sun at noon, while his were a well-guarded secret. He had mastered the art of pretending, of hiding his heart in plain sight.

He watched her, his heart aching as she twisted her rings even harder. It was as if she were trying to ground herself, to stop herself from breaking apart completely.

“…And the next day, in the elevator, he told me we wouldn’t work.”

The quiet admission shattered Mingyu’s trance.

His eyes snapped down to her, and he saw her finally look up at him. Her dark eyes were rimmed with tears, glistening under the soft light of her apartment. She blinked rapidly, as if willing them not to fall, but her lips trembled despite her effort to keep her composure.

“Am I too hard to love, Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so heartbreakingly vulnerable, that Mingyu’s chest tightened.

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. He could only see the pain in her eyes, the self-doubt she had no business carrying, and the weight of her question that hung in the air between them.

Mingyu swallowed hard, his fists clenching against his knees as a bitter thought crept into his mind.

Can I be him?

Could he be the one who made her laugh, made her cry, made her feel so deeply? Could he be the one her heart longed for so desperately?

Mingyu had tried to push those feelings down for so long, telling himself it was enough just to be her friend. But seeing her like this, so broken over someone else— it hurt. It hurt more than he could have imagined.

Why can’t I be him?

And yet, even as the thought consumed him, Mingyu couldn’t look away. All he wanted, more than anything, was for her to smile again. Even if it wasn’t because of him.

Because that was what love looked like.

And right now, love was a battlefield he was losing.

He wanted to tell her so much— that she wasn’t too hard to love, that she deserved more than she was giving herself credit for, that if only she would let him, he would love her in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he also knew this wasn’t about him.

So, instead, he cupped her face in his large, warm hands, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks as he steadied her gaze.

“No,” he said, his voice firm yet impossibly soft. “You’re not hard to love, Jiyeonie. Not at all.”

Her tears spilled over then, and Mingyu felt his heart splinter in ways he didn’t think were possible. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as if he could shield her from every hurt she had ever felt.

And for tonight, he promised himself he would be that person for her— the one she could lean on, the one who wouldn’t let her fall apart.

Luna broke.

It was slow at first, a trembling exhale that Mingyu barely heard over the rush of his own thoughts. Her body stiffened against him, her small frame caught in the vice grip of emotions she could no longer hold back.

Then, with a sound that tore straight through his chest, she broke completely.

Mingyu felt the full weight of her grief as her fingers fisted tightly into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her tears spilled freely now, soaking the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked her body.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move beyond the slow, soothing circles his hand traced on her back. He held her tightly, anchoring her, silently telling her she wasn’t alone in this.

It was the first time she’d let herself cry again after last night’s explosive breakdown. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since she’d stepped out of that elevator, leaving Jeonghan behind with a reassuring smile she’d fought to muster. She’d told him it was fine, told him she understood, before the doors slid shut and she was finally, mercifully, alone.

The second she’d stepped into her apartment, the dam had burst. Every ounce of strength she’d held onto collapsed under the weight of his polite rejection. She had screamed into her pillow, sobbed until her chest physically hurt, and curled into herself as the words replayed in her head like a cruel melody:

“…we can’t do this.”

And now, here she was again, sobbing uncontrollably, except this time she wasn’t alone.

Mingyu said nothing as her cries poured out against him. He stayed rooted in place, steady and quiet, letting her grief unfold at its own pace. His hand never stopped its gentle motion against her back, his other arm a firm yet tender hold around her.

He didn’t mind that his shirt was drenched, didn’t care that her nails were digging into him.

All he cared about was her.

When her sobs finally began to soften into quiet sniffles, he shifted slightly, but only to press his lips to the crown of her head in a gesture so soft it was almost reverent.

“You are not hard to love, Jiyeonie,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. He pulled back just enough to tilt her tearstained face up to meet his gaze. His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his thumbs wiping away the streaks of tears on her flushed skin. “You are far from that. In fact, you’re so easy to love.”

Her swollen, teary eyes locked onto his, and he could see the raw emotion swimming in them. Confusion, sadness, disbelief— all of it was there, but she didn’t pull away.

Luna let him hold her, let him speak.

Mingyu exhaled softly, his thumbs brushing over her skin again as he continued. “You care so deeply about the people around you. You go out of your way to make everyone feel seen and heard, even when you’re struggling yourself. You light up every room you walk into, Lulu-ya. People gravitate toward you without even realizing it because you make everything feel lighter, better. You’re kind in ways that most people can’t even fathom. You make people laugh, you make them feel safe. You make me feel safe.”

His voice wavered slightly at the last admission, but he pressed on, unable to stop the words tumbling from his heart. “You’re the type of person who loves so selflessly, and I don’t think you even realize how rare that is. You’re easy to love, Bae Jiyeon. So easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t deserve you.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his unspoken feelings threatening to overwhelm him. This wasn’t just about reassuring her— it was a truth he’d been holding onto for years, a truth he’d never been able to say out loud until now.

Luna’s lips parted slightly as she stared up at him, her wide, tear-filled eyes searching his face for something she couldn’t name. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her silence said more than words ever could.

Mingyu’s gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment too long before flickering back to her eyes. And then back again. His breath hitched, and he realized just how close they were, her face cradled in his hands, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

Her eyes held sadness, yes, but there was also a flicker of confusion, a question she didn’t yet know how to ask.

His head dipped slowly, so slowly that time seemed to stretch around them. He could feel the pull, the magnetic force drawing him closer to her, but just as his lips were a whisper away from hers, he stopped.

Mingyu froze, his breath shaky as he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest gently against hers.

He sighed deeply, frustration and guilt clawing at him as he scolded himself silently.

What are you doing, Kim Mingyu?

Luna didn’t need this. She didn’t need more confusion, more complications. She didn’t need him taking advantage of her vulnerability.

Luna nudged her forehead against his, a small gesture of concern that only deepened his guilt. “Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.

He opened his eyes slowly, finding her gaze still locked on him, her brows knit together as if trying to piece together what he was feeling.

Without a word, Mingyu pulled back just enough to place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. His lips pressed against her skin with a tenderness that conveyed everything he couldn’t say aloud.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes met hers again, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay, Jiyeonie,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a conviction he wasn’t entirely sure he believed. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stared into Luna’s tear-streaked face. Her eyes, still wide and brimming with confusion, searched his for answers he didn’t yet have the strength to give. But there was one thing he knew with unwavering certainty, one thing he could promise her.

“I’ll make sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. His hands, still cradling her face, fell to her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t know how long it’ll take or how much it’ll hurt, but I promise you, Jiyeonie, I’ll be here. Whatever you need— whenever you need it— I’ll be here.”

The words hung in the air like a vow, unspoken yet understood. He didn’t need her to respond. Her silence, the way her fingers clung faintly to his wrist, was enough.

And with that, he stayed close, letting her process everything in her own time, his presence a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And Mingyu kept that promise.

Through the days, the weeks, the months that followed, he was there. Quietly, steadfastly, he became the anchor Luna needed as she worked through the storm raging inside her.

He was the one who showed up unannounced at her apartment with her favorite takeout when he suspected she hadn’t eaten. The one who filled her living room with laughter when he pulled out his collection of terrible dad jokes. The one who dragged her out for morning walks when she felt too drained to even leave her bed, promising her that fresh air and sunshine could do wonders for her soul.

Whenever self-doubt crept into her voice, Mingyu countered it with an unwavering confidence in her. “You’re stronger than this,” he’d say, “and I’m not just saying that because I care about you. You’ve gotten through so much, Jiyeonie. You’re going to get through this, too.”

Whenever fatigue settled into her bones or fear whispered cruel lies into her ear, Mingyu was there. He’d sit with her in silence on her toughest days, a steady presence she could lean on without judgment. He gave her space when she needed it and filled it when she asked.

Mingyu knew when to push and when to wait.

There were days when she would cry, and he would simply hold her. Other days, she would rant about how lost she felt, how fragile she had become, and Mingyu would sit there, listening to every word without interrupting.

Mingyu didn’t try to fix her. He just let her feel what she needed to feel.

And slowly but surely, Luna began to heal.

Her laughter returned, soft at first but growing stronger with each passing day. Her confidence, once so shaken, began to rebuild itself. She started to hum absentmindedly again, a habit Mingyu had always found endearing.

Even her relationship with Jeonghan began to return to normal.

The awkward silences that had once stretched between them disappeared. The lingering tension in their stares faded, replaced by the easy camaraderie they had always shared. They laughed together again, talked as though nothing had happened, and spent time with the rest of the members without the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

Jeonghan, true to form, never brought up what had transpired between them months prior. He respected her unspoken boundaries, never prying, never pushing. Luna, for her part, was grateful for that.

But no matter how much Mingyu helped her heal— no matter how many of her insecurities and doubts he managed to soothe— there was one thing he couldn’t replace.

Her feelings for Jeonghan.

Even after all this time, even after nearly a year of distance and rebuilding, her heart beat only for him.

It was Jeonghan she thought of in quiet moments, Jeonghan whose laughter still echoed in her mind, Jeonghan whose touch she longed for.

Her heart ached for him, yearned for him, and no amount of time seemed capable of changing that.

Her heart beats only for him; it longs only for him, an unyielding melody that no one else can rewrite.

And Mingyu… Mingyu was content with that.

Because if there was one thing he knew about love, it was that sometimes, love meant putting someone else’s happiness above your own. It meant helping the person you loved most find their happiness, even if that happiness didn’t include you.

After all, you would do anything for love— even if it meant helping your love with their love.

Mingyu marveled at his own heart sometimes, at its strength.

How was it possible to love someone so selflessly, to give so much of yourself knowing you might never get anything in return?

He didn’t know, but he also didn’t regret it.

Then again, Luna’s heart was just as strong, if not stronger.

She had endured the kind of heartbreak that could shatter a person, and yet she had chosen to keep loving. She had chosen to persevere, to hold onto that love even when it felt impossible.

Mingyu thought of her often, of the quiet resilience she carried, of the way she smiled even when her heart was heavy.

She amazed him, and in some ways, she inspired him.

If Luna could endure so much and still love so deeply, then who was he to do any less?

And so, Mingyu stayed by her side, his heart heavy yet full.

Because loving Bae Jiyeon— helping Bae Jiyeon—wasn’t a burden.

It was a privilege.

Jeonghan feels the same.

It was a privilege.

It was a privilege to know Luna, to stand beside her through the years as they navigated the treacherous waters of the idol world. A privilege to work with her, to watch her light up stages with an effortless grace that took his breath away every time. A privilege to call her his best friend, the one person who could read him like an open book even when he thought he was being clever.

And above all else, it was a privilege to be loved by her.

Jeonghan had known since the moment she confessed to him in her apartment, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol but her heart painfully clear.

Luna’s love for him wasn’t something fleeting or shallow. It was deep and real, a kind of love he’d never dared to believe someone like him could deserve.

But it terrified him.

The moment in the elevator the night after when he told her, “We can’t do this,” he knew he’d made a mistake.

The look in Luna’s eyes— the fleeting flash of pain she couldn’t quite mask before she quickly plastered on a smile— was something that haunted him.

He remembered the way she reassured him, her voice trembling slightly as she said, “It’s fine. I was drunk and being stupid.” And then she left the elevator, her head held high, as though the weight of his rejection wasn’t bearing down on her.

But Jeonghan knew her better than that.

He always had.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed every moment of their conversation, every little detail he wished he could take back. He pictured her walking into her apartment, finally letting her guard down, finally allowing herself to cry.

The thought of her alone, her shoulders shaking with sobs he knew she wouldn’t let anyone else see, made his chest ache.

The next day, he noticed the shift immediately.

Luna avoided his gaze in schedules, her usual bright smiles now tempered, softer, almost rehearsed. She threw herself into work with a single-minded focus that even the other members started to comment on. He could see it in the way she laughed at jokes— polite, short, never reaching her eyes. He could see it in the way she distanced herself, not just from him but from everyone, wrapping herself in a cocoon of work and solitude.

And then there was Mingyu.

Jeonghan noticed how Luna began to gravitate toward him.

It started small— a lingering conversation here, a shared laugh there. But it grew, and before long, Mingyu became her shadow, her support, her confidant.

Jeonghan should have felt envious, should have felt angry, but all he felt was gratitude.

Because if anyone could help Luna when she refused to help herself, it was Mingyu.

Jeonghan knew how Luna was.

She wasn’t the type to openly share her emotions, not unless she was pushed. She was the type to bury them, to lock them away until the weight of them became unbearable. And Mingyu… Mingyu had a way of drawing people out, of making them feel safe.

Jeonghan was thankful for him, even if it hurt to watch them together sometimes.

And so, Jeonghan watched.

Silently, slyly, like a fly on the wall, he kept an eye on her.

He noticed the little things— the way her smile faltered when she thought no one was looking, the way her hands fidgeted nervously during group meetings, the way her laugh sometimes felt just a little too forced.

Jeonghan noticed how she stopped seeking him out the way she used to, how her lingering stares disappeared, replaced by a pointed avoidance that cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

He noticed, too, the way Mingyu seemed to bring back pieces of the Luna he knew.

Little by little, she began to laugh more freely, her eyes regaining some of their sparkle. She started to hum to herself again, a quiet melody that Jeonghan hadn’t realized he missed until it returned.

But even as Luna began to heal, Jeonghan couldn’t shake his regret.

He regretted the fear that had gripped him in that elevator, the fear that had made him choose the safe path instead of the one he truly wanted.

Jeonghan regretted making her feel like her love wasn’t worth the risk, like she wasn’t worth the risk.

He regretted the way he had hurt her, the way he had driven her away, the way he had made her question herself. And he regretted most of all that he hadn’t been brave enough to tell her the truth.

Because the truth was, Jeonghan had loved Luna for as long as he could remember.

Jeonghan was in love with Luna.

Hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her in a way that defied logic or reason. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint to a single moment or a singular trait.

From the moment they met as trainees, there had been something about her that drew him in. Maybe it was despite her cold outward appearance, she smiled so beautifully, so bright and unguarded, or the way she laughed, unabashed and full of life. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, like she could see straight through the facade he so carefully crafted.

It was everything, all at once.

It was the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed too hard, her giggles filling the room like sunlight spilling into a dark corner. It was the way she remembered the little things— like how he liked his coffee or how he always needed a nap after a long schedule.

It was the way she seemed to know him better than he knew himself, calling him out on his tricks and teasing him just enough to make him feel seen but never exposed.

He loved the way she carried herself, too— quietly resilient, endlessly kind, and fiercely loyal.

Luna was the type of person who gave her all to the people she loved, and Jeonghan had been one of the lucky ones to be on the receiving end of that love.

Jeonghan loved her then, and he loved her now.

But he had convinced himself that love wasn’t worth the risk.

That the friendship they had built, the bond they shared as members of the same group, was too important to jeopardize. That their careers, their futures, couldn’t withstand the weight of a love like theirs.

And so, he had told her no.

Even now, after everything, after he had hurt her, rejected her, and created a chasm between them, she treated him with the same warmth she gave to everyone else. He could see it was different now, of course— more guarded, more deliberate— but it was still there.

And it made him ache.

Jeonghan had spent countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he told her no.

But now, as he watched her from afar, as he saw the way she smiled at Mingyu, as he noticed the way she seemed to come alive again under his care,

Regret was a constant companion, whispering in his ear, reminding him of what he had given up. It wasn’t just her love he had rejected— it was the possibility of something more, something deeper, something that terrified him because of how much he wanted it.

He wanted to make things right, to take back the pain he had caused her, to give her the love she deserved. But he didn’t know how.

But he was determined to make things right, no matter how long it took.

So, for now, he watched. And he waited.

Even if they could only ever be friends, Jeonghan was willing to accept that. He would rather have her in his life in any capacity than risk losing her completely. He was willing to put in the effort, to prove to her that she was safe with him again, that he could be someone she could trust. He was willing to push his own feelings aside if it meant seeing her happy.

And he hoped, with everything in him, that one day he would find the courage to tell her the truth.

But it wasn’t easy.

Even after months of careful rebuilding, after they had returned to a semblance of normalcy, Jeonghan could still see how Luna clung to Mingyu.

He didn’t blame her. Mingyu had been her rock during the time Jeonghan had faltered, the one who had stepped in when he had stepped away. And Mingyu, ever the gentle giant, had been exactly what Luna needed.

They were behind the scenes of a photoshoot when Jeonghan saw it again.

Luna’s laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, as she squealed and called for Mingyu. “Gyu-Gyu, look at this!” she said, her voice laced with excitement. She held up her phone, waving it at him as he approached, his face lighting up in that easy, boyish grin Jeonghan had come to know so well.

Mingyu leaned down to look at her phone, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing her small frame as they shared a moment of quiet laughter.

Jeonghan watched from the corner of the room, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, his heart constricting painfully at the sight.

He was happy to see her smile like that, truly happy.

It was the kind of smile that reached her eyes, the kind of smile that had been absent for so long. And he was thankful for Mingyu— deeply, profoundly thankful— for being the one to bring that smile back.

But despite the gratitude that swelled in his chest, another thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.

Can I be him?

The question lingered, heavy and bittersweet.

It mirrored the thought that had crossed Mingyu’s mind so many months ago, the same quiet longing, the same resignation.

But where Mingyu’s question had been born from the pain of unrequited love, Jeonghan’s was laced with guilt and regret. Because he could have been him. He could have been the one to make her laugh like that, to stand by her side, to be her rock.

But he wasn’t.

And now, as he watched her with Mingyu, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had forfeited his chance entirely.

Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on them, his heart twisting with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. He saw the way Luna tilted her head up to meet Mingyu’s eyes, her expression soft and full of trust. He saw the way Mingyu looked at her in return, his own gaze steady and unguarded.

It was a silent conversation, a quiet understanding, and Jeonghan felt like an intruder simply for witnessing it.

It was ironic.

Both Jeonghan and Mingyu were caught in the same cycle, both willing to put their own feelings aside for Luna’s happiness. Both of them aching for something they could never truly have. And yet, where Mingyu’s strength lay in his ability to give selflessly, Jeonghan’s strength was still a work in progress.

He wanted to be better for her. He wanted to deserve her.

But as he stood there, watching her laugh with Mingyu, the question lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him.

Can I be him?

Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before him. Luna and Mingyu were standing just a few feet away, their heads bent together over her phone. She laughed again, her voice light and melodic, and something inside Jeonghan twisted painfully.

She looked so happy.

The kind of happiness that was effortless, unguarded, real.

And yet, all Jeonghan could think was, Am I still the one?

The question clawed at him, desperate and raw, filling him with a fear he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the sight of her smiling at Mingyu or the way she leaned into his presence like he was her safe harbor.

It was the possibility that somewhere along the way, Jeonghan had lost her— lost the part of her heart that once belonged to him.

Had she moved on? Had her feelings for him faded, dissolved into nothing but a distant memory of what could have been?

Jeonghan’s fingers tightened into fists at his sides, his chest heavy with the weight of uncertainty. He had no one to blame but himself. He had been the one to push her away, to draw that invisible line between them, to let fear and doubt dictate his choices.

But what if, in doing so, he had extinguished the flame that once burned for him in her heart?

Jeonghan’s mind raced, desperate for answers.

He thought back to every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every smile she had ever given him. He thought about the way she used to look at him, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet adoration that made him feel like he was the center of her universe. He thought about the way she used to laugh at his jokes, even when they weren’t funny, and how she always seemed to seek him out in a crowded room, as if drawn to him by some invisible thread.

Was any of that still there? Or had it all been erased, replaced by something else— someone else?

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. Please, he thought, his heart aching with the weight of his unspoken plea. Please let me still be the one.

He wanted so badly to believe that he was.

That somewhere deep inside, Luna’s heart still called for him, still craved him, still loved him. That despite everything— despite the hurt, the distance, the months of uncertainty— he was still the one she wanted.

But the fear was relentless, gnawing at the edges of his hope.

What if he was wrong? What if she had already let go? What if Mingyu had become the person she turned to, the person she leaned on, the person she loved?

The thought was unbearable, and yet it lingered, taunting him with its cruel possibilities.

Jeonghan’s eyes flickered back to Luna, watching the way she lit up in Mingyu’s presence, her smile brighter than he had seen it in months. He felt a pang of gratitude for Mingyu, for being there for her in a way that Jeonghan hadn’t been able to. But that gratitude was overshadowed by a deep, aching longing— an unrelenting desire to be the one who made her feel that way.

I can be him, Jeonghan thought, his mind racing with determination. I can be whoever and whatever you want me to be. Just don’t let go of me. Please, Nana-ya. Don’t give up on me.

The words burned in his chest, desperate and silent. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on to this hope, this fragile, flickering belief that he still had a chance.

Jeonghan just needed to know. Needed her to give him a sign, a hint, anything to tell him that he wasn’t too late.

Wait for me, he thought, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Just a little longer. Don’t let go. Don’t let me go, pretty angel.

Because if there was even the slightest chance that he was still the one, Jeonghan would fight for her. He would fight with everything he had, against every fear and every doubt, to be the person she needed.

To be the person she loved.

Jeonghan just needed her to wait. Just a little more.

He can be the one.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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[honeyhae-svt]

hey there, stop by to read a gamer x gamer, ceo x assistant trope fantasy? ;))

status: completed ! wait for bonus chapters :]

🎮Part-time Lover | JxW🎭

a jeonghan & wonwoo (jxw) fanfiction (SERIES) - MDNI

a/n: got a lil lazy on writing this lol sorry not sorry, honnies

genre: smut, ceo x streamer, ceo x employee, gamer x gamer, streamer x gamer, streamer x streamer, enemies to lovers(?), friends to lovers(?), friends/w benefits, slowburn, angst, romance, romcom, workplace romance, love triangle(?), slice of life, modern au, (inspired by GAM3B01) - (if you're a minor, stay out of this post, you are not welcome) status: finished / completed ! (my life is also done lmao. why am i kinda sad though but also kinda happy and relieved that it's finally finished) ⚠️ warnings ⚠️: explicit sexual content (18+, smut - also, there's a specific warnings for this), alcohol consumption, mentions of drunken behavior, slight workplace power imbalance (ceo x employee dynamic), strong language (profanity), cyberbullying/online hate (mentions of rumors, edited content), emotional manipulation (mild, e.g., jeonghan’s cold treatment), petty arguments (playful/tense, potential verbal sparring), depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, mentions of romantic/sexual tension between characters, enemies to lovers-style tension (includes teasing, rivalry, jealousy), and my shitty writing a/n: this was actually supposed to be a one shot since anon asked for a wonwoo gamer kinda fanfic, but then i decided "why not add jeonghan?" cuz like, i miss him so bad. so yeah, hopefully, anon wont hate on me for making something else entirely? yeah, if you do not like this one, then feel free to ask again, i apologize. but please do enjoy ! im only continuing this because i already have a few viewers who are currently enjoying this. alright, that's all i gotta say, CIAO. SINCE IT'S COMPLETED, I MIGHT MAKE BONUS CHAPTERS EVERY NOW AND THEN. FEEL FREE TO REQ OR DM ME !

~❁story navigation❁~

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☆ 00 - teaser ♪

tags / warnings: none for this one, just jeonghan being bossy and wonwoo being a bully hehe beware, the teaser looks more like a summary of the overall story 😪

wc: 734

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☆ 01 - schedule ♪

tags / warnings: strong language (profanity), petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor. (thats about it in this chapt)

wc: 4600

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☆ 02 - quit ♪

tags / warnings: strong language (profanity), petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, reader getting drunk, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor.

wc: 6895 (i will do better than that)

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☆ 03 - no feelings involved ♪

tags / warnings: smut, strong language (profanity), explicit language, petty arguments, mention of alcohol consumption, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, suggestive content, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, jealousy, mature themes (alcohol, party scenes), angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy.

smut warnings: masturbation (both f and m), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex, degradation (really slight. f being called "slut" once), overstimulation, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom)

wc: 11,087

♪ playlist ♪ : one of the girls (the weekend, lily rose depp, jennie), love me harder (ariana grande, the weekend), toxic (britney spears), kiss it better (rihanna), don't blame me (taylor swift).

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☆ 04 | your lips, my lips, apocalypse ♪

tags / warnings: smut, explicit language, petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mature themes, light suggestive content, jealousy/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild profanity, oblivious reader (she needs proof over everything and anything), competitive tension, angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you! angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy.

smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex (jeonghan pounding into you real hard), lots of kissing, degradation (light. reader is a slut. period.), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (bashful of that word), reader is getting bullied by her co-workers ! oh and lots of kissing. (i honestly dk what to even add in here, lmk if i missed smth !)

wc: 12,180

♪ playlist ♪ : boyfriend (ariana grande with social house), never be the same (camilla cabello), teeth (5 seconds of summer), treat you better (shawn mendes).

"you aint my boyfriend, and i aint your girlfriend, but you dont want me to see nobody else"-reader "i lose my mind when it comes to you"-wonwoo "i cant have what i want and neither can you"-jeonghan

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☆ 05 | double trouble-maker ♪

tags / warnings: mentions of parental loss and illness (reader’s backstory), light emotional angst and introspection, subtle romantic tension (love triangle elements), intimate moment (making out in a car), light teasing and subtle jealousy.

wc: 10,347

♪ playlist ♪: my love (lee hi), arcade (duncan laurence), almost is never enough (ariana grande)

a/n: nothing to say. if the plot isnt plotting, then feel free to leave. no smut this chap sorry. i want to focus on their emotional conflict. enjoy tho ! help. im flopping real bad

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☆ 06 | yes no yes ♪

tags / warnings: emotional tension, love triangle (we're getting serious), jealousy, angst, possessiveness, unresolved feelings, conflict, intimate situations, mature themes (smut), emotional hurt/comfort

smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex)

wc: 10,994

♪ playlist ♪ : adore you (harry styles), into you (ariana grande), slow hands (niall horan), you (the 1975)

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☆ 07 | one between two ♪

tags / warnings: explicit content (18+): includes detailed smut, kissing, cuddling, soft domestic intimacy, polyamorous dynamic: reader x jeonghan x wonwoo in a consensual relationship, fluff overload: this is tooth-rottingly sweet, light teasing and humor between jeonghan and wonwoo, some light language (wonwoo’s deadpan sarcasm might slip in), and non-canon ending (i guess?) DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ

smut warnings: kissing, threesome(?), oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex).

wc: 15,655

♪ playlist ♪: falling for you (SEVENTEEN), euphoria (jungkook - BTS), lover (taylor swift), candy (baekhyun), everything (michael bublé), day 1 (HONNE), love me like that (sam kim).

a/n: we finally reach the story at its peak ! thankyou for everyone who has been with me 'til the very end ! please enjoy the last chapter of the story :]

a/n: UPDATING DAILY (not really, scheduled reblogs or posts, yes). since our timezones might never click, i decided to update every day. (been working on this for like, months (but i stopped here lmao), so all i gotta do is edit, proofread it then add to drafts - (jk, im actually stuck on ch 3 and yeah, that's pretty much ti). since i have other pending fanfic reqs, i might be uploading every other day. starting on 03, wc will be 10k+ just wait for it or if you want to be added to the overall taglist, reblog or comment to this post (maybe you havent yet?) if you want to stay updated ! anyways. thankyou for those who are supporting me all the way through this fanfic ! love y'all so much mwaaa <3

~~~i upload either 9 - 10 am or 2-3:30 pm sharp :))

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me (thankyou for reblogging !) if you want to be added, reblog or comment to this post :>

check out my SEVENTEEN masterlist :^ i create other stories for something you might enjoy. not satisfied? inbox and requests are an open space :'']

[diamonddaze01]

DIY (why)

pairing: non-idol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader | wc: 1.0K genre: humor, fluff, established relationship | rating: e for everyone! warnings: none! a/n: based on an a conversation with @ylangelegy about how jeonghan has never lifted a tool in his life. enjoy!

You weren’t sure what you expected when you came home, but it certainly wasn’t Jeonghan standing in the middle of the living room, looking like he’d fought a losing battle with the entirety of IKEA.

“Hey, you’re home early!” he greeted brightly, though his tone was suspiciously similar to someone caught mid-crime.

The sight before you was equal parts baffling and hilarious. Picture frames were propped up against the walls, a half-built IKEA coffee table leaned precariously to one side, and what appeared to be a bag of screws had spilled across the floor like tiny, mocking breadcrumbs.

“Jeonghan…” You stepped inside cautiously, toeing a stray Allen wrench out of your path. “What is going on?”

He set down the manual in his hand, holding it up like he’d been caught red-handed. “I thought I’d surprise you by putting the house together while you were at work.”

Your eyes scanned the scene: the lopsided coffee table, the crooked picture frames on the walls (one of which was upside down), and the faint scent of burning plastic wafting from the general direction of the kitchen.

“Surprise?” he added weakly.

“You—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “You thought this would be a good idea?”

He pushed his hair back, smearing what looked like drywall dust across his forehead. “I didn’t think it would be this bad. How hard could it be to hang some pictures and assemble a table?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Jeonghan, you’ve never used a tool in your life.”

“I watched a video,” he defended, pointing at his laptop, which was paused on an overly enthusiastic DIY vlogger holding up a power drill. “And I read the instructions. Well, most of them.”

You crouched next to the IKEA manual on the floor, flipping through it. “This is not most of them. You circled the diagram of the coffee table like it’s a treasure map.”

He peeked over your shoulder. “Because it didn’t make sense! What’s a cam lock? Why does IKEA use pictures instead of words? Are Swedes allergic to clarity?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop from laughing. “Let me guess—you skipped steps?”

“I skipped suggestions,” he corrected with a smirk, only for it to falter when the table creaked ominously behind him. “Okay, fine, maybe a couple steps. But this is IKEA! They don’t even include all the screws sometimes! It’s like they want you to fail.”

“You’re blaming IKEA for this mess?”

“Do you see this pile of screws?” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “I’m convinced it’s more than what came in the box! I think they’re reproducing!”

You tried not to laugh, but the mental image of IKEA screws plotting your demise was too good. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me,” he shot back easily, his grin almost enough to distract you from the tilted bookshelf you hadn’t noticed until now.

You stared at it, horrified. “Is that—did you hang a bookshelf?”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, following your gaze. “It’s modern. You know, asymmetry is trendy.”

“It’s also unsafe.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, the very picture of nonchalance. “It hasn’t fallen yet.”

“Yet,” you echoed, crossing your arms.

Jeonghan stood, brushing off his knees and sidling closer to you with his trademark smirk. “Look, it’s not perfect, but I was trying to be romantic. Doesn’t that count for something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think lopsided furniture and upside-down picture frames scream romance?”

“It screams effort,” he said dramatically, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Do you know how many hours I spent on this? I used a drill, babe. I risked my life for you.”

You blinked at him. “You risked your life… hanging frames?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, pointing at one particularly sad attempt that was dangling by one screw. “Those things are dangerous! The drill kicked back, and for a second, I thought I was going to meet my maker.”

Despite yourself, you started laughing, the image of Jeonghan flinching away from a power drill too absurd to ignore.

“Fine,” you said, pulling away just enough to look at him. “But you’re cleaning this up, and I’m fixing everything. Including that bookshelf before it kills someone.”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling you in again. “But after dinner. I worked hard today, and I’m starving.”

“You worked hard?” you teased, poking his chest. “You mean you made a mess and called it a day?”

“Same thing.” He grinned and leaned in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Now, how about takeout? Thai?”

You smirked, reaching up to straighten the crooked frame. “I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to make me do all the work.”

He gave you a wide-eyed look that was anything but innocent. “What? Me? Never.”

“Uh-huh.” You glanced back at him, your tone teasing. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Lucky?” he echoed, grinning as he slid closer to you. “I’m the luckiest. I’ve got a handy, patient partner who’ll fix all my mistakes and keep me fed. Truly, what more could I ask for?”

“Less drywall dust on the floor, for one,” you shot back, flicking at his shirt where a fine layer of powder clung.

“Details.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’ll clean it up after dinner. Maybe.”

“Jeonghan.”

“Okay, definitely.”

It was impossible to stay mad at him for long—not with that mischievous twinkle in his eye and the crooked, boyish smile that said he’d get away with this, too. You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone.

“Fine. But you’re watching me hang the rest of these,” you grumble goodnaturedly, gesturing to the mess he had left behind. 

“Deal,” he said, plopping onto the couch with a satisfied grin. “You know, we really make a great team.”

You sighed, shaking your head but unable to stop smiling. “You’re impossible, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“And you love me for it,” he said smugly, dodging your playful swat as he grabbed his phone.

As you watched him settle onto the couch, surrounded by chaos but entirely unbothered, you couldn’t help but laugh. The furniture might have been a disaster, but somehow, it still felt like home—with Jeonghan, it always did.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi!! I have an idea for Jeonghan. You know The8's song Cold love. (It's my favorite).

The idea is this. The reader has a crush on him, even tho there in the same group (pls idol au), But he's cold, and distant to her/them.

It can be either a fluffy or angsty ending, with her leaving the group of them ending up together.

The reader can be Gn, or female I don't mind any.

I Love your writing, it brings me comfort 🫶

Cold Love | idol!Jeonghan x 14thmember!Reader | angst, fluff

The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The secluded cabin where Seventeen had gathered felt warm and lively, but to Y/N, it felt anything but.

She sat on the wooden deck, looking out at the calm lake that stretched before her. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip a short break before Jeonghan left for the military in a few months. Everyone had been excited about it, especially since they hadn’t had much downtime lately. But for Y/N, this trip had been nothing but painful.

She glanced back toward the large glass windows of the cabin. The rest of the group was inside, laughing and playing games, but her eyes were fixed on one person Jeonghan. He was sitting at the dining table, smiling at something Mingyu said. That smile was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place. It was soft, warm, and made her feel safe.

But lately, he hadn’t shown that side to her.

Not once.

Instead, he had been cold. Distant. Unkind.

Her chest tightened as she turned back toward the lake, hugging her knees. She wanted to believe there was a reason for his behavior some explanation that made sense but she was tired of waiting for answers.

“Y/N?”

She flinched at the sound of her name and quickly wiped at her eyes before turning to see Joshua approaching her.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve been out here for almost an hour, and you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Not hungry, or avoiding someone?” Joshua’s voice was gentle, but his words hit her hard.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” he said, sitting down next to her, “whatever’s going on between you and Jeonghan, you should talk to him about it. The tension’s so thick it’s making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘me and Jeonghan.’ He made that very clear.”

Joshua hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why does he act like I don’t exist?” Her voice cracked.

Joshua frowned but didn’t push any further. Instead, he stood and offered her a hand. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up, but her heart sank as she caught Jeonghan’s gaze through the window. For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes worry? Pain? But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he looked away.

————————————————————————————-

Dinner had ended, and the group gathered in the living room for games. Y/N sat quietly in the corner, barely paying attention as the others laughed and teased each other. She tried to join in, but her mind kept drifting back to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t fair. She had poured her heart out to him months ago, told him how she felt. And he had rejected her not with words, but with silence and distance.

It hurt more than she ever thought it could.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Seungkwan said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re playing charades. Your turn.”

“Oh… okay.”

She stood awkwardly, trying to focus, but the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her and Jeonghan sitting just across the room made her panic.

“I can’t. Sorry.” She quickly sat down again, her cheeks burning.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears threatening to spill told a different story.

Jeonghan shifted in his seat, his fists clenched. He wanted to say something to do something but he couldn’t. The management’s warning echoed in his head. No relationships. No scandals. If he stepped out of line, she could be kicked out of the group.

But seeing her like this, breaking apart because of him, was unbearable.

“Y/N.” His voice was sharp.

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of them.

“No,” Y/N snapped.

Jeonghan flinched. “Y/N—”

“No!” She stood up, her voice rising. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to ignore me, push me away, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it’s convenient for you!”

The other members stared in shock as her voice cracked with emotion.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” she cried. “You know how I feel, and you couldn’t even be kind to me. If you don’t like me, fine! But at least treat me like a human being!”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

————————————————————————————-

The night was quiet, but Jeonghan couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as her words replayed in his head.

You don’t get to do this.

Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?

If you don’t like me, fine!

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t let her go to sleep thinking she wasn’t loved because she was. More than anything.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his room and walked to hers.

He hesitated at the door, hearing her muffled sobs. His heart shattered.

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

After a long pause, the door opened.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to explain,” he said. “Please.”

She stepped aside, and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t hate you,” Jeonghan finally said. “I never have.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then why?”

“Because I was scared.” His voice was raw. “The management they told me that if we got involved, they’d kick you out of the group. And I couldn’t risk that. Not for me, and not for you.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “So instead, you decided to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted. “I thought pushing you away would protect both of us. But all I’ve done is hurt you—and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I always have.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

Jeonghan froze, shocked, but when she pulled away, embarrassed, he caught her hand.

“Wait.”

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were happy tears.

“Okay,” she whispered.

————————————————————————————-

Y/N sat nervously in the practice room, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Seungcheol. He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You want to what?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, but there was also concern in his eyes.

“I want to leave the group,” Y/N repeated, this time louder. Her voice still shook, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“For Jeonghan and me to be together,” she said softly, looking down.

Seungcheol froze. “…What?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. “The management said if we get into a relationship, I’ll be kicked out of the group. Not him. Me.”

Seungcheol stared at her, completely silent for a moment. Then he burst out, “And you just accepted that?!”

“What else am I supposed to do, Seungcheol?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Let them ruin his career? Let them destroy everything he’s worked for? I can’t do that to him!”

“And you think he’d be okay with you giving up your career instead?” he shot back. “Do you think Jeonghan would ever forgive himself if you left because of him?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving. We’re going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Simple,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re going to the management, and we’re going to make it clear that this isn’t happening. You’re staying in Seventeen.”

———————————————————————————-

Y/N sat beside Seungcheol in the cold, sterile meeting room. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the managers could hear it.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he said as soon as the managers sat down. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

One of the managers raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“This rule you’ve made,” Seungcheol said, his voice sharp. “The one where you’ll kick her out of the group if she dates Jeonghan. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening.”

The managers exchanged glances. “We’ve already discussed this with her.”

“And now you’re going to discuss it with me,” Seungcheol shot back. “You don’t get to ruin someone’s career because they fell in love.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” one manager said stiffly. “It’s about protecting the group’s reputation.”

“Reputation?” Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “What reputation? SEVENTEEN’s reputation isn’t built on scandals or dating bans. It’s built on talent, hard work, and loyalty. And you want to throw all of that away by forcing Y/N out?”

Another manager leaned forward. “This is standard in the industry—”

“I don’t care what’s standard,” Seungcheol interrupted. “This group isn’t like the others, and you know that. We’re a family. And you’re asking us to tear apart our family over something as human as love.”

“It’s a risk,” the manager argued.

“So what?” Seungcheol said, his voice rising. “Everything we do is a risk! Going on stage is a risk! Performing live is a risk! But we still do it because we believe in each other. And if you don’t believe in us if you don’t believe in Y/N and Jeonghan then maybe you’re the problem, not them.”

The room went silent.

Finally, one of the managers spoke, their tone colder than before. “If this relationship gets out to the public, there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll handle it. But you’re not forcing her out of this group.”

The managers exchanged looks, clearly unhappy, but after a long pause, one of them sighed. “Fine. But it stays private. And if it ever becomes public, you all know what’s at stake.”

———————————————————————————-

Meanwhile—Dance Practice Room

Jeonghan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking around the room. Something felt… off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing at the others.

Joshua hesitated, then pulled him aside. “She’s with Seungcheol. At the company office.”

Jeonghan frowned. “Why?”

Joshua bit his lip. “…She’s asking to leave the group.”

Jeonghan froze. “What?”

“She said it’s because of you,” Joshua admitted softly. “Because of what the management said about you two.”

Jeonghan didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the practice room.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N and Seungcheol stepped out of the management’s office, the tension from their earlier discussion still lingering in the air. Y/N’s heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief.

It was over.

She could stay. She didn’t have to leave Seventeen. She and Jeonghan could be together as long as they kept it private.

But before she could fully process everything, Jeonghan’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her eyes widening as she turned to see him storming toward her.

His face was filled with panic and anger, and the moment he reached her, his voice was sharp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jeonghan—”

“You can’t leave the group!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “Not because of me!”

Seungcheol raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, stepping back. He shot Y/N a reassuring look before walking away.

As soon as Seungcheol disappeared down the hall, Jeonghan turned back to Y/N, his eyes desperate.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you do this? Why would you throw away everything we’ve worked for?”

Y/N’s heart ached seeing the pain in his eyes. She reached out, but he stepped back, his fists clenched.

“Jeonghan, stop,” she said softly. “Listen to me.”

“How can I listen to you when you’re trying to leave?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his expression.

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could pull away. “I’m staying.”

He froze. “What?”

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Seungcheol and I talked to the management. We convinced them to let me stay. We can be together, but it has to be private.”

Jeonghan stared at her, completely stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought this was the only way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Y/N, do you really think I’d be okay with you giving up your dream for me? Do you know how much that would’ve destroyed me?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jeonghan reached out, gently cupping her face. “We’ll figure things out together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, okay?”

Y/N nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you before. For making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain again. I know why you did it.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve fought for us from the start.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Jeonghan didn’t let her.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, finally allowing herself to breathe.

“Never,” she whispered back.

————————————————————————————

The group had gathered back at the cabin after practice. Y/N and Jeonghan sat together in the corner, their hands intertwined under the table where no one could see.

Seungcheol watched them from across the room and smiled to himself.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeonghan said quietly when he caught Seungcheol’s gaze.

Seungcheol just shrugged. “You owe me.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I know.”

Y/N squeezed Jeonghan’s hand, and he turned to her, his expression softening.

They still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, they felt ready to face it. Together.

[pochaccoups]

facetime — choi seungcheol & yoon jeonghan

pairing — choi seungcheol x yoon jeonghan x f!reader

summary — when three people in a relationship want to fuck but one of them is in a different country, facetime comes in pretty handy.

wc — 4k

warnings — nsfw content minors dni! smut, established polyamorous relationship, threesome (technically), phone sex, butt plugs, anal and vaginal fingering, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, so much dirty talk, soft dom!seungcheol, brat tamer!seungcheol, prone bone, creampie, slight daddy kink, reader referred to as a girl, a lot of ‘cheollie’ and ‘hannie’ sorry but i think they sound cute

author’s note — umm hi can u tell i had so much fun writing this …… this will be part of a poly jeongcheol series i have in the works so pls stay tuned and enjoy !!! :>

seungcheol: just finished up the show, what are you up to?

jeonghan: busy.

Attached is a photo that’s slightly shaky and dimly lit, but Seungcheol can make out every detail of you with Jeonghan’s cock halfway down your throat. 

It takes less than a second for Seungcheol’s caller ID to pop up on Jeonghan’s phone screen, and Jeonghan doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Yah… You know I hate being left out,” is the first thing Seungcheol says. The sound of his deep voice makes you draw your mouth off of Jeonghan.

“Cheollie?” you ask, beaming as you snatch your boyfriend’s phone from his hands so that you can see your other boyfriend through the screen. 

“Hi, pretty,” Seungcheol says, waving. He looks hot, but that’s a perpetual characteristic of his. He hasn’t removed his makeup yet, and his hair, getting longer, is still styled from the show. “Miss me?”

“So much. We both do,” you say with a grin. You make a show of mouthing at Jeonghan’s cock for the camera, sticking out your tongue so you can slap the tip on it, swirling it around, all with a faint mischievous gleam in your eyes at the sound of one boyfriend’s whines and the other’s sulking.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really seem like you do,” Seungcheol says, laying back on a bed that’s way too soft, too cold, too far away. 

“Seungcheollie, you know how needy our girl is-ah,” Jeonghan pipes up, moaning as you wrap your lips around him and bob your head up and down. 

“I do know, and you’re not innocent either, Jeonghan. You miss getting your pretty little ass fucked, don’t you?” 

You worry Jeonghan will bust then and there from the way his cock twitches in your mouth, but fuck was Seungcheol right. It’s why you all prefer to have sex with all three of you present, because at this point having someone missing feels… weird. Not bad. Definitely not. But the absence of a third lover becomes far too apparent.

Right now, you and Jeonghan don’t have much of a choice though. Duty calls, meaning Seungcheol is touring on the other side of the world—has been for the last two weeks and will be for another two weeks. Jeonghan would be with him if it weren’t for his enlistment. Alas, you have Seungcheol’s voice to do what it does best: tell you two exactly what to do. 

“Take all of him, baby, you know you can,” he says, soft and slightly commanding in a way that makes you want to do good just for him, make him proud. And you’ve taken Seungcheol, who’s a little longer and far thicker, all the way down your throat many, many times before that swallowing Jeonghan’s entire length feels like a mere warmup. 

Pride swells through you when your two boyfriends curse above you, filling you with an eagerness to give them more. So while one of your hands holds the phone, albeit shakingly, your other hand pumps the base of Jeonghan’s cock, in rhythm with your mouth as you bob up and down. It’s wet and obscene, the way you lap up the precum that leaks from your boyfriend’s tip only to let it spill from your lips and drool all over him, all over your fingertips. 

Your eyes never break away from Seungcheol, who’s chewing on his bottom lip and staring at you with eyes that are both clouded over with desire and dark with concentration. If you know your boyfriend then he’s thinking of all the things he would do if he was in the same room as you two.

Jeonghan doesn’t expect it when one of your spit-slick fingers creeps down to his ass and traces his hole, and he squirms and cries as you prod at his opening before pushing inside. He’s taken Seungcheol many, many times, too, that your finger should feel like a warmup, but two weeks without his boyfriend’s cock stretching him out is torture, so the slide of your digit in and out is a sweet relief that he’s forgotten. 

You pull your mouth away from him, sitting up on your knees so that you can angle the camera for Seungcheol to watch as your finger dips in, all the way to your knuckle, then back out of Jeonghan’s hole. 

“He’s so whiny today, Cheollie.”

“Mm, more than usual, huh?” he replies, licking his lips, his hand reaching to his crotch to palm at it just a little. He thinks about how his fingers are twice as thick as yours, how Jeonghan would sob if it was his hands inside him. 

“He misses your fat cock,” you say, and Seungcheol feels his sanity jump straight out of his hotel window. You’ve always proven detrimental to his patience and self-control, taking years off of your poor boyfriend’s life with your bratty ways. “Right, Hannie?” you say, right as you pull your finger out of him, grinning as he squirms and curses under his breath as a reply.

You only stop fingering him because you have an idea. With the phone still in hand, you dangle yourself off the side of the king bed to open one of the bedside table drawers, grab the silver heart-shaped plug and bottle of lube, then clamber back between your boyfriend’s legs. Jeonghan watches with glistening eyes as you drizzle the plug with lube. Once it’s drenched, you flip the phone camera around, letting Seungcheol watch as you press the tapered end of the plug against Jeonghan’s hole. The cold toy makes him flinch at first, and he shudders as you circle his rim with it until he’s thoroughly smeared with the sticky liquid. 

The sound Jeonghan makes when you push the plug inside of him is pitiful, and it’s in harmony with a deep groan of approval from Seungcheol. You’re the furthest one from dominant among the three of you, and yet you have these men dangerously wrapped around your finger. Your men.

“There,” you say, content, like you’ve just painted a masterpiece—and your boyfriend’s pretty ass with a cute heart-shaped butt plug nestled inside comes pretty close. 

“That’s my girl. So thoughtful,” says Seungcheol, and his praise ignites you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals the highest of promotions. 

“Can I make him eat me out now?” you ask, because it’s Cheol who does this best; sets the pace, tells you what to do, lets you sit in the palm of his hand while he does all the thinking for the three of you. A true leader, through and through. 

“Keep sucking Hannie off, baby, just for a bit,” is his instruction. It would be easy to disobey him, yes, to disconnect the call and turn off the phone if you so pleased, but the thing about Seungcheol is that even when his voice is soft, it still commands. 

You pout only for the sake of pouting because, really, having Jeonghan’s cock in your mouth is one of your favourite pastimes. You waste no time swallowing him all the way down to his base again, only to pop right back off him just to hear a tortured moan from him. You fall back into an up and down bobbing rhythm then, steadily, lips wrapped tight around your boyfriend’s length in the way that you know won’t make him last long. 

“Jeonghannie,” Seungcheol calls out, but the man in question is too busy whining and whimpering to hear him. When he’s close his brain all but shuts off and the only thing he can do is take whatever he’s getting with pretty, pretty moans. 

“Baby, don’t let him cum yet,” Seungcheol urges you instead. 

Jeonghan nearly sobs this time when you pop your mouth off his cock, but there’s a force in Seungcheol’s voice that compels you to listen. “Yes, daddy,” you say—the cherry on top.

Seungcheol drags a hand over his face, groaning. “Fuck, you two want me dead, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you two are disgusting… and annoying,” says Jeonghan, who sounds thoroughly irritated as a cute frown knits his brows together. 

Poor, poor you, with not one but two needy, jealous boyfriends who can’t stand not being the subjects of all your affection. If it was you in Seungcheol’s position, alone on the other side of the world, you would never get this sulky. You’d be completely rational about it. Obviously.

The urge to soothe Jeonghan comes as an instinct, one that makes you crawl up from between his legs so that you can straddle his slender waist and kiss his pouting lips. He melts into you when you do, mouth moulding against yours so sweetly, his hands falling to your waist and the tips of his fingers dancing softly against your skin. The Facetime call is forgotten, much to Seungcheol’s dismay, as you drop the phone to the bed in favour of cradling Jeonghan’s cheeks in your hands so that you can kiss him harder. Your crotch, still clothed, rocks back and forth over his erection and soon you’re moaning into one another’s mouths, muffled by your tongues that are swirling together. 

Jeonghan doesn’t have half of Seungcheol’s strength to manhandle you around, so he opts to gently guide you off his lap and onto the bed until you’re underneath him. He kisses you once, twice, thrice, leaves you reeling as he moves on to pepper your neck with soft nibbles and scrapes of his teeth. He pulls away for a moment only to drag your t-shirt (one of Seungcheol’s, of course) up and over your head. 

Now that you’re less occupied with Jeonghan’s lips, you pick up the phone again and bring the camera up to your face, grinning at Seungcheol’s small pout on the screen. If you could only hop through the phone and into his lap, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Cheollie, wanna see your cock, please,” you say, shivering as Jeonghan mouths at one of your nipples. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue as his hands reach up to grasp your tits delicately, and you sigh when his warm, wet mouth envelops one of your hardened buds. 

“Not yet, baby, I’ll take it out when Jeonghan fucks you, okay?” 

Seungcheol chuckles fondly at your unhappy hum, so he adds, “I wanna cum with you two, yeah?”

“Okay, fine- wait, Hannie,” you whine. “My boobs.”

He peers up, already between your legs, having decided he was done giving attention to your tits. You see right through it—your boyfriend is nothing if not vengeful. 

“You’re too spoiled,” he quips, peeling your shorts and panties down your legs, exposing your drooling pussy to him. 

“And you’re used to Cheollie doing everythi-ahh!” Jeonghan cuts you off when he licks your cunt without warning, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your hand grabbing a fistful of his now-short hair. He’s far from rough and aggressive, but it’s precisely the patient softness of his touch that leaves you keening for more. 

“Baby, can you do me a favour?” Seungcheol asks, practically cooing as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure.

But all you can focus on is the way that Jeonghan’s warm tongue flicks lazily over your clit as well as the grip of his fingers on your thighs. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol tries again, only a little louder. This time your eyes flick to him on the screen and you make a little affirmative noise. “Will you flip the phone screen around for me, please? I wanna watch Hannie eat your pretty pussy.”

You do as he asks, pointing the camera to give Seungcheol a view of his boyfriend between his girlfriend’s thighs. 

“Good girl,” he says, breathier now, his tone darker. It’s deliberate; malicious, you would say—his praise makes you a whiny, needy mess. His voice alone turns you into a slut and he knows that because you’d told him that, word for word. “And since I’m not there, can you play with your tits for me, baby? The way that I would do it? I know it’s not the same, but it’ll still feel good.” 

“Mhm,” you moan. You find yourself closing your eyes as you let go of Jeonghan’s hair and bring your hand to cup your own breast, to squeeze and grope at it, to tweak and tug at your nipple, all while imagining that you’re leaned against your boyfriend’s sturdy, broad body and that it’s his big, unrelenting hand cupping your tits and not your own. 

At the same time, Jeonghan eats your pussy like the fiend that he is. Unlike Seungcheol, who lacks the control to stop himself from ravaging you like an animal until your pussy is raw and puffy, Jeonghan is much more, as he is in all aspects of his life, calculated. He’ll string you along with swipes of his tongue that seem coy until he’s making passes through your folds, prodding at your dripping, awaiting entrance. He licks into your hole and sips at your arousal like it’s honey, intent on making you fall apart slowly.

“How does his mouth feel, angel? Tell him,” says Seungcheol, whose lips have gotten swollen from his relentless chewing on them.

“God, Hannie, feels so good,” you squeak, your eyes still screwed shut as if that’ll help soothe the heat that burns through your body from Jeonghan’s mouth. Your fingers keep pinching at your nipple, and then Jeonghan slips two of his fingers into your heat, sending your hips bucking against his face and leaving you whining desperately, shamelessly. 

While his mouth makes out with your cunt, Jeonghan’s fingers dip in and out of you, massaging at your most sensitive spot over and over. He finds it with practiced ease, and he knows by now exactly what kind of vigour it needs to have you crying. He’s practically petting at your insides, your walls clamping around his fingers as your moans start to grow louder.

“H-hannie, I’m close, please, right there,” you squirm as your walls attempt to suck his fingers in.

You don’t see it, but his eyes flash with something devilish. Your other boyfriend sees it, though. 

“Jeonghan, don’t even think about edging her.”

Jeonghan smirks with mischief, letting his fingers do the work as he pulls his mouth away from your pussy. 

“Let me have my fun, Seungcheollie.” 

“If I did that neither you nor her would cum at all,” is your other boyfriend’s response. 

There’s silence as Jeonghan ponders whether he should obey or disobey. All the while, you’re mere inches away from your edge, hot with frustration because it’s so close; you’re so close. You just need a little bit more. It’s not too much to ask.

“Hannie, please…”

And he can’t find it in himself to deprive you any longer, so he crooks his fingers and works them as fast as he possibly can until you’re clenching, gushing, writhing all around his hand, wailing his name as you grab at his wrist but he still won’t stop. 

“Such a good boy, huh, Jeonghannie? Making her cum so good,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, sounding more breathless with each time he speaks. “Now we’re all happy.”

It’s only once your walls have stopped spasming around his fingers that Jeonghan finally slips them out of you and pops them straight into his mouth, licking them clean of every drop of your sugary arousal. He makes sure to gaze directly into the camera as his tongue laves and swirls over each one of his digits, knowing Seungcheol’s dick is twitching at the sight.

“I haven’t cum yet though. So I’m not happy yet,” he says, dragging a finger out of his mouth with a pop.

You sit up on your elbows with your cute, blissed out features, your eyes falling to his red-hard cock. 

“Come here and fuck me, then,” you say, impatient, like he didn’t just give you an orgasm. You paw at the hem of his shirt (also Seungcheol’s) and bite your lip as he pulls it over his head, letting your hands roam over his pale torso.

“Ride me?” he asks. How predictable. If it’s not Seungcheol taking him from behind then it’s you on top of him. God forbid Yoon Jeonghan does the work.

“Actually, I have a better idea. And this way Cheollie can see us both,” you say with a grin. 

With the phone on the front-facing camera, you prop it up against the headboard and roll onto your stomach, craning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Like this?” Jeonghan asks, straddling the backs of your thighs.

“Yeah,” you say, parting your legs a little, arching your back and raising your hips—presenting your soaked, messy hole to him. “Try not to get tired.”

He responds with a half-hearted smack to your ass and Cheol scoffs out a chuckle. Jeonghan slides his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, revelling in your tiny gasps every time it catches on your entrance. You’re prepared to whine and nag at your boyfriend to hurry up, but you suppose he’s feeling just as impatient as you are because he’s pushing in before you can even speak up. You look at Seungcheol, mouth dropping as you’re stuffed full with Jeonghan’s cock until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. His hands land on either side of your elbows so that he can hover over you, reel his hips back, and fuck himself into you like that. 

In this position, Jeonghan’s length brushes right against your gummy, sensitive spot with every stroke, making you keen for more even though he’s just started. 

“Harder, Hannie,” you sigh, pushing your ass up against his hips.

Instead of listening, he drops his head to the crook of your shoulder and kisses your skin. His breath tickles your ear when he whispers to you: “ah, what’s the rush, angel?”

You turn your head to catch his gaze, to drink in the sight of his face as he takes what he needs from you; his cheeks pink, his eyes tired and full of hunger. His lips, plump and enticing, evoke an unrivalled craving within you and he reads you well, brings his mouth to yours to give you as much satiation as he can muster. 

Seungcheol sits, silent, waiting. His patience is mere embers as he watches you two, his boyfriend and his girlfriend, tangled within one another. The wet slap of Jeonghan’s balls against the back of your thighs; the smacking of your lips, teeth, and tongues. He misses it. Fuck, he could go insane. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, when Jeonghan’s lips are no longer enough. “Want you to feel good too.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, abandoning all semblance of the self-control he’d displayed up until now. It’s time, anyway, he thinks. He’s held off long enough. He puts his phone down and there’s shuffling as he strips himself of his sweat-soaked outfit from the show and settles upon the bed sheets once more. 

Saliva pools from the sides of your mouth when he angles his camera to show you his hand wrapped around his thick, erect dick and God, what you’d do to have it bruising the back of your throat until you’re gagging, letting him defile you all while he coos the sweetest of praises at you. 

“Daddy, I miss your cock so bad,” you admit in a weak whimper, shivering when Jeonghan angles himself deeper inside you.

“Yeah? Miss how I’d fuck your pretty little mouth?”

“Fuck, she’s clenching so hard around me, Seungcheollie,” Jeonghan grits. “Greedy little thing.”

“I mean, it’s our fault one cock’s not enough to make her happy anymore,” says Seungcheol, sighing with relief as he thumbs at his leaking tip, squeezing his fist around it, reminiscent of the way that you and Jeonghan like to tease him.

“Like I said,” says Jeonghan as he pushes two of his fingers between your parted lips. “Spoiled.”

You moan around them, staring straight into the camera as you suck on them, staring at Seungcheol, who starts to pump his hand up and down his cock. He wants to shut his eyes and pretend it’s your hand, or Jeonghan’s hand, or one of your tight, warm holes, but he can’t take his eyes off of his phone screen no matter how hard he wants to, and, well, he doesn’t want to.

He jerks himself off to the same rhythm that Jeonghan’s hips grind into yours. Seungcheol likes things a little faster, usually, more rough, but it’s Jeonghan who’s inside you right now, not him, so he matches his boyfriend’s lazy but not too slow pace, one that’s just enough to give you a gradual stimulation. 

There’s something about the whole thing—being fucked on camera, being teased with Seungcheol’s cock when you can’t have it—it has you way more excited than you expected. Way more turned on than you expected. It shows in the floods of arousal that drip from your pussy and dampen yours and Jeonghan’s thighs, in the way you’re whinier and more sensitive than usual.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s own noises don’t help. In fact they spur you on, coax you closer to your edge, urge the heat in your belly to grow. When Seungcheol isn’t giving deep, rasped curses, he’s letting out pretty, breathy, borderline whimpering moans. Jeonghan’s sounds are as angelic as he is. His voice is a holy choir in your ear, heavenly and soft as he gasps with exertion and pleasure; as he does things to you that any God would frown upon.

Jeonghan, too, is more sensitive. With the plug constantly brushing at his prostate, he can’t help but screw his eyes shut and pretend it’s his big, buff boyfriend fucking his girth into him. It makes his thrusts grow raggedy, like he’s more heavy. His body weight presses into you as his arms start to ache just a little. He’s impossibly deep in your guts like this and it feels so fucking good that your brain starts to melt. 

Seungcheol recognises the look in your eye—absent, like you’re starting to tap out and letting yourself become consumed by bliss.

“Is she getting close, angel?” he questions, punctuating it with a moan, the slick glide of his hand up and down his cock like music in your ears.

Jeonghan hums affirmatively. “Pretty pussy’s choking me,” he says, his voice cracking, his composure with it. He tries to put more vigour in his thrusts, more determination. The sooner you cum, the sooner he cums. 

“Cum for Jeonghannie, baby,” Seungcheol urges softly. 

“Cum for me,” Jeonghan echoes. You don’t stand a chance.

The heat inside you coils up, then erupts. Jeonghan fucks you through your climax as you tremble beneath him, crying his name and clawing at the sheets below you. 

“There it is, my good girl,” Seungcheol coos, tightening his grip on his cock as he tugs at it harshly as though it could ever replicate the feeling of your warm walls clamping down on him as you cum. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jeonghan gasps, dropping his head to your shoulder, cock twitching. His next request is a broken, pathetic moan. “Ch-cheollie, cum with me.”

Jeonghan stills inside you, whimpering softly with every rope of cum that he spills inside you, letting you milk him of every last drop. At the same time, Seungcheol gives a resounding groan as he brings himself to his own release, cum splattering over his toned stomach. 

There’s a moment of silence, or, rather, nothing but a harmony of laboured breaths as the three of you come down from your orgasms. You give a noise of protest as Jeonghan suddenly rolls off of you, but his stamina is always drained after sex—especially when he’s doing the work. You shiver, both from the emptiness in your cunt and the cold air that hits you now that you no longer have your boyfriend’s body as a shield from it. 

“Seungcheollie’s gonna wanna see your cum leak out of me, you know,” you say. 

“You know me so well, baby,” is Seungcheol’s reply. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. He makes no effort to move from his spot, opting to stretch his arm above his head and pat around until he finds the phone. He sits up next to you, points the camera between your legs as he grips one of your ass cheeks and spreads you apart. 

There’s a screenshot sound as white drools from your spent hole.

“Seungcheol!” you shriek. “You pervert.”

“Coups-ya, send that to me.”

thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

tags — @svtiddiess @ylangelegy @simpxxstan @caibeauchicfashion

[hannieehaee]

BITE

18+ / mdi

summary: keeping appearances as an idol was already hard enough, but it becomes even worse upon finding a forlorn jeonghan with need of assistance with the company's faulty security system, instantly becoming endeared with the idol who refused to take no for an answer — not that you'd ever want him to.

content: idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, afab reader, small age gap implied, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is mentioned to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11.7k

a/n: this fic is based on this scenario, except i decided to expand on it and make it into a full fic!!

masterlist | patreon

"Hey, is that Yoon Jeonghan from Seventeen?", asked Minji as she patted your shoulder, finger pointing towards your right.

"Who?", you wondered, attempting to make sense of the distressed man standing in front of the main artist elevators in the building, "Oh, yeah, I think that's him," you said once you spotted his face, deeming it impossible to not recognize a face such as his.

"Why is he just standing there?", she wondered, holding onto your arm in the affectionate manner she usually did, "Do you think it's that elevator thing again?" she faced you to ask.

"What elevator thing?"

"Apparently he went on a variety show and complained about the company's security system. It was a whole controversy, but I guess the facial recognition doesn't work for him for some reason," she informed you before chuckling at the sight of Jeonghan sighing in defeat at yet another failed attempt at utilizing the aforementioned system, "I thought it was a bit, but I guess he was for real."

"Huh," you hummed, having been unaware of the issue. The system worked just fine for you and all your members, so you never had any motive to question it. Your senior, however, had clear issues with the system. Within the two minutes you had noticed his presence, he had already attempted the facial recognition three times, getting rejected every single one of them.

"You should help him," your groupmate suggested, "I would, but my manager will be here soon for my shoot. You only have rehearsals today, right? You're heading that way anyway."

"What? No!" you declined, "I always get anxious around our seniors. I've never even met him," you added, far too shy to even face the pretty boy during his predicament.

Disconnecting from you, she grabbed onto your shoulders, scolding you, "Dude, just go help him! This is how you make connections. You give him a hand and then he gives you one back," she said, physically turning you around so you could face his direction, hands still on your shoulders, "Go! My ride's probably already here anyways. Good luck," she encouraged as she pushed you forward, making you absentmindedly begin walking towards the boy.

Taking a breath, you began to walk towards the boy who seemed to grow more and more frustrated at the faulty security system. The closer you got, the more you could hear his whines in complaint. It appeared that he had taken up a phone call during the time you'd been talking to your friend, frustratedly arguing with whoever was on the other line.

"Seokminnie, c'mon! Just come down! I'll buy you soju after practice," he whined, groaning at whatever response his groupmate had given him in return, "My manager already left ... Yeah .... No! Stop! Just come down! I'm your senior and- Wait! Don't hang up!", he groaned at last upon hearing the classic sound of a disconnected line invade his ears.

It was only then that he seemed to notice your presence, widening his eyes momentarily before offering you a brief bow to acknowledge your presence. Moving aside, he gave you enough space to stand in front of the elevator, quietly awaiting for you to utilize the security system, likely assuming you had not heard his prior predicament. He gestured for you to move forward, acting as if he were being a gentleman in allowing you to go first.

You approached the small facial recognition screen, about to scan your face before turning to him, finding the boy staring at you expectantly, "You need me in order to use the elevator, don't you?", you asked him, amused.

"Huh?", he gaped at you, tsk'ing afterward and making an odd 'Eyyy' sound, "I'm just being a gentleman. Go ahead," he gave you a tight yet amused smile.

You chuckled in return, "Liar," you were surprised at how easy it was to be informal with him, but he was immediately likable, "Ask me to help you and maybe I might," you added, giving him a satisfied smile.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm your senior — Whatever happened to respect?", he joked, tsk'ing at you once more. He proceeded to walk towards you, pushing his face onto the scanner and ignoring your presence altogether, "I'll do it, see," he practically challenged, attempting the scanner once more.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with a red X and a beeping sound that indicated yet another failure to be recognized by the system. This caused him to stand there in silence for a few seconds before whining 'Yah!' and cursing out the security system.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up again, facing you once more, "Sorry about that. Your turn," he gestured to you to move forward again, stepping out of your way.

Both amused and surprised, you decided to finally utilize the scanner on yourself, smiling at him with a satisfied look when it immediately allowed you in. Turning to him, you nodded at him to get in before you, only for him to gesture for you to go first. Something about 'ladies first.'

"You owe me one," you said once you were both in the elevator again, standing side by side as you faced the closing door.

"Nuh-uh. This was just a coincidence. You needed to head upstairs anyways," he rebutted petulantly.

"Yeah? So you don't need me to help you get to your floor, then, right?", you questioned mockingly, knowing he would also have to work the scanner in order to get the door to open to Seventeen's designated floor. There were far too many steps to get to the artists' floors, but it made sense to you by now.

Upon the realization, he groaned, letting himself throw his head back against the wall behind him as he earned a giggle from you. He frowned in your direction at your laugh, though he joined you with a chuckle just mere seconds later.

"Okay, fine. I owe you," he gave up, still leaning against the wall behind but turning his head to look at you, "What can Yoon Jeonghan do for you?"

You pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, finger on your chin as you thought it over, "I have no idea. I'll let you know," you finally responded, "Okay, so, what floor?", you asked as your finger moved to the buttons on the elevator door.

"13th," he responded, now casually leaning back against the wall.

"Oh? The second highest floor. You're an important man, aren't you?", you teased, pressing his button before moving onto your group's number 9.

"Nine?," he gaped, "Seems I'm higher on the company hierarchy than you, yet you show me no respect," he joked back.

"Shut up. I'm going out of my way for you. Senior or not, you owe me. Those are the rules of all civilized society," you argued back.

"Okay, how about," he began, pressing his hands together as if making a proposition, "I see you downstairs every morning bright and early with a fresh cup of coffee in exchange for your face — y'know, for the scanner. How's that sound?", he proposed, a pleased smile on his face at your agape mouth.

"Every morning? Do you not have any friends?", you asked as the elevator continued to move up.

"Do you see anyone here? They all get here before me. You seem pretty friendless. C'mon. Free coffee, good company. I'll even play one of your group's songs in my next Welive. See? Can't get any better than that," he continued to sell his idea as the elevator came to a stop, now at his floor but demanding yet another facial scan to even exit the elevator.

"God, the security's too much," he groaned upon noticing the prompt on the small screen inside the elevator, "C'mon!", he turned to you, "Try to tell me that's not unnecessary."

You gave up, nodding as you chuckled, though not making a move to scan your face.

"Say yes. Please," he dragged the e for an annoyingly long amount of time, grinning when you rolled your eyes but laughed, "I'll keep going. Just agree. What better way to spend your time than with Yoon Jeonghan?"

"What makes you think I even knew that name before today?", you challenged.

"You do. Don't lie to me, it won't work," he smirked back before going back to being annoying again, "Come on-"

"Fine! I'll meet you downstairs every morning expecting a fresh matcha in hand — I don't drink coffee. But you still owe me," you agreed, extending your hand to him to solidify the agreement.

"No coffee? Ew. But okay, deal," he returned your handshake, holding onto your hand for an annoying amount of time, pretending as if he were unaware of when to let go and waiting for you to pull his hand off yours with another eye roll. He chuckled any time he managed to get a reaction out of you, leading you to realize he must be an absolute menace to every person he comes across. Sadly, he was charmingly entertaining, leaving you with no complaints.

Finally, you scanned your face on the screen, letting him walk in front of you to head out. Before the elevator doors could close and separate again, he held his arm out to stop them, nodding towards you.

"What's your name? I like you," he said plainly, head tilted in curiosity.

"Y/N," you said, "Please don't introduce yourself again-"

"Yoon Jeonghan," he interrupted anyways, "Remember that. We'll be having fun in the near future," were his last words before removing his hand and allowing the elevator doors to separate you, likely heading over to his groupmates upon leaving your line of sight.

Silver doors closed in front of you, now leaving you to your own company. Dumbfounded yet amused by the interaction, you stood there as you waited for the elevator to arrive to your floor, robotically scanning your face on the door once you made it there and exiting the square-shaped room upon arrival. There, you stood with the remnant of a shocked smile on your face, surprised at how easy it had been to put any concept of age or seniority aside when interacting with Yoon Jeonghan. While you always had the tendency of being overly formal with your seniors, you had spoken to Jeonghan like you would any guy your age, disregarding formalities as soon as he'd spoken to you.

You didn't truly need any convincing to agree to see him again. On the contrary, had he not suggested as such, you would've remained with an itch to find a reason for a re-encounter. Like any other junior idol at a company with big names such as BTS and Seventeen, developing a slight crush on your seniors was the normalcy — your groupmates Minji and Lila had crushes on BTS' V and Seventeen's Vernon, respectively — and it appeared that you were now joining them in the list of girls with unrequited crushes.

Jeonghan was, what, maybe five or so years older than you? The age difference alone was enough for you to chalk this up to a mindless crush. That, and the kindergarten teacher voice he had put on while speaking to you — clearly he made a very obvious distinction about your age difference right off the bat.

As of now, all you could do was hope to see him again (which, thankfully, you would) and retain the fun back and forth he'd welcomed you in on. Friendzone was one thing, but junior-zone? At least you now had a story to let your members in on next dance practice.

"Hey, it's you again."

"God, announce yourself next time," you groaned, hand clutching your heart at the short-lived shock of Yoon Jeonghan suddenly bumping your shoulder whilst walking down one of the many endless hallways of the Hybe building.

"I said 'hey,'" he shrugged, continuing to walk by your side, "So, where are we going?"

"Who's 'we,'" you scoffed, "I'm going to buy lunch," you said, continuing to walk as he remained by your side.

"Great, I was thinking of getting something to eat too," he agreed, humming to himself afterwards.

"Okay, so I guess we're having lunch together, then," you hummed back, resigned to your senior's company.

"You catch on quickly, I like that," he gave you a closed-lip grin, "We're going to be seeing each other quite often, might as well start now."

Crossing the doors to the cafeteria, you headed to the lunch area to pick up something to eat, Jeonghan following right behind you and annoyingly picking out the same exact lunch as you, piece by piece. You simply looked back at him with a menacing stare, only causing a bigger grin out of him. Once you made it to the cashier area, your hand made its way to your bag with the intent to pull out your card only to be stopped by one Yoon Jeonghan who had been quicker to scan his own. You had had no plans of preventing him from buying his own meal, but you had also not expected him to pay for your own.

"Wait, you don't have to-"

"Too late," he grinned, walking past you before looking over his shoulder and nodding at you to follow him.

Heading over to a two-seater table, you followed him, taking a seat right across from him. The place was empty sans another duo of two idols eating on the opposite side of the large cafeteria, so you didn't feel too strange at the idea of being spotted with a senior idol.

Sitting across from him, you took note of how lax and confident his demeanor was. It must be nice, you thought. It was quite the opposite for you, especially considering the dynamic between you. This wad a first for you — the whole sharing a meal with a senior from one of the groups that inspired you to become an idol in the first place. You had interacted with some of your seniors before, but you had not had the chance of befriending any of them thus far, much less grab their attention in the same way you had caught Jeonghan's.

It made you feel anxious to be one-on-one with him in such an exposed setting. You knew that within the walls of Hybe, interacting with idols was not seen as odd nor would it lead to any sort of scandal, but you also worried that it might seem strange due to your gender and age difference. However, Jeonghan somehow managed to make you feel more relaxed and less proper than you likely would with any other idol.

"What are you thinking about?" he nodded at you as he sipped at his water, interrupting your thoughts.

"Nothing," you replied, beginning to pay mind to the food in front of you, "You didn't have to pay for my meal, by the way."

"You're clearly thinking about something. I can hear those thoughts cooking in there all the way from here," he chuckled, " — and I'm a gentleman and your senior, of course I had to pay," he shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing.

"Don't you have friends?", you asked bluntly, forking at your meal as he snickered at you.

"This is the second time you come after my social life, okay ... Ignoring your disrespect, I do have friends. Twelve of them, actually, maybe even more," he informs you in a 'ha, told you so!' type of tone.

Now was your turn to laugh, unable to take him too seriously, "So, does their facial recognition not work either? Are you so annoying they won't share a meal with you?," you tilted your head mockingly.

"You're better company," he shrugged at you, "Not sure how I never noticed you before, but hey, never too late, right?"

"You barely know me," you grumbled.

"Yeah, and I'm working on that. Keep up!", he chastised, tapping the table.

"You're gonna get me into a scandal for hanging out with me so shamelessly," you reminded him, but made no attempt to leave the situation.

"Who's going to see us?", he looked around, spotting the two other people (sans staff) in the room, "Hanjin from TWS? That's my junior, he'd never say a word. Plus, this is just innocent senior-junior fraternizing, don't worry too much," he tsk'd, leaning back against his seat in a relaxed manner once more.

"You're too relaxed for your own good. How have you never been in a scandal before?", you gaped at him, swatting his hand when his hand made its way to your plate, grabbing at a fry, "Are you like this with all your juniors?"

"Oh? You've been keeping up with me? How do you know im scandal-less? And nope, I already told you — I like you."

"Is it surprising to you that I'd keep up with one of the biggest groups in Kpop?," you feigned disinterest, "Okay, if you like me so much, can I drop the honorifics, then?", you tried, matching the amused grin he gave you.

"Hmm," he pondered for a moment, "I'll let you speak to me informally if you make a compromise with me," he paused, waiting for you to nod for him to continue, "I want you to call me oppa," he grinned.

His shit-eating grin reached all the way to his ears, making you scowl at him. Due to your age difference and the overall senior-junior dynamic of your relationship, it was not an ordinary request for a senior to ask you to call him oppa, thus causing his amusement at his own request. Usually, you'd call seniors like him sunbae or by their full name considering that you were nowhere close enough to him to call him oppa, but his grin told you that he'd be far too pleased to have you calling him by that honorific rather than a more formal alternative.

"No," you deadpanned, "Anything else, just-"

"Fine. Since we're officially friends now, you can call me what all my friends call me; Jeonghannie — Hannie if you're feeling particularly friendly," he continued grinning at you with a pleased look in his eye.

"Hold on, since when are we friends?", you chuckled slapping his hand away from your plate once more, "God! Was there any point in buying my meal if you're just gonna keep eating from it?", you groaned, not truly annoyed but still bugged by the man.

"You've got a short fuse," he noted, "That only makes this even more fun, you realize that, right?" he said as he chewed on what were formerly your fries.

"You're going to be trouble for me at some point, aren't you?", you wondered out loud, chuckling at how pleased he was.

"No, you are — trust me," he said almost to himself.

God damn him, was he flirting with you? Throughout the past few hours of knowing him, you'd been pretty sure he just enjoyed banter by nature, not that he was just singling you out in order to flirt with you. Maybe he was just a flirtatious person by nature? Regardless, your original statement was correct — he was going to cause you trouble one way or another.

Unfortunately to all, the rest of your day was not nearly as eventful as the first few hours (courtesy of Yoon Jeonghan). Leaving the artist designated floors did not require face-scanning, so your duties for the man ended quickly after your lunch together.

For the remainder of the day, you engaged in your diligent idol duties as you practiced and recorded with your groupmates. You'd hoped to catch another glimpse of the flirtatious boy who had caught your attention earlier, but you went home without any more contact. You would've been disheartened by this had you not known he'd be waiting for you by the elevators the following morning.

You had chosen not to tell your bandmates about your interactions with Jeonghan. Although he had been right about you being safe to interact with each other inside the walls of Hybe, you were only on your first year after debut, so the paranoia of insisting your first scandal was far too big to risk anything. Still, you were not about to actually deny him of more time spent together; you'd grown to enjoy his company too much for that.

In your seemingly endless train of thought, you're startled by the sudden presence next to you as you stand by the Hybe elevators. You'd arrived at the same time you had yesterday, assuming Jeonghan would also be present as he was the day prior. After waiting for ten minutes, you were rewarded with another mini heart attack caused by him.

"You're kinda skittish, aren't you?", he laughed, hand giving you a pat on the shoulder as a form of greeting, "Waited for me long?"

"Nope," you responded, turning to look at him, finding him holding two cups on a single, strangely large hand, "Is that my matcha?", you asked, hand reaching out to grab it from him only to be met with resistance from the boy.

"Aht aht," he chastised, "No 'good morning'? No 'you look really handsome today, oppa'? Where did your manners go?", he bit his lip in amusement at himself (and likely at the scowl that formed on your face).

"Yoon Jeonghan, if you don't give me that damn drink I'm leaving you stranded down here," you threatened, snatching the drink from his hand and sipping it with annoyance.

"You wouldn't," he mocked, "Anyways, go on," he gestured for you to step forward in order to scan your face, raising his eyebrows when you didn't make a move to help, "I can get even more annoying," he threatened.

"Fine," you grumbled, scanning your face and stepping into the elevator.

Once settled inside the small box, Jeonghan stood next to you, taking micro side steps in order for his shoulder to brush against yours. When that didn't get your attention, he opted to clear his throat, chuckling at the glimpse of an eye roll he got from where he was standing. As a last effort, his shoulder bumped yours in a more notorious way, finally grabbing your annoyed attention.

"What?," you hissed.

"Okay, first of all, let's calm down. Second of all, I need your face for a little longer today," he winced at your reaction, "I know, I know, but you promised," he reminded you.

"I never promised anything," you scowled, although interested in the idea of seeing him outside of the elevator again, "What do you want?"

"Just need to stop by to see Mingyu in floor 11 for a few minutes — Mingyu, you know him, right? All your friends are probably crushing on him, everyone is. Anyways, it'll be just five minutes and then I'll leave you alone," he went on, hand on your shoulder as he gave you those gigantic and irresistible bug eyes of his.

"What if I'm busy?", you asked, knowing you truly weren't.

"You're not. Senior or not, you would've already told me to fuck myself if I were getting in the way of your work," he said with confidence.

"Fine," you sighed as you dragged out the e, pressing the correct button in order to take Jeonghan to his destination. The elevator ride was short but taken up by Jeonghan making short quips in order to make you laugh. Unfortunately, he was too naturally charismatic for his own good.

Finally stopping at the correct floor, Jeonghan got off the elevator while you remained inside, thinking that maybe it was a good idea to just wait for him in there. This wasn't a common hour for other idols to head in or out of the building anyway, so the elevators would likely remain unused while you waited.

Jeonghan had a different idea, however, standing at the entrance of the elevator as he looked back at you expectantly, nodding his head for you to follow him. When you silently shook your head at him, he groaned annoyingly, reaching to grab onto your hand and pull you to him.

"If you wanted me to hold your hand so badly you could've just said so," he mocked, squeezing it as he pulled you to him. You attempted to let go of his hand, but his grip was too harsh. It's not that you didn't want to hold it, but more like you were too nervous to do so, which he likely caught on to but didn't care for.

"What, scared someone will see us?", he snickered, "Would it be that terrible to be spotted holding hands with me? I'd be the best dating scandal of your life," he giggled, voice growing louder when you laughed along with him, "Oh! A smile? So you do like me, huh?"

"God, are you this flirty with everyone?", you groaned, squeezing his hand extra hard until he winced, giggling at your attempt to harm him.

"You're just fun to rile up," he confessed, leading you to a door you'd never seen before, "This is a shared studio a few Seventeen members use. Ever met any of them?", he asked as he stopped in front of the door, still not letting go of your hand.

"Am I meeting them now?", your eyes widened, "We did a dance challenge with Seungkwan and Vernon, but that's it," you revealed, using the correct honorifics for both that you did not use for Jeonghan.

"So formal. Cute," he snickered, "Well, you're about to meet a few more. Don't be nervous," he started, "If you're able to keep up with me, they'll like you. You're hard not to like," he smiled in a comforting way, not snickering at you for the first time ever.

Before you could respond, the door opened from the other side, revealing who you knew to be Boo Seungkwan of Seventeen with an annoyed scowl on his face, only dropping it upon seeing you.

"Yah! Yoon Jeongha- Oh, hi!", he interrupted himself halfway through his nagging as soon as he saw you, eyes going from Jeonghan's to yours to your interlocked hands, causing his head to tilt in curiosity, "We've met, right?," he bowed, uttering your name and offering you a smile, "Are you holding her hostage?", he asked towards Jeonghan, noting his tight grip on your hand.

"This is my new friend," Jeonghan introduced you despite Seungkwan having already said your name, gesturing towards your interlocked hands, "She's helping me out lately."

Without further explanation, Seungkwan moved aside in order to let the two of you in. Throughout it all, Jeonghan refused to let go of your hand, toying with your fingers at times. Inside were three more members who you could recognize to be Kim Mingyu, Jeon Wonwoo and Lee Jihoon. As a fresh junior in the company, the name of every single senior was common knowledge to you. Not only was Seventeen a huge name in the industry, but they were one of the biggest names within the company itself. You'd also spotted their loud interactions throughout the building a few times in the past.

— This was one of the reasons as to why your heart began going a mile a minute the moment you walked in to the room to find the three men (along with Jeonghan and Seungkwan) staring at you with a curious look in their eye.

Bowing at every member, you meep'd out a quick 'hello' and stalked behind Jeonghan, who only chuckled at your shy demeanor, "Don't be shy. They don't bite," he squeezed your hand.

"Uh, Jeonghan? Do you have a hostage?", asked Wonwoo, reaching out to you to shake your free hand in introduction, "Hi, I'm Wonwoo. Sorry about him," he gestured towards Jeonghan with a chuckle.

"Your emotional support toys weren't enough? Upgraded to a human now?", Mingyu joined in, also offering you a handshake, "I saw your group's last comeback. Great job," he praised, offering you a genuine smile.

Jihoon remained silent as he sat with his eyes glued to his equipment, simply humming and nodding along to every statement leaving their lips. He seemed slightly disinterested, but not rude about it. Jihoon appeared more so amused by Jeonghan's shenanigans, not questioning your presence whilst remaining welcoming of it.

"I'm just here to record my part. Jihoon's been nagging me for a week," he whined, moving to drop himself on the couch and pulling you along with him by the hand. Your interlocked hands began to become clammy, but Jeonghan made no move nor mention to fix that, so you simply ignored it too.

"You're mean," said Wonwoo, "Be mindful of your junior, she looks nervous," he scolded lightheartedly, "You okay? Want a water or something? Did he just steal you or is there a story behind this?", he nodded towards your hands, voice soothing your nerves.

They were all overly likable, which made sense considering their decade-long career as idols. Their fan service must be amazing, you thought to yourself.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan interrupted, "I'm borrowing her face for the scanner in the artists' elevator," he explained, "It's an exchange of goods and services, no hostages here," he nodded to himself, "And we're new best friends, clearly," he grinned as he gestured to your hands, squeezing once again.

Seungkwan chuckled, "There'd be no need for that if you just rode with me in the mornings," he rolled his eyes, taking a seat to the other side of you on the couch.

"You get up at four in the morning, I'm not insane," whined Jeonghan, "and this way I get to hang out with my new friend. Win-win."

You gave a tight-lipped smile in response, rolling your eyes at him and earning a chuckle from the other boys in the room.

"You're going to have to let go of her hand to go into the recording room," Jihoon spoke up, turning around on his chair to look at Jeonghan on the couch and chuckling lowly when his reaction was an exaggerated groan.

"I take what I said back; you are a hostage. Don't leave, I'll be right back," he turned to you before heading over to the small recording room located inside the studio.

Laughing, you nodded, settling comfortably on the couch as you watched him from your spot. The other two men who remained standing made their way to the couch sitting near you as Wonwoo handed you a cold water bottle with a smile. Meanwhile, you watched Jeonghan head into the room, making his way to the mic and putting on the large headphones hanging nearby.

With a few coughs to clear his throat, he began harmonizing with the melody Jihoon turned on as soon as he stepped foot in the small room. Jeonghan's voice immediately flowed perfectly with the music, following Jihoon's directions to perfection as he recorded the lines instructed to him. You were completely distracted by the sight of him in his element that you were unable to pay attention to your surroundings. There were no nerves in you at your current predicament when you were so absorbed by him.

But as soon as he started singing, he finished, letting out another loud cough before exiting the room and making his way to your side again, practically demanding your hand once more.

"They were right," he nodded once you gave him your hand, looking down at you from your seat on the couch, "You're my new emotional support object, sorry," he shrugged, helping you up by pulling at your hand.

With goodbyes as quick as your introduction had been, Jeonghan led you to the door before being interrupted by Jihoon speaking up, "Bring her around more often. You were way more efficient and less annoying this time," he hummed to himself, laughing when Seungkwan began to laugh at his statement. Before you could leave, Seungkwan offered you a hug, though your hand remained on Jeonghan's.

Once in the hallway, Jeonghan turned to you and laughed, "They like you," he sing-sang, "Guess I get to keep you around."

"Is it up to me at all?", you huffed half-heartedly.

"Nope. Let's go," he grinned once more, pulling another laugh from you.

Jeonghan's shenanigans and your daily meetings every morning continued very consistently. It was rare when you'd show up at the elevators at the exact same agreed time and not find him there waiting for you with a drink in hand.

Your interactions only grew more and more friendly with time, with you rolling your eyes at him time and time again and him insisting on dragging you with him for other errands every so often. Fortunately, the news of you two being on friendly terms did not seem to go past a few other idols in the building. Strangely enough, it was rare to actually bump into other artists in the vast space that Hybe covered.

Only a few weeks into knowing Jeonghan and the annual Hybe Game Caterers event came up. This was something he brought up occasionally whilst sharing an elevator ride with you — and even through text every so often, as he had charmed you for your phone number just a few days in.

Being Hybe's newest group, you couldn't help the nerves you felt in appearing at Hybe's second ever Game Caterers event. With big names such as Seventeen, BTS, TXT and such, you felt completely out of your league even being present. You knew it was an amazing opportunity to get new audiences interested in your group, but you barely knew any other groups or idols on a personal level. It wasn't as if you could stalk behind Jeonghan during the event, which meant you'd simply have to rely on your own charm in order to gain some screen time.

Jeonghan, in the meantime, insisted you team up with him in any games that may allow for it. Despite your insistence that he pretend not to know you during the event, he'd cackle and promise he'd make sure to gift you some of his own screen time — how? he didn't explain, which made you even more anxious at the idea.

Once the day of the games came, you felt far more relaxed. This was your first time seeing such popular faces so up close, not having had the chance to attend any comeback shows nor award shows at the same time as the bigger names in Kpop. However, despite all nerves you could've felt, they were all far too charismatic, making you realize that Jeonghan's personality was simply an outlier; he had his own charm, but overall he was a menace to your sanity.

He continued to prove this to you throughout the event, constantly keeping his eyes on you and winking any time it was his turn to do something that might entertain you. Unfortunately for yourself, it worked every time, making you cackle at all his dumb acts for your attention.

That was not where he stopped, however. It seemed as if Jeonghan wanted people to know he was seeking out reactions from you. Occasionally, he'd walk over to your group's table, sitting with you all too casually, earning some nervous giggles from your group mates. He played this out by dragging Seungkwan with him and hitting a few other tables afterward. However, you knew his goal had been to be in close proximity with you.

The worst of all had been when teams were assigned randomly, in which Jeonghan had somehow managed to cheat in order to be placed in your team. You were unsure how exactly he had managed to do this, but from your understanding it seemed like his groupmate, Joshua, had gotten assigned to your team, only to be nagged into giving away his spot to Jeonghan.

And so now you stood in a single file line with a red vest laying on your chest, matching with that of Yoon Jeonghan's, who was standing right behind you with a pleased smile on his face.

"Jeonghan," you groaned, turning around to finally acknowledge his presence.

"What?", he feigned dumb, doing his classic cackle at your annoyed expression.

"You really want to ruin my career, don't you?", you scowled, squinting your eyes over the heavy sun shining from behind Jeonghan.

Detecting your discomfort from the sun, Jeonghan grabbed onto your shoulders, side stepping the two of you until it hit his face rather than yours. No word is uttered about his act of kindness as he continued to grin at you in a satisfied manner.

"I'm helping you, c'mon," he tsk'd, "Ever watched Going Seventeen? Well— Okay, don't make that face, I know you've seen it, all of Korea has seen it. I can win you any game and get you all the screen time possible," he held his pinky up to you, nudging you until you budged and intertwined yours with his own, "Then you'll be, uh, what are you, fourth gen?," he waited for your reluctant nod, "Okay, you'll be fourth gen's It Girl," his hand went up to ruffle your hair, earning something akin to a growl from you, "We'll be the inter-generational It Couple."

"Couple?," you tilted your head in wonder, "You're an idiot," you murmured, having a hard time hiding your smile at his masterplan.

"It was bound to happen. This whole 'will they won't they' thing we have going on is too good to pass up on," he continued, "C'mon, let's use today as a test-run," he insisted, earning another annoyed reaction from you, this time in the form of a half-hearted fist bump. With one last 'Eyyy' from him, he turned back around to pay attention to the rules of the following game.

Various games came and went, with some being in co-ed groups and others within your already-established groups, but with all of them (without fail) involving some sort of interaction between you and Jeonghan. Continuously aware of the cameras recording, you worried about how your constant interactions would be taken by audiences once the show was edited and posted, but his easy-going disposition made it difficult for you to actually do anything about it.

By the time the recording was over, Jeonghan had made it clear to all his members and yours (and anyone who was paying attention, really) that he had some sort of interest in you. No words nor statements had been needed as his actions made his intentions extremely obvious. You'd received a few teasing glances from his group mates at times (though you were sure they were probably meant for the man in question), making you shy away from Jeonghan, but he never strayed away for too long.

The aftermath of the show was different for everyone involved. Some groups left for other schedules while others went out for a meal with a few staff members. Then there was Jeonghan, who had decided to skip out on a meal with his friends and staff in order to stalk after you and your own group, not saying a word as he followed you to the entrance of Hybe, disregarding any teasing giggles coming from your groupmates. You'd occasionally look back at him, rolling your eyes at him as you held back an entertained smile.

Even as you got into the elevator, he silently followed with a pleased smile, still not speaking a word to justify his presence. It wasn't until your groupmates got off the elevator that Jeonghan actively tried to catch your attention by physically holding you back from exiting the elevator, waving your friends goodbye for you as the doors closed behind them.

With his arms wrapped around your middle, he practically bear-hugged you in order to keep you from leaving, laughing when you half-heartedly attempted to make it out of his hold in order to escape.

"You don't really wanna leave, stop fighting it," he whined, letting you go when you finally halted your attempts, groaning jokingly at his victory.

"Why'd you kidnap me this time?", you asked once you turned around to face him.

He shrugged, "I dunno. Company? Take us to my floor. I have some ramen and beer stashed away in the dressing room," he coerced, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're bribing me with food again," you noted, crossing your arms as you pretended to mull it over.

"Well, it appears like that's the only way to get you to hang out with me," he booped your nose, giggling when you scowled at him.

"You have that hard of a time getting girls to give you attention?"

"Hah," he exclaimed, "Girls love me. Not my fault the one I'm into needs to be coerced into spending time with me," he said as the most casual statement uttered by man.

He appeared entirely unaffected by his statement, as if this was not news to you. His flirting had gotten more and more blatant throughout the short time you'd known him, but he had never professed his affections so blatantly. It made sense for him to be so forward now that he had shown everyone his clear interest in you, but having the words said to your face still made you lose your breath for a short moment.

"Ah, speechless, huh?", he grinned, "You can't tell me this comes as a surprise to you," he tilted his head to the side in curiosity, "You're a smart girl, c'mon," he took a few short steps to you, hand coming to push your hair out of your face as you continued to stare at him with a semi-shocked look in your face.

Still inside a closed, yet unmoving elevator, you smacked his hand away in a friendly yet bratty matter, making him chuckle, "Stop, you're gonna get me in trouble," you complained.

Stepping even closer to you, he backed you against a wall, the grin on his face never leaving him. Meanwhile, your brain was overriding itself in figuring out how to react. You let him back you against the wall whilst his hands remained to his sides, not actually caging you and allowing you escape if you really wished for it. Leaning down a bit, he stood face to face with you, once again pushing your hair out of your face before running a lone finger down your cheek as he pouted down at you, cooing in a way some may read as condescending, but actually loving coming from someone like Jeonghan.

"You know that if you actually tell me to fuck off, I will, right?" he muttered, eyes fluttering for the first time ever. His eye contact was usually unmatched, but this time his eyes seemed to begin getting hooded; likely due to the proximity of your faces.

"Yes," you nodded quietly, breath caught in your throat.

"And you know if you stop me right now, I won't go through with this, right?", he followed up, face somehow even closer.

"Uh-huh," you nodded again, eyes matching his own hooded ones.

Nodding to himself, he grinned for a split second before closing the gap, soft and slow in his movements as he pressed his lips to your awaiting ones. The kiss was a mere peck at first, lacking any fluidity or movement. It took your reciprocation for it to become something more, as Jeonghan waited for your arms to make their way to his flat chest before he finally put his hands on you, wrapping them around your waist and pulling you to him.

Finally, his lips moved, opening and wrapping around yours, tongue entering your mouth and coaxing yours to play with his own. Soft yet high sighs left his lips as he hummed into your mouth, kissing you in a way far too sensual for an elevator located in your shared workplace.

A large hand went up to your cheek, holding it delicately as he tilted your face upwards in order to gain optimal access to your mouth. Similarly, your hands traveled north, finding their way to his long hair and pulling at it every time he did something particularly enticing with his tongue. Without your hands on his chest, the empty space between you was reduced when he pulled you closer in order to press your chests together, sighing when he felt your hardened nipples through your lack of bra.

Before it could go too far, however, the menace of a man decided to pull away, chuckling when you followed his lips, still in the daze he'd put you in.

"You didn't push me away," he whispered with a breathy laugh, thumb playing with your bottom lip up until you childishly nibbled at it, getting a 'Yah!' from him and another laugh.

"Count your blessings, I still could," you challenged, knowing you did not mean it at all.

"Are you sure?", he leaned close once more, "So you don't want me to do this again?" he murmured as he lightly pressed his lips to yours again, immediately putting you in another daze.

He pulled away even quicker this time around, laughing at the defeated look on your face at your lack of ability to staying true to your word when it concerned him.

"That's what I thought," chuckled Jeonghan, finally putting some decent space between you, "So, ramen and beer?", he asked, holding his hand up as an offer for you to hold it, humming with a smile when you grabbed it and intertwined your fingers.

"Ramen and beer," you agreed, unable to hold back a smile as you stood side by side once again.

"Ever gonna let me take you on a date outside of this place?", asked Jeonghan a few days after that day in the elevator.

No more kissing had occurred between the two of you, though hand holding remained pretty present in your relationship — though that was a strong word to use. His flirting continued to get worse, and so did the attention he gave you around staff and other idols, but he had not kissed you again nor had he done anything you'd expect from someone who had been quite adamant about his intentions with you.

You hadn't questioned it, simply enjoying it when he did things slightly out of your comfort zone in order to demonstrate his interest. Could you be blamed? It was The Yoon Jeonghan who was after you, after all.

But a few days had been more than enough to drive you up a wall.

Spending almost every day in that elevator with him, at such close proximity, — pondering about when the next kiss would be — was driving you insane. It was obvious to you by now that he wanted you to make the first move when it came to that area of your relationship. As far as he was concerned, he'd simply continue to buy you meals and take up your time (and mind) as much as possible.

This was why you completely ignored his initial question and rebutted with your own.

"Date? When are you going to explain that kiss?," you practically defied him, staring him down as he gave you one of his usual satisfied smiles.

"Explain it? I wanted to kiss you, so I did," he shrugged, popping a grape into his mouth before mouth-feeding you one, "If you want more of that, you're going to have to let me take you on a date."

"Jeonghan," you began, "You know we can't do anything outside these walls. If we get spotted, we're fucked," you stated the obvious.

"C'mon, just let me make you dinner in my apartment. I'll even kick Seungkwan out so we can have some privacy," he smirked, hand reaching out to yours in order to try and entice you further.

"Are you propositioning yourself to me?", you smiled at him, mouth open and tongue touching the roof of your mouth in amusement.

"Good, you're catching on," he smirked to himself, taking a short pause to cough as a way to clear his throat, shaking his head and trying again, "I meant as a date. I'm not that crude."

You sighed again, "Fine," you began, rolling your eyes at the way his face suddenly lit up, "but you have to actually make me dinner. If I show up and there's no candlelit dinner on your table, I'm leaving," you threatened jokingly, unable to picture Jeonghan hosting a date so fancy. He pegged you more as the casual date type of guy.

"Candlelit? I can work with that. Wear something pretty for me then," he added as a condition, poking you with his chopstick to emphasize his point, "If I'm making a fancy dinner, then we need to look the part.

"Okay, then wear something other than sweats. I swear I've never seen you wear anything that's not three times your size," you pointed out his usual fashion style, even referring to this moment in which he was wearing an oversized shirt and oversized sweats to match.

"I'll dress up for you, baby, no need to beg," his lips drew up into a smirk that seemed to never leave his lips for too long, putting down his chopsticks in favor of offering you his pinky, "I'll have my driver take us tomorrow after you're done at the company," he said as you linked fingers, pressing his thumb against your own.

"You better not ruin my career, Yoon Jeonghan," left your mouth, though with mere entertainment in your tone.

~

"God, you took it really seriously, didn't you?" you gaped at the dapper Yoon Jeonghan standing in front of you, holding the door open as he reached for your hand in order to let you in.

At the end of the day, your plan had changed a bit, deciding that Jeonghan needed some extra time to get the meal and himself ready for you, and that he wanted you to have time to 'doll yourself up for him' (his words, not yours). And so you went home the following day, took an embarrassing three hours to dress up as pretty as you could — as that strange feminine urge to groom yourself to perfection took over — and had your driver drop you off at the luxury apartment you knew Jeonghan and Seungkwan shared at around 8pm.

The first thing that welcomed you into his home was Jeonghan himself, except he looked very different. You had seen pictures and videos of him dressed to the nines for music videos, awards shows, you name it, but you had never seen the man so insanely put together in the flesh until this moment. Yoon Jeonghan was always a sight to behold, no matter if he was makeup-less and donning a messing man-bun, but the sight in front of you left your mouth agape. He had decided to go for a three-piece suit (too fancy for your taste, but that was likely his intent), chuckling when you rolled your eyes at the bowtie. His makeup was done and his hair beautifully styled. The jury was out on who had out-dressed the other (though it was likely it was Jeonghan).

"Okay, so no bowtie?", he giggled as he closed the door behind you, ripping it off with an ease that was only achievable due to the fact that it was apparently a clip-in and not a real bowtie. As per usual, this caused you to laugh, achieving the goal of its presence.

His hand made its way to your lower back, leading you further into his house as he walked you. It took him an appalling thirty seconds to move closer to you and whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked, granting you a moment of full sincerity with zero banter behind it.

You'd chosen to don a red slip dress, with a red lip and winged eyeliner to match. It wasn't too elegant of a look, but it was perfect for either a candlelit dinner or a night clubbing; you went for versatility, unsure of Jeonghan's unpredictable behavior.

Before you could thank him or blush at his comment, you'd completed the short distance to his dining room that had been just one room away from the entrance. The sight made any other reaction from his compliment leave you, distracting you completely.

It wasn't too elegant nor abnormal for a candlelit dinner, but it still surprised you that Jeonghan had actually followed along with what you'd meant as simple banter — he had actually cooked you and amazing-smelling dinner and lit a few candles throughout the room.

"Dude, this is too much," you gaped, turning back to him, only to be trapped by his arms wrapping around your waist. There was a pleased smile on his face at your astonished reaction.

"You challenged me," he said, eyes squinting at you, "You know better than to challenge me," it was said in a serious tone, though fully in jest, "Can I tell you that you look beautiful again, or would that be cheesy?"

"You can say it as many times as you want," you gave into him, wrapping your hands behind his neck, pulling him a little lower in your direction. He accepted this with no complaint, intertwining his own hands around the small of your back.

"God, stop looking at me like that," he groaned at the smile you were giving him as you looked up at him, his hands continuing to run up and down the small of your back, clearly picking it as a favorite part of your body at the moment.

"Why? What are you gonna do about it?", you challenged him.

"It might've taken me two hours and one extinguisher to cook that dinner, but I'd be willing to let it go to waste," he warned, front teeth digging into the plush of his bottom lip as he stared you down with defiance in his eyes.

You pouted petulantly at him, giving in to his banter for the nth time, "Oh, so you really were propositioning yourself to me the other day, huh?", you cocked your head to the side, raising your brows in challenging manner, "I thought this was meant to be a date and nothing more?"

His hands tightened around you, pulling you close enough for your chests to rub together, huffing out an annoyed breath, "Believe it or not, I don't have enough ingenious in me to keep this conversation going forever. Are you going to let me kiss you or are you going to force us through a subpar dinner I burnt three separate times?", he whined, chuckling halfway through when you giggled at his statement.

"I'm not stopping you," you murmured, leaning up and rubbing your nose against his own as if to dare him to take action.

Never a man to back away from a challenge, Jeonghan's speech ended there, closing the gap between you as his lips landed on your own with a mixture of sensuality and roughness. Loyal to their fidgeting habits, his hands remained on your hips, fingers squeezing the plush there every so often as you let out tiny breaths into his mouth.

It was embarrassing to count the times you'd thought about kissing him ever since that first time, having it invade your mind more often than not in the short period of time between then and now. The soft sounds he'd made into your mouth and the touches of his hands had been imprinted in you, making you silently and pathetically yearn for more as he continued his usual flirtations. Finally arriving at a point where he finally had you completely alone and with no distance imaginable, you let yourself go into the kiss, hoping it would go further than last time. The circumstances were more than agreeable this time around, anyway.

Seemingly, Jeonghan agreed with your silent pleas, slowly walking you over to the couch located somewhere in the large combination of dining room and living room inside his apartment. No words were exchanged, as they would've interrupted the consistent locking of lips, but your gasp was still registered by him when you suddenly felt yourself dip and be manhandled into lying horizontally on the couch.

Now lying down, it was easy for Jeonghan to truly invade all your senses. Still fully clothed, he laid on top of you, knees settling on both sides of your hips as to not lay his entire weight on you. The locking of lips did not seize, continuing as you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. The cocky man chuckled into your mouth at how insistent you seemed in kissing him, but that was the least of your worries at the moment. He had opted for close-mouthed kisses, making you groan at every silent denial for you to deepen the kiss.

"Stop being a little shit," you groaned when he refused to let your tongue enter his mouth for the nth time.

"You want me sooo bad," he grinned, kissing at your cheek as your eyes rolled once more.

"Are you going to be this annoying when you're inside me?," your head turned to the side, making you be the one to avoid his kisses this time around, but that didn't bode well for the boy.

"Yah," he whined, "It's not fun when you do it. Just let me kiss you," he slurred, repositioning himself slightly to let his hips find the height of your own, finally kissing you how you'd been wanting. He disconnected his lips momentarily just a few seconds after, pushing his hips against yours decidedly, "And, for the record, I'll be everything but annoying while I'm fucking you," he murmured as his last words.

That's when his kiss became intense and decided, exploring every inch of your mouth while his hips chased your own with a passion you did not believe Jeonghan could possess. He'd always seemed like the lazier of his members, like he'd he the type to lay back and unbuckle his pants for whoever was lucky enough to get him in bed. However, he had proved to you time and time again that he was actively interested in pursuing you — especially now as he held onto your legs, wrapping them around his waist to ensure his hardness could hit perfectly against the very thin cloth of the panties under your ridden up dress.

"Fuck, you already feel so good," he rasped, lips finding your neck, "Take this pretty dress off for me, yeah?", he nudged at the strap of your dress with his nose, kissing the bare skin he found there.

With only a nod and a whine from you, he got to business, hands reaching behind your back as you arched it to grant him access, blindly unzipping it and lowering the straps from your arms whilst still laying down. An uncharacteristically low groan left him upon discovering your lack of bra, making him look to you with a pained look in his eye before dipping down to kiss at your breasts.

Nimble fingers graced the length of your arms, creating goosebumps in their wake as they one of them reached your breast while the other squeezed at your hip intermittently. One of your breasts was trapped by his hand, the nipple tortured by his thumb while your other breast suffered through licks and nips from his mouth. Heavy sighs were breathed out against your tit m, mixed with the occasional groan as his hips continued canting onto your own. Your dress was uncomfortably bunching at your middle, but it remained in the back of your mind as Jeonghan occupied the rest of it.

It didn't take long for you to grow frustrated at the lack of nudity demonstrated by the man on top of you. Your hands mindlessly pulled at his suit jacket and began pulling it off, only getting it down to his elbows due to his lack of aid in removing it. Next was his button-up, which you fully unbuttoned as his lips came back up to your own, chuckling at your insistence. Once almost undressing him, he finally disconnected your lips, hastily throwing off his top and unbuttoning his pants. He looked down at you with heavy lids as he pulled his pants low enough to uncover his thighs and remain in nothing but his boxers. Next came your panties, which he slowly traced his the tips of his fingers, toying at your puffy cunt through the fabric long enough for you to release a few tortured whines.

"Jeonghan!", you scolded, getting a snicker from him before he actually aided you in the removal of your panties. Lifting your hips, you silently instructed him to throw off your dress the rest of the way, now fully nude under him.

The last piece of clothing separating you were his boxers, much to your despair. Your ached to reach up to a kneeling Jeonghan who continued to stand almost completely still above you, hand pressing at his cock through the cloth as he peered at you as if he wanted to swallow you whole.

"Are you going to do anything?", you complained from under him, hands attempting to reach his cock but being prevented by him, too occupied in taking you in to allow you to touch him.

"I'm enjoying the sight," he hummed, eyes taking turns between your open legs, damp breasts and desperate eyes, "God, I don't even know where to start," he groaned, sounding genuinely pained.

Pained? You could work with that. Maybe this was your turn to tease him as he always did ti you.

Sitting up as best you could whilst under him, you reached up to him, running your hands from his pelvis to his chest, fingers shyly pinching at his nipples. Your mouth found his neck, licking its way to his ear to nibble at the lobe. Within seconds Jeonghan was putty under you, with one of his hands wrapping around you to pull you closer. You kissed sensually at his ear, whispering unspeakable filth into it that had him groaning. Tilting your head to the side, you took a peak at his face. He had a satisfied yet pained look painting his pretty features. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth agape, hiccuping a groan at your words.

"Should've known you were filthy," he grunted, burying his face in your neck, helping you back into your lying position so he could truly bury himself in you, "It's in your eyes ... Always looked at me like you wanted me to take you right in that elevator," he added, hands coming down to messily rid himself of his boxers.

His hips were leveled with your own, almost touching your cunt but not just yet. Without thinking, you canted your hips upward, managing to get his hardness to grace at your cunt just perfectly. This drew a matching groan from both your lips, making Jeonghan cough halfway through his dirty talk.

"Oh, you're that desperate? Okay, pretty, I'll fuck you. Don't need to beg me so much," he mocked, positioning himself to finally enter you, but unable to help himself in teasing your clit with his tip for a few moments in order to draw just a couple more cries from you. With a chuckle, he finally began entering you, gasping a silent groan at the feeling of finally being enveloped by you.

"God," he grumbled, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure, "Tell me when I can move," he practically pleaded.

"Just move," you whined, "It's already good."

Your green light was all he needed to begin pumping in and out of you, gasping out praise every so often. His hands remained on your hips, squeezing at the skin whenever it felt extra good to fuck into you. Clammy skin and lewd sounds of slapping took up all your senses, making you almost miss Jeonghan's words as he began low rambles into your ear.

"Do you even know how long I've wanted you?", he started, breath heavy against your ear, making you want to bury yourself in his skin, "Always wanted to talk to you, but- fuck- but the guys told me I shouldn't as- as your senior," he stuttered in between groans, "But I couldn't let my chance pass when you helped me that day ... We just clicked," he confessed, groaning loudly when you tightened at his unexpected confession.

"Han ...", you sighed, gripping his shoulders as if your life depended on it, "I, fuck, really?"

He nodded against you, kissing the skin he could reach, "I like you so much, you have no idea," he continued, speeding up his hips, "Tell me you like me back," he whined with a bit of humor in his voice. It was impossible for him to let things become too serious for too long — something you really liked about him.

"I like you, Hannie," you humored him, using the nickname he'd asked you to use all those weeks ago, giggling in between sighs of pleasures when he groaned at it.

"Don't call me that right now, you're so mean," he whined, biting lightly at your skin in defiance, "I'm trying to make this fun for you."

"Then keep fucking me," you insisted, "Hannie," you couldn't help but add with a girlish and exaggerated moan.

"You're provoking me? Really? Again? Okay, brat," he huffed, hands finding the back of your legs to wrap them higher on his waist, ensuring his cock could now piston in and out of you in a way that had your eyes rolling back.

Despite his lazy persona, he was a beast as he fucked you, specially after you'd invoked that bratty side of him that couldn't allow you to out-brat him. It was toe-curling to think about how having you under him provoked this side of him to come out; the side that made him lose all inhibitions and break him down to his most animalistic desires as he fucked you. Any lack of energy was replaced by a stamina that made the slapping of skin so embarrassingly loud you couldn't help but blush. That, combined with his nonexistent shyness in letting out every moan threatening to leave his lips made it the most pleasurable experience for you.

"Sound so pretty ... You're driving me crazy," he grunted in a pained chuckle, "Gonna make me cum ... Fuck, come with me? Yeah, pretty? Need to feel you cum around me before I fill you up," he rambled, hand suddenly sneaking between your bodies and attacking your clit without any warning. You could no longer banter with him, too drunk on the feeling to vocalize anything other than mewls of pleasure.

Jeonghan's hips combined with the feeling of his fingers assaulting your clit were all you needed to lose yourself to your orgasm, almost dragging him down with you as you tightened around him.

"F-fuck, you're cumming? Is it that good, baby? Shit, took it so good for me, hmm?", he continued talking you through it, humming back a groan when you tightened just enough for him to reach his own high, "O-oh, God ... C-cumming, shit. Where?", he was frantic in asking, his gigantic eyes growing two times bigger as he looked to yours for guidance, eyebrows furrowing further at every passing second his orgasm threatened to take him down.

"Inside, H-hannie," you sighed out, mellowing out from your former orgasm. Another whine exited your lips at the breathiest cry leaving the pretty boy above you, whining out desperate praise at the privilege it was to cum inside you. It was likely Jeonghan knew about the birth control idols were usually put under, but his reaction told you he was appreciative nonetheless.

"So fucking good .... God, you're so good, so pretty, so perfect," the praise was endless, making you want to be the sole cause of his pleasure until the end of time.

Once finally emptied out, his energetic persona died out quite quickly, instantly morphing himself to your side as he nudged you aside to make space for him on the couch. Being large enough to fit you both, you snuggled together, Jeonghan nuzzling that pointy nose into your hair as you two regained consciousness. It was amusing how easily he morphed into his usual touchy and lazy persona just seconds after fucking you an inch of your life.

"Hmph," he hummed into your skin, nuzzling so much it seemed he was trying to enter your skin, "You're soft after sex, y'know that?", he thought out loud, leaving mindless kisses behind.

"You're so weird," you huffed, jokingly pushing him away but adoring the warmth that pooled in your heart at his whine in complaint, accompanied by him pulling you even closer.

"Yeah, but you like me weird," he reminded you.

You allowed a beat or two of silence to consume you before turning further toward his side, cuddling into him in as the comfort between lovers after sex invaded the room.

"Did you mean what you said?"

He hummed questioningly, too lost in the comfort to think back to what you meant.

"Did you like me before we met in that elevator?", your voice was meek, reminiscent of those mere five minutes of shyness you felt when you first met Jeonghan, soon overtaken by the natural comfort his presence brought upon such a short time.

"Yeah," he stated simply, "Seungkwan sent me a video of your group covering one of our songs in your debut showcase and I thought you were cute," he chuckled fondly at the memory, "Then I saw you at the company a few times and thought you were the cutest thing," he booped your nose annoyingly, "I wasn't planning on doing anything about it, but like I said, we clicked. You looked shy, but the moment I spoke to you, you were fed up of my shit. I liked that about you," he hummed.

You couldn't help laughing at that, "You liked me because I was rude to you?"

"I mean, it's not often that my juniors speak to me like that. It's always so formal," he blegh'd in an exaggerated manner, "I can't really explained it. It was just a gut feeling, y'know?"

You thought back to how comfortable you felt in his presence that first day, nodding in agreement, "Yeah, I know," you smiled as you reached over to find his lips, pecking them sweetly.

"Dinner's probably gone bad by now, by the way," he spoke up after the kiss, guiding your hand to his head for self-indulgent scratches.

"You didn't actually invite me over to have dinner," you reminded him humorously.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I didn't."

to read short 2.4k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, lots of banter with the rest of seventeen, jeonghan is bullied by you and his members, mentions of oppa (only once and in a teasing way), small age gap, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1004 (teaser); 2484 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"You're going to get me in so much tro- Stop!", you couldn't help the girlish squeal that left your mouth at Jeonghan's careless roughhousing.

His hands wouldn't leave your waist, glued to the dip of your waist as he followed you around Seventeen's floor as you attempted to leave.

After the ruse to keep you around for his elevator rides died down, now becoming Jeonghan's official girlfriend (his words), the menacing boy continued to play dumb, insisting that there was just no one else he entrusted with the task of helping him up and down the elevator. It was a dumb inside joke between you, but it made your insides giggle like a madwoman every time you thought about his insistence to keep you around as much as humanly possible, even now as you engaged in a formal and exclusive relationship.

Hanging out with him in the comfort of your group's floor was fine. Your group was a mere few months old, meaning there wasn't too much traffic from other groups or any outsiders there. However, the halls of Seventeen's floor always made you nervous. You always insisted on being behind closed doors when it came to Jeonghan's floor, knowing that Seventeen were incredibly popular, which resulted in their floor of the building being far more trafficked than your own.

As far as you were aware, only your respective groups, managers, and a few staff members were aware of your relationship. Many simply assumed there was something going on, but due to any lack of announcement of your relationship, there was no way to confirm it. That, and the many people who ended up shipping you after the release of Hybe's Game Caterers due to how insistent on sticking by your side Jeonghan had been during recording (damn you, Yoon Jeonghan).

"Bunny, c'mon," he whined, nuzzling his head in your neck as you continued to walk down the hallway, attempting to reach their practice room, "What's the point in dating if I can't even enjoy you at work?", he protested, feet bumping into yours due to the continuous proximity between your bodies.

"Han, if someone catches us-"

"I don't care. You know that," his touches finally halted as soon as you made it to the door, holding it open for you in a classic act of gallantry often displayed by him. It was always unspoken and casual, but you came to learn that Jeonghan was naturally caring for those around him, especially you. Doors were opened, oranges peeled, laces tied, you name it.

"Sure, you don't care," you started, crossing the small dressing room that connected the hallway and the practice room, Jeonghan behind you, "You're like fifty, you've been in the industry forever now. A measly dating rumor with your junior would do nothing to your career. I'd get accused of sleeping my way up and fuck everything up for my members," you argued back, not seriously mad nor argumentative, just continuing the thread of conversation.

Finally in the practice room, Jeonghan gaped at you, amused yet offended, "Fifty?", he gasped, getting the attention of a fellow Boo Seungkwan and Lee Chan who just so happened to be sitting by nearby, "You're calling me old? I'm 28!," he insisted, whining at you and pulling at your arm as a child would.

Feigning annoyance, you held in your laugh at his childishness, knowing that this was always the result any time you attempted to tease him back. Before you could retaliate again, you were interrupted by the other men present in the room, having interrupted whatever conversation they were having with Jeonghan's loudness.

"You're the most lethargic man I know," said Chan with complete seriousness in his face, causing Seungkwan to burst laughing.

Dokyeom seemingly compartmentalized out of nowhere, also joining in as he crossed the door you'd just come in from, close enough to have heard the conversation, "Cradle robber," he teased as he walked by, sticking out his tongue at Jeonghan as the elder did it first.

Jeonghan gaped at all four of you, exasperated in his response, "We're like five years apart!," he whined in reference to your age difference, "If I'm lethargic, then what are you?", he yelled, pointing at Seokmin who had already walked away, still grinning in satisfaction at Jeonghan from his side of the room, beginning to join other members in their stretching.

Laughing throughout it all, you relished on Jeonghan's members ganging up on him, knowing it was usually him who teased the others. Ever since your relationship had become official, you spent more and more time around his groupmates — groupmates who found great enjoyment in teasing him over your relationship. You were never the butt of the joke. On the contrary, they'd encourage you to join in, knowing you were Jeonghan's one and only weakness.

Suddenly, Jeonghan turned to you, annoyed scowl on his face, "You! You don't get to join in and mock me. They're insulting your boyfriend, defend me!", he demanded, pouts and whines never leaving him.

You huffed, "Why should I defend you? I'm your junior, oppa," you used that term very strategically, only ever saving it to tease him or make him embarrassed in front of whoever was around.

Seungkwan all but cackled at the way Jeonghan stopped his annoyed rambling with a swiftness, gaping at you with his eyebrows all the way to his hairline. His mouth opened and closed, likely pondering a comeback for you. Within the short time you'd dated, Jeonghan's insistence that you call him by the correct honorific only got worse, but your denials remained. You calling him oppa at this moment meant only one thing to him: You wanted war.

Without further words, he grabbed you by the wrist, ignoring your surprised yelp as he pulled you with him towards the door you'd barely crossed mere minutes ago. Not really fighting him, you stumbled as you trailed behind him, waving a quick bye to his friends while Seungkwan whined at Jeonghan for his sudden exit.

...

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[emocheol]

seventeen when you call them by their name

instead of a pet name

a/n: i forgot how long writing 13 different scenarios takes T-T

seungcheol

after a long day of practice cheol entered your shared apartment late at night.

even though he was trying to be quiet you still heard the click of the front door and his fumbling around in the entryway. so you decided to get up and greet him.

“seungcheol?” you asked sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you walked out of your bedroom.

he was so taken aback by his name that he didn't even reply for a good 30 seconds.

“i'm sorry for being home late,” he frowned, “don't be mad.” he whined softly, thinking you were upset with him. why else would you use his full name?

you looked at him quizzically and slotted yourself in his arms, he seemed to relax significantly at your touch.

“i'm not mad, what makes you think that?” you questioned, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“you called me seungcheol,” he pouted, “what happened to baby?” his pout intensified, his lip jutting out further.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics, “i’m sorry, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the pet name, “i didn't know you liked it that much,” you cooed, putting your hands on his cheeks and smushing his face.

“don't tease me,” he grumbled, pretending to be upset, which just elicited another laugh from your end.

“fine, fine,” you said with your hands raised, mocking a surrender, “let's go to bed, baby, you've had a long day,” you suggested, pecking his lips and taking his hand to lead him to the bedroom.

jeonghan

you had been basking in jeonghan's company all day. it was a rare off-day for the idol and you spent every second possible with your boyfriend.

you were currently in one of your lulls of conversation, just sitting in comfortable silence on two different ends the couch while you both scrolled on your phones.

you saw a funny video while scrolling and knew your boyfriend would love it so you looked over at him and called his name.

“hey, jeonghan? look at this video,” you giggled, holding your phone screen in his direction.

but your boyfriend didn't pay you any mind. thinking he didn't hear you, you called for him a little louder.

“jeonghan? hello?” you scooted closer to him on the couch when you went unanswered again.

you poked his cheek and turned his head to make him look at you when he still didn’t answer.

“hello?” you questioned, noticing his nonchalant expression.

“oh? were you talking to me?”he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“yes? i said your name twice!” you whined, knowing he heard you but he was clearly ignoring you.

“no, you said ‘jeonghan,’” he said, making air quotes with his fingers, "and that's not my name," he pouted finally, showing a side of him that you didn't often see.

you realized what he was talking about and tried to hide a grin at his demeanor, “aww, i'm sorry, let me try again,” you cooed, going back to your previous side of the couch to reset.

“hannie... my angel, my sweetheart, my precious?” you tried, “come look at this video,” you laughed, his attention already on you as you listed your names for him.

“of course, my love,” he smiled, getting up from his spot and cuddling up to your side, “look at how easy that was,” he whispered, plucking your phone from your hands and watching the video that you had pulled up.

he pulled you into his arms and nuzzled his cheek against your head, scrolling and looking at more videos with you. “you're crazy,” you said with a laugh, pressing a kiss against his cheek, but you wouldn't want it any other way.

joshua

“joshua?” you called out from the kitchen while you were making dinner. he had been playing video games in the living room ever since his practice was over.

hearing his full name from you made his ears perk up and he quickly shut off his game, rushing to the kitchen.

“love?” he asked softly, putting his hand on your shoulder, already thinking he had upset you he didn't want to anger you further. “is everything okay?” he asked tentatively, testing the waters.

“huh? yeah, joshua, everything's fine can you just-”you said as you stirred the pot on the stove, not looking up at him while you were focused on perfecting the food.

but, when he heard his full name again and the classic 'everything's fine' line he quickly jumped to conclusions and deduced that everything was not fine.

he cut you off before you could finish talking and immediately went into apologizing.

“i’m sorry, love, i don't know what i did to make you upset but i'll fix it, okay?” he said with a weary smile, still with his hand on your shoulder, “was i on the game for too long? did you want me to help you cook? was i too loud?” he rambled, facepalming as he thought he had messed something up and made you mad.

as he rambled you slowly started to look over at him, his words confusing you to no end.

“why would i be upset?” you asked, looking at him as if he was crazy, which he was.

“what?” he questioned back, “you called me joshua and you haven't looked at me and you said everything was ‘fine’, that's like textbook upset partner.” he said, as if it was totally obvious.

you blinked at him a few times before you burst out laughing, “god, babe, you're hilarious!” you exclaimed, slapping his shoulder as you laughed. now it was joshua's turn to be confused since he was positive that you were upset.

“you’re not upset?” he questioned, you shook your head as your answer while you were still doubled over laughing, “why did you call me over then?” he asked.

you pointed to the glass jar on the counter next to you after you had composed yourself, “i was going to ask you to open that jar, dummy,” you teased.

joshua blew out a breath and quickly opened the jar with ease, “that's... it?” he questioned.

“yeah, that's it, you can go play your game some more,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“but you called me joshua...” he grumbled, you never called him joshua!

“which is your name, if i’m not mistaken,” you pointed out, pinching his cheek. he swatted at your hand and groaned.

he opened his mouth to start complaining more before you quickly stopped him. “okay, okay, i’m sorry babe, you can go play your game again.”

joshua gave you a firm nod, as if he was finally satisfied with your name for him. “okay. let me know if you need anything.” he grinned, kissing your head and then strolling back to the living room.

“you’re a child,” you whispered to yourself, continuing dinner with a smile on your face.

“but you love me!” he called back, somehow hearing you. well, he’s not wrong.

jun

‘thanks, junhui!’

that was the text that you had sent your boyfriend after he told you he bought you a book from the town he was currently in on tour.

he loved gift giving and he knew you loved books so he scoured every bookshop in the town to find the perfect book for you. he excitedly sent you a picture of the book he bought and that was your reply to it.

it made his head spin with reasons of why you could be mad at him.

calling him ‘jun’ was already a rarity in your relationship, but ‘junhui’? he wasn’t sure you’d ever called him that.

‘are you mad at me?’ he texted back, getting straight to the point.

you took nearly 10 minutes to reply, 10 agonizing minutes for jun.

‘not at all, i’ll see you when you get home’ was your response.

now this reply made him absolutely spiral, good thing he was returning home today. but because of your replies to him he made a few extra stops before hopping on the plane.

when you finally arrived back home from work you opened the door and was met with your sheepish looking boyfriend and what looked like a mountain of books behind him.

“babe! what are you doing here? and what is with all the books?” you exclaimed, jumping into his arms and hugging him tight.

jun was taken aback by your reaction, his mind stuck on the thought that you were mad at him. “i thought you were upset with the book i got you… so i kind of bought as many as i could fit in my luggage to make up for it,” he said, his cheeks slowly turning red when he realized you really weren’t mad at him.

you pulled your head back and gave him a look, “what made you think i was mad?” you asked, pulling away and starting to pick up the different books that were piling up on your coffee table.

“you called me junhui…” he whispered, saying it out loud made him feel stupid, it was just a name, his name in fact.

“are you saying that you bought me a hundred books because i called you by your first name?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

he nodded his head sheepishly.

“you are too cute!” you exclaimed, giving him another tight hug, “for the record, i’d tell you if i was mad at you,” you made sure to clarify.

“okay…” he said softly, looking at the absurd amount of books, “should i return all of these now, or-” he began to speak before you cut him off.

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, snatching a book and sitting on the couch beginning to read.

jun slowly made his way next to you and laid his head in your lap, getting comfy while you read aloud to him.

hoshi

“honey?” you called out in your apartment, waiting for hoshi to reply to you. you needed help folding the laundry and hoshi was always eager to help you do whatever you needed.

you heard a distant, “give me a minute!” come from your shared bedroom where your boyfriend was no doubt playing video games again.

you rolled your eyes at his response and started folding the laundry on your own, giving him a few minutes before calling for him again. “honey? i need your help out here,” you called again, waiting to hear his footsteps.

but instead you got another, “just a sec!” which made you pull out the big guns. hoshi hated you calling him by his name, he said he sounded like you were scolding him. but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“kwon soonyoung! i said i need your help!” you called out even louder than before, knowing that would get him.

once his name left your mouth you heard fumbling coming from the room and the door opening quickly, his feet slapped against the floor as he ran over to you.

he already had the expression of a kicked puppy, “i told you not to call me that!” he pouted, standing in front of you.

you gave him a look and pointed at the spot on the couch next to you, “sit,” you said simply. of course, he followed with no question.

“‘m sorry!” he whined when you wouldn’t talk to him, “i was doing really well! you know how hard that game is, and we were winning!” he tried to explain, sloppily folding clothes next to you as he rambled.

“soonyoung?” you said, cutting him off with his name again.

“what,” he said with a frown.

“just fold the damn laundry,” you said with a sigh, grabbing the clothes that he had folded and redoing it properly.

“you’re scary when you’re mad…” he whispered, starting to fold every item of clothing meticulously so you didn’t have anything to be upset with.

he spent the rest of the day giving you his undivided attention and trying to make up for making you upset.

when you finally called him ‘honey’ at the end of the night his face lit up and you forgot why you were even mad with him in the first place.

wonwoo

you were out shopping with wonwoo when something caught your eye from the window of a store. you tugged on your boyfriends coat sleeve.

“wonwoo-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“try again.” he said simply, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“wonwoo?” you questioned, tugging his arm again and making him stop walking.

“try again.” he repeated, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pretending to scroll on it.

“wonwoo, what are you-” he cut you off once again with a look.

“one more time, sweetheart,” he said, pointing you in the right direction. this made it click in your head and you just scoffed.

“babe?” you tried, finally his attention turned towards you and he showed off his award winning smile.

“yes, sweetheart? what do you need?” he asked, his voice sweet as honey.

“you're impossible,” you laughed, “i want to go into that store,” you pointed at the clothing store next to where you were stopped.

“then let's go,” he grinned, pulling your hand and leading you into the store, “you know if you call me by my name people might not think we're together,” he said as if it was an obvious fact.

“we're literally holding hands and wearing matching outfits,” you pointed out, which just earned a shrug from your boyfriend as he started grabbing different pieces of clothing that he thought would look good on you.

sure, he was a subtle guy, but he wanted everyone to know that you were his.

woozi

“jihoon, i'm home,” you called out into the apartment. you had a meeting that lasted much longer than usual and it was already dark out when you returned.

your boyfriend had been home all day and by the smell of fresh food you could tell that he had been cooking.

you slipped off your shoes in the entry way and tossed your bag on the couch before slipping into the kitchen and coming up behind your boyfriend. you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder while he stirred the pot in front of him.

“jihoon?” he questioned, scrunching up his face at the mention of his full name. he didn't hate when you said his name, you just never did. “what're you calling me that for?” he asked directly, not assuming anything.

“i realized i don't call you by name, do you not like it?”you asked, lifting your head up and looking over at him, your arms still around him.

“i don't mind, i'm just used to baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “or babe,” another kiss, “love, sweetheart, honey, my one and only,” he listed, pressing a kiss to your face in between each pet name.

you couldn't help but smile at the affection you were receiving from your boyfriend, you pressed a few kisses to his cheek in return and let him resume his cooking while you watched from a seat at the island.

“but you're okay with jihoon?” you asked, wanting to make sure.

“i’m okay with you calling me jihoon,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at you, “but don't use it too much.” he said, giving you a pointed look.

he wouldn't say it out loud but he loved the sweet pet names you gave him, even the ridiculous ones.

minghao

“what did i do?” was the first words your boyfriend uttered when he walked into your shared home.

you looked up from your spot on the couch and tilted your head at him. “what do you mean?” you questioned, not understanding him.

“i mean, i can tell you're mad so i give you permission to yell at me, just tell me what i did first.” minghao said, bracing himself for whatever you would say to him. by no means did you fight often but whenever you got angry at him he would take it.

“i’m not mad at you,” you said, opening your arms, waiting for your boyfriend to join you on the couch. when he didn't come over you deadpanned, “well now i'm mad that you're not cuddling me.” you joked, waiting for him to come over.

he slowly walked over to you and pulled you against his chest, giving you a cautious look.

“then what was up with that text?” he questioned, pulling out his phone, “you said, and i quote, just wait until you get home, minghao,” he recited, “when have you ever called me by my first name?” he said like it was obvious.

“oh! i made your favorite dessert!” you said with a happy smile, pointing to the kitchen where his treat was freshly made and waiting on the counter.

his face went soft at your happy mood and he gave you a short kiss, “thanks, love,“ he said softly, “but your text did not make it sound like that.” he chuckled.

“oh right, i didn't want to give anything away so i called you minghao, was that too mean?” you asked, hoping you didn't make him worry.

he sighed with a smile and shook his head, “just a bit,” he said honestly, “you never call me minghao,” he pouted, half jokingly but also half seriously.

“i’m sorry, love,” you said, kissing his cheek, “i won't scare you like that again,” you teased, jumping up from the couch and pulling him up with you.

“come eat! i made it all for you,” you said with a smile, leading him to the kitchen and plating his dessert with a smile.

mingyu

mingyu had a cold. and when mingyu got sick he got dramatic. he was currently cuddled up in bed while you took care of him.

you would take his temperature, give him medicine, cook him some soup, and keep him as comfortable as possible while you worked from home.

“mingyu, do you want some soup?” you asked softly, pushing his hair off of his forehead and feeling for a temperature.

his eyes shot open and his lip jutted out. “mingyu?” he questioned softly, “why are you calling me mingyu?” his voice wobbled a bit. but can you blame him? he’s a sensitive man.

“because that’s your name, baby, you don’t like it?” you asked, holding his hand, your voice softened at your boyfriend.

he shook his head at your question, he was always ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘gyu’.

“sorry, baby,” you cooed, “but do you want any soup?” you asked again, hoping it would fix his mood.

“don’t want soup, i want a kiss,” he said with a little mischievous smile, then puckering his lips.

you rolled your eyes, he knew you couldn’t say no to him, especially since he was sick and was on the verge of tears after you called him his first name. “you’re such a baby,” you groaned, “if i get sick it’s your fault,” you reminded him.

“then it’ll be my turn to take care of you,” he said as if it was obvious, leaning up a bit and catching your lips with his.

sure, mingyu was a big baby. but he was your big baby.

dk

dk had been stuck in practice all day while you had a free day. so, being the loving and doting partner that you were you decided to make your boyfriend some dinner. which also included making dinner for his 12 bandmates, but you didn’t mind. you were like a big family.

you were let into the building and made your way to their practice room, hands full of bags carrying multiple different containers full of food.

the boys were all sitting around the room during a break and you popped your head inside, leaving the bags in the hallway.

a few people looked over at you when you opened the door, but every head snapped your way when you opened your mouth.

“seokmin?” you asked, which caused some murmurs among the group.

dk couldn’t remember the last time he was called that name.

‘you better fix whatever you did wrong’ ‘why is she mad at you?’ ‘what did you do?’ different members began to ask all at once to your boyfriend, sending him into even deeper of a panic.

he jumped to his feet and made his way over to you. you didn’t look mad at him, but now he was worried. he grabbed your hand and gently pulled you into the hallway and closed the door to the practice room behind you.

“is everything okay? did i leave something on at home? did i forget to take out the trash?” he asked seriously, thinking of what he could’ve possibly done to elicit you calling him his first name.

you gave him a look in response, furrowing your eyebrows at his rambling. “no… i made you guys food,” you explained, pointing to all the bags on the floor by the two of you, “was just asking you to help me bring it in.”

“huh?” your boyfriend questioned, looking at the bags and then back up to you. “why’d you call me seokmin, then? i haven’t heard that name in ages!” he whined, tugging at your hand.

“oh? i texted jeonghan and told him i was coming over, he told me to call you seokmin,” you laughed, not thinking that he was going to take it that much to heart.

dk sighed and grabbed the bags, pecking your cheek, “thank you for dinner,” he said softly, opening the door to go back into the practice room with you trailing behind him.

his members all looked over and started laughing, apparently they were in on it too.

“you guys suck!” he groaned, “i’m keeping all this food to myself now,” he said childishly, hoarding all the bags by the two of you and trying to keep everyone else away.

eventually he caved and you all ate together, everyone thanking you and still poking fun at your boyfriend.

seungkwan

“seungkwan,” you tried to get your boyfriends attention, standing across the kitchen island from him.

his eyes left his phone and found yours, narrowing in the process. he didn’t say anything so you frowned.

“seungkwan?” he continued to stare at you and you grew slightly agitated since he was seemingly ignoring you.

“can you reply?” you asked with an attitude, crossing your arms.

“i’m just waiting for you to get it right,” he said, mirroring your body language and the amount of sass.

his words only confused you more. “get what right? you’re crazy,” you mumbled, basically having a staring contest with him.

seungkwan just scoffed and rolled his eyes, “my name! i’m waiting for you to get my name right,” he said as if it was obvious. “i am not ‘seungkwan’ to you.” he explained, putting his name in quotations with his fingers.

“are you waiting for me to call you sweetie?” you asked finally, a smile slowly starting to spread on your face. your boyfriend may be a little sassy but he was truly a sweetheart.

“maybe,” he replied simply, his arms still crossed as he waited.

you hummed at his response and then made your way around the island to hug him. “alright, sweetie, i was just going to ask where you wanted to eat tonight,” you grinned, pressing a few sweet kisses on his cheek.

his attitude instantly melted away at the pet name and he pulled you closer to him, “wherever you want, angel,” he replied simply.

it was that easy.

vernon

vernon isn't phased by much. but he does get a little salty when you use his first name on him. he says it sounds too much like a mother scolding him. so, of course, you tease him with it sometimes.

“hansol! can you come to the living room?” you called out in your home, not sure which room he was in.

soon you heard his footsteps and he walked into the room with a scrunched up face.

“yes, darling?” he exaggerated his pet name for you, hoping you'd get the hint.

you spun around in a circle and posed, showing off your new outfit to your boyfriend.

“what do you think? you like my new outfit?” you asked with a blinding smile, posing in a few different ways as your boyfriend watched.

“i think it looks lovely, babe,” he exaggerated again.

“thank you, hansol,” you replied with a sweet smile.

“you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he tried again.

“thank you, hansol,” you repeated, trying to keep your laugh at bay.

“positively perfect, my love.”

“i appreciate it, hansol.”

“absolutely stunning, angel.”

“you’re too kind, hansol.”

“that’s it, i’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.” he finally said after surveying you for a few minutes. he turned on his heel and walked back to your shared bedroom.

“no!” you called after him, “i’m just joking,” you said in between laughs as you walked fast behind him to catch up.

he shrugged his shoulders and sat back down at his desk, continuing his previous task before you had called him to the living room.

“don’t be sulky now, i was teasing,” you pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders and turning his chair to face you.

“it’s fine, y/n,” he said with a grin, now using your own name back as revenge.

“hey! you can’t call me that!” you whined in response.

“watch me.” he smirked, flicking your forehead gently.

oh how the tables have turned.

dino

this man rarely hears his name from anyone. it’s always ‘dino’ from his friends and ‘honey’ from you.

so when you started calling for ‘chan’ while you were asleep it made his heart break.

‘who is chan?’ he thought to himself, you couldn’t be cheating on him with another guy. right? you wouldn’t do that, he knows you.

but still, once the thought got placed into his head (by no one but himself) he couldn’t help but shake it.

the next morning he was nervous, he didn’t know how to confront you, or what he would do if his suspicions were correct. so while you were making breakfast for the two of you he mustered up the courage to go into the kitchen and talk to you.

“good morning, honey,” you said with a cheery smile, noticing him right away as he made his way next to you. you caught his lips with a quick peck but noticed that he seemed a little tense. “something wrong?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

dino just wrung his hands together and frowned. “do you have something to tell me?” he asked softly, already feeling on the verge of tears as he looked down at his feet, not making eye contact with you.

“no? what’s this about?” you asked, turning the heat down on the stove so you could give him more of your attention.

“i just,” he started, “well um…” he tried again, “i heard you talking in your sleep and you were calling out for some guy named ‘chan’ and i know wouldn’t cheat on me or anything but who is chan?” his words spilled out of him and he was talking a mile a minute while you looked at him, your eyes widening.

he was bracing himself for the answer to his question, ready for the worst.

“honey…” you said gently, taking both of his hands in yours and making him look at you, “you are chan.” you explained, trying to hide your smile since he was clearly so distraught.

“huh?” he asked, not understanding what you were getting at.

“honey, your name is lee chan,” you reminded him.

you could see the gears shifting in his head before his cheeks immediately heated up. he snatched his hands from yours and slapped his face. he was chan. and he couldn’t feel any stupider.

he was so used to being honey that he forgot his literal name.

“forget this happened…” he mumbled, walking away as you stifled your laughs.

[blue-jisungs]

[ 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 ] kiss attack

# author’s note … i dunno pookies just a random thought inspired by the first pic ^^

# summary … surprising them with kisses OR pepper kisssonf their faces (out of the blue, mostly hehe)

# warnings ... some members might be suggestive if u squint, some r longer than others, not proofread (bare w me bc i wrote this in a car during multiple ocasions in my notes app w/o autocorrect so ! :D i know u love me guys heheheh)

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

coming home late from yet another photo shoot, cheol desired nothing more than a warm bed and falling asleep with you in his arms. he tries to be as quiet as possible when entering your shared home, aware that you’re probably asleep. and his leader instincts are correct, the place drowning in midnight darkness. taking his shoes off, slipping into fresh pajamas, slowly but surely dipping into the mattress… and home, he’s finally home. your sleeping silhouette is drawn next to him, only slightly lit up by the moonlight peeking through the window. just when he sneaks his arms around you and closes his eyes, ready to drift asleep, your body moves suddenly and there’s a quick but deep peck landing on his lips. then, as if nothing happened, you roll on the other side and curl into him. seungcheol feels his heart grow and fill with warmth as he falls asleep with a smile blooming on his lips and pink dusted on his cheeks.

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

"hey, wonu?" you ask and peek your head through the door, only to notice him being busy with a video game.

"give me a sec!" your boyfriend hums and the only thing you can see are the flashing lights and images on his screen "is it important?"

"no, not really" you answer and walk up to him, noticing that he has one of his headphones off his ear to hear you. a habit he developed ever since you moved in "i mean, depends how you look at it"

wonwoo turns around to check up on you and then you attack. cupping his face quickly and planting a sweet kiss on his plush lips.

"bye!" you giggle and run away, leaving him frozen in place. he’s too stunned to speak and too flustered to move, heart beating like crazy and stomach filling with butterflies.

"hey, dude, come on! we’re losing because of you!" someone whines in the voice chat and wonwoo takes a glance at the door, where you were moments ago. with a whipped grin plastered on his lips he shakes his head and returns to the pleasantly interrupted game.

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

mingyu was cooking dinner peacefully, focused on his task. mingyu’s engagement in the kitchen was no joke, multitasking and executing the recipe on spot. which is why he didn’t hear nor see you entering his work space. better yet, he didn’t acknowledge your waltzing in and wrapping your hands around his waist. only when you gave him it a little squeeze. your man turned around, shocked pout on his face. to be fair, you didn’t want to disturb him. but pouty mingyu was just too adorable not to kiss - so you did, gently but quickly; his lips tasting like the vegetables he was cooking (and snacking on).

"what was that for…?" he hummed and wanted to kiss you properly but you leaned away, resting your cheek against his broad shoulders.

"nothing" you mumbled incoherently and he came back to cooking, not noticing he just added too much salt.

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

you would think vernon is asleep at the first glance. laying in bed, one hand on his stomach and the other under his head. his eyes were closed and face was resting, chest rising up and down slowly. but occasionally he’d reach and scratch his nose. he was listening to a podcast with his headphones in. and something just possessed you, it was like you had to cover his cute face with kisses or you’d - not to be dramatic - explode. you climbed on top of him, cupping his face slowly. vernon didn’t even budge. then you started gently pepper-kissing his face, planting kisses on the most random places. your plush lips tickled him a bit but he didn’t really mind; just when you were done but still holding his face, he peeked an eye open.

"everything okay?" vernon asked. you just nodded and placed one more kiss on top of his nose, then left to continue with your day.

┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]

"yah, kwon soonyoung!" your yell echoed through the practice room, causing all the members to halt. the said criminal turned with his eyes widened in pure terror. his mind raced with thoughts: did he forget something? did he do something? or didn’t do? recalling events from this morning, he failed to notice when you stormed right at him.

"i’m sorry i’m sorry im sorry–" he started whining, eyes scanning your face in search of bad signs but he saw a flash of mischievous smirk on your lips.

"you forgot this" you hummed and pecked his lips quickly with a loud 'mwah!' and ran away, giggling.

"that woman is crazy. she’s making me crazy. actually, we’re both maniacs" soonyoung murmured, touching his lips. his friends shared a laugh, looking at his whipped state.

┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]

"hey, sleepyhead, wake up!" you whine as you tug jun’s shirt for the millionth time in the span of three minutes. your boyfriend decided to take a nap before you leave to the planned date but apparently he wasn’t keen on waking up. "jun!"

he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher and turns to his back, soft snores escaping his parted lips.

"fine" you sigh and straddle him, pepper-kissing his face. with each kiss landing on his features, you feel his smile grow. once you brush just against the corner of his lips, his smile is way too wide to pretend he’s still sleeping.

"you did that on purp–" you start but aren’t meant to finish because junhui’s large hands grab your face and pull you in a real, deep and passionate kiss.

well, you take that as a yes.

┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]

whenever minghao was meditating, you avoided to disturb him. not to lose balance and be able to focus… you closed the door and waited until he was done. but today you just couldn’t bare a second without him, your heart longing to be in his presence (even though you live together). hao had his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. but he did hear the soft click of door opening and then the sound of your food paddling against the floor. you tried to keep your volume down, certain that he did not hear you. before he could expose you, there was a series of kisses attacking his face. the feeling of your lips against his skin was pleasant but made him lose focus completely. before he could realize, you were already running off, giggling. minghao opened his eyes and looked around, shocked, and with the tips of his ears painted with red shade.

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

chan was sitting on the sofa, brows slightly furrowed and concentration all over his face. his slim fingers were typing at the speed of light, discussing something with his members. normally you’d think it’s something important but to be honest, you knew them too well. they were simply arguing what to eat for lunch tomorrow.

you were watching him, smiling subconsciously; he still made your stomach swirl with butterflies as if you were a teenage girl with her doorway crush.

and the feeling was just too strong to resist, you just had to kiss him.

so you got up and stood in front of him, not aware of your presence yet.

with a quick lean, you pressed a tender, loving kiss onto his plush lips. chan froze, fingers halting mid-air. he kissed you back and leaned away with a puzzled look.

"what was that for…?" he whispered, blinking slowly.

"nothing. you’re just cute" you answered with a shrug and sat down next to him, opening instagram. chan, a little flustered, reassumed the lunch dispute

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

"you’re cheating!" jeonghan whines, a pout forming on his lips. you sigh, shaking your head with the cards in your hands.

"just because my cards are good doesn’t mean i’m chaeating… unlike you, sneaky fox" you snickered and put another card on top of his. maybe you should’ve known that playing uno with him won’t end well but in the end, jeonghan is passionate about winning in every game.

"that’s literally not possible, how come you have three cards left and i have like… thirteen?!" jeonghan puffs his cheeks and places a green one card "i hate this–"

you lean over the stack of cards and shut him up with a slightly aggressive kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip with a smug smirk.

you can hear him sigh softly and kiss you back. before he can realize, you put down your three colored ones and lean away, patting your things.

"uno… and, well, also no uno since i won" you smirked and jeonghan was left speechless, mouth open wide. whether you cheated or not during the game, it was an impressive win.

"no… but… that’s, that’s– that was cheating!" he whines again but this time only to make you laugh again.

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

joshua was still half asleep when he was brushing his teeth, his hair sticking in every direction possible and eyes half closed… struggling to keep his head stable.

you just looked at him through the mirror, smiling at your boyfriend’s drowsy state.

"do we have to get up so early…" he mumbled, barely audible due to the foam in his mouth.

"you booked the flight so early, not me" you chuckled and finished applying cream onto your face. you had to leave soon if you wanted to be at the airport early.

joshua answered something incoherent and spat out the toothpaste, washing his mouth with water.

he blinked slowly and caught your gaze in the mirror.

you just smiled and turned around, cupping his face. then you started peppering his face with gentle kisses everywhere: cheeks, forehead, nose, eyelids. and finally, his peppermint tasting lips.

"awake yet, sleepyhead?" you titled your head with a gentle smile and joshua nodded, a lazy smirk on his lips "good. i’ll make us breakfast then"

and when you left the bathroom, he realized he’d really feeling more awake.

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

jihoon had his headphones on so he wasn’t able to hear you but he did certainly see you. a small smile painted on his lips as he was observing you pacing around the gym. while he was busy curling his arms, you were bored out of your mind and there was nothing to aggravate your boredom. it’s not like you didn’t like accompanying him to the gym and watching him work out; no, quite the contrary. it’s just that he was in his space and there was nothing interesting to do besides watching him. you peeked at him in the mirror and caught his eye on you. then, your gaze slid to his arms.

"hey, my eyes are up here"

your gaze snapped back to him and his cocky smile. heat rose to your cheeks upon being caught. you had to shut him up.

"i know you’re bored but–" jihoon started, probably to tease you, but was interrupted by your lips meeting his. he almost dropped the dumbbell he was holding but came back to reality once he couldn’t feel the plush of your lips no longer. "what was that…?"

"go back to working out, smartass" you snickered and watched him be the flustered one now.

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

"and then chan came out, fully dressed as pi cheolin! i swear, the sound of carats’ laughter made my day" dokyeom rambled. even though your back was facing him, you could still feel the gentle shake of the mattress due to his dynamic gesturing

"and i couldn’t help but laugh too! our chan is just so talented, maybe he should start an acting career! because i swear, it’s like… chan is gone and pi ch–"

as much as you loved dokyeom’s voice, whether talking, singing or laughing, you just wanted to doze off after an exhausting day. but he just wouldn’t stop talking.

"–possessed him! i swear i think my ribs got fractured after laughing so hard, he was just so into it–"

seokmin suddenly felt your lips crushing on his. the taste of your toothpaste exploded on his tongue, freezing on spot due to the passion of your kiss. it felt like eternity but in a good way; he kissed you back until he couldn’t breathe anymore. you noticed that and pulled away, this time facing him and burying your face into his side.

"i love you, kyeom, but for the love of mine please go to sleep" you murmured softly and he fell silent. not only because you told him to, also because his huge grin prevented him from further talking.

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

"what a beautiful view…" seungkwan let out a deep sigh, looking amazed at the panoramic in front of him. you were holding his hand and admiring it too.

it was a random tuesday afternoon and you decided to go on a hike on a nearby hill. and even though it was exhausting, it was worth it. pallets of greens and yellows sprung in front of your eyes, blurring with the cloudless, blue sky.

"this one is more beautiful tho" you hummed suddenly. seungkwan turned around to see what did you mean but you just pecked his lips and squeezed his hand with a cheeky smile.

"that was so cheesy…" he rolled his eyes and while you turned again to adore the nature, his eyes stayed glued to your face with amused smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee ,, @haecien

[sunniques]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

➺ PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: the story of how you get caught in your stepdad’s web of depraved desires.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, manipulation, dub con, drugging, toxic relationship(s), slight dd/lg themes, daddy kink, dacryphilia, breeding kink, degradation, spanking, dumbification, unprotected sex, riding, cum play, ass play, fingering, multiple rounds, overstimulation, creampies, squirting

➺ WC: 4.2k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. once again, i have to thank the amazing @wonustars for beta reading this for me <3

The moment your mom asked you to move back home, you knew things in her marriage were heading south. It’s not like she didn’t want you around, but even you could tell she only asked you to act as a buffer between her and her husband. Like the good daughter you always tried to be, you accept her invitation even though you know it probably won’t be the best idea in the long run.

Things are relatively normal at first. Jeonghan is a sweetheart. He always has been, even dating back to when you were a college freshman and you officially met him. You can tell he tries to keep the peace with you around. That doesn’t mean you haven’t accidentally overheard your mom and him arguing when they think you’re not around.

It’s awkward, especially because your mom seems like the bad guy in ninety percent of their fights. You wonder if seeing a marriage counselor will help their situation.

“My friend’s dad is a marriage counselor,” you casually mention to your mom when it’s only two of you one day. “I can give you the number to his office—”

You’re abruptly cut off when your mom slams her spoon down on the table. The look she has on her face is borderline murderous, and you wonder if you should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

“Did Jeonghan tell you he wants to go to counseling?” She demands, teeth gnashing together as she spits her words.

“What? No!” You exclaim wondering why she was so quick to throw the blame on your stepdad. “I just thought—”

“I can’t believe this shit,” her words are spoken through a bitter chuckle. “You know, I’m the one who told him we need to talk to someone. I can’t believe he had the audacity to put this idea in your head!”

Despite your attempt to clear up the misunderstanding your mom has, she leaves the house and doesn’t come back until the next day. You feel incredibly guilty. It’s not like you meant to make her angry, and you definitely didn’t mean for her to get angry with Jeonghan again.

Your stepdad remains incredibly sweet. He hugs you and rubs your back, assuring you that it wasn’t your fault.

“Don’t worry, little girl,” Jeonghan says with a kind smile. “Your mom and I will be fine. Just focus on school, okay? I pay a lot of money so you can be the best.”

He’s teasing you, and you’re not sure why you feel so relieved to know that he’s not angry with you.

Unfortunately for everyone, things get worse before they even have a chance to get better. Eventually, your mom no longer cares to start arguments with her husband even when you’re around.

You can’t help but feel sorry for Jeonghan because you can see how exhausted he is. That sweet smile can’t hide all the pain and defeat he feels. You wish you could do something to help, but he always pats your head affectionately and tells you to focus on school when you offer.

It’s not until you come home one night and find him alone in the trashed living room that you know things have gone too far.

“Jeonghan?” You say cautiously, walking around the broken glass littered on the floor.

It’s a mixture of a broken wine bottle and glass from a picture frame. The one that held your mother’s wedding photo. Jeonghan has his head in his hands as you tiptoe around the spilled alcohol to sit next to him. His long hair partially covers his face, but you can see the tear stains on his cheeks.

“Jeonghan,” your voice is more firm this time, but still gentle. “What happened? Where’s my mom?”

Your stepdad sniffles and looks up. For a minute, he can’t meet your eyes. Even without the eye contact, you can see how broken he is. It makes something inside you break.

“She’s okay,” he turns to you with that pretty smile of his that you love. Except it doesn’t reach his eyes like usual. “She had a little too much to drink so I laid her down in the guest room.”

You’re sure he’s talking about the one downstairs—the one she’s been sleeping in lately.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” You say, needing to know what happened.

Jeonghan whimpers, and you can’t resist the urge to hug him. He closes his eyes as more tears stream down his face. Your stepdad gently buries his face in your neck as you press your body against him, not caring that you’re almost on his lap. All you can think about is comforting him.

“Your mom wants a divorce,” Jeonghan croaks against your wet skin. “She–She—there’s someone else, and I—”

He cuts himself off with a quiet sob, and your heart just breaks for him. Part of you suspected it. Your mom was the one who would come home late or not at all sometimes. She would often accuse your stepdad of having an affair, but now you just know she was projecting her wrongdoings onto him. It makes you feel sick because even though she’s your mom, Jeonghan didn’t deserve that.

���I’m so sorry,” you say sincerely, stroking his back like he often did to you when you were upset.

As you comfort him, he slips his arms around you and presses you closer to him. An electrifying sensation courses through you when you become aware of how close you two are.

Urges that you’ve tried so hard to push to the depths of your mind suddenly rush forward, and now you can’t stifle them or pretend they don’t exist. Especially now that you’ve realized that your mom doesn’t deserve such a wonderful man.

So, you throw away every scrap of morality you have left in you and give into your depraved desires.

Jeonghan lets out a shocked noise when you push him back on the couch and straddle him. His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open in awe. You grin when he doesn’t immediately push you off, taking it as a sign to swoop down for a kiss.

He softly moans into your mouth, overwhelmed by how warm and soft you are. Jeonghan whimpers as tears keep streaming down his face, trembling when you pull away from him.

“It’s okay, daddy,” you purr in his ear, grinding your dampening cunt against his growing bulge. “Let me take care of you.”

Jeonghan shakes his head, hands slowly settling on your waist as if he wants to push you away. Except he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you stay on his lap. Your stepdad doesn’t try to stop you even as you move in closer and start to undo his pants. He can easily push you off, but he doesn’t. Not even when you reach into his underwear to palm his growing cock. He’s hard. Really fucking hard.

“Wait, baby—” the pet name falls easily, and you love it.

“Shh, daddy,” you coo as you take him out of his pants. “Just let me touch you. Let me make you feel better.”

“Oh, god,” Jeonghan mewls when you start to stroke him.

Your stepdad’s cock is long and thick and oozing with precum. You lick your lips as you slowly move your hand, eyes trained on Jeonghan’s pretty face. You can tell he feels guilty, and you don’t blame him. He’s such a good guy that he wouldn’t want to hurt your mom, even after everything she’s done to him.

“We… we shouldn’t do this,” Jeonghan protests weakly.

When you get off his lap, he fights a whine even though he knows it’s for the best. Once again you surprise him by slipping out of your clothes and getting back on top of him. His pupils are blown wide when he sees your bare tits and cute pussy.

“Honey,” Jeonghan’s voice has gone deeper, eyes fixed on your body. “This is wrong.”

You ignore him because his cock is twitching and standing to attention. Gently, you cradle the back of his head and press his face to your chest. Your warm tits envelop him, and he’s delirious. You smell so good that it makes his brain fuzzy. Jeonghan feels his cock twitch when you reach for it again, and this time he doesn’t try to stop you.

“Please, daddy,” you beg as you glide your slick cunt over his throbbing cock. “I need your cock. Need it so fucking bad.”

A deep groan escapes him because you feel so warm and wet. Jeonghan just knows you’ll feel so good wrapped around his cock.

“You deserve my little pussy,” you whisper in his ear, pressing down harder on him. “Deserve to fuck someone who won’t ever make you feel so terrible.”

“God, baby,” Jeonghan grunts when he feels your dripping pussy nudging the head of his cock. His resolve is weak, and he doesn’t want to fight it anymore.

His moan syncs with yours when you slowly sink down on his cock. Your little cunt is so hot and tight. Jeonghan can’t think about things like guilt because he feels too fucking good. A nice, wet pussy wrapped around his neglected cock, sucking him in and squeezing him just right. He’s been so lonely and miserable lately that you feel like absolute heaven to him.

“Such a naughty little girl,” Jeonghan growls when you start to rock in his lap. You tighten around him and hold on to the back of his head when you start to bounce.

“Daddy,” you whimper as your juices coat his cock.

Jeonghan’s lips brush against your nipples as your bounces grow more eager. You clench around his fat cock when his weeping tip brushes against your sweet spot. Your stepdad lets out a mixture of a groan and a wail of pleasure as you keep riding him.

You’re lost in pleasure with the feeling of your stepdad’s hard cock twitching and throbbing inside you. It turns you on that he’s strong enough to push you off of him, but never attempts to. You cry out loudly when his hands curl around your waist to help you fuck his cock the way he likes it.

Jeonghan’s lidded gaze is focused on where you two are connected, watching as his cock disappears in and out of your little pussy with every rough bounce. He feels his balls start to tighten with his impending release. Never in his life has he felt so turned on. The way his stepdaughter is just using his cock like a toy is just driving him closer to the edge.

“Daddy,” you purr in Jeonghan’s ear. “You like my pussy better than my mom’s, don’t you?”

You already have your answer from the way he twitches and throbs inside you, his cock answering for him. It makes you happier than you expect. Of course, it would be you. Your pussy was made for him, and you’ll make sure he feels the same way by the end of the night.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Jeonghan groans as his hands go down to squeeze your ass. “Love this little princess cunt.”

You cry out loudly as your orgasm abruptly hits, coating his cock and balls with your essence. “Fuck, daddy! It’s yours! Only yours! You can have this princess pussy every day!”

Your fucked out moans do their job in pushing Jeonghan over the edge. He grips your hips and flips you under him, buries his head in your shoulder and frantically fucks you into the couch as he starts to spill his cum inside you. Lewd squelching fills the air as you happily wrap your legs around him and meet his thrusts to help him fuck his cum deeper inside you.

The both of you are panting by the time you’re done, but your stepdad makes no move to get off of you.

“Don’t think we’re done, little girl,” his voice is ravenous. “Daddy’s not letting you off this cock until you’re nice and stretched out.”

That’s how you end up on the bed he shares with your mother, face down and ass up as you beg for his cock. Jeonghan smirks, eyes trained on your sloppy hole. You look so hot like this, and he knows that he won’t ever let you go after tonight.

“What a nasty slut,” Jeonghan says, palms smoothing over the globes of your ass to keep you still. “Dripping all over my sheets. You want daddy’s cock that bad, honey?”

You whine and arch your back some more. “I need it!”

“Yeah?” You can tell he’s smirking. “Do you even care that your mom might wake up and see what a nasty slut her daughter is?”

You shake your head, pussy clenching around nothing. “Just want daddy’s cock in my little pussy.”

“Don’t worry, little girl,” Jeonghan groans as he kneels behind you. “Daddy’s going to stuff this needy hole and cover it with his cum.”

“Please!”

You cry out when Jeonghan shoves his thick cock into your clenching pussy. He bottoms out in a single thrust since you’re already so wet from when you rode him earlier. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whining his name when you feel his balls slap against your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” your stepdad hisses. “Your little princess pussy keeps sucking me in, honey.”

Jeonghan spanks your ass. You moan loudly and clench down on his aching cock. “Mhm, just needed daddy’s cock to fill you up, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, yes!” You moan into his sheets.

The thick musk of sex fills the air as Jeonghan pulls his twitching cock out of you halfway only to slam it back into your needy cunt. You squeal and tighten around him when you feel him spread your ass and gently trace your asshole. His thumb slips down to gather juices from your dripping pussy and slides it back up to your asshole, gently pushing past the taut muscle. Your pussy clamps down on his dick hard, making him moan loudly.

“Can’t wait to break in this tight little hole too,” Jeonghan’s voice is thick with lust. “Gonna train you to take daddy’s cock in every hole.”

You moan and bounce back against him, cunt pulsing around his cock as his thumb slips in and out of your clenching rim. “Daddy!”

Jeonghan laughs in delight. “Sounds like you like it.”

You nod your head, and Jeonghan fucks into you harder, balls slapping against your sloppy cunt with every rough thrust. “God, you’re fucking tight.”

He groans when your sweet little pussy clenches around him again.

“Feels so fucking good, daddy,” you say as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Love your big cock.”

You cry out in pleasure when his hand pulls away from your ass to slip his fingers over your hip to pinch and rub your sensitive clit.

“Is my little girl already cock drunk?” Jeonghan is way too pleased when you deliriously nod your head with a fucked out mewl.

You’re fucking perfect. It makes him wish he would’ve done this sooner.

“My pretty little slut,” Jeonghan coos adoringly. “Just a sweet little hole to dump my load into. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You shiver and meet his thrusts with more vigor, “Yes! Stuff my little hole full of your cum, daddy!”

“Fucking shit,” Jeonghan hisses as he grabs your hair and yanks you backward to give you a sloppy kiss.

His hips never stop, only snapping harder against you.

“I’ll give it to you, honey. Daddy’s going to cream your hot little cunt all night long.”

You mewl in satisfaction when your head is shoved back into the mattress as you keep getting railed hard. Wet slapping fills the room as your stepdad continues spearing you open on his cock. The smell of sex permeates the room as Jeonghan keeps using your body for his pleasure.

“Daddy’s close, baby,” Jeonghan groans.

You moan loudly. “Gonna cum, daddy!”

You’re moaning so loud now, and you don’t really care that your mom might wake up and come upstairs to catch her husband fucking you raw. All you can care about is how good you feel. You grind your pussy down on your stepdad’s throbbing cock while his fingers rub fast circles on your puffy clit.

“Yeah? Do it, honey.” Jeonghan leans forward to bite your shoulder. “Cream on me. Want to feel your juices all over my cock.”

His cock pistons in and out of your hot cunt, ramming against your g-spot repeatedly until all you can do is chant his name. You’re a moaning mess at this point, only caring about the white-hot pleasure you’re feeling.

“Gonna cum!” You slur out, drool dripping on the mattress.

“Cum for daddy, baby. Cum all over this cock.”

With those commanding words, Jeonghan spanks your cunt hard, palm coming down on your clit over and over until you’re screaming out in pleasure. It’s not long before your orgasm hits. Slick gushes out around his cock as he keeps fucking into that spongy spot and spanking your pussy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as liquid spurts from your pussy and coats his cock and balls, making a mess all over the sheets.

It feels like electricity is coursing through your body from how intense you cum. Your fingers and toes curl in on themselves as your cunt pulses and clenches down on his cock.

“Fuck yes,” Jeonghan growls, as he keeps pounding into your fluttering pussy. “Didn’t know you were a squirter, little girl. So fucking sexy.”

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to bury himself deep inside your cunt and release his hot load inside you. Thick spurts of cum fill you up as he moans your name like it’s something holy. Jeonghan fucks his cum deeper inside you, making no move to slip out of your spent pussy.

However, you’re not done. Far from it, actually.

Jeonghan quickly flips you on your back, one hand on your hip and his other on your thigh. He’s spreading you open and holding you down as he starts to roll his hips into you. A deep groan leaves his mouth every time you clench down on him.

“Da—addy!” You cry out at a particularly sharp thrust that slams against your sweet spot and has you clenching violently around him, teetering on the edge already.

Jeonghan smirks, loving what a cock hungry slut you are. Not that he’s any better. He’s already addicted to your sweet little cunt.

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos in a sickly sweet voice as he continues to fuck you deep and hard. “Daddy’s cock feels good, huh?”

You nod stupidly, all coherent thoughts long gone from your mind. “Uh-huh. Feels so—so good!”

Jeonghan spits on your pussy as you grasp the sheets underneath you. You’re dripping all over him, making an obscene squelching noise every time his cock hits deep inside your tight pussy. He loves the way your pretty pussy opens up to let his aching cock inside. The way you grip him is the hottest sight he’s ever seen, and he knows nothing will ever compare.

“Daddy,” you mewl, barely able to think.

The only thing on your mind is that you want him to cum inside you again. You can’t voice your thoughts because an orgasm rocks your body all over again. Jeonghan laughs delightedly, loving how you keep wetting his dick with your orgasms.

“Dirty little girl,” he growls, bullying his cock into you harder than before. “Making such a mess on daddy’s cock.”

You mewl again, “I need…”

“Need what, baby?” Jeonghan coaxes as he starts to rub slow circles on your throbbing clit. “Say it. Tell daddy what you need, honey.”

“N-Need you to—!” His voice is so sweet that all you can do is break off into another moan. Your pussy tightens and stains his cock with more cream. All you can smell is sex and Jeonghan’s cologne. It only pushes you close to the edge once again.

Jeonghan laughs softly and fucks into you just a little harder, “You need me to...? Use your words, little girl. Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell him. Better hurry before your mom wakes up and finds you getting fucked like the nasty whore you are.”

That won’t happen, but you don’t need to know that. Although he can tell the thought of your mom catching you in their bed, fucking like animals, turns you on.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Your words are slightly slurred and completely fucked out, and Jeonghan bites his lip before smirking down at you. There’s no way he can deny you his seed, especially when you’re asking him so nicely.

“There you go, honey. Take all of daddy’s cum like a good little slut.”

You and Jeonghan moan together when he spills his hot cum inside you. He fucks it into you like the last two times, loving how your tight pussy flutters and pulses around him. You’re such a good girl that you thank him repeatedly through a moan.

The rest of the night you two fuck in every position possible. Jeonghan is insatiable, and you’re tired and completely fucked out before he even thinks about letting you off his cock.

Jeonghan has your back pressed against his chest, a strong arm wrapped around your neck as he pounds you into his mattress. All of your previous orgasms leak on the sheets beneath you as you cry and gasp from the overstimulation. It all feels so good, but you don’t think you can handle any more.

“Daddy,” you whimper pathetically. “C-Can’t cum anymore.”

It feels like your head is starting to spin as his cock splits your pussy open. Jeonghan pounds into your g-spot relentlessly, cock swelling when he sees the tears streaming down your face. His cock twitches and throbs because despite your words, you’re still moving your hips to meet his thrusts.

Your stepdad smirks meanly. “Is that why you keep rutting against me like a nasty slut, little girl?”

You cry out when Jeonghan releases you and sits up to roughly smack your ass. He repeats the harsh motion until you’re screaming in pleasure. Your cunt clenches around him, hips involuntarily bucking back in an attempt to force his fat dick deeper into your tiny little pussy. It’s like an automatic reaction, but your stepdad loves it.

“Just lay there and let daddy breed you, honey,” Jeonghan growls when you give him another weak orgasm. He groans and smacks your ass as he forces the juices out of your soiled cunt with every snap of his hips. “Be a good cock sleeve for me.”

“Want it so bad, daddy!” You cry out, pussy fucked raw yet still so desperate for another one of his hot loads. “Breed me like the slut I am.”

“Want you to scream for me, baby.” Jeonghan moans as his head falls back. He pounds into your hot cunt harder, gripping your hips tighter as he chases his orgasm, using your pussy to get himself off. “Let your mother know how much you love your stepdad’s cock.”

“DADDY!” You scream at the top of your lungs, almost hoping your mom will walk upstairs and see her husband stuffing you full of cum on their marital bed.

Jeonghan cries out as his balls tighten up. His moan is loud as you cry out in pleasure, your pussy involuntarily giving him a fifth orgasm as he spills rope after rope of cum into your sopping pussy. He fucks you nice and deep, whispering filthy praises in your ear the entire time.

Your stepdad lets out a low hiss as he pulls his softening cock out of your sloppy pussy. He licks his lips and forces his cum back in with three of his fingers, pressing so deep into you that his wedding band touches your puffy little pussy lips, making you whine.

“Such a good little girl,” Jeonghan coos as he fingers his cum back into your pussy with a filthy smirk. “My pretty little slut.”

You’re completely fucked out, feeling completely satiated as you slump into the bed. You mewl softly when Jeonghan pulls you into his arms and starts to rub soothing circles on your pussy.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He presses a gentle kiss on your temple, and just like that you’re out like a light.

Jeonghan smirks into your hair when your breathing evens out and you fall into a deep sleep. There’s no better feeling than knowing his plan worked perfectly.

Admittedly, your mom played a significant role. With her insecure and angry personality, it was easy to make himself look like the victim. Faking the maudlin expressions and crushed spirit was easy enough, especially since you’ve always been so empathetic. Getting his wife to stay out all night was easy since he always lied and told her he’d be at the bar. She went looking for him every single time not knowing he was at home, fucking his fist to the thought of you.

And then there was the final act.

Inviting his unsuspecting wife for a drink was easy enough. Despite all of the fighting, she still wanted to have Jeonghan to herself. She couldn’t have known that he spiked her drink so he could stage the perfect tragedy. It worked perfectly since you didn’t think twice about believing him.

Everything has worked out as he hoped, and now all he has to think of is the future with his true beloved. You.

[xiaominghao]

5:05 am

Genre: fluff.

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader.

Warnings: clingy Hanni.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

"y/n, what are you doing awake at this hour?" Jeonghan yawned as he walked into the kitchen.

"I wasn't sleepy, so I was getting breakfast ready," you replied while chopping some vegetables on the kitchen counter.

A lazy Jeonghan approached you and rested his chin on your shoulder; he enjoyed doing that and watching what you were doing, it was a perfect excuse to spend time with you while you’re doing the household chores. However, this time he didn’t seem very interested in just watching your cooking skills.

"Let’s go to the bed," he said lazily, "I’ll grab something on the way to work."

"Just strawberry milk isn’t breakfast," you chuckled softly, not paying much attention, "I’m almost done, I just need to fry..."

"No," he interrupted, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I want you to come right now."

"Do you need some cuddles?" you whispered in his ear. Jeonghan didn’t say anything, just placed a delicate kiss on your shoulder and rested the side of his face against yours, gently caressing your cheek against his.

The moments of silence and everyday life were something you both enjoyed; just being in each other’s company felt like something you never wanted to part from. Jeonghan slid his hands under your pajamas to gently caress your belly; you always told him you didn’t like it, but he didn’t care, your skin was too soft and warm to resist. It brought him so much peace to feel you close.

However, it wasn’t the proper opportunity to do so…

"Jeonghan," you murmured, he made an unintelligible sound, " can I at least clean all this mess?"

"No," he held you tighter, pressing his chest against your back, "I’ll drag you if you don’t come right now."

"At least let me wash my hands so I don’t smell like onions..."

"Alright."

You waited a few seconds for him to let go, but he still clung to your body; you even thought he might fall asleep right there. You sighed as if accepting defeat.

"You're not going to let go of me, are you?"

Jeonghan laughed and hid his face in the nook of your neck.

"No."

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- the aha moment

or...how they realize they're in love with you

seungcheol doesn't get that aha moment, falling in love isn't something that happens within seconds for him. it's like he's slowly drifting into love, not even realizing you've become the focal point of his entire existence. when it finally hits him, it's a quiet, simple moment. he's watching you make him breakfast in the morning, admiring you quietly from the kitchen counter. he zones out for a moment, blinking suddenly and realizing damn. that's my woman. and he knows he's ruined for life.

it's kind of silly, how jeonghan realizes he's in love with you. he's just returned home from a busy day at work, entering the house to find it empty. searching the place top to bottom, he's about to call you when - BOO - you jump out from one of the closets and scares the soul out of him. he's clutching his chest, watching as you collapse onto the ground in a fit of giggles. he can't help but laugh along, realizing through the chaos that he's found his soulmate, and he'd be damned not to admit he's in love with you.

joshua's a simple man by nature. he's easily happy in life, only needing his members, his job, his lifestyle, and of course, you. it doesn't take long into your relationship before he realizes he's in love, as the two of you take a stroll along the Han River after a long day. he's watching the setting sun reflect against your figure, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures. it's when he notices his camera roll is full of pictures of you does he think well, that's it. i'm in love.

upon meeting his family, jun notices how much work you've put into it. you're doing your best to speak his town's dialect, communicating with his parents in a language that made them most comfortable. his heart swells when he sees you amidst his childhood home, trading stories and eating with the people who raised him. it's when he notes that you look so perfect here that he realizes you just fit. he's in love.

as if everything else is with soonyoung, his aha moment is full of fireworks and pizzazz. having just finished the most record breaking performance of his life, he finds himself with one thought only: i want to go home. usually, it's because he's tired. but now, ever since you stumbled into his life, he finds himself wanting, needing, to go home so he can hold you and recite everything that happened today. he's practically thrumming with energy to rush home, and everyone around him sees what is so painfully obvious. he's so in love.

wonwoo's always credited himself to be a loner. not a lot of people can fit with his quiet personality, so when you offer the idea of "parallel play" he's a little confused. his heart warms when you explain that you don't mind doing separate things as long as you're in the same area, understanding that he needs more time to himself than others might. it's when you tell him you love him enough to compromise does he think im so in love with this girl right now.

woozi's used to writing songs dedicated to his fans and members. he sits down for another writing session, brainstorming ideas and the thought of you pops into his mind. he shrugs, thinking it might be nice to mix it up a bit, sitting down to write something about you. it's when he reads his own words back does he realize he's irrevocably screwed and so in love with you. thought about settling down, buying her a house and saying screw the music. yeah, he's in love.

having always been a realist, minghao doesn't necessary believe in true love, or love at first sight. he understands there's going to be someone out there for him, but he's skeptical that that someone is going to be perfect. all his beliefs go out the window the moment he sees you - it's like you're surrounded by a golden glow - and he realizes maybe love at first sight can be real.

seokmin loves and gives as easy as breathing. he's always been a generous guy, and it's when you sit him down and kindly remind him to leave some for himself does he stare at you and realize ok i've found the one. you've become that steadiness in his life that used to be just his members, and you love and give to him like it's as simple as breathing too.

having always been the resident cook, mingyu's eyeing your food creation like it's some kind of poison or drug. he had insisted you didn't need to cook for him, he's always been the cook and doesn't mind it, but you were stubborn and he relented. it's when the first bite blows him away does he realize he kinda misses having someone cook for him too. if you're this good at cooking i might just have to marry you, he says, ignoring how you blush, going back for another bite.

seungkwan's always been the entertainer. he doesn't mind it, he enjoys the fact it's his job to make everyone laugh. but when times get tough and he's in no mood to be the entertainer, you're right there to support him. it's when he gets home to you after a particularly rough day and you welcome him in with open arms, murmuring how he's done well and doesn't need to do more. it's when he realizes he can just be seungkwan - not seungkwan the entertainer, but just seungkwan - and he loves you for that.

vernon never really thought about finding the one. he always just assumed that they would find him. and that's exactly what happens, when you bump into each other at the movie theatre - both there alone just cause. it's when you're enthusiastically going band for band with vernon about movies that he's forced with the realization that shit. maybe i have found the one.

chan's always known he was in love with you. he doesn't like to admit it cause he thinks it makes him sound sappy, but he truly never questioned his love for you. it was a simple thing in his mind - this person makes me so fucking happy - i must be in love. and how could it not be simple for him? he's staring at you quipping about some joke to his friends and he's thinking i love you. he's watching you just wake up from a nap and he's thinking i love you. he sees a text from you on his phone mid-dance practice. i love you. he's always been in love with you because he loves everything to do with you.

[hoshifighting]

      jeonghan + anonymous sex

— where you discover that behind the scary mask, who's eating you out, is your professor, mr. yoon.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, oral, halloween party setting, penetrative sex, oral [f. rec], dirty talk, edging, taboo, fingering.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

halloween at uni was always a wild time—like, the one night when everyone just let loose and acted like idiots without any shame. it was a free pass to look either insanely sexy or terrifying as hell, and you’d seen both ends of that spectrum in past years. mostly, you loved it ‘cause it was kinda like a game of guess-who after the party, everyone spending the week after trying to figure out who was who under those masks. and that’s why the costumes just got more and more wild. anonymity? sign you up.

you and jewie, your ride-or-die dormmate, had done the whole horror bit every year, rocking the most messed up, bloodied-up outfits you could think of. but this year you both decided to go full-on sexy for once. jewie was rocking this short-ass witch outfit, all black and lace and pointy hat, and you—well, you were killing it (pun intended) in your killer bunny getup. thigh-high lacy white socks that clung to your skin, corset cinching you in, and this creepy-ass bunny mask that made you look both cute and dangerous. not to mention, the whole mask thing meant anything could go down and nobody would know.

“yo, you really gonna leave a note in his locker?” jewie whispered, eyes sparkling as the two of you snuck into the staff wing, the sound of your heels echoing off the empty halls.

“hell yeah, i’ve been crushing on prof yoon since he walked into his first lecture looking like a whole-ass snack,” you hissed back, your heart racing.

she let out a cackle, almost too loud. “he’s gonna die when he sees it. also, maybe don't bend over like that unless you want your ass out for the world to see.”

you shot her a look over your shoulder, half squinting through your mask. “fuck you, i’m not gonna walk like i’ve got a stick up my ass.”

“babe, that’s your job,” she teased, slapping your ass as you fumbled with the lock on the door. she was always like that—pushy, teasing, but down for whatever dumb thing you suggested, no questions asked.

finally, you managed to crack open the door to prof yoon’s locker, and the nervous excitement flared up all over again. “i’m doin’ it,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you slid the note into his stuff. just a stupid little flirty note. something anonymous and mysterious. if he recognized your handwriting? well, oops. that’s a future problem.

jewie watched, leaning against the doorframe, eyes flicking between you and the locker. “if he likes it, we might need to sneak you back in here to leave more. like a killer bunny pen pal situation.”

you laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “he’s not that dumb, but if he was, i’d consider it.”

you straightened up, adjusting your mask before looking back at jewie. the whole night felt like some weird fever dream—maybe it was the booze from earlier or just the high of running around campus dressed like this, but you felt unstoppable.

“okay, let’s get outta here before we get caught,” jewie said, pushing herself off the wall. “i swear if we see anyone, i’m pretending i don’t know you.”

“bitch, please, you’d totally rat me out,” you shot back, nudging her as the two of you slipped out of the staff room, adrenaline still pumping.

you took a long sip from your pouch, the cheap booze hitting just right as you swayed along with jewie to the beat. then, mid-spin, you spotted something—or rather, someone—that made you freeze in place, your lips still wrapped around the straw.

“i can’t fucking believe it,” you muttered, pulling the straw out and sulking like a kid who just had their candy stolen.

jewie gave you a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. “what’s got your panties in a twist now?”

you nodded toward the door, where another killer bunny had just strutted in, looking way too damn good for your liking. “look at that,” you said, gesturing with your drink. “bunny? okay, fine. but killer too? are you shitting me? what’re the odds?”

you huffed, feeling your vibe slightly killed by the sight of the other guy wearing basically the same damn thing as you—except he had this slutty, fitted black suit, and his mask was just as creepy as yours, that luscious black hair peeking out from behind it.

“wow,” jewie scoffed, following your gaze. “you’re really pressed about another killer bunny? seriously? it's halloween, dude, chill. everyone’s doubling up.”

“easy for you to say,” you muttered, still eyeing the guy. “you're not the only slutty witch in the room.”

she rolled her eyes, snorting. “uh, excuse me? i've seen, like, five other witches tonight, and one of them even had a broom—a broom, y/n. i just accepted it. it’s halloween.”

it was halloween, and sure, half the campus was probably dressed as witches, zombies, or sexy cops. but still, the nerve of this guy, strutting in like he invented the killer bunny look.

“and, you know what? my panties are in a twist, actually,” you shot back, glaring at jewie, who just gave you an unimpressed look. “like, literal twist. feels like they’re strangling me.”

she burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “oh my god, you’re such a mess. there’s a whole locker room situation going on if you wanna fix it. no one’s gonna be in there anyway..”

“the locker room?” you hummed, considering it for a second. “yeah, might as well. better than walking around with my ass in knots.”

you slipped away from the party, the beat of the music fading as you made your way down the empty hallway, heels clacking against the floor. it was eerily quiet outside the main campus area, the darkness swallowing up the noise from the party like you were walking into another world. halfway there, though, you swore you heard something. footsteps, maybe? you glanced back over your shoulder, but the hallway was just as empty as before. shrugging it off, you kept walking.

then again—footsteps.

you whipped around, heart starting to race a bit. nothing. nobody. great, you thought. either you’re paranoid or some dude in a clown costume’s gonna jump out at you any second.

you sped up, practically rushing into the locker room, slamming the door behind you like that would keep the creepy vibes out. with a sigh, you lifted your skirt and fixed the tangled mess of fabric underneath. “goddamn,” you muttered, whistling in relief as the tension eased up. “finally.”

you made your way to the mirror, fluffing up your hair, adjusting your bunny ears, trying to look like you hadn’t just freaked yourself out. but then you heard it again—footsteps. this time, not so distant. real close.

before you could even react, the door creaked open, and there he was. the other killer bunny. strolling in like he owned the place, chill as could be, like it wasn’t the feminine locker room he’d just waltzed into.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare through the mirror. “stole my idea and my spot?”

he snorted, leaning against the sink with his back turned to the mirror, eyes just fixed forward, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “stole your idea? babe, i’ve been rockin’ this for ages.”

“you saw it from me!” you shot back, turning around to face him, pointing at him accusingly. “i should sue for copyright or some shit.”

he let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly like he was amused by your little outburst. “you can have the bunny part. i’ll keep the killer part.”

“real original,” you scoffed, turning back to the mirror, fixing a stray curl in your hair. “and what’re you even doing in the locker room? you lost or just stupid?”

“neither,” he said simply, his voice way too smug for someone who looked like he just broke into the wrong locker room. “it was either this, or i piss in a bush somewhere. decided to be classy tonight.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the slight smirk pulling at your lips. “yeah, real classy, creeping around the women’s locker room.”

he leaned closer, still not turning to look in the mirror. “who says i’m creeping? maybe you just walked into my locker room.”

“oh, so now it’s your locker room too? boy, you’re bold.”

“what can i say? bunny privileges,” he said, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world.

you shook your head, turning to look at him fully now, sizing him up. he was tall, broad, the slutty suit clinging to him just right, his posture relaxed like he didn’t have a care in the world. and that hair, black and messy behind his mask—well, you’d give him one thing. he wore the costume well. too well.

“you know,” you said, leaning back against the sink next to him, crossing your arms. “if you’re tryna intimidate me, it’s not working. you’re just another bunny.”

he chuckled again, that low, almost lazy sound that somehow made your skin tingle. “maybe i’m not tryna intimidate you. maybe i’m just waiting for you to admit i look better.”

you scoffed, pushing off the sink and standing up straight, close enough now that you could smell the faint cologne clinging to him. it was… annoyingly nice. “please, i wouldn’t give you that satisfaction even if you paid me.”

“we’ll... see about that?” he murmured, finally turning to face you, his body looming over yours. his mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes locked onto yours, like he could see right through the sass.

and there it was. that thing on your lower stomach that snuck up on you out of nowhere. “you really think you can handle me, bunny?” you teased.

he didn’t flinch. his lips twitched into a grin under the mask.

“handle you?” he echoed, his voice dropping an octave. “baby, i’m just getting started.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer, testing him, seeing how far you could push. “then show me what you got.”

his hand was on you in a second, pulling you toward him with a firm grip on your waist, his breath hot through the mask. and suddenly, the empty locker room didn’t feel so empty anymore. his other hand slid down, grazing your thigh before hiking your skirt up. “you sure you wanna play this game?” he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you let out a breathy laugh, your hands fisting into the fabric of his suit. “you started it.”

“yeah?” his grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, your bodies fitting together too perfectly. “then let me finish it.”

he leaned in for the kiss, but both of you realized, almost at the same time, that the stupid mask was in the way. your lips collided with the hard plastic, and for a second, it was awkward as hell—until you both burst into laughter. “yeah, that’s not gonna work,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“guess we’ll just have to improvise,” he murmured back, and before you knew it, he had spun you around, pressing your hips firmly against the cold sink. the chill of the ceramic made you gasp, but it was nothing compared to the way his fingers slid under the elastic of your garter, pulling it away from your skin before letting it snap back on ur skin.

“fuck,” you hissed, as the sting amde your pussy drool. he was watching you through that damn mask, his fingers traced the hem of your skirt before he flipped it over your lower back, exposing the white lacy set you’d chosen to match the whole killer bunny thing.

“fuckin’ cute,” he growled as he took in the sight of your barely-there panties and thigh-highs. “you really wore this for halloween? shit’s a fuckin’ joke,”

the degradation in his tone made your cheeks burn, you bit down on your lip, trying to keep your composure, he noticed everything.

“what’s the matter?” he asked, mock concern as his hands skimmed over your thighs, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp again. “you like being called cute while i fuck you up?”

you didn’t even have time to respond before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down painfully slow, the lace barely clinging to your hips before he let them drop to your ankles. you kicked them off instinctively, your breath hitching when you saw him bend down slightly, he picked them up off the floor, turning the flimsy lace in his fingers for a second before shoving them deep into his pocket.

“gonna keep these,” he muttered, half to himself, half to you. standing up straight again. his hands, slid up your legs, spreading them just a bit more. the rough pads of his fingers brushed against the inside of your thighs, teasing you, waiting for you to beg, or break.

and god, you were close to breaking already.

one hand held your waist firmly in place, pressing you harder against the sink, while the other slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding against your wetness with an agonizing slowness.

“oh.. all soaked already?” he muttered, like he knew exactly how ruined you were just from his touch. “and we haven’t even started. you’ve been thinking about this? about me bending you over, fingers deep in this pretty little pussy?”

you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you as his middle and ring fingers dipped inside, your pussy swallow him immediately, even when the skin burns a little with the stretch. his long fingers immediately finding that sweet, squishy spot, for a moment, resting the fingers there.

he kept the pads of his fingers facing down, rubbing slow, tight circles against that sensitive spot, making you clench around him. you've never been stimulated like this, it looked so different and knowing for a college boy. the sensation was enough to make your knees weak, but his grip on your hips kept you steady, held in place as he worked you open.

he leaned down, the mask still in place, but you could feel the heat of him behind you. “you hear that? hear how fucking wet you are? all for me, huh?”

you did, in fact, it echoed in the empty locker room, as you try to be quiet. but you moaned in response, your head falling forward, resting on your arms as you tried to catch your breath. every stroke of his fingers had your pussy tightening, thighs shaking, and you were half-sure you’d collapse if it weren’t for the him keeping you upright.

his other hand moving up your back just enough so he could press his lips against your bare shoulder. you felt him lift the mask just slightly, and then his mouth was on you, kissing, biting, his teeth grazing your skin in a manner that had you arching into him.

“fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered. “so sweet. but i bet you taste even better down here.”

you groaned in frustration when you realized he was still wearing that damn mask, completely blocking the possibility of him going down on you. he noticed the way you moaned extra loud, probably because you’d been imagining it—his mouth between your legs, tasting how worked up you were.

he cooed, amused by your reaction, shaking his head like you were some kind of innocent mess. “fuck baby, i’d love to, but this mask is getting in the way. you know that.” his voice was so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, like it wasn’t torture for you. and god, that whimper that left your throat? pathetic. even you knew it. you rolled your hips on his fingers, desperate for something, anything to replace what you couldn’t have right now. the wet, slick sound of his fingers working into you echoed around the room, filling the space with a vulgar kind of music that had him biting his lip, watching you fall apart over nothing.

“oh, you really want it bad, huh?” he laughed, and you whined again, the sound so embarrassingly needy that it should’ve made you blush. but instead, it only made you more desperate. his teasing was too much.

“fuck,” you muttered, half-begging, and he pulled back a bit, thinking for a second before a playful smirk took over his lips.

“let’s play a game then,” he offered, your brows furrowed in confusion, but the second he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, you felt your whole body heat up in response. “we take the masks off. but,” he paused, his fingers still torturing you, making your hips twitch every time he pressed just right. “we keep our eyes closed. i’ll eat you out, i’ll do anything you want, but no peeking.”

you hummed at the idea, already thinking of how good it would feel to have him without the barrier of those stupid masks. but before you could even respond, he tilted his head, adding with a teasing lilt, “but first... i gotta fuck you. because you’re so fucking tight, so fucking pretty squirming around my fingers like this.” his voice softened into something almost sweet, like he was praising you, and the way he cooed when you shyly squirmed against his hand, embarrassed by his words, had your body tightening in response. “such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you were nodding before you even realized, the words barely out of your mouth before you agreed to it. the mask was yanked off, tossed to the side, and you felt him pull away slightly. you didn’t dare look back at him, though—you kept your promise, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling rapidly.

you felt him shift behind you, the rustle of fabric as he undid his pants filling the locker room with a sharp, exciting edge. his fingers left you with a wet pop, and the sound made you shiver. god, you could still hear it—how soaked you were, how turned on he’d made you. your body reacted to the absence of his touch with a small gasp, but the moment you felt his warm breath near your ear again, your nerves melted away.

“don’t open your eyes,” he warned in that same serious tone, even though you could practically hear the smile on his face. you nodded, swallowing hard, trying to keep still. his fingers returned, now gripping your hips firmly, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, needing more.

“good girl,” he murmured, guiding you to bend further over the sink. your chest pressed against the cold surface, your eyes squeezed shut, but you could feel everything. you were painfully aware of how exposed you were to him, the skirt flipped up, your wetness on full display.

the blunt head of his cock nudged at your entrance, slick and heavy, and you braced yourself, but he didn’t push in. instead, he slid it up, dragging it along your folds, teasing your clit and the leaking hole. the sensation had your toes curling, and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “you just gonna rub it?”

he chuckled darkly, pressing the tip against your entrance again but not entering. “thought i’d take my time, make you beg a little more.”

you groaned, squirming under him, your hips moving on their own as you chased the penetration. you could feel him smiling behind you, still teasing, but his hand was firm on your hips, holding you steady as he slowly dragged his cock up and down, brushing against your clit every time. it was maddening, the way he was holding back, making you wait, making you ache for him.

“you want it that bad, hm?” he asked, and before you could even answer, he pushed in, sliding into you with a slick, deep thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs as you watch pitch black. “fuck, there it is.”

you moaned, the sudden fullness overwhelming, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as he held you in place, his cock buried deep inside. he didn’t move at first, just let you adjust to the stretch, but his hands were still moving—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your ass, squeezing hard as he groaned low in his throat.

“ah!–don' squeeze me like that,” he muttered, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips grinding into yours rolling the dick in and out of you. “taking me so well... pretty pussy devouring my cock.”

you whimpered at his praise, your body trembling with every slow stroke. he wasn’t holding back anymore, his pace picking up, his hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing light, quick circles that had you moaning loudly.

the thing was;

his eyes had been wide open the whole time.

he was practically glowing with the fact that you hadn’t recognized him at all. he knew it was you from the second you stepped into the party, making him choke on his own spit, all dressed up in that killer bunny costume, and it made him feel like he was holding onto the biggest secret ever. you had no idea who you were fucking, and that made everything ten times hotter.

as you leaned over the sink, he got a perfect view of your face blushing beneath your expertly done makeup, all those little details you’d spent hours perfecting. the way the light caught the shimmer on your cheeks, the dark eyeliner framing your eyes just right—it was beautiful. even though you planned on hiding your face with that mask for the entire night.

he pretended to keep his eyes closed, even though he could barely contain his excitement. “i hope you don't open your eyes hm? you wouldn't want to lose me eating you out, right?” he’d said with a smirk, watching as you nodded obediently. you were so good at this—everything about you, from the way you shifted on the sink to the way you were biting your lip in need, made him ache to see your true reaction when you finally figured it out.

he could feel your nervous energy as you followed his lead, trusting him completely. it was almost comical how easy it was to manipulate the situation, how horny you were, and he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself.

“you’ve got no idea how fucking cute you moan,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he continued to thrust into you. the way you squirmed made him even harder, and he could feel his own arousal rising at the thought of keeping this secret just a little longer.

“shut up,” you whined, clearly flustered by his words, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. god, you were adorable. he kept it playful, teasing you even more as he leaned down to press his lips against your shoulder, kissing a line up your neck as he continued to roll his hips into you. “just focus on how good you feel.”

every thrust sent a quiver through you, and he could feel you responding to him, getting wetter with every move. you were lost in it, and he was completely taken by the way your body reacted to his touch. he loved how your sounds filled the space, how you couldn’t help but moan louder and louder as he picked up the pace, fucking you deeper.

“tell me how good it feels.”

“so good, you feel so good—your cock—s'big!” you breathed, and he reveled in the power he had over you. he could see the way your body squirmed beneath him, anguished for more, and it only pushed him to keep going.

“that’s right, keep saying it,” he encouraged, his fingers curling around your waist, pulling you back against him as he hit that sweet spot inside you. “i want to hear everything, since i cant see it.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your that sweet release pulsing, and just when you were about to hit that peak, he pulled out, leaving you gasping “what the fuck?!” you cried, your voice high-pitched with desperation, eyes still closed. he couldn’t help but chuckle at your frustration, knowing just how good you felt, but wanting to keep you on that brink a little longer.

“patience, bunny,” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you’ll get what you want.”

with that, he pushed back into you, driving deep and hard, and the sound of your moan filled the locker room. “yes! please!” you begged, fingers digging into the sink as you rocked back against him.

but again, right when you were so close, he slipped out. “no, no, don’t do that!” you whined, the desperation in your voice making him grin. “i was so close!”

“i won’t let you cum on my cock,” he said, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he watched your expression crumble. your face fell against your arms in defeat, sulking like a petulant child. “why?” you whined, the sulk evident in your voice, and he couldn’t help but scoff at how adorable you looked, all flustered and desperate.

just then, his hand tangled in your hair, tugging enough to make you almost open your eyes. the sudden pressure made a strangled moan escape your throat, and he loved it.

he slowly turned you around, guiding you to sit on the cold sink. you cursed under your breath, your legs instinctively spreading wide as you positioned yourself for him.

“this is so unfair, i cant see you...” you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you thought about how you couldn’t see what he was doing. you could hear the sound of your breath quickening as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the idea of him between your legs making you almost cum on spot.

“you don’t need to see it, babe,” he said, all sultry. fuck you needed to know who he was, and with that, you could feel him get closer, his breath hot against your pussy, making you squirm.

“you’re such an ass for doing this to me,” you groaned, but deep down, you were practically begging for it, and you knew it. he laughed softly, the sound thundering in his chest as he spread your legs wider, giving himself a perfect view of your pussy, the folds puffy, and flushed, dripping beautifully.

a sudden creak from somewhere down the hallway snapped you out of the fog of pleasure, and, instinctively, you opened your eyes. it took a second to adjust, to blink away the haze clouding your vision, but then you looked down—straight at him.

and—

mr. yoon?

“shh,” he whispered, a finger pressed to his own lips, a hint of a smirk twitching as he maintained eye contact with you, even as his head dipped between your legs. you wanted to pull back, to process that your professor was there, settled on his knees in front of you in a locked room, but his mouth had already found your clit.

“oh my god,” you moan, in disbelief, in pure ecstasy. he starts sucking your clit with so hard that makes you dizzy, and your back arches instinctively, the sensations overwhelming. your mind races, but the sight of him—mr. yoon, your strict, no-nonsense professor—eating you out is enough to push you right back over the edge.

you bite your lip to stifle your cries, but it’s no use. the combination of the taboo and the sucking sends you spiraling into the orgasm, and you can feel yourself clenching around his tongue as you cum in his mouth, a whimper escaping your lips.

“holy—” you breathe, panting as he pulls away, licking his lips like he’s savoring the taste of you.

he raises up to kiss you, but you back away instinctively, the shock paralyzing you.

“wait, you didn’t like that it was… me?” he asks, worry flashing across his eyes.

your mind is racing. so he was the one fucking you? after the letter—oh my god. “i… i didn’t know it was you!” you manage to stammer.

he licks his cum-covered lips, that sly grin still in place. he steps back slightly, still unsure of what to say. “so… you liked it, then?”

“well, yeah, but—” you start, but the words fail you. how do you even explain this? how do you tell your professor that he just made you come like that, and it was one of the best experiences of your life?

you catch his gaze, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of worry in mr. yoon’s eyes. he's probably already imagining that expulsion letter or the scandal that’d blow up his career.

“relax,” you murmur, smirking as he watches you. “i’m not about to go blabbing to the dean or anything.” he quirks a skeptical brow, clearly not convinced yet, and you give him a playful shrug. “but only if… you get on your knees again and show me just how much you wanna keep me quiet.”

the corner of his mouth lifts. “oh, is that right?” he murmurs, and before you know it, he’s stepping forward, hands sliding around your waist as he leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“guess i’ll have to make sure you’re too busy to even think about talking,” he whispers.

[...]

monday rolls around, and it’s like the entire campus is still buzzing about the halloween party. people are dissecting every detail, trying to figure out who was behind which mask. you’re sitting at your desk, pretending to read the same damn paragraph for the fifth time, but let’s be real—there’s only one thing on your mind: mr. yoon’s dick.

jeonghan’s up at the front, leaning against his desk, teaching as if nothing happened, and you can barely keep a straight face. every time you glance up, you can’t help but picture the way he looked at you, the feel of his hands, his mouth… yeah, not the kind of thoughts you should be having in the middle of class.

the bell finally rings, snapping you out of it as everyone starts packing up. your friend pauses by the door, waiting, but just as you’re about to leave, mr. yoon clears his throat.

“y/n,” he says, there’s that hint of something under it, something only you would catch. “stay a moment, would you?”

you wave your friend off, muttering something about catching up later. she glances between the two of you and, of course, shoots you a knowing smile before shutting the door on her way out. it’s just you and jeonghan now, the room empty and quiet, his gaze pinned on you.

he raises an eyebrow, and his eyes flick towards the closed door. “should i be worried about that smile she gave you?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you blink, caught off guard. “no! no one knows about… us,” you insist, a bit too quickly.

he scoffs, giving you this look like he’s amused but skeptical. “oh, i know that,” he says smoothly, but then he taps his finger on his desk. “but she definitely knows… about this.”

with a dramatic flourish, he slides open a drawer and pulls out the letter. your stomach drops as he lays it out on his desk for you to see, the unmistakable swoop of your handwriting there in all its glory, complete with little heart and butterfly stickers surrounding a mortifyingly filthy sentence.

“wanna feel your cock hitting the deepest part of my pussy until i can’t even remember my name.”

you freeze, face heating up instantly. oh, god. did you really write that?

he chuckles softly, watching you squirm as you avoid his gaze, suddenly very interested in the stack of textbooks on his desk. you press your lips together, practically biting down to keep from making any sound, because your brain is malfunctioning.

“so,” he murmurs, “did you really mean every word?”

[honeyhae-svt]

🎮One Between Two🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: explicit content (18+): includes detailed smut, kissing, cuddling, soft domestic intimacy, polyamorous dynamic: reader x jeonghan x wonwoo in a consensual relationship, fluff overload: this is tooth-rottingly sweet, light teasing and humor between jeonghan and wonwoo, some light language (wonwoo’s deadpan sarcasm might slip in), and non-canon ending (i guess?) DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ smut warnings: kissing, threesome(?), oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex). wc: 15,655 ♪ playlist ♪: falling for you (SEVENTEEN), euphoria (jungkook - BTS), lover (taylor swift), candy (baekhyun), everything (michael bublé), day 1 (HONNE), love me like that (sam kim). a/n: we finally reach the story at its peak ! thankyou for everyone who has been with me 'til the very end ! please enjoy the last chapter of the story :]

07

You hadn't seen Jeonghan all day, and while the ache of his coldness still lingered, Wonwoo's quiet comfort had been a balm to your frayed nerves. He'd texted you after work, insisting on taking you out for dinner, just something casual to lighten your mood.

"Pick whatever you want," Wonwoo said, sliding the menu toward you. His easy smile was like sunlight filtering through a storm, and for the first time all day, you felt yourself relax.

The two of you settled into a quiet rhythm—small jokes, a few shared laughs, and the soft buzz of the diner around you. It was nice. Normal. But that fragile calm was shattered the moment you looked up and saw Jeonghan walking in.

He wasn't alone.

The woman on his arm was stunning, her laugh bright and effortless as she whispered something to him. Jeonghan's hand rested lightly on her waist, and his smile—sharp, confident, devastating—was one you hadn't seen in days. It was like watching a master at work, except now, the charm wasn't aimed at you.

Your heart sank, and you didn't realize you were gripping your fork too tightly until Wonwoo's voice pulled you back.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning forward, his eyes flicking between you and the new arrival. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile, but you knew it didn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. Totally fine."

Wonwoo glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Jeonghan and his date. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable. "We can leave if you want."

"No," you said firmly, your voice steadier than you felt. "We're staying."

It was a bold decision, one you regretted the second Jeonghan's gaze landed on you. His expression flickered for just a moment—surprise, maybe something else—but he quickly schooled his features into that same detached indifference you'd grown used to.

But what you hadn't prepared for was the deliberate way he led his date right past your table, pausing just long enough to acknowledge Wonwoo with a casual nod.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice like silk stretched too thin. His eyes didn't even glance your way. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Jeonghan," Wonwoo replied evenly, his tone polite but laced with tension.

The air between them crackled, an unspoken challenge hanging in the space between their words. You could feel it, thick and suffocating, but Jeonghan seemed utterly unfazed as he turned to his date with that same dazzling smile.

"Let's grab a seat," he said to her, his voice softening just enough to make your stomach twist.

You watched them walk away, your appetite vanishing as quickly as your resolve. Wonwoo's hand found yours under the table, his grip firm and reassuring, but it did little to soothe the storm brewing inside you.

Later That Night

Wonwoo insisted on walking you home, and for once, you didn't argue. The quiet streets were a welcome reprieve from the chaos in your head, but the tension between you and Wonwoo was impossible to ignore.

"You don't have to pretend," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. "I know seeing him hurt."

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Wonwoo's eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to lie to me," he said quietly. "I get it. I do. But you need to figure out what you really want—because this?" He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "I can't keep being your safe option."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. "That's not what this is," you protested, but even as you said it, doubt crept into your voice.

Wonwoo shook his head, his expression softening. "You don't have to explain. Just... think about it, okay?"

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

Jeonghan.

He stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his expression unreadable. For a moment, none of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on all of you.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," Jeonghan said finally, his tone cool but not unkind. "I just wanted to make sure you got home safe."

Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything, his gaze flicking between you and Jeonghan.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. The two men you cared about most in the world were standing in front of you, and for the first time, you realized just how impossible this situation had become.

Back in your apartment, the silence was deafening. You sat on the edge of your bed, your phone buzzing with unread messages, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at them.

Wonwoo had texted you first, something simple and kind: "Let me know if you're okay. I'll always be here."

Jeonghan's message came hours later, shorter and colder: "We need to talk."

You stared at the screen, your chest tight. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw your phone across the room and pretend none of this was happening. But instead, you just sat there, the weight of their words pulling you down like anchors.

The confrontation you'd been dreading didn't wait until the next morning. Jeonghan was waiting for you at your desk when you returned from a meeting, his suit jacket draped over the back of a chair, tie slightly loosened like he'd made himself at home.

You froze in the doorway, your hands tightening around the folder in your grip.

"Jeonghan," you said, unsure whether it was a greeting or a warning.

"Welcome back," he said smoothly, his smile disarming, but his eyes held that familiar glint of mischief. "Busy day?"

"Busy enough," you replied cautiously, stepping inside. "What are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, as if the answer was obvious. "Waiting for you, of course."

You set the folder down on the desk, keeping your movements deliberate. "If this is about work—"

"Close the door," he interrupted, his tone light yet leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, but the weight of his gaze was enough to make you comply. The click of the latch sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room.

"I thought we didn't have anything to talk about," you said, forcing a casual tone even as your pulse quickened.

Jeonghan leaned back in the chair, his long fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "Oh, we don't. But I was curious about something."

"Curious about what?"

"About you." He stood then, crossing the room in a few leisurely steps until he was leaning against the edge of the desk, his body too close for comfort. "And Wonwoo."

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. "What about him?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his smile teasing but his eyes sharper than ever. "Just wondering why you get so defensive whenever he comes up."

"I'm not defensive," you said quickly—too quickly.

His smile widened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Sure you're not." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. "So if there's really nothing going on, how about this—you and me. Dinner. Tonight."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Jeonghan straightened, feigning innocence as he smoothed his tie. "It's simple. If there's nothing between you and Wonwoo, then there's no reason you can't go out with me. Right?"

"Jeonghan..."

He held up a hand, cutting you off with a smile that was both charming and infuriating. "Relax, it's just a date. Unless..." His eyes sparkled with mock suspicion. "There is something you're not telling me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The way he was looking at you—like he already knew the answer—made it impossible to find the right words.

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're terrible at hiding things, you know that?"

His teasing tone stung more than you cared to admit. Before you could think, you blurted something out.

And before you knew it, you had said something you shouldn't have.

You hadn't planned to see Wonwoo that night. You hadn't planned anything, really—you just walked, trying to clear your head, until you found yourself at his door.

He opened it after the first knock, his brows furrowing in concern as he took in your disheveled state.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and steady, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

You nodded, even though it wasn't true. "Can I come in?"

He stepped aside without a word, letting you slip past him into the warmth of his apartment.

You sat on the couch, your hands twisting nervously in your lap as he joined you, sitting close enough for you to feel the heat of his body but not so close that it felt invasive.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

The words spilled out before you could stop them—a jumbled mess of apologies and explanations, of frustration and guilt and confusion. Wonwoo listened quietly, his expression unreadable, until you finally ran out of words.

When you looked at him, his gaze was steady, but there was something in his eyes that made your chest ache.

"You told him we're just... friends," he said slowly, his voice measured.

You froze, your stomach dropping. "Wonwoo, I didn't mean it like that—"

"But that's what you said," he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "Is that what you think we are?"

"No," you said quickly, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. "Of course not. I just... I panicked. I didn't know what else to say."

Wonwoo looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back, his arms resting on the back of the couch as he regarded you.

"Friends with benefits, huh?" he said, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. "That's all this is to you?"

"No," you said again, your voice trembling. "It's more than that. You know it is."

"Do I?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because it doesn't feel like it when you can't even admit it to him. Or to yourself."

You didn't know what to say. The truth was messy and complicated, and you were terrified of what it might cost you.

Wonwoo sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. "Maybe that's all we should be," he said quietly. "If that's what you want."

His words felt like a punch to the gut, and you reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against his arm.

"Wonwoo, please," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He looked at you then, his gaze softening just enough to make your heart ache.

"Then tell me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what this is. What I am to you."

You stared at Wonwoo, the weight of his question pressing down on you like a vice. What was this? What were you to him? What was he to you? The answers tangled in your throat, too raw, too uncertain to speak.

But his eyes—god, his eyes—bore into yours, waiting, needing something real, something true.

"I—" you started, the words trembling on your lips. "You're..."

The pause stretched too long, and you saw the flicker of hurt cross his face before he masked it, leaning back just slightly, as if to protect himself.

"Forget it," he said, his voice quiet but firm, like a door closing.

"No," you said quickly, reaching for his hand before he could pull away completely. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."

"Then say it," he said, his voice sharper now, frustration bleeding through. "Say something. Because I can't keep doing this—guessing how you feel, pretending I'm okay with whatever scraps you decide to give me."

His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and exposed. He was right. You'd been selfish, hiding behind your fear, letting the safety of ambiguity shield you from making a choice. But that safety was gone now, stripped away by the raw honesty in his voice.

"I care about you," you said finally, your voice shaking but resolute. "More than I should. More than I've let myself admit."

Wonwoo's expression softened, his eyes searching yours for the truth in your words.

"But I'm scared," you continued, the confession tumbling out like a broken dam. "I'm scared of what this means, of what I might lose. Of hurting you. Of hurting him."

The mention of Jeonghan made Wonwoo's jaw tighten, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his hand coming up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"You're already hurting me," he said softly, his voice a painful mix of tenderness and resignation. "But I'd rather feel this than nothing at all."

Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of his vulnerability crashing into you.

"Wonwoo, I—"

He didn't let you finish. His lips were on yours before you could form another thought, the kiss fierce and desperate, like he was pouring all his frustration, all his longing, into you.

And you let him.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, trying to bridge the gap that had always been there between you.

But the moment didn't fade.

Instead, it deepened.

Wonwoo's hands slid down your sides, his touch firm but deep, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go. He pressed you against the couch, his body warm and solid against yours, and you gasped into his mouth as the heat between you ignited, consuming every shred of hesitation you'd been clinging to.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with restraint, even as his fingers ghosted over the hem of your shirt.

You didn't answer. Instead, you tugged him closer, your actions speaking louder than words ever could.

The shift in his demeanor was immediate. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a hunger that matched your own. He lifted you effortlessly, guiding you into his lap as his lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a blazing path in their wake.

"You drive me crazy," he breathed, his hands exploring your curves with a deep feeling that made your head spin. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Your fingers tightened in his hair, a soft whimper escaping you as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your collarbone. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was a promise—a confession of everything he felt but couldn't say.

He lifted your shirt over your arms as he started nipping on your breast, his hand on the other. Pampering you with his affection so he can distract you from the mess you were dealing with. If that helps, then he'd do anything to get things off your mind—even if it's just temporary. This isn't like Wonwoo at all. 

It wasn't long until you're whimpering on his lap as his cock twitches inside of you. 

You were moving, with him helping you hump on him.

Wonwoo always had a way of getting you all breathless and... Naked.

You shifted, your arms around his neck as you kiss him. Not long, you got exhausted and Wonwoo had to take over. He took you to his room, cock stilled inside you as he drops you onto his bed—gently but urgent. He moved his hips to yours, kissing your lips all the way as his tongue brushes against your soft breasts. He can never get enough of you.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, his name a plea, a prayer, as your bodies moved in perfect synchronicity, the tension between you showing in the most intimate of ways.

"You're fucking perfect..." He muttered as he moved a little rougher than he intended to, his cock swarming in and out of your cunt. 

His hand supported the back of your head to make you feel less tired and assured as he kisses your lips. His kisses were possessive and fast as his tongue finds yours. 

When the two of you meet the ends of bliss, he cums all over you, painting your walls as you followed soon after, creaming all over his cock.

And for a moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the tangled web of emotions you'd woven, not the uncertainty of what came next.

It was just you and him, lost in a world of your own making, where every touch was a revelation, and every kiss was a declaration of the feelings you'd both been too afraid to voice.

Wonwoo had that soft spot that only showed when it came to you. He was never like this with anyone. You were simply too precious for him that he's suddenly afraid of losing you—scared of getting you off his hands. 

You had his heart locked up and you didn't even know it. 

But now, having you in his arms while the two of you just stay in the hot waters of the tub he had in his house, everything suddenly felt temporary—at least for him. 

You turned to face him with your face all steamy, and you looked breathtaking as ever. Your arms found his neck as you leaned closer to hug him. His heart almost melted.

He held you closer, as you whispered sweet nothings to him. But suddenly, he just couldn't find those sweet genuine smiles of yours. It was given as a reflection of how hard things have been going for you. And he'd die for you just so you can find yourself at peace again.

"Use me all you want," he broke the silence. "I'll always be here no matter what." 

You almost cried, biting your lips it almost bled. You hugged him tightly, too tightly that he pulled you even closer. He reached for your cheeks, cupping it before crashing his lips onto yours again. It was urgent, hectic, and was messy. But that didn't stop him from doing anything else.

Days have passed. It has been gloomy for you that even your viewers noticed whenever you were streaming. But their concern was making your heart a little lighter. 

Personal life has always been separated from your gaming life. But right now, your lips kept slipping, suddenly spilling a tea you shouldn't even say.

Recently, youve only been streaming with either Vernon, Seungkwan, Hoshi, or Mingyu. 

Who knew things would change just because of the stupid context "Love"? You blamed all the human feelings for eveything that has happened.

It was a Thursday afternoon when it finally broke. You were sitting at your desk, staring at the screen in front of you, but not really seeing it. Your thoughts kept spiraling back to Jeonghan and Wonwoo, to what you were doing, to what you wanted to do, but couldn't.

The door to your office creaked open, and your stomach flipped as Jeonghan stepped inside. He didn't bother knocking—he never did—but the way he closed the door behind him with deliberate care made your heart race.

"What now?" you asked, unable to keep the irritation out of your voice.

Jeonghan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing his arms and letting his gaze sweep over you like he was sizing you up. "You look stressed," he said finally, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I wonder why," you muttered, leaning back in your chair.

His smirk deepened. "Relax. I'm not here to scold you... much."

"Then why are you here?"

Jeonghan tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, just wanted to see how my favorite coworker is doing."

You shot him a look, unimpressed. "Cut the small talk, Jeonghan. What do you want?"

He straightened, his playful demeanor softening into something more serious. "Fine. Let's skip to the point." He met your gaze, and there it was—that flicker of intensity that made it impossible to look away. "You and Wonwoo."

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. "What about us?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained deceptively light. "You're not very good at hiding things, you know. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you... It's cute, really."

"Jeonghan—"

"Don't worry," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm not here to pry. In fact, I've got a proposal."

You blinked, caught off guard. "A proposal?"

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into that teasing, honeyed tone that always left you on edge. "If there's really nothing going on with him, how about you prove it?"

Your eyes narrowed. "Prove it how?"

"Go out with me."

The words hung in the air, and you stared at him like he'd just suggested robbing a bank. "What?"

Jeonghan grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "You heard me. Dinner. Tonight."

"Jeonghan, this isn't—"

"Let me guess," he cut you off, his tone turning playfully accusatory. "You're about to come up with some excuse. Busy schedule? Too tired? Or maybe..." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "You're worried Wonwoo might not like it."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. His grin widened.

"Thought so," he said, stepping closer until he was leaning just slightly over you, his presence overwhelming. "So what's it going to be? Dinner with me, or another round of dodging questions you don't want to answer?"

You clenched your fists, your pride prickling at his audacity. "Fine," you snapped, standing abruptly. "Dinner it is. But only because I'm tired of you acting like you've got me all figured out."

Jeonghan's expression softened into something more genuine, though the smugness never fully left his face. "Looking forward to it." He stepped back, giving you space, but his voice turned teasing again as he reached for the door. "Oh, and wear something nice. I don't settle for half-effort, you know."

Before you could respond, he slipped out of the room, leaving you flustered, irritated, and strangely... intrigued.

The restaurant Jeonghan chose was exactly what you'd expect from him—classy but not overly extravagant, with dim lighting, soft music, and a menu that probably didn't have prices listed. You sat across from him, your fingers toying with the edge of your napkin as he ordered for the both of you, exuding the effortless charm that made people fall for him so easily.

"I could've ordered for myself, you know," you said, raising an eyebrow as the waiter walked away.

"I know," he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "But I wanted to see if I got it right."

"And if you didn't?"

His lips curved into a sly smile. "Then I'd have something to tease you about for the rest of the night."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. The banter was easy, familiar, and you hated how quickly it chipped away at your defenses.

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and subtle glances, the tension between you two growing with every lingering look and accidental brush of fingers. By the time you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air felt charged, and you weren't sure if it was the wine or Jeonghan's presence that had your head spinning.

"You're quiet," Jeonghan said as he walked beside you, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

"I'm just... thinking," you replied, looking ahead.

"Dangerous habit," he teased, bumping his shoulder against yours lightly. "What's on your mind?"

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to him. His expression was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn't as nonchalant as he seemed.

"Why me?" you asked finally, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Jeonghan stopped walking, turning to face you fully. "What do you mean?"

"You could've asked anyone to dinner. You didn't have to..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his intense gaze.

"I didn't have to what?" he prompted, his voice soft but insistent.

"Push this," you finished, gesturing between the two of you.

Jeonghan took a step closer, his hand brushing against yours. "Maybe I didn't want just anyone," he said simply.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he tilted his head toward the street.

"Come on," he said, his voice lighter. "Let's go."

"To where?"

"You'll see."

Jeonghan's home was exactly what you'd imagined: clean, stylish, and a little too perfect, like it had been lifted straight from an interior design magazine. You've been to his house before, but this one, it's a different one. You barely had time to take it all in before he was leading you to the living room, his hand resting lightly on your back.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, motioning to the couch.

You sat down, feeling all the suddenly uncharacteristically out of place. The air between you was heavy, and you weren't sure if it was the wine, the dim lighting, or the way Jeonghan was looking at you that made your skin tingle.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.

"I'm fine," you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Jeonghan didn't say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, and it made your breath catch.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You didn't. It always had to be like this.

The first kiss was soft, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, his hand cupped your cheek, and the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the couch, his body hovering over yours as his hands roamed, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every kiss felt like a question, and your answers came in the way you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck.

"Yes," you breathed, the word slipping out without hesitation.

And with that, the tension that had been building between you for what felt like forever finally snapped. Jeonghan was everywhere—his touch, his scent, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction, until you were completely undone and naked beneath him.

Jeonghan had laid you gently on the soft, white mattress as his kisses to your neck become more heated, leaving his love bites all over the sensitive skin as if he knows what and where to kiss.

His hands did the same, gripping your breasts, thighs, name every sensitive spot you know, and he knows it.

He slipped two fingers in and was surprised—impressed it slipped in easily. He loves how wet and open you are for him. "So wet, for me?" Jeonghan teases as he pulls in and out with you squirming underneath him. He loves you, the way your vulnerable under him, looking pretty as he messes you up. 

You moan loudly, and that's how he loves it. Your hands grip his shirt too tightly he starts to unbutton and undress himself for you. 

He kisses your lips as if taking a shot full of love. The way he swallowed your muffled moans was intoxicating. He takes his time exploring you like he has before. Every touch, kiss felt wrong. But Jeonghan's touches were enough to blur your thoughts, sending you back to the bitter but sweetest reality.

"I can't lose you," was what he whispered, and it was enough to send you shivers down your spine. 

Jeonghan's fingers were dipped deep inside your cunt as you clench around him, and finally, you cum soak and hot through his fingers. He licks them before he aligns his cock on your pussy before entering you completely slowly but surely. 

He snaps his hips onto yours as you scream out his name. Jeonghan pins your arms over your head, his fingers intertwined with your as his head falls on your shoulders, his thrusts increasing its speed. 

You hold onto his hand, his cock entering you in and out in the most blissful way, enough to make you whimper his name. 

The room was filled with your lustful cries and skin-to-skin contacts, making the night long and... Loud but sweetly slow.

When it was over, the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, the room silent except for the sound of your breathing. Jeonghan's fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and for once, you didn't feel the weight of questions or doubts pressing down on you.

"You okay?" he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Yeah," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

Jeonghan smiled, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

You hadn't expected things to move this fast, but when you woke up to a text from Wonwoo saying, "We need to talk. Tonight," your stomach twisted in anticipation. Wonwoo wasn't the type to be vague unless it really mattered.

The evening came too quickly. When you opened the door, Wonwoo stood there, hands in his pockets, wearing that casual but disarming look that always made your heart skip.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight you couldn't quite place.

You stepped aside, letting him in. The familiar scent of him wrapped around you as he passed by, but you noticed how he didn't meet your eyes right away.

"Talk," you said, leaning on the counter, trying to sound steady despite the knot in your chest.

Wonwoo hesitated, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you rarely saw. "I've been thinking a lot lately," he began, his voice lower than usual. "About streaming, about us... about everything."

You folded your arms, unsure where this was going. "And?"

He exhaled sharply, like he'd been holding it in for days. "I think I'm done with it. At least for now."

Your brows shot up in surprise. "Done? With streaming?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, but his tone was anything but casual. "I've never liked all the attention anyway. I just wanted to play games, have fun... but now it feels like it's not mine anymore. It's everyone else's." He glanced at you, his eyes softening. "And I don't want that for you either. You're caught in the middle of this mess—me, Jeonghan, the fans... all of it. It's not fair to you."

"Wonwoo..." Your voice trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

He took a step closer, his hands brushing against yours. "I'm not saying I'm giving it up forever. But right now, I want to be here for you. No distractions. No streams. Just... us."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn't the teasing, sarcastic Wonwoo you were used to. This was him, raw and unfiltered, laying it all out.

"You don't have to do that," you whispered, your throat tight. "You've worked so hard for this."

He smiled faintly, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And I'm willing to work harder for what matters more."

You stared at him, speechless. There was no witty comeback, no sarcastic quip that could deflect the sincerity of his words. All you could do was nod, the lump in your throat refusing to go away.

Jeonghan wasn't distant. If anything, he was still Jeonghan—unpredictable, frustratingly charming, and always one step ahead. But he was careful, too. He knew how to give you space without making you feel abandoned. And somehow, that was worse.

He'd still show up at work with that easygoing smile, cracking jokes like nothing had changed. But his gaze lingered longer now, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

So when he showed up unannounced one night, leaning against your doorway with his hands in his pockets, it shouldn't have surprised you. But it did.

"Jeonghan?" you asked, blinking.

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Expecting someone else?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him in. "What do you want?"

He walked in like he owned the place, his usual air of confidence making your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

"I've been thinking," he said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it. "About us."

You froze. "Jeonghan, I don't think—"

He cut you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Relax. I'm not here to pick a fight. I just..." He trailed off, his expression softening as he looked at you. "I just want to understand."

"Understand what?" you asked quietly.

"This," he said, gesturing between you. "You and me. You and Wonwoo. You're acting like you have to choose, but... I don't think you even know what you want."

His words stung because they were true.

"Jeonghan, it's not that simple," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It never is," he replied, stepping closer. "But I'm not going anywhere. I need you to know that. I'm here, whether you figure this out tomorrow, next week, or next year."

You stared at him, your chest tightening. "Why?"

He smiled then, that infuriatingly calm smile that made you want to scream and melt at the same time. "Because you're worth it."

His words hung between you, and for a moment, the world stopped. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. But Jeonghan didn't seem to mind. He just stood there, his presence a steady reminder that, no matter how messy things got, he wasn't giving up on you.

Not yet.

You weren't expecting the night to spiral the way it did. It started innocently enough—Seungkwan coaxed you into coming over with promises of a chill evening filled with karaoke and snacks, just like old times. But somewhere between the third glass of wine and a round of ill-advised shots, everything unraveled.

Seungkwan was tipsy but still his usual lively self, cracking jokes and commanding the mic. Hoshi, however, stayed seated off to the side, his eyes flicking to you every now and then with a quiet, worried intensity.

It wasn't like you to let loose this much. And Seungkwan wasn't one to miss the signs.

"Y/N," he called, his voice cutting through the haze of music and laughter. It was softer than usual, more serious. "What's going on? You've been... off lately. Talk to me."

You blinked at him, the alcohol buzzing in your veins making everything feel surreal. The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I'm falling apart, Seungkwan," you said, laughing bitterly. "And I don't think you even know half of it."

That got his attention. He leaned forward, setting his drink down as his playful expression melted into concern. "Then tell me," he urged. "We're not letting you sit there and spiral alone."

You hesitated, but the weight you'd been carrying was too much to hold back anymore.

"It's them," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Jeonghan and Wonwoo. One minute they act like I'm nothing, and the next, it's like I'm their whole world. I don't know how to keep up. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Seungkwan frowned, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. Hoshi, who had been silent until now, leaned in slightly, his sharp gaze softening.

"Then why are you letting them do this to you?" Seungkwan asked gently.

"I'm not letting them," you shot back, though your voice cracked. "I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I even want to stop it. I—" You paused, shaking your head as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. "I love them both. And it's tearing me apart."

The room fell into a heavy silence, save for the faint hum of the karaoke machine. Seungkwan exchanged a quick look with Hoshi, one of those unspoken conversations that only close friends could have.

"Alright," Seungkwan said, breaking the quiet. "Let's settle this."

You blinked at him, confused. "Settle what?"

"Let's see who actually cares," he said, pulling out his phone. "I'll call Jeonghan. Hoshi can text Wonwoo. We'll see who shows up first. No excuses, no games."

"What?" You stared at him, horrified. "You're not seriously going to—"

"Oh, I absolutely am," he interrupted with a smirk, though his eyes held an edge of seriousness. "If they're worth your time, they'll come. And if they don't? Well, then you have your answer."

Before you could protest, Seungkwan had already pressed dial, and Hoshi was tapping away on his phone. Your stomach churned, the weight of what they were doing sinking in.

The ten minutes that followed felt like an eternity. The alcohol in your system dulled the edges of your anxiety, but it couldn't erase it. And then, the doorbell rang.

Seungkwan's face lit up with mischief as he sprang to his feet. "Contestant number one," he announced, heading for the door.

When he opened it, Jeonghan was standing there, his expression unreadable. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and something flickered in his gaze—concern, maybe even guilt. He stepped inside without a word.

"Y/N," he said quietly, crossing the room to crouch in front of you. "What happened?"

Your throat tightened, and you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine," you mumbled, though your voice betrayed you.

"You're not," he said, his tone softer now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Talk to me."

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang again.

Hoshi grinned as he glanced at his phone. "Wonwoo," he said simply.

When Wonwoo stepped inside, his gaze immediately found yours. His brow furrowed as he took in your tear-streaked face and Jeonghan's presence by your side. The tension in the room thickened.

"I'm here," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but laced with urgency. "Are you okay?"

Jeonghan rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned to face Wonwoo. The air between them crackled with unspoken rivalry.

"She's fine," Jeonghan said coolly, though the way he hovered near you said otherwise.

Wonwoo's jaw tightened, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N, what's going on? Why are you like this?"

The weight of their stares was too much. You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled as you finally broke. "Because I love you both, okay? And I don't know what to do about it!"

The room fell deathly silent.

Jeonghan's usually composed demeanor faltered, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Wonwoo, on the other hand, looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

"I didn't want this," you continued, your voice trembling. "I didn't want to fall for both of you, but I did. And now I'm stuck. I don't know how to choose, and I'm scared—scared that if I pick one of you, I'll lose the other forever."

Jeonghan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N..." he began, but his voice trailed off. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.

Wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening as he crouched beside you. "You don't have to figure this out tonight," he said quietly. "But you can't keep tearing yourself apart over this. Let us help you."

You looked between them, your heart aching. You wanted to believe his words, but deep down, you knew this was only the beginning.

Seungkwan and Hoshi stood off to the side, watching silently. For once, even Seungkwan didn't have a joke to lighten the mood.

The night had started with laughter, but it ended with a truth none of you were ready to face.

After the bombshell of your drunken confession, a heavy silence settles over the room, stretching between you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Hoshi exchange uneasy glances, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation, but they wisely retreat, leaving the three of you alone to navigate the emotional fallout. The weight of your words lingers in the air like a storm cloud, thick and impossible to ignore.

You're not sure when the idea began to form in your mind. Perhaps it's the alcohol still coursing through your veins, or maybe it's the stark realization that you can't choose. You can't bear the thought of losing either Jeonghan or Wonwoo—not now, not ever. Deep down, your heart knows what you've been avoiding all along: it doesn't have to be just one.

Despite the tension crackling between the three of you, you somehow end up outside in the cool night air. Jeonghan leans casually against his car, his eyes closed as he takes a slow, measured breath. Wonwoo stands a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in quiet thought. None of you speak at first, the silence stretching painfully long.

It's Wonwoo who finally breaks it, his voice quieter than usual but firm. "We need to figure this out."

Jeonghan's eyes flicker open, locking onto Wonwoo's. There's something unreadable in his gaze—hesitation, confusion, maybe even anger. But there's also a flicker of something dangerous, something bold. "I agree," Jeonghan says evenly. "But we're not treating this like a game."

Wonwoo's lips twitch into a smirk, though it carries a dark edge. "So what, then? We leave her alone to figure it out on her own? Pretend like none of this matters?"

Jeonghan's jaw tightens, and his voice sharpens. "That's not what I said. But I'm not rushing into something that could hurt her even more. She's confused—"

You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm not confused," you interject, your voice trembling but resolute. "I'm scared. But I know what I want."

Both men turn to you, their gazes intense, waiting. The words catch in your throat, but you force them out. "I want you both. I can't pick. I'm sorry, but I can't."

Jeonghan pushes off the car, exhaling sharply. He glances at Wonwoo, a hint of disbelief coloring his features. "So, what now? Are you seriously suggesting we share her?"

Wonwoo doesn't flinch. "Why not?" he says simply. "You and I both care about her. She's not some prize to fight over, Jeonghan. She's part of both our lives, and we've been acting like we don't know it."

Jeonghan stares at him, his expression shifting from shock to something more thoughtful. A humorless chuckle escapes him. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver. "I've been serious for a while. We've been dancing around this, and I'm tired of pretending. She wants us both, and I'm not going to act like that's not real."

For a moment, Jeonghan says nothing, his attention drifting to you. His gaze softens, though his words remain cautious. "This isn't how I imagined things... but maybe you're right. It's messy, but what choice do we have?"

The tentative understanding between the two men feels fragile, like a thread stretched too thin. But it's there, and for the first time, the tension seems to ease.

Jeonghan turns to you fully, his eyes sharp but tinged with vulnerability. "You really want this? Both of us?"

You nod, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you. "Yes. I know it's not fair, and it's not simple, but I want both of you. I can't choose. I won't."

Wonwoo steps closer, his voice dropping lower. "Then we need to make this work, but it has to be real. No more games, Y/N. No lies. We have to be honest with each other, all of us."

Jeonghan joins him, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence. "This isn't some fantasy," he says, his tone serious. "It's not going to be perfect. But if we're doing this, we're all in. No second-guessing, no turning back."

You swallow hard but nod. Relief washes over you, mingled with fear and hope. "I'm in this with you both. But I need to know... that you're both okay with this. That you're not doing it because you feel sorry for me."

Jeonghan's lips curve into a faint smirk, his familiar teasing edge returning. "What do you think, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's gaze doesn't waver as he looks at you, his expression dark and unreadable. "I'm in," he says softly. "For you, Y/N. I'm all in."

Jeonghan places a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm yet gentle. "Then we'll figure this out together. It won't be easy, but we'll make it work. Just... no more running, alright?"

You nod, tears pricking your eyes as a strange, fragile hope takes root in your chest. This wasn't what you had expected, but somehow, it feels like the start of something real—messy, complicated, and raw, but undeniably yours.

You wake up groggy but surprisingly refreshed. The events of last night come rushing back, and you half expect to be greeted with awkward silence or heavy stares. But instead, when you shuffle into the living room, still in Seungkwan's borrowed sweatshirt, you're met with the smell of coffee and the sight of Jeonghan and Wonwoo quietly talking.

Jeonghan looks up first, his smile soft but mischievous. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Wonwoo snorts, sliding a cup of coffee across the table toward you. "You were out like a light. We almost thought you'd never wake up."

You groan, plopping down onto the couch and cradling the mug. "Don't remind me. I'm never drinking that much again."

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "You say that every time, though."

You shoot him a look but can't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Shut up, Hannie."

Wonwoo leans back in his seat, his expression softer than usual. "We should talk," he says, his tone calm but sincere.

Your stomach flips, but before you can spiral into panic, Jeonghan chimes in, his voice surprisingly light. "Don't worry, no drama this time. We just want to make sure we're all... on the same page."

You nod slowly, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. "Okay," you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Wonwoo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We meant what we said last night. About making this work. But we also realized..." He hesitates, glancing at Jeonghan for support.

Jeonghan picks up where he left off, his voice unusually gentle. "We realized we haven't been making things any easier for you. If anything, we've been selfish—fighting over you instead of being there for you. And we want to change that."

You blink, your chest tightening at their words. "I... I don't know what to say," you admit.

Jeonghan smiles, that familiar spark of teasing returning to his eyes. "You don't have to say anything. Just... maybe don't get drunk and confess your love for us in front of Seungkwan and Hoshi again."

You groan, burying your face in your hands as Wonwoo chuckles quietly. "Oh my god, I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Absolutely not," Jeonghan says, his grin widening.

Wonwoo's expression softens again, his voice lowering. "But seriously... we're here for you. No matter what."

You peek out from behind your hands, meeting their gazes. For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension is gone, replaced by something lighter. Something warmer.

And as the three of you sit there, laughing and teasing like old times, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope. It's not going to be easy, but maybe—just maybe—you can make this work after all.

It started innocently enough. Or so you thought.

When Seungkwan invited you over for a "relaxing game night," you foolishly believed him. Of course, he conveniently forgot to mention that Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon would also be there. By the time you arrived at his place, Hoshi was already setting up snacks, and the two men you were desperately trying not to think about were seated on opposite sides of the couch, a safe but glaringly obvious distance apart. Mingyu was lounging on the armchair, flipping through a magazine with the kind of carefree attitude only he could pull off. And Vernon? Well, he was eating snacks in the corner, casually looking like he had nothing to do with the chaos about to unfold.

"Ah, you're here!" Seungkwan beamed, practically dragging you inside. "Now the fun can really start."

You hesitated at the doorway, your gaze flickering between Jeonghan's easy smile and Wonwoo's quiet nod of acknowledgment. Something about their presence together felt... combustible, but you pushed the thought aside. You were here to have fun. Totally chill, non-dramatic fun. Right?

"Sit, sit!" Seungkwan ushered you onto the couch—right in the middle of Jeonghan and Wonwoo. You froze, hyperaware of how close their knees were to brushing yours.

Mingyu, sensing the awkward energy in the room, chimed in from his chair. "If you need a distraction, I've got a full buffet of snacks over here."

You gave him a grateful look, but it didn't help. You were already sitting too close to the two men who made your heart race in completely different ways.

Hoshi, sensing the awkward energy in the room, clapped his hands together. "Alright, first game: Charades!"

Charades started out harmless enough, with Hoshi miming a bird and Seungkwan pretending to be a dramatic fainting prince. But then Seungkwan upped the ante.

"Jeonghan, your turn!" he said, his grin far too mischievous for comfort. He handed Jeonghan a card, and you watched as the older man's eyes lit up with amusement.

Jeonghan stood, rolling his shoulders like an actor preparing for a big scene. Then he got down on one knee, placed a hand over his chest, and—with exaggerated flair—pretended to confess his love.

The room erupted in laughter, but your face burned as Jeonghan's gaze lingered on you just a second too long. "Did I nail it?" he asked, smirking as he returned to his seat.

"A little too convincing," Hoshi teased, elbowing you. "What do you think?"

You sputtered, "I-I mean, it was fine!"

Mingyu looked entirely too entertained. "Yeah, I think Jeonghan might've just volunteered for 'Best Actor.'"

Wonwoo, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "Fine? I think he overdid it."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Overdid it? Or are you just jealous you didn't get the card?"

"Jealous?" Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Not really my style."

Vernon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, jumped in from his snack corner. "Oh, please. We all know Jeonghan would do anything for the spotlight."

Seungkwan clapped his hands before things could escalate further. "Okay, okay! Next round! Wonwoo, you're up!"

If Jeonghan's over-the-top confession wasn't bad enough, Seungkwan somehow convinced Wonwoo to serenade the group during Truth or Dare. And not just any song. A love song.

"Oh, come on," Wonwoo protested, but Seungkwan's relentless enthusiasm won out. Grumbling, Wonwoo picked up Hoshi's acoustic guitar and strummed a few hesitant chords before starting to sing. His voice, low and rich, filled the room, and you couldn't stop the shiver that ran down your spine.

It was intimate, almost too much, as if the song was meant for you and you alone. By the time he finished, the room was dead silent.

"Well, damn," Jeonghan finally said, breaking the tension with a low whistle. "Didn't know you had it in you."

Vernon leaned in and whispered to Mingyu, "What do you think? Do we need to hire him for the next concert?"

Mingyu grinned. "I vote yes. But only if I get backup dancer status."

Wonwoo shrugged, his gaze flicking to you briefly before he set the guitar down. "It's just a song."

Just a song, sure. But the way your heart was pounding said otherwise.

The night wore on, filled with more games and Seungkwan's relentless teasing. But the final blow came when Seungkwan, clearly buzzed on soda and his own chaos, leaned forward and grinned wickedly.

"So," he said, his tone far too casual, "who's the better kisser? Jeonghan or Wonwoo?"

You choked on your drink, coughing violently as Hoshi burst out laughing. "Seungkwan, what the hell?!"

Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with amusement, while Wonwoo's expression darkened. "Really, Seungkwan?"

"What? It's a valid question!" Seungkwan said, feigning innocence. "We're all friends here, right?"

You buried your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "I am not answering that."

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned closer. "You don't have to say it. I think we all know the answer."

Wonwoo's jaw tightened. "Do we? Because I'm pretty sure we don't."

Vernon, with his usual deadpan humor, spoke up. "Honestly, I think everyone just needs a cold shower."

Mingyu practically snorted from his chair. "You're not wrong, man."

Hoshi, practically in tears from laughing, waved his hands. "Okay, okay! Let's call it a night before someone actually dies."

You groaned, vowing to never let Seungkwan plan anything ever again. But as you glanced between Jeonghan and Wonwoo, both of whom were now glaring at each other, you couldn't help but wonder: how the hell did your life get this complicated?

That evening, after everyone had left you alone with both Jeonghan and Wonwoo, the atmosphere shifts. It's quieter, more intimate, as the three of you settle on the couch. You're sandwiched between them, their presence comforting but charged with unspoken tension.

Jeonghan's hand brushes against yours, his fingers lingering before he takes your hand fully. You glance up, meeting his eyes. They're soft but searching, as if he's trying to read every thought running through your mind.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches, but you nod. His lips are warm and familiar, moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. When he pulls back, you're left staring at him, your thoughts a whirlwind.

Then, you feel Wonwoo's hand on your back, steady and grounding. You turn to him, and his gaze holds a quiet intensity. He doesn't ask, but his hesitation is clear, giving you the choice. When you lean toward him, his lips meet yours in a kiss that's different but no less meaningful. It's slower, deeper, like he's pouring every unspoken word into it.

When you pull back, you realize you're holding both their hands. The moment is electric, filled with a newfound understanding. They're not competing anymore. Instead, they're focused entirely on you.

Jeonghan's arms are steady as he lifts you off the sofa, cradling you effortlessly. His gaze never leaves yours, a quiet intensity in his eyes as he carries you toward the bedroom. You barely notice Wonwoo following behind until you feel his hands on you, tugging at the hem of your shirt as soon as Jeonghan sets you down on the edge of the bed.

"Wonwoo," Jeonghan murmurs, his tone half a warning and half amusement, but he doesn't stop him.

Wonwoo works with quiet precision, pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion, leaving you bare to their hungry eyes. You shiver under the weight of their attention, but before you can feel self-conscious, Jeonghan is there, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your mouth, his voice low and reverent, as if every word is a vow.

Wonwoo's hands glide over your shoulders, down your sides, his touch firmer, more deliberate. His lips trail along your neck, sending a jolt of heat through your body. "You're ours," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and possessive, making your pulse race.

Jeonghan pulls back just enough to catch your dazed expression, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Do you want this?" he asks, his voice gentle but edged with a raw need.

You nod, breathless, your hands finding their way to Jeonghan's hair and Wonwoo's arm, pulling them closer. "Yes," you manage to say, the word barely above a whisper, but it's all they need.

Jeonghan smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips, before he leans in again, kissing you deeply. Meanwhile, Wonwoo's hands make quick work of the waistband of your pants, sliding them down with agonizing slowness, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake.

The bed dips as Jeonghan pushes you gently back, his lips never leaving yours, while Wonwoo's hands and lips continue their exploration. Every touch, every kiss is unhurried, as if they're taking their time memorizing every inch of you.

"You're stunning," Wonwoo murmurs, his voice thick with admiration, as he shifts to press kisses lower, his hands spreading warmth wherever they touch.

Jeonghan's hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from your lips. "She's perfect," Jeonghan agrees, his voice soft but filled with awe as he glances at Wonwoo, a rare moment of unity passing between them.

Wonwoo was already eating you out, Jeonghan swallowing every moan coming out from those pretty lips of yours. Wonwoo's tongue entered you and it made you arche your back just a little until Jeonghan puts you in place. You were practically breathless as Jeonghan's lips travel to your neck to leave more marks on you.

Never in your life would you have expected such an outcome like this. But before you could even process anything, Wonwoo was overstimulating you. You squirmed, but Jeonghan made sure to keep you in place.

"W- wait..." You cried out as you squirt for the second time. But Wonwoo doesn't stop. Your head fell on the pillow behind you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you whine and whimper.

They work in tandem, their movements coordinated and seamless, as if they've silently agreed to worship every part of you together. Jeonghan's lips claim yours again, his kiss slow and consuming, while Wonwoo's mouth and hands draw moans from you, the tension in the room thick and electric.

When Wonwoo finally pulls away from your soaked cunt, he puts his fingers in before you can even have any time to catch your breath. Jeonghan pulls away and watches the younger mess you up and do all the work. With your swollen lips, messy hair, and having Wonwoo mess you up was quite the sight for him. He wouldn't imagine anyone else do you like this, but why is he rock hard on seeing you in a state like this. 

Wonwoo wasn't very different from Jeonghan, you looked too hot and pretty being all vulnerable for them like this. It makes him want to give the whole world to you. 

You pant as Wonwoo's fingers enter you in and out fast, Jeonghan smirks beside you, holding your hands and watching your every reaction. It didn't matter if you looked pathetic being watched, it was this moment that had you distracted from everything.

Wonwoo was first to have his dick inside of your cunt, with your back facing him, whimpering as he humps himself into you. You were arched down on the bed, Jeonghan's thumb grazed your lips as you opened your mouth for him. He slowly shoves his cock in you until it reached your throat, almost making you gag, but with Wonwoo's hard thrusts behind you, your moans vibrated on Jeonghan's cock, making him grunt to the feeling. 

"Shit... She's fucking... Tight.." Wonwoo grunts as he feels your pussy clench around his cock. Jeonghan has his hand through your soft flocks, guiding your head, having you bob over him. 

"Are you gonna cum?" Jeonghan manages to let out. Wonwoo huffed, muttered a messy 'yes' as he blows a one final thrust before cumming, painting your walls beautifully with his hot load mixing with yours. 

Jeonghan follows right after, cumming into your mouth. You swallowed everything before falling down onto the bed, covering yourself up with the blanket nearby. Jeonghan holds his hand out to your head, brushing your hair with his fingers while Wonwoo grabbed a wet towel nearby. 

The older tugged at the blanket you were holding but you were holding onto it too tight as if your life had depended on it. "Oh come on, princess, come out, we'll just clean you up."

Wonwoo smiled before sitting at your side. "Are you alright, Y/N?" It's his tone that made you want to be eaten by the bed right then and there.

You shifted, catching your breath before replying a stubborn "I'll clean myself."

Jeonghan sighs softly, brushing his fingers through your hair, his touch featherlight as he watches you bury your face in the pillow. "Alright, princess, take your time," he murmurs, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the room moments ago. He doesn't push you, instead shifting to sit beside you while Wonwoo presses a damp towel against your shoulder, the warmth grounding you.

The silence between the three of you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with hesitation. Wonwoo leans down, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers, "We'll take care of you. You don't have to do anything else."

His words, so quiet and sincere, stir something deep inside you. Slowly, you loosen your grip on the blanket, letting it slip down as Jeonghan and Wonwoo exchange soft smiles. They aren't in a hurry—there's no rush to shatter the fragile, vulnerable intimacy that lingers in the room.

Jeonghan is the first to move, his hands gently guiding you to sit up. He wraps the blanket loosely around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. "You're beautiful like this," he whispers, his eyes soft and tender as they meet yours.

Wonwoo nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving your face. "We'll make this night unforgettable for you," he promises, his voice steady and full of conviction.

They take their time, helping you clean up and settle against the pillows before climbing into bed on either side of you. Jeonghan props himself up on one elbow, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, while Wonwoo presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, his warmth seeping into you.

"I think we broke her," Jeonghan teases lightly, his voice tinged with humor as he nudges you gently. The corners of his mouth curve into a smirk, but his eyes remain soft, a quiet adoration evident in his expression.

You manage a small laugh, the sound easing the tension in your chest. "You think?" you reply, your voice hoarse but laced with a teasing edge.

Wonwoo chuckles, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together. "Maybe we should slow down," he says, his tone warm and full of affection.

But Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath against your cheek. "Not unless she tells us to," he murmurs, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth in a ghost of a kiss.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest, but not in a suffocating way. It's grounding, like they're anchoring you to them. You nod slowly, meeting their eyes. "I don't want this to end," you admit, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.

Wonwoo smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It won't," he promises softly.

Jeonghan presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a low murmur against your skin. "Then let us show you just how much you mean to us."

The night unfolds in a blur of soft whispers and lingering touches, their movements unhurried, as if they're memorizing every detail of this moment. There's no rush, no urgency—only the quiet, steady rhythm of shared breaths and the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours.

They take turns holding you, their touches soothing and reverent, as if you're something precious, too delicate to be rushed. Jeonghan's lips trace over your collarbone, his hands warm against your skin, while Wonwoo's fingers weave through your hair, his voice low and steady as he murmurs sweet nothings that make your heart ache in the best way.

Hours pass, but it doesn't feel like enough. By the time exhaustion pulls at you, your body relaxed and your mind hazy, you're nestled between them, their arms wrapped protectively around you. Jeonghan presses a kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. "Sleep, princess," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room.

Wonwoo's hand rests over yours, his thumb brushing idly against your skin. "We're not going anywhere," he promises, his voice a soothing balm that eases you into sleep.

As you drift off, cocooned in their warmth, you realize that something has shifted—not just between them, but within you. There's no going back, but in this moment, you're not sure you'd want to.

The faint sound of keyboard clicks filled the cozy apartment, punctuated by the occasional hum of the game loading screen. You sat cross-legged on the couch, cradling a mug of tea as you watched Wonwoo focus intently on his monitor. His glasses rested low on his nose, and his hoodie sleeves were slightly pushed up, revealing the veins in his arms.

“Are you almost done?” you asked, your voice soft but impatient.

Wonwoo smirked without looking back. “Five minutes. I’m almost at the save point.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “You’ve been ‘almost done’ for the last twenty minutes. If you’d told me this was going to turn into a date with your PC, I’d have stayed home.”

That earned a laugh from him, low and warm. “You are home,” he countered. “And besides, I remember someone saying they like watching me play.”

“I said I like playing with you,” you shot back. “Not being the third wheel to your Overwatch teammates.”

His head turned, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip. “You know I can’t stream you. You’re too competitive. They’d think I was getting bullied live.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it mid-air, laughing as he finally shut his game down. Wonwoo stretched, his movements unhurried as he made his way to the couch. He slouched beside you, his head resting on your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You want to play?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“No,” you replied, setting your mug down. “I want your undivided attention, gamer boy.”

“Undivided, huh?” He chuckled and shifted, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. “You’re demanding tonight.”

“I get you for six hours tops,” you teased, though there was no bite in your tone. “I have to make the most of it before Jeonghan steals me away again tomorrow.”

Wonwoo’s smile softened at the mention of Jeonghan, but there was no jealousy in his eyes—just a quiet understanding. “That’s fair,” he murmured. “But for now, I’m not letting you go.”

The next morning, Jeonghan was already dressed and sipping his coffee when you arrived at his office. He glanced up from his phone, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

“You’re late,” he said, setting the phone down.

“I’m on time,” you corrected, placing the takeout bag on his desk. “And I brought breakfast, so maybe don’t start the day with complaints.”

Jeonghan opened the bag, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the pastries. “Fancy. Did Wonwoo pick these out?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s his favorite bakery,” Jeonghan replied with a shrug, biting into the croissant. “He’s got good taste. I can’t fault him for that.”

The playful edge in his tone made you squint at him. “What? No snarky comment about me spending the night there?”

“Why would I?” He leaned back in his chair, a casual air about him. “I got you all day. I’m not greedy.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “Not greedy? You called me three times yesterday to ‘check in.’”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, unrepentant. “What can I say? I miss you when you’re gone.” He reached across the desk, his fingers brushing yours. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

Later that evening, as you headed home, you were caught off guard by Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s playful conversation in the group chat.

Jeonghan: She didn’t text me back last night, so I assume you hogged her attention? Wonwoo: You got her all day. Don’t be greedy, hyung. Jeonghan: Touché. But I did buy her coffee yesterday. So, you owe me. Wonwoo: I’ll send you my leftover ramen.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read their messages. Despite their differences, there was an unspoken balance between the three of you—a connection that somehow worked without tipping into chaos

The hum of Jeonghan’s suitcase wheels rolling across the marble floor broke the silence in the apartment. He paused at the doorway, turning back to you with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” he asked, adjusting the cuff of his blazer with meticulous care. His tone was calm, almost nonchalant, but the faint crease between his brows betrayed his unease.

You crossed the room to him, your hands deftly straightening his tie. “I’ll be fine, Jeonghan. It’s just a couple of days. Plus, Wonwoo’s around, so I won’t be lonely.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, though his gaze lingered on yours. “I’m not worried about that,” he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch was deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of you before the distance set in. “I just hate leaving when things are good.”

“You act like you’re gone for months.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but the look in his eyes made your chest tighten.

“Sometimes a few days is enough to miss what matters,” he replied softly. His words hung in the air, laced with meaning.

Your smile faltered for a moment before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, grounding the moment. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on your meetings, and I’ll focus on making sure Wonwoo doesn’t eat ramen every night.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh, the crease in his brow finally easing. “Good luck with that. He’s stubborn.” He rolled his suitcase toward the door but stopped one last time, turning to face you.

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m back,” he promised, his voice quieter now, like he was speaking to himself as much as to you.

“Deal,” you said, watching as the door clicked shut behind him.

The apartment felt emptier in the silence that followed, the faint scent of Jeonghan’s cologne lingering in the air. You exhaled, pressing your palm to the closed door as a bittersweet ache settled in your chest. It wasn’t unusual for Jeonghan to leave, but the gaps he left behind always felt bigger than you expected.

The sound of your phone buzzing snapped you out of your thoughts. You grabbed it off the counter, smiling when Wonwoo’s name flashed on the screen.

Wonwoo: What time should I come over? You: now. i could use some company Wonwoo: On my way. Bring snacks? You: Obviously.

Half an hour later, you were curled up on the couch, a bag of chips balanced precariously between you and Wonwoo as he flipped through movie options on the TV.

“So,” he said, settling on an action flick, “Jeonghan’s off to be CEO of the year again?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s just a couple of days.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t like being away from you. Not that I blame him.”

The casual way he said it sent a flutter through your chest, but you rolled your eyes to play it off. “You’re not going to get all sentimental on me, are you?”

Wonwoo smirked, reaching over to steal a chip. “Not my style.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the movie filling the room. But as the night wore on, you found yourself leaning into Wonwoo’s shoulder, his warmth seeping into you like a quiet reassurance.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low, “he’s lucky I’m not the jealous type.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your lips quirking into a smile. “And why’s that?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, his dark eyes holding a glimmer of something unreadable. “Because sharing isn’t easy. But I think it’s worth it—for you.”

Your breath hitched for a second, and you quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. Wonwoo didn’t push the moment, though. He simply adjusted the blanket over your legs and went back to watching the movie, leaving you to sit with the weight of his words.

A few nights later, the soft click of keys echoed through Wonwoo’s small office. He was seated at his desk, his brows furrowed in concentration, the faint glow of his monitor illuminating his sharp features. The sight of him, so absorbed in his work, was oddly comforting—and yet you couldn’t help but feel the distance it created.

Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms with a playful smirk. “You know, I could’ve gone home if you were going to work all night.”

Wonwoo didn’t look up right away, his fingers still typing as he replied. “And let Jeonghan win? Not a chance.”

You laughed, stepping into the room. “It’s not a competition, Wonwoo.”

Finally, he glanced up, his lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Maybe not for you. But he gets you all day, and now I’m stuck with deadlines. Feels like the universe is playing favorites.”

Shaking your head, you placed a steaming cup of coffee next to his keyboard. “You’ll survive,” you teased, leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead. “But since you’re so busy, maybe I should let Jeonghan take the next night shift.”

Wonwoo groaned, his hands darting out to grab your waist before you could escape. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with mischief. In one fluid motion, he pulled you onto his lap, his arms locking firmly around you.

“Wonwoo!” you gasped, startled, but a laugh bubbled out as you found yourself face-to-face with him.

His dark eyes glimmered with amusement as he tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. “If I’m losing time to work, at least let me make the most of the time I do get.”

The warmth in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands instinctively rested on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he countered, his voice softening as his fingers traced gentle circles against your lower back.

Your cheeks warmed under his attention, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your nose against his before capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened as his hands tightened their hold on you. He kissed you like he’d been waiting all night for this moment—slow, deliberate, and unyielding.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, earning a quiet hum of approval from him. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet hum of his computer and the warmth of his embrace.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly breathless. Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you, his lips quirking into that familiar, shy smile that always made your heart flutter.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You rested your forehead against his, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “I was planning to,” you murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Good,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Because Jeonghan’s already winning too much.”

You laughed softly, settling into his embrace as his arms wrapped around you securely. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he teased, the exhaustion in his expression melting away as he held you close.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mentioned work, deadlines, or Jeonghan. Instead, you stayed curled up together, savoring the quiet moments that belonged only to the two of you.

The following night, Jeonghan returned from a late meeting, his steps heavy with exhaustion. As he entered the dimly lit apartment, the sight of you curled up on the couch instantly melted away the day’s stress. A soft blanket was pulled around your shoulders, your head resting against the cushions as the faint glow of the TV flickered across your peaceful face.

For a moment, Jeonghan simply stood in the doorway, his tie slightly loosened and his briefcase still in hand. His gaze softened as he took in the scene, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

Quietly, he set his briefcase down and slipped off his jacket, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. He walked toward you, his footsteps light, and knelt beside you. Reaching out, his fingers brushed against your cheek, feather-light, as if afraid to wake you.

“You didn’t have to wait up,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with affection.

Your eyes fluttered open at his touch, and a sleepy smile graced your lips. “You work too much,” you murmured, your voice groggy yet teasing. You shifted slightly, making room for him on the couch.

Jeonghan sighed as he sat down beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, his scent familiar and grounding. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “It’s not forever,” he promised in a quiet murmur. “Just a busy week. But I’m glad you’re here. It makes coming home… easier.”

You nestled closer against his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Wonwoo said the same thing last night,” you muttered sleepily, your words muffled against him.

Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he gently ran his fingers through your hair. “That guy gets you all night and still complains about deadlines.”

“He doesn’t complain,” you countered with a small laugh, your hand sliding across his chest to playfully nudge him. “He just… misses me.”

Jeonghan’s arms tightened around you slightly, his voice dropping to a low, tender murmur. “So do I.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing against your skin as he added, “But seeing you happy makes it worth it. Even if it means sharing.”

You tilted your head up, your nose brushing his cheek as you gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“Sweet?” Jeonghan echoed, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Don’t tell Wonwoo that. He already thinks I’m too soft.”

You laughed softly, your fingers reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “I like you soft,” you murmured, leaning in to press your lips against his.

The kiss was gentle at first, slow and unhurried, but it quickly deepened as Jeonghan’s hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, his touch firm yet tender. He kissed you as if he were pouring all the words he couldn’t say into the moment—his longing, his gratitude, and the way you made him feel complete even after the longest of days.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing softly, your foreheads resting against each other. Jeonghan’s hand slid down to intertwine with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Stay like this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled, your fingers squeezing his hand lightly. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

Jeonghan sighed in contentment, pulling the blanket around the both of you as he leaned back against the couch. With you in his arms, the weight of the day seemed to disappear, replaced by the quiet, undeniable joy of having you by his side.

Despite their contrasting schedules, both Jeonghan and Wonwoo seemed to adapt effortlessly to the arrangement. When Jeonghan’s workload picked up, he would send short but thoughtful texts throughout the day to remind you he was thinking of you.

Jeonghan (text): Boardroom’s a nightmare. I hope Wonwoo’s treating you right tonight. You (reply): he ordered pizza and fell asleep halfway through the movie. typical. Jeonghan: Figures. Save the fun stuff for me when I’m back.

On the other hand, when Wonwoo was busy with work or projects, he had his own ways of showing affection. Whether it was a handwritten note on the fridge saying, “Missed you today. Eat something before your stream.” or a curated playlist of cozy tracks for your downtime, he always found a way to make you smile.

Sometimes, he’d include you in his streams—just not as Kitsunya. Instead, you’d appear off-camera or only partially revealed, sparking curiosity among his fans.

Wonwoo (on stream): “So… I have a guest tonight. She’s helping me test out this co-op game. Don’t judge her skills too harshly.” Chat: OMG IS THAT HER??? IS THAT KITSUNYA? You (off-camera, laughing): “Don’t hype me up. I’m just here to lose gracefully.” Chat: She sounds adorable! SHOW HER FACE PLS!!! Wonwoo (grinning): “Relax, guys. She’s shy. And she’s definitely not Kitsunya. Nope. Not at all.”

The stream would continue with playful banter between the two of you, while the chat exploded with speculation. You’d intentionally play poorly at the game just to hear Wonwoo’s deadpan remarks.

You: “Did I just fall into the same trap again?” Wonwoo: “Twice, actually. Impressive consistency.” You: “I’m just giving the monsters a chance.” Chat: THE CHEMISTRY OMG

Little did his fans know, the so-called “guest” was indeed Kitsunya. But neither of you confirmed it, leaving the internet buzzing with theories and fan edits of your clipped voice interactions.

And when both Jeonghan and Wonwoo were free? Those moments felt like a rare treat. Jeonghan would whisk you away for a rooftop dinner under the stars, taking his time to make you feel like the center of his world. Meanwhile, Wonwoo would spend an entire night curled up with you, teaching you how to play his favorite game—and stealing kisses whenever you "accidentally" paused.

In one particularly heart-fluttering moment, Wonwoo pulled you onto his lap mid-stream after you jokingly complained about how bad you were at his game.

You (laughing): “I give up. I’m hopeless. Just leave me here to fail in peace.” Wonwoo (pulling you closer): “Hopeless? Never. Just distracted.” His voice softened, meant only for your ears, as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

His viewers, of course, went wild.

Chat: DID HE JUST—??? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Wonwoo (smirking at the camera): “Alright, enough distractions for tonight. Back to the game.”

Later, when the stream ended, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, his kisses slower and deeper as he murmured against your lips, “You’re my favorite player, no matter how bad you think you are.”

Jeonghan, ever the charmer, never seemed to mind the nights you spent with Wonwoo. He’d tease about it during the day when he wasn’t buried in meetings or reviewing contracts.

Jeonghan (texting): He didn’t hog you all night, did he? You need beauty sleep for our rooftop plans tomorrow. You: define “hog.” we mightve shared pizza and stayed up too late gaming Jeonghan: Tsk. I’ll forgive you this time. But only because you’re cute.

The balance wasn’t always perfect, but the unspoken understanding between the three of you made it work. For Jeonghan and Wonwoo, seeing you happy—whether laughing during a rooftop dinner or snuggled up during a co-op game—was worth every compromise.

While Jeonghan’s schedule often kept him busy, he made up for it with the most thoughtful and deliberate gestures. To him, every moment with you was an opportunity to make you feel cherished, whether it was during work or on your precious dates together.

When Jeonghan had a free afternoon, he would whisk you away from the office for lunch, insisting on a charming café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. He always pulled out your chair, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he leaned down to murmur, “Don’t tell anyone, but this is the highlight of my day.”

After a few bites, his foot would nudge yours playfully under the table, and his eyes would soften as he watched you sip your drink.

“You’ve got something here,” he’d say with a teasing smile, pointing to the corner of his lips. Before you could react, he’d reach over to gently swipe his thumb along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight. “Got it,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a tone that sent shivers down your spine.

Jeonghan was also a master of quiet intimacy. On days when the office workload wasn’t too demanding, he’d make excuses to linger near your desk. “I just need to review this,” he’d claim, pulling up a chair beside you. But the truth was, he simply liked being close to you, sneaking glances at your face when you were focused.

Sometimes, when no one was around, he’d lean in and press a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re too pretty to be working this hard,” he’d tease, brushing your hair back with a fond smile.

When Jeonghan planned a date, it was always an event. He’d show up to your place dressed impeccably, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and press a kiss to your cheek as he handed them to you.

“For the prettiest girl I know,” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes brimming with adoration.

That evening, he’d take you to a rooftop restaurant, the city lights twinkling below as soft music played in the background. Jeonghan’s attention was wholly on you, his phone tucked away, as he leaned forward on his elbows, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Tell me everything about your day,” he’d urge, his voice warm and inviting. And when you spoke, he’d listen intently, his smile growing with every word.

At some point during dinner, he’d reach across the table to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You know,” he’d begin, his voice taking on a teasing lilt, “I think I’m a little jealous of Wonwoo.”

You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“He gets to keep you all to himself at night,” Jeonghan murmured, his smile softening. “Meanwhile, I have to share you with the rest of the world during the day. Not very fair, is it?”

But there was no bitterness in his tone—only gentle affection and a touch of playful possessiveness.

Every now and then, when Jeonghan wasn’t swamped with meetings or traveling for work, he’d invite you over to his place for a quiet evening. Those nights felt like a bubble of warmth and safety, just the two of you curled up on the couch.

Jeonghan would insist on cooking dinner, even though his skills were… questionable at best.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked, peeking into the kitchen.

He turned to you with a wooden spoon in hand, a smudge of sauce on his cheek. “Absolutely not. You sit there and look pretty. This is my time to shine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but when dinner was finally ready, it turned out to be surprisingly delicious. Jeonghan smirked as you took a bite, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Told you I’m full of surprises.”

After dinner, he pulled you onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around both of you as he scrolled through movie options. But halfway through the film, he turned to you, his hand gently cradling your face.

“I’m not watching a single second of this,” he admitted, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “You’re too distracting.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a kiss so sweet and lingering it made your heart race. He pulled you closer, his hands tangling in your hair as he whispered between kisses, “You’re my favorite part of every day, you know that?”

Later, when you were nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, Jeonghan pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice soft and drowsy. “I’ll make us breakfast in the morning… or attempt to, at least.”

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, pulling you with him until you were nestled comfortably against his chest. His hands found your waist, gently guiding you to straddle his lap.

“You look so perfect like this,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. His eyes were soft as they roamed your face, lingering on your lips. “I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or just stare at you forever.”

Your cheeks flushed, and before you could respond, Jeonghan leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours. It started sweet and slow, his hands resting gently on your waist, grounding you in the moment. But as you kissed him back, his grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer.

His fingers trailed up your back, leaving a warmth in their wake, until one hand found its way to your hair. He tilted your head just enough to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate tenderness that made your heart race.

When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “You make me forget about everything else—meetings, work, the world. It’s just you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, cupping his face in your hands. “Good,” you teased, running your thumb along his jawline. “You deserve a break from being Yoon Jeonghan, the ever-busy CEO.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your lower back, his touch warm and soothing. “And you deserve all my attention,” he murmured, kissing you again, this time with a little more urgency.

His lips moved against yours like he was savoring every second, his hands exploring your back in soft, languid strokes. When you shifted in his lap, you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Careful,” he teased, his voice playful but laced with something deeper. “You’re making it hard to focus on being a gentleman right now.”

You laughed softly, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “When have you ever been a gentleman?”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I’m always a gentleman.” But the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I’ll prove it,” he said, lifting you effortlessly as he stood up.

“Jeonghan!” you squealed, clinging to his shoulders.

He carried you to the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed before crawling in beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You know I’m completely whipped for you, right?” he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

You smiled, burying your face in his chest. “I might have noticed.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back as you both settled into the comfort of each other’s presence. The kisses continued, each one sweet and unhurried, as if you had all the time in the world.

And in that moment, with Jeonghan’s arms around you and his lips brushing against yours, it felt like you truly did.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of something… burning. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and followed the noise coming from the kitchen.

Jeonghan stood at the stove, wearing an apron over his pajama pants, waving a dish towel at a slightly charred pancake.

“I told you I’d make breakfast,” he said sheepishly when he noticed you. “I didn’t say it would be edible.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, walking over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Jeonghan turned in your arms, his smile as bright as the morning sun. “And you’re lucky I’m hopelessly in love with you,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss before you could roll your eyes at him.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the kitchen counter, phone in hand as he scrolled through his contacts. You were perched on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, flipping through a magazine, completely unaware of his plan.

“Wonwoo,” Jeonghan said with a smirk as the call connected, ���what are you doing tonight?”

On the other end, Wonwoo’s voice was as calm and steady as ever. “Nothing much. Just reading. Why?”

“Come over,” Jeonghan said smoothly, glancing at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got someone here who’s been missing you.”

You looked up at him, furrowing your brows. “Who are you calling?”

Jeonghan gave you an innocent smile. “Oh, just someone who deserves to see you as much as I do.”

The knock on the door was soft, almost hesitant. Jeonghan opened it to reveal Wonwoo standing there, his usual calm demeanor masking the slight confusion on his face.

“You didn’t tell me she was here,” Wonwoo said, stepping inside and slipping off his coat.

Jeonghan smirked. “I thought I’d surprise you. Go on, she’s in the living room.”

When Wonwoo walked in, you froze for a second before your face lit up. “Wonwoo!” you said, scrambling off the couch to greet him.

He opened his arms just in time for you to crash into his chest, laughing softly as he wrapped you in a warm hug. “I missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

Jeonghan watched from the doorway, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lips. “Alright, don’t hog her all to yourself,” he teased, walking over to join you both.

Wonwoo chuckled, reluctantly letting you go. “I didn’t realize this was a group cuddle invitation.”

“Always is,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, pulling you back into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Now sit. We’re having a cozy night, and you’re not getting out of it.”

Oh my gosh, the perfect conclusion! Let’s make it as heart-melting as possible—soft, cozy, and full of love. 🥹 Here’s how it unfolds:

The three of you ended up tangled together on the couch, a big fluffy blanket draped over all of you. Jeonghan was leaning against the armrest with you curled up against his side, while Wonwoo sat at the other end, your legs draped over his lap.

The room was filled with quiet laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Jeonghan playfully poked at Wonwoo’s serious expression, and Wonwoo fired back with dry humor that made you giggle uncontrollably.

“Why do I feel like I’m the third wheel here?” Wonwoo teased, glancing at you and Jeonghan.

“Third wheel? Please,” Jeonghan said, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. “We’re a perfectly balanced triangle.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but his lips curved into a small smile. “If you say so, hyung.”

You looked between the two of them, your heart swelling with warmth. “I think it’s perfect,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of all the love you felt for them both.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Yeah, it is.”

Jeonghan leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t agree more.”

At some point during the night, the teasing subsided, and the room fell into a comfortable silence. Wonwoo’s hand rested on your ankle as Jeonghan’s arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, both of them relaxed and at ease.

You tilted your head up to look at Jeonghan, who met your gaze with a soft smile before leaning down to kiss you gently. The kiss was slow and tender, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

When you pulled away, you turned to Wonwoo, who was watching with a quiet intensity. He reached for you, his fingers brushing your jaw as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips were warm and firm, his touch grounding you as your heart fluttered.

Jeonghan chuckled softly when you broke the kiss. “Alright, don’t get too carried away,” he said, though there was no jealousy in his tone—just a playful fondness.

You laughed, resting your head on Jeonghan’s chest as you reached out to take Wonwoo’s hand again. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you two,” you said quietly.

“Actually,” Wonwoo said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, “we’re the lucky ones.”

Jeonghan hummed in agreement, his lips pressing against your hair. “Yeah. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”

And with that, the three of you stayed there, wrapped up in each other, the love you shared filling every corner of the room.

a/n: wtf !!! lol writing this, my heart actually melted. lmao this took me months to finish and i guess i can say im just overly proud of myself for reaching the conclusion. honestly, i didnt know what and how to make them all end up together (since that's what the majority wants) but i've actually done it and i've never been prouder. maybe i'm going to make a bonus chapter if you guys like it. what makes you happy makes me happy as well :].

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000 @sunshinewonu @forsoonie @fyvubub

@soleihea @seuncheolcherrybaby @sigxx123 @hjs953012 @caratochan

@smileflawerr @indianmiss @kunfused0101 @jades-archive @i69flora

@whore-anghae @fyvubub @bemysolaces @09yyeol @kaepjjangiya

@fairyhyunggu @hophophlop @itsjustmeagurlthatsveryinlove @kddddddddddddd @wonsivq

@readingcucumber @yueqai @yangtyunhannie @butterflydemons

@yoongznme @cookiearmy

thankyou for sticking with me 'til the end. iloveyouguyss :)) <3

[diamonddaze01]

Full Throttle (i)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 20.6K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOOOOOW BURN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // eventual smut.

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record 

summary: jeonghan's not used to someone who pushes his buttons as easily as you do, and you're not used to someone who challenges you as quickly as he does. maybe it's time to go full throttle, both on and off the track.

a/n: this one is gonna be long. buckle in. this is dedicated to kae @ylangelegy , who was the one who pushed me to write this in the first place, and also graciously beta read this // this is also dedicated to alta @haologram , who watched me lose my mind over this for so long and gave me so much love and support as i wrote this. // huge thanks to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading and giving me their thoughts, especially about when things were too technical // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 2 here! <3

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit 

The Australian Grand Prix had come to an end, but the buzz from the race still lingered in the air. The paddock had started to quiet down, though the echo of cheers and the scent of champagne were still fresh. Jeonghan stood at the edge of the pit lane, watching as the last of the mechanics began to clean up, the high of the win beginning to settle into a low hum of satisfaction.

His fingers absentmindedly brushed over his helmet, the familiar weight grounding him after the chaos of the race. But his mind wasn’t on the mechanics or the trophy waiting for him. No, it was on you.

You had walked away with that smug grin of yours, and even now, hours later, the image of you—cool, collected, and far too clever for your own good—lingered in his thoughts. The way you’d turned the tables on him, effortlessly making him feel like the one caught off guard. For once, it hadn’t been about the race or the rumors swirling around his personal life—it had been about you and the way you knew how to press all his buttons without breaking a sweat.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. "I should’ve asked her to dinner."

But there was no time for that now. The press was waiting. The fans, too. He needed to play the role of the cool, collected champion for the cameras, the last thing he needed was another round of gossip, another round of teasing from the people who loved to stir the pot. And yet, the thought of you, the way you’d made him feel a mix of frustration and something else entirely, was almost too tempting to ignore.

The crew cheered as he finally made his way back to the motorhome, the world still swirling in a whirlwind of victory and flashing cameras. But inside, it was quieter. More personal.

"Jeonghan!" His manager greeted him with a smile, the kind of smile that signaled the end of a long race and the beginning of yet another whirlwind of interviews, photos, and meetings. But Jeonghan only half-listened as his manager spoke, his mind flickering back to the conversation earlier.

"You sure know how to keep things interesting, don't you?" His manager chuckled, noticing the distraction in his eyes. "The headlines are still buzzing. You planning on setting the record straight anytime soon?"

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "Let them talk," he muttered, flashing a grin. "It’s part of the game."

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. It was you. The way you’d baited him, just enough to make him feel the heat of the moment. He had never been this distracted by anyone—or anything—before.

"You have a minute?" a voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was his publicist, holding a phone in one hand, the other gesturing toward the press conference set up for him in the next room.

Jeonghan looked at her, then glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see you again. But you were gone, just like that. He gave a small sigh, almost imperceptible to anyone watching.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this," he muttered, before stepping forward. Jeonghan’s footsteps echoed through the motorhome hallway, the thrum of victory still running through his veins, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the way you’d looked at him—those piercing eyes, full of challenge. He'd seen that expression before, but this time felt different. You weren’t just some reporter stirring up a bit of drama—you were someone who knew exactly how to get under his skin.

His publicist was waiting outside the press room, ready to brief him on the upcoming interviews and meetings. "You’ve got a full schedule, Jeonghan," she said, giving him the rundown with practiced precision. But Jeonghan barely heard her, his mind still distracted by the way you’d turned the tables.

"Hey," he cut in, slowing to a stop in front of her. "What do you know about Y/N?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The publicist blinked in surprise, and beside her, his manager gave a short laugh. "Y/N? You mean the reporter?" the manager asked, voice dripping with amusement. "The one you’ve had run-ins with over the past couple of seasons?"

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Run-ins?" he repeated, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. "What exactly are you implying?"

The publicist shrugged, exchanging a look with the manager. "She’s been covering F1 for a while, pretty sharp with her articles," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "Some of them have definitely gotten attention, especially that one a few weeks ago... the one about you and the whole ‘mysterious love life’ thing." Her eyes flicked to his manager, who made a face at the mention of that piece.

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d tried to forget about that article, but your earlier conversation (read as: challenge) had baffled him. "I shouldn’t have said anything," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But you know she always gets a rise out of me, don’t you?"

The manager snickered. "Oh, we know. It’s not every day we get to watch you struggle to keep your cool. She’s got a way with words, that one." He winked. "But hey, I get it. She’s a great reporter—sharp, clever—and always knows where to find the juiciest stories. You just might want to be a little more careful with what you say around her next time."

Jeonghan smirked. "Careful? Since when have I ever been careful?"

His publicist gave a pointed look, clearly not impressed. "That’s not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s that you tend to forget she knows exactly what buttons to push."

Jeonghan chuckled, his eyes glinting with a new energy. "Oh, she’s good, I’ll give her that. But I’m not so easily rattled." His mind wandered back to the way you’d smirked and walked off, leaving him standing there feeling like he'd just been served a dish of his own medicine.

"Don’t underestimate her," the manager added, half-joking. "You’ve been in this game long enough to know, no one gets a rise out of you like that without knowing exactly what they’re doing."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you’re right. But maybe..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing as a plan started to form in his mind. "...Maybe it’s time I gave her a taste of her own medicine."

The publicist and manager exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. They knew that look—the one Jeonghan got whenever he was plotting something, usually with a dash of mischief and just the right amount of charm to make it impossible for anyone to say no. The same charm that had gotten him into trouble more times than they cared to count.

"You’ve got your interviews now, Jeonghan," his publicist reminded him gently, pulling him back to reality. "We can revisit this later. Just keep your head in the game for now."

He nodded, though his mind was still fixated on you. "Yeah, yeah. Later."

As he entered the press room, he was immediately hit with a barrage of questions. The usual ones about his win, his performance, and his plans for the rest of the season. But even as he answered, his thoughts lingered on you and that damn article. You were always one step ahead, always stirring the pot just enough to keep things interesting. But now, it seemed you had caught his attention for real.

And maybe—just maybe—he was going to have some fun with this.

FORMULA 1 MSC CRUISES JAPANESE GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Suzuka Ciruit

The neon lights of Tokyo cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the bustling streets, the city alive with energy even late into the night. After a long day of prepping for the upcoming race, you’d decided to wind down with a quiet drink in a tucked-away bar that promised a moment’s reprieve from the chaos of the paddock.

The bar was small and intimate, the kind of place that felt like a secret only locals knew about. Jazz music hummed softly in the background, and you found a seat near the corner, ready to savor your drink in peace.

But of course, peace wasn’t in the cards tonight.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you freeze mid-sip. Turning your head, you found none other than Yoon Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his face lit with mild surprise and unmistakable amusement. He wasn’t in his Ferrari team gear for once—just a sleek black jacket and jeans, looking effortlessly casual in a way that somehow made him even more irritatingly attractive.

“Jeonghan,” you replied evenly, setting your drink down. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding onto the stool beside you without an invitation. “Same as you, I’d imagine. Taking a break from the madness.” His eyes flicked to your glass. “Whiskey? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

“And what type is that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into that trademark smirk. “The type who drinks whiskey alone in a bar and pretends they’re not thinking about work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not thinking about work. I’m thinking about how nice it is to not deal with questions about lap times and tire strategies for five minutes.”

Jeonghan chuckled, signaling to the bartender for a drink. “Fair enough. Though, if memory serves, you’re usually the one asking those questions.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shot back. “And if memory serves, you’re usually the one avoiding them.”

“Touché.” He raised his glass when it arrived, a silent toast that you reluctantly mirrored with your own.

For a while, the conversation meandered through safer topics—Tokyo’s sights, the food, the insanity of race week—but there was an undercurrent of something sharper, a game of verbal ping-pong that neither of you seemed willing to let go of.

“You know,” Jeonghan said after a particularly clever jab from you about his less-than-stellar start in Australia, “I think I’ve finally figured you out.”

“Oh?” you asked, amusement dancing in your tone. “Do tell.”

“You act all cool and collected, but deep down…” He paused for dramatic effect, leaning in slightly. “…you love the chaos. You thrive on it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though a grin tugged at your lips. “And what about you, Mr. Reigning Champion? Aren’t you the one who said chaos is just part of the game?”

“True,” he admitted with a lazy shrug. “But I like to think I’m more strategic about it.”

“Strategic?” you echoed, incredulous. “You literally said ‘let them talk’ after crossing the finish line in Australia. That’s not strategy, Jeonghan—that’s reckless arrogance.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how it made your chest tighten just a little. “Maybe. But it keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, sipping your drink instead, determined not to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you with a knowing glint. “This feels familiar.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “What does?”

“Let’s just say you have a knack for leaving me with something to think about,” he said casually, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

A flicker of amusement crossed your face. “Still losing sleep over it, Jeonghan?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low, laced with mischief. “Not quite. But I’ve been wondering if you’re all talk or if you actually mean half the things you say.”

You smirked, leaning back just a little. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” he said smoothly, signaling to the bartender and slipping his card onto the counter.

You frowned, catching on quickly. “Jeonghan, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I don’t,” he replied, his smirk growing as he leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, intimate and teasing. “But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat you every now and then?”

“A terrible one,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, standing up and adjusting his jacket. “Always so quick with the comebacks.”

You tilted your head, not backing down. “And yet, here you are, still trying to keep up.”

He grinned, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “Oh, I’m not just keeping up, sweetheart. I’m leading.”

With that, he threw on his jacket, turning to leave, but not without one last playful remark. “Enjoy your night, Y/N. And next time…” He flashed a grin over his shoulder, his voice dipping lower. “Try putting that mouth of yours to better use.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you could hear his laugh as you watched him disappear into the neon-lit streets. 

Damn him.

The Suzuka Circuit’s air was heavy with anticipation, the disappointment in Ferrari’s garage palpable. Jeonghan leaned against the barrier in the media pen, his crimson Ferrari suit contrasting with the growing dusk. Despite his relaxed posture, the tension radiating off him was hard to miss.

"Yoon Jeonghan," you began, stepping forward with your mic. "P11 today—your first time not making it to Q3 since your rookie season. What happened out there?"

His smile was thin, masking the fire simmering beneath. "Suzuka’s a tough circuit. I put in a solid lap, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. A couple milliseconds make all the difference."

"Kim Mingyu of McLaren knocked you out in the dying seconds of the session," you pointed out, your tone as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, Mingyu had a great lap," he said, though his smirk betrayed a hint of frustration. "Kudos to him for that. It’s the nature of the game—sometimes you’re the one knocking others out, and sometimes you’re the one being knocked out."

You tilted your head, pressing just a little. "Ferrari’s upgrades were supposed to shine here at Suzuka. Do you think the car—or the driver—fell short today?"

His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Is that your way of asking if I’m losing my edge?"

You smiled faintly. "Just doing my job, Jeonghan."

"And doing it well," he replied smoothly. "I’ll make sure to give you something better to write about tomorrow."

Yoon Jeonghan’s Q2 Knockout: A Sign of Ferrari’s Struggles or a Driver Underperforming?

Your analysis was live before the sun set over Suzuka, dissecting Jeonghan’s performance lap by lap:

"While Ferrari’s SF-24 showed promise in Q1, Jeonghan’s Q2 lap exposed cracks in execution. Hesitant braking into Spoon Corner cost him vital time, and a wide exit through Degner 2 raised questions about his confidence under high pressure. Kim Mingyu’s decisive lap in the McLaren only highlighted the contrast, leaving Ferrari fans wondering if Jeonghan can rebound from this rare stumble."

It didn’t take long for the article to ripple through the paddock—and reach its subject. The article was sharp, critical, with the same bite that you had become a household name for. And Jeonghan read every word.

He must have been an idiot to assume you would be kinder after the way he’d left you gobsmacked a few nights prior at the bar. 

You had just wrapped up your interview with Mingyu, the day’s pole sitter, when Jeonghan found you.

"Got a minute?" he asked, voice deceptively light.

You glanced up, startled to find him so close, still in his Ferrari suit, his hair slightly damp from the cool-down lap.

"Something on your mind?" you replied, keeping your tone professional.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. "That article."

You raised an eyebrow. "Specificity helps, you know."

He chuckled darkly. "The one where you ripped apart my Q2 performance like you’re a technical director." He took a step closer, and for the first time, the calm façade cracked - his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Hesitant braking? Lack of confidence under pressure? You really think I’m losing my touch?"

"I think Suzuka demands perfection," you replied evenly. "And today, perfection wasn’t what we saw."

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You love this, don’t you? Watching me stumble so you can tear me apart in print."

"Jeonghan," you said, straightening, "if you want me to write glowing reviews, give me something to work with."

"You should’ve mentioned how close I was to Mingyu’s time," he shot back.

"Close isn’t enough," you countered, coolly. "Not in this sport."

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Careful, sweetheart. Don’t let them think you’re this obsessed with me."

"Careful, Jeonghan," you shot back mockingly. "Sienna Hartley might not like hearing you get so worked up over me."

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could walk away. "Here’s an exclusive for you," he said, his voice sharp. "Me and Sienna? Not together."

You blinked, thrown off for just a moment before you schooled your expression. "Good to know. Now let go."

He released you immediately but lingered just long enough to murmur, "Don’t think this is over."

The Suzuka chaos worked in Jeonghan’s favor. 

When the lights went out, Jeonghan’s start was perfect—clean, aggressive, calculated. By the first corner, he had already gained two places, capitalizing on a sluggish Alpine and threading the needle between a Williams and an AlphaTauri. 

The midfield battle was fierce. Suzuka’s notorious esses demanded precision, and Jeonghan attacked them with surgical efficiency, his Ferrari responding like an extension of his own instincts. He overtook the Aston Martin of Lee Seokmin into Turn 11 with a move so bold the crowd audibly gasped. 

Each pass felt like a small victory, but it wasn’t enough. The podium still felt miles away. His fingers tightened on the wheel as he navigated the sweeping Spoon Curve, catching a glimpse of the orange McLaren far ahead—Mingyu.

The memory of your post-quali interview slipped into his mind. Close isn’t enough. Not in this sport.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Jeonghan approached Degner 2, the car planted firmly under him. He could feel the wear on his tires but knew he still had grip to spare. He glanced briefly at the digital display on his steering wheel, calculating the gap to the car ahead—P5, the Red Bull of Choi Seungcheol.

As he accelerated toward the Hairpin, your voice echoed in his head again. Hesitant braking. Confidence issues.

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t anger—it was something more complicated. Why did you always manage to get under his skin? He should’ve been focusing on tire wear, fuel management, or his next target, but instead, his mind betrayed him.

He thought of the way you’d smirked during the interview, how your tone had been sharp, almost daring. The way you’d walked away, leaving him with more to say.

Focus. He snapped himself back, braking perfectly into the Hairpin. The slip of attention hadn’t cost him, but it had been close. Too close.

A well-timed pit stop under a virtual safety car catapulted him to P4. He rejoined the track with fresh mediums, slicing through the field with an aggression that stunned even his team.

By Lap 40, he was staring down the rear wing of Kwon Soonyoung—his own teammate. The team’s radio lit up, the pit wall hesitating.

“Jeonghan, Soonyoung ahead on a different strategy. Keep it clean.”

He didn’t wait for a direct order. Into 130R, the fastest corner on the track, he swung to the outside. His car shuddered with the force of the maneuver, but he held his line, leaving Soonyoung no choice but to yield.

“P3, Jeonghan. You’re on the podium now. Great move.”

With only two laps to go, he was in P2, chasing Mingyu, who had a comfortable lead. Jeonghan knew catching him was impossible, but that wasn’t the point anymore. This was about proving something—to his team, the fans, and maybe even to you.

The Ferrari hummed beneath him, a symphony of power and precision. Every turn, every braking zone, every shift felt like redemption. When he crossed the line in P2, the roar of the crowd was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

The media room was packed, buzzing with questions for the podium finishers. You started with Mingyu, still glowing from his dominant victory.

“Kim Mingyu,” you began, “another win for McLaren. How does it feel to catch up to Jeonghan in the driver’s championship?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning into the mic. “It feels incredible. The car was perfect today, and the team did an amazing job. Credit to everyone back at the factory.”

Before you could move on to the next question, Jeonghan interjected from his spot.

“Must feel nice to start up front and stay there,” he quipped, his tone light but pointed.

Mingyu grinned, unfazed. “You would know, Jeonghan. But you kept me looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

The room chuckled, and you shot Jeonghan a warning glance, which he ignored entirely.

Later, when a question was directed at Jeonghan about his race recovery, his response was pointed. "Oh, you know. I’m pretty good at managing tire degradation. And I had a lot of people doubting me on this track specifically, so I had to prove them wrong too."

His gaze locked on yours as he delivered the last line, and the meaning wasn’t lost on you—or anyone else in the room.

Jeonghan barely made it three steps out of the press conference room before Soonyoung intercepted him, leaning casually against a stack of Pirelli tires like he had all the time in the world. The amusement on his face set Jeonghan’s internal alarms blaring.

“What the hell was that about?” Soonyoung asked, arms crossed in mock authority.

Jeonghan blinked, expertly schooling his expression into one of pure confusion. “What was what about?” he replied, his tone dripping with innocence.

“Oh, don’t even try to play dumb with me, Jeonghan. I know you too well.” Soonyoung’s grin widened as he stepped closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You were doing something during that press conference. I’ve never seen you look that smug unless you’re—”

“I was answering questions,” Jeonghan interrupted smoothly, plucking a water bottle from the cooler without breaking his stride. He unscrewed the cap with deliberate calm, taking a slow sip. “That’s what press conferences are for, in case you forgot.”

Soonyoung squinted at him, unconvinced. “Right. And here I thought press conferences were for you to pretend you’re unbothered while delivering backhanded digs at Kim Mingyu.”

Jeonghan barely managed to keep a straight face, though he felt the tiniest flicker of pride. He had been particularly good with his barbs today. Still, there was no way he was admitting that. “Don’t project, Soonyoung,” he drawled. “Not everyone uses media day as therapy.”

Before Soonyoung could retort, a new voice joined the conversation.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee.

“You know what?” Jeonghan asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

“That look you had during the Q&A,” Sunwoo continued, leaning casually against a tool chest. “You were staring at her, man. Like, full-on laser focus. It’s like you were trying to send her a message.”

Jeonghan’s grip on the water bottle tightened. He felt his ears heat up but refused to let it show. “I was answering her question,” he said evenly. “It’s called eye contact. You should try it sometime—people like that sort of thing.”

But Sunwoo wasn’t done. “And don’t think we didn’t notice you getting all flustered when Mingyu’s name came up,” he added, his smirk widening.

“Flustered?” Jeonghan repeated, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. “Right. That’s definitely the word I’d use to describe me.”

“Come on, dude.” Sunwoo shrugged, undeterred. “Admit it. You’ve got a crush.”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jeonghan froze mid-sip, choking slightly as the water went down the wrong way. He coughed, spluttering as Sunwoo and Soonyoung erupted into laughter.

“Alright,” Jeonghan said sharply once he’d recovered, pointing a finger at Sunwoo. “You’ve been spending too much time on TikTok. Get back to work before I have you polishing rims for the rest of the season.”

But Sunwoo only grinned wider, completely unbothered. “Jeonghan’s in loooove,” he teased, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice.

“I said that’s enough,” Jeonghan snapped, the slight pink tinge creeping up his neck completely betraying his forced composure. “Shouldn’t you be tuning an engine or something useful?”

Soonyoung, meanwhile, was doubled over laughing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. When he finally straightened, he clapped Jeonghan on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man. If you need advice, just let me know. I’m great with women.”

Jeonghan groaned, brushing him off. “The day I take advice from you, Soonyoung, is the day I retire. He shoved past them toward his motorhome, muttering under his breath. “Insufferable. Both of you.”

But even as he slammed the door behind him, Jeonghan couldn’t stop the echo of Sunwoo’s words from rattling around in his head. 

You’ve got a crush.

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, tossing the water bottle onto the couch. But as he sank down beside it, arms crossed and jaw tight, he couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering.

Jeonghan didn’t want to be here.

The club pulsed with energy, a humid swirl of bodies pressing too close, the bass reverberating in his chest like a persistent headache. Strobe lights sliced through the haze, and the air smelled faintly of spilled drinks and cheap cologne. Somewhere in the chaos, Soonyoung had disappeared, leaving Jeonghan to fend for himself.

He’d been ready to make his exit the moment they walked in, but Soonyoung had insisted. “You need to loosen up, Jeonghan. Let the adrenaline from the race wear off. Have a drink, maybe dance.”Jeonghan had scoffed at the idea, knowing full well that his reason for not wanting to stay wasn’t exhaustion.

No, it was you.

Even when you weren’t in the room, you lingered in his mind like the ghost of a song he couldn’t stop humming. The podium had been a nice distraction. But now, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and the clinking of glasses, his thoughts drifted back to the press conference and the pointed, teasing look you’d given him when he spoke.

And then there was Mingyu—always Mingyu—whose name you’d said with just a little too much warmth. Jeonghan had pretended not to notice, but it had been impossible to ignore.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan pushed through the crowd, determined to leave. He had almost made it to the exit when someone collided into him, hard enough to send him stumbling forward.

“Whoa—watch it!” a voice slurred, sharp with irritation but unmistakably familiar.

He turned, already scowling, but the expression froze on his face when he saw you.

“Jeonghan?” you said, blinking up at him, your voice teetering between surprise and amusement. Your cheeks were flushed, lips curling into a slow smile as you adjusted your grip on the drink in your hand.

“You?” he blurted, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

“What are you—?” you started, only to trail off as a giggle bubbled out of you. Shaking your head like you were trying to clear it, you added, “Wow. Small world, huh?”

“I guess so,” Jeonghan said, his tone carefully even, though his gaze lingered on the way the dim light caught the sheen of your hair, the curve of your smile. His eyes dropped to your drink, then back to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly, before adding with a sheepish laugh, “Okay, maybe. Just a little.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to curve into a smile. “Sure looks like it.”

You waved him off with a dramatic flourish, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be... I don’t know, brooding on a podium somewhere?”

He tilted his head, pretending to be affronted. “I don’t brood. And besides, this is a celebration.”

“Oh, right,” you said, stepping closer. Your gaze softened, and your voice dropped just enough to make the words feel like they were meant for him alone. “The big comeback.”

“Lots of doubters, huh?” you added, the slight slur in your voice doing nothing to dull the edge of your words.

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard, before a chuckle escaped him. “Well, your article did the talking for you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes a little too bright, your smile a little too slow. “What a way to get my attention, pretty boy.”

His breath caught, his carefully built façade cracking for just a second. “You think I’m pretty?”

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, a hand landed firmly on your shoulder.

“There you are!”

Jeonghan looked up to see one of your friends glaring at him as they steadied you. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re... what? Flirting with Yoon Jeonghan now?”

“Not flirting,” you protested weakly, though your lopsided smile said otherwise.

Your friend wasn’t convinced, nor were they interested in his response. They tugged you into the crowd with an apologetic glance over their shoulder. “Sorry about her—she’s had a night.”

Jeonghan stayed rooted in place, his gaze following your retreating figure. His lips curved into a faint smile as your words replayed in his mind.

“What a way to get my attention,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

And yet, as he stood there, the thought struck him that maybe you’d already gotten his.

FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO 2024Track: Circuit de Monaco

The paddock at Monaco was alive with its usual glitz and glamour, the unmistakable hum of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Cameras flashed, team personnel buzzed around, and the harbor glistened under the sun. Monaco, the crown jewel of the F1 calendar, had a way of amplifying everything—victories felt sweeter, defeats more crushing, and the stakes impossibly higher.

Jeonghan, fresh off securing pole position, had his usual air of nonchalance, but the glow of triumph was undeniable. The fans chanted his name; the cameras adored him. Yet as he stepped off the podium erected for the post-qualifying festivities, his sharp eyes caught sight of something—someone—that brought him up short.

You.

You were standing just beyond the throng of journalists, your press badge gleaming under the midday sun. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, weeks since your sharp quips and piercing questions had filled the air between you like sparks on dry wood.

Those weeks had been… odd, to say the least. You’d been reassigned to cover Formula E, a shift Jeonghan had learned about only after noticing your absence at the paddock in China. He had played it cool, pretending it didn’t matter, but he had found himself seeking out your byline anyway—reading articles that had nothing to do with him or F1, just to feel the rhythm of your words.

Even the searing critiques you usually aimed at him had been sorely missed. It was maddening, really, how much quieter the world had felt without your fire.

Now, here you were again, back in the fray of Formula 1, as though no time had passed. Jeonghan’s expression remained casual, but his stride toward you was deliberate, cutting through the chaos of the paddock.

When he stopped in front of you, his smirk was already in place, a shield against the strange, unwelcome flutter of relief in his chest. “Where’ve you been?” he asked, tilting his head with practiced ease.

You looked up from your notebook, arching a brow at him. “Missed me, Jeonghan?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The word landed between you like a drop of rain on hot asphalt, its simplicity taking you aback. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but notice how the sharpness in your gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

But then, as quickly as the moment arrived, he leaned in, his smirk deepening. “Someone had to keep the paddock interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, recovering your composure. “I see the Monaco air hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“And I see Formula E hasn’t dulled your wit,” he shot back, stepping closer so the noise of the paddock faded slightly.

You shook your head, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve done not too bad these past few races, huh?”

The comment was offhand, tossed in almost as a formality, but it hit Jeonghan harder than he expected. Compliments—genuine ones—were rare from you, and they stirred something unexpected in him.

Jeonghan blinked, the smirk faltering for just a second before he quickly replaced it with mock arrogance. “Not too bad?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I dominated in China, held my ground in Miami, and destroyed Emilia Romagna. Give me some credit here.”

For all his ego, Jeonghan knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d won China by a jaw-dropping 22.3-second margin, Mingyu so far behind that Jeonghan had time to deliver an entire thank-you speech over the radio before the McLaren driver even crossed the checkered flag. In Miami, even a grueling five-second stop-go penalty hadn’t stopped him; he finished P2 (behind Kim Mingyu, annoyingly) and picked up the extra point for the fastest lap, earning him Driver of the Day. And in Emilia Romagna, he was the clear favorite from the moment the race weekend began. The Tifosi were relentless, their cheers in the grandstands so deafening that Jeonghan could barely hear his engineer’s voice over the radio.

When he crossed the finish line first, the sea of red under the podium roared with such thunderous applause that his ears rang for hours afterward. In just three races, Jeonghan had cemented himself as the best contender for the 2024 World Champion.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t as sweet without you there to write about it.

“Alright,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ve been exceptional.”

The word struck like a sucker punch. For once, Jeonghan didn’t have a clever retort. 

"Congrats on pole, Jeonghan," you said, your voice cool but sincere, offering him a small smile. It made his heart skip a beat.

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You called me exceptional."

You glanced up at him, closing your notebook with a flick of your wrist. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk. "Yes. Now, thoughts on pole?"

He's silent for so long that you politely clear your throat, hoping to cut through the sudden stillness. "Maybe this should be my headline for the day, Jeonghan. Monaco's Maze Leaves Golden Boy Spinning Out."

It's like someone doused him with ice water. His easy, sun-soaked posture stiffens, and the small smirk he'd been wearing evaporates.

You're still a journalist. He forgets that sometimes.

"Why do you do that?" he mutters, voice edged with something unfamiliar—disappointment, maybe.

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely between you and the notebook tucked in your hand. The lenses of his sunglasses catch the sunlight, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind them. His gaze pierces, searching for something in your expression. “Bringing the shitty headlines into every conversation."

You arch a brow, tucking the notebook closer to your chest as if shielding it from his line of sight. “Shitty? You mean accurate, Jeonghan.”

His jaw tightens, a subtle movement, but enough to draw your attention. There’s a faint crease forming between his brows now, and you realize it’s not your usual back-and-forth banter. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, voice low and barely audible over the hum of the paddock—the distant rumble of engines, the echo of voices, the clinking of tools in nearby garages.

For a moment, you’re at a loss. Jeonghan doesn’t let things like this bother him—or, at least, he’s always been good at pretending they don’t. His whole brand is carefree charm, a perpetual smirk, and the confidence of someone who knows he’ll always be the center of attention. This feels different.

“You’re upset about a headline?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“It’s not about the headline.” His tone sharpens, but he stops himself, jaw clenching like he’s swallowing something bitter. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his fingers brushing over the brim of his cap. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “It’s about how you never let up, even when it’s me.”

The admission lands heavily between you, unexpected and disarming.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his words, the way they seem to strip away the professional distance you’ve been clinging to. “Why should I?” you counter, keeping your voice steady despite the flicker of doubt creeping in. “You’re just another driver, Jeonghan.”

His laugh is short and humorless, cutting through the charged air between you. “Right. Just another driver.”

There’s something about the way he says it—low, almost resigned—that catches you off guard. The bitterness in his tone isn’t theatrical; it’s real, raw, and so at odds with the image he projects to the world.

You glance at him, searching for the Jeonghan you’re used to—the one who shrugs off criticism with a knowing grin, who always has a teasing retort ready. But for once, he’s not hiding behind a smirk or a cocky quip. He looks tired, the weight of his words pulling at the edges of his carefully maintained charm.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can find the right words. “Forget it.”

He takes a step back, and it feels like a gulf opening between you. The mask of indifference slips back into place with practiced ease, but you’ve already seen the cracks. “You’ve got your job to do,” he says, his tone clipped and distant. “Make sure you spell my name right in that next ‘shitty headline.’”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, hate the instinctive urge to reach out and stop him as he turns to walk away, his figure retreating into the chaotic swirl of the paddock.

But you don’t.

Instead, you grip your notebook tighter, the edges digging into your palm as if the physical discomfort might drown out the ache building in your chest. The buzz of your phone in your pocket snaps you out of the moment. Grateful for the distraction, you pull it out to see a text from your editor: Post-qualifying article. Deadline: 6 PM.

Just another driver.

The words echo hollowly in your mind, unconvincing and painfully untrue.

Because the truth is, Jeonghan has never been just anything to you.

And that’s exactly why this is so damn complicated.

Jeonghan spends the night refreshing his Twitter feed. 

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, honestly. 

Maybe it’s the rush of validation that comes from a clever reply, or the sting of criticism that reminds him he’s still human under the helmet. Or maybe it’s something else entirely—something he doesn’t want to name. The applause of the crowd is long gone, and the adrenaline from securing pole position hours earlier has settled into a restless hum. His phone feels heavier in his hand as he scrolls, tapping at random links and skimming comments that veer between praise and criticism.

The article finally pops up, your name bold and unmistakable at the top. His stomach tightens, a sensation he’ll never admit to anyone, least of all you. 

He clicks it immediately. 

The headline strikes first: 

Kim Mingyu’s Risky Qualifying Lap Keeps Rivals on Edge

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes scanning the words again to make sure he didn’t misread.

Mingyu?

Confusion knots his brow as he scrolls down. The opening paragraph is a glowing analysis of Mingyu’s audacious lap—a near miss in the second sector, a masterful recovery in the final corners. The kind of detailed, evocative writing that Jeonghan knows you reserve for stories you care about.

Then, buried halfway through, he finds his name:

“Jeonghan, true to form, delivered a flawless lap to secure pole position. His consistency and precision were unmatched, placing him at the front of the grid for tomorrow’s race.”

That’s it.

No breakdown of his sector times, no mention of the deft control it took to navigate the tight Monaco corners under immense pressure. Just a single, clinical acknowledgment, overshadowed by Mingyu’s second-place drama.

Jeonghan stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the refresh button. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—a parade in words? A headline with his name front and center?

It’s ridiculous, he tells himself. Pole position speaks for itself. It doesn’t need a poetic article to back it up.

But that doesn’t stop the irritation bubbling under his skin.

He tosses his phone onto the bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hotel room feels quieter than it should, the distant hum of the city barely seeping through the windows.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re making a point. That this is your way of reminding him that while he might be the golden boy on the track, he doesn’t get special treatment in your world.

Not in your writing. Not from you.

It’s infuriating.

And yet, a part of him—one he’s unwilling to examine too closely—wants to know why you didn’t write more about him. Wants to know what he’d have to do to make you look at him the way you clearly look at Mingyu.

Not just another driver.

But the one worth writing about.

The morning of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned with the soft hum of engines filling the paddock and the gleaming streets of Monte Carlo radiating under a cloudless sky. Jeonghan arrived early, his customary calm masking the roiling anticipation beneath. Pole position was his—secured with a lap so clinical it had left his rivals chasing shadows. Yet, the sharp sting of your article still lingered, buried beneath layers of pride and annoyance.

By mid-morning, the paddock buzzed with tension. The Monaco circuit—narrow, unforgiving, and relentlessly demanding—left no room for error. Victory here wasn’t just about speed; it was about precision, strategy, and an unwavering mental edge. Jeonghan knew that all too well.

As he suited up, the familiar ritual steadied his thoughts. Helmet, gloves, fireproofs—each piece transformed him into the driver everyone expected him to be. His engineer’s voice crackled over the comms. “Focus on the start, Jeonghan. Turn One is everything.”

He gave a curt nod, stepping into the car. The roar of the crowd was muffled as the cockpit enveloped him. Lights on the dashboard blinked in sequence, a visual metronome syncing with his heartbeat.

The engine roars to life beneath Jeonghan as he settles into the cockpit, the familiar hum of the Monaco Grand Prix vibrating through the seat, up his spine, and into his very bones. His focus sharpens like a blade, the heat of the sun seeping through his visor, but he’s not thinking about the sweat trickling down his neck or the weight of the helmet that obscures his field of vision. He’s thinking of the laps he’s put in, of the sacrifice, the years of work that led him here, to this very moment, pole position in Monaco.

He has no illusions about the challenge ahead. This track has always favored the one at the front, especially when that one is someone as methodical and precise as Jeonghan. It’s not often that the pole sitter falters here. But that’s not what has his stomach in knots. It’s not the track or the other drivers. It’s you. The thought of your words, your perspective, your gaze.

What if this win isn’t enough? What if I’m still just another driver to you?

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he considers the possibility of failing, of cruising through the race without the sharp, passionate energy that has always pushed him. What if he doesn’t even get the headline he’s chasing? What if all this effort amounts to nothing more than another expected victory, no deeper praise, no recognition?

He blinks, pushing the thought away. He can’t afford distractions. He’s here to win—nothing else matters.

The lights blink, one by one, before finally turning off, and he’s off, the car surging forward into the narrow streets of Monaco, engines screaming in unison. His concentration narrows, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. The first few laps are a blur of tactical moves, maintaining the lead, setting the pace. Behind him, Mingyu is close—too close—but Jeonghan has enough room, enough air to breathe.

The laps tick by, the gaps between drivers stretching and shrinking like the ebb and flow of a tide. In Monaco, you can’t make mistakes. The barriers are close enough to bite, and one slip-up could send everything into chaos. Jeonghan doesn’t think of that, though. He doesn’t think of the press, of his reputation, of the words hanging in the back of his mind.

What he thinks about is the win. The pure, simple joy of crossing that finish line first. He wants to feel the weight of the moment, of the accomplishment, and more than anything, he wants to look up and see you there—see that your words reflect the magnitude of this victory.

He holds the lead through the race, but it’s a quiet victory, one he can feel in his bones but doesn’t fully experience. The lap times are consistent, but nothing spectacular happens. No drama, no surprise overtake, no breathtaking maneuver.

It’s a clean, controlled victory—exactly what everyone expects from the driver in pole position.

By the time the checkered flag waves, Jeonghan crosses the line in first. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Jeonghan doesn’t feel the same rush of emotion. The thrill is absent, replaced instead by a deep, gnawing sense of doubt.

The win is his, but it feels like it’s already slipping away from his grasp.

In the post-race briefing, he sits with his team, nodding as they discuss tire strategies, pit stops, and the things that went right. But his eyes keep drifting to the back of the room, to where you stand, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes with focused intent. Every time he tries to catch your gaze, to make eye contact, you look away, as if determined to keep your distance.

It stings more than it should.

Jeonghan leans back in his seat, the weight of his helmet resting against his neck, the pressure of your indifference pressing down on him. He wants to reach out, wants to tell you that this win—this clean, controlled, expected win—deserves something more. But he stays silent, twisting the words in his mind, unable to voice the insecurity that’s suddenly consuming him.

The press conference follows the briefing, a whirlwind of questions, cameras, and flashing lights. The room is full of journalists, all clamoring for soundbites, all eager to discuss the expected result—Jeonghan, pole position, and now, victory. But Jeonghan doesn’t care about the usual congratulatory remarks. He’s waiting for something more. Something real.

When the article finally drops, hours later, he barely waits before pulling it up on his phone. He knows what it’s going to say, but still, the disappointment claws at his chest as he reads the headline.

Jeonghan Dominates Monaco: Pole Position Translates to Victory

His stomach twists, and he exhales sharply, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through him. It’s everything he expected—a result that leaves no room for admiration, no room for praise. Just the simple, obvious statement that he did what everyone expected him to do. The race was clean, flawless even, but there’s no depth to the words, no recognition of what it takes to win here, at Monaco, the most challenging track in the world.

The thought gnaws at him.

It’s not enough.

The press conference continues, the cameras flashing, but Jeonghan’s mind is far from the words he’s being asked to repeat. He’s not thinking about the team’s success, about the strategies that worked, or even about the crowd's cheers. His eyes find you across the room once again, but this time, you don't look away. Your gaze is fixed on something—anything—but not on him.

He can’t help but wonder if it’s because you don’t see him as more than just another driver. Just another one of the usual suspects who gets a win when it’s expected. He’s fighting for something more—something beyond the surface. But for now, it seems like that’s something he’ll never get from you.

He’s won Monaco. But in that moment, the victory feels like the hollowest thing in the world.

FORMULA 1 AWS GRAND PRIX DU CANADA 2024Track: Circuit Gilles Villeneuve

The Canadian Grand Prix feels like a blur. The rain starts as a light drizzle, but by the time the race begins, it’s pouring, transforming the circuit into a slippery mess. The slick track glistens under the flood of water, making the circuit treacherous, a spinning wheel of danger. The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt, and there’s an ominous tension in the paddock, a murmur that hangs in the atmosphere as if everyone knows something bad is about to happen. 

You catch sight of Jeonghan on the grid. He’s staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect, like the picture of composure. But you can see it in his eyes—something flickers there, a mix of tension and determination. His car, finely tuned for dry conditions, isn’t built for this. The engineers have done what they can, adjusting the setup, but there’s only so much they can do when the weather turns so violently. You know this track—the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve—is not forgiving, and for someone like Jeonghan, a precision driver who thrives when everything falls into place, this is the worst-case scenario. He’s trying to keep his focus, but you can see the strain on his face, the pressure mounting with every passing moment.

The starting lights go out, and the cars roar off the grid, their engines screaming in defiance of the rain. Jeonghan’s car is sluggish in the first few laps. You see him fighting with the wheel, struggling to keep the car in line, each turn a reminder that the odds are stacked against him. The rain is only getting heavier, and the car, built for speed in perfect conditions, is no longer responsive, no longer the finely-tuned machine he’s so accustomed to. It’s like he’s driving a different car altogether.

As the laps tick by, the race feels like a slow-motion disaster, unfolding before your eyes. Jeonghan’s always been skilled in the wet, but this is different—this is more than just rain. This is a mechanical mismatch, an impossible task to overcome. You watch him push, trying to find any way to make up time, but it’s clear he’s just not able to. The car slides wide through the corners, the back end kicking out as he struggles to maintain control. His frustration is palpable, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

And then, it happens.

The rear end of Jeonghan’s car breaks loose as he enters Turn 6, and for a moment, it’s a dance of power and precision, a flick of the wheel, an attempt to save it. But it’s futile. The car loses traction, and before you can even process it, he’s in the barriers. The sound of impact is like a gut punch, a sickening crunch that sends a wave of dread through you. The crowd's collective gasp is drowned out by the static crackle of his radio.

“Jeonghan, do you copy?” The voice of his engineer is urgent, panicked, but there’s no mistaking the defeat in it when the response comes through. Jeonghan’s voice is clipped, emotion stripped away in favor of the cold reality.

“I’m out. Car’s done.”

The message is simple, the weight of it crashing down on you. The race is over. Lap 30. The dream, the chance to prove himself in a season that’s been anything but easy, has slipped away, drowned by the rain.

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. It’s a loss for Jeonghan, but it feels like a loss for you too. Not because of the race itself, but because of the frustration you saw in his face. The disappointment. The feeling of helplessness. It’s all there, and it hits you harder than you expect.

He doesn’t speak to anyone after. He doesn’t go to the media pen, doesn’t stand in front of the cameras for the obligatory interview. There’s no deflection, no distractions. He’s just... gone. You barely see him in the paddock. He doesn’t even go to the Ferrari garage to debrief with his team. He disappears into the background, like he’s trying to erase himself from the scene altogether, retreating into the shadows, avoiding the world that’s waiting to cast its judgment.

And you? You stay away too. The press room feels suffocating, the questions ringing in your ears as you try to focus. You write your piece, a cold, sharp report about the race and Jeonghan’s crash, a clinical dissection of what went wrong. But something feels hollow as you type. The words don’t flow the way they used to. They’re just words, strung together to meet the deadline, to give the readers what they want. It’s not about the story anymore. It’s not about the race. It’s about the loss.

You can’t shake the image of Jeonghan crashing out, of his frustration written in every line of his face, every motion of his hands. You can’t forget the way he looked when he climbed out of the car, shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen onto him. His eyes are distant, like he’s already checked out, retreating into himself. It’s a look you’ve seen before, but it’s sharper now, more pronounced. He’s carrying something, a burden that you don’t understand, a burden you’re not sure you can even help him carry.

But all you can do is write. And even that doesn’t feel like enough.

FORMULA 1 ARAMCO GRAN PREMIO DE ESPAÑA 2024 Track: Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

The Spanish Grand Prix feels different from the moment you step out of the car, the heat oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and the inevitable tension of the weekend. The usual rhythm of the paddock is off-kilter, heightened by the suffocating summer heat, the burning sun beating down on every exposed surface. The heat is more than just physical; it's palpable in the way the drivers move, in the clipped tones of the engineers, in the quiet buzz of conversation that flickers out like static.

But even through the sticky, heavy air, the tension feels electric—charged, ready to snap. The circuit is a challenge in itself, and the drivers know it. There’s no room for error here—just wide, hot tarmac and the constant pressure of chasing that perfect lap.

You’ve done your best to avoid Jeonghan, kept a comfortable distance as much as possible. But there’s something about the way he carries himself now—an edge that wasn't there before. It’s sharp, biting, and yet there’s an underlying vulnerability that makes everything harder to ignore.

When qualifying results flash up, you’re caught off-guard. Soonyoung is on pole, Mingyu in second, and Jeonghan… Jeonghan is in third. 

Jeonghan strides into the paddock after qualifying, his face carefully composed, but there’s a look in his eyes—something sharp, something that makes you hesitate. You haven’t spoken in days, not since Canada, not since he shut you out. You’ve been avoiding him, and he’s been avoiding you, but you both know the silence can’t last forever.

You’re standing near the media area when he approaches, and for a moment, it feels like the world holds its breath. The slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze flicks over your shoulder, pretending not to care, but you see through it.

"Don't do this," he says, his voice tight, but it's not the playful teasing you’ve grown used to. It’s something darker. Something tired.

"Don’t do what?" you snap, your patience running thin. "Pretend everything’s fine?"

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been avoiding me. Why? Because of Canada?"

You blink. The question hits harder than you expect, and you struggle to keep your composure. “You expect me to just forget what happened? You were fine after the crash, Jeonghan. You didn’t even bother with the press. I can’t just pretend that wasn’t... anything.”

The words come out sharper than you intend, and for a split second, you regret it. You see the way his shoulders stiffen, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes before he masks it with that carefully constructed indifference.

"Maybe I didn’t want to deal with your harsh words," he snaps, taking a step closer. “Maybe I’m tired of being the perfect driver for you, the one who’s supposed to be good enough to meet your standards. But I’m not—am I?"

Your chest tightens at the accusation, at the sudden rawness in his voice. "You think I’m too harsh? You think I’m just waiting for you to be perfect all the time?" You laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. "That’s what this is about? You crashing out wasn’t because of me. I write the truth, Jeonghan. And maybe the truth is you didn’t have the car for that race. It was out of your control."

His expression darkens, and you see that familiar flash of anger—one you’ve seen more times than you care to admit. "No," he hisses, taking another step toward you. "The truth is, you're so wrapped up in your narratives, you forget that I’m human. You forget that I have feelings too, and that maybe... maybe I wanted to do this for myself, not for some headline or some article. But you... you don’t see me that way, do you? You see me as another story, another fucking headline to dissect. Just another driver."

His words cut deeper than anything else could, and the final crack in your restraint breaks wide open. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat, the way your breath hitches.

“You want me to treat you differently?” you bite back, furious, stepping into his space. “You want me to hold your hand and tell you it’s okay every time you fail? Because you’re so tired of being just another driver? Well, you know what, Jeonghan? I am tired. I’m tired of trying to keep this professional, of pretending that I’m not watching the same guy who couldn’t even handle his own crash. You don’t get to demand better treatment from me when you can’t even handle the heat.”

For a moment, neither of you move, and the silence is thick, charged with the weight of your words.

He stares at you, eyes dark, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You’re both too close now, caught in this space where words are weapons, and you’re both bleeding out.

Finally, Jeonghan turns away, his expression unreadable, but you can see the tightness in his back, the way his jaw works, like he’s holding something back. "Maybe you should stop writing about me altogether," he mutters, his voice rough, before stalking off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and chest aching.

For a moment, you stand frozen, caught between regret and relief, between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the sudden emptiness that creeps in now that he's gone.

The moment Jeonghan storms off, leaving you standing there with a surge of anger and a pounding heart, you don't realize someone’s been listening. But someone has. The faint click of a camera, barely audible over the sound of your pulse, is enough to make you pause. You turn, instinctively, to see a familiar face from the gossip side of the paddock. It's Soojin, a reporter known for getting the juiciest bits of drama and twisting them into scandalous headlines. She’s got a camera in one hand, her phone in the other, furiously typing something into it with a smirk that sends an uncomfortable ripple through your gut.

Before you can say anything, she’s already gone, blending back into the throng of people milling around the paddock, her steps quick and sure. The damage has been done. You know it, and the prickling sensation in the pit of your stomach tells you that it’s about to get a lot worse.

By the time you’ve made it back to the media center, the storm has already hit. Your Twitter feed is flooded with the words “Trouble in Paradise?”, and the accompanying photos. The images are damning—Jeonghan’s angry face, red with emotion, and your own flushed, furious expression, both of you screaming at each other in the middle of the paddock. There’s no context, no explanation, just the raw emotion, raw enough to sell.

The headline isn’t even what stings. It’s the comments that follow. Speculation, assumptions, and a flood of opinions. Some call it a lover’s quarrel, some assume the worst, but most seem content to paint the picture of two people on the verge of breaking. It’s not just your name that gets dragged through the mud; it’s Jeonghan’s too. Both of you, caught in a perfect storm of emotions and bad timing. The last thing either of you needs.

You try to shut it out, but it’s impossible. The text messages from your editor come through, asking for a statement. Your phone rings with calls from the PR team, from your colleagues, and even from your friends, who all seem to know about the situation before you’ve even had a chance to process it yourself.

And then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, the email comes. It’s from Ferrari’s PR team, and it’s almost too professional to be true:

Dear Y/N, In light of the recent events surrounding your interactions with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, we would like to offer you full access to the Ferrari garage for the remainder of the season. This will provide you with the opportunity to write an in-depth feature on the team, showcasing the work and dedication that goes into each race weekend. We believe this move will allow for a clearer perspective on the situation and help ensure that your reporting reflects the true nature of the team and its drivers. We look forward to your continued coverage. Best regards, Ferrari PR Team

It’s a calculated move—a distraction, a chance to smooth things over. And you know it. The message is clear: everything must look fine. Everything must be fixed, packaged neatly for the media and the fans to consume. You’re a pawn in a much bigger game, and they’re making sure you play along.

At first, you think about refusing. You think about how everything feels so wrong right now. About how the image of you and Jeonghan, caught in the heat of an argument, is being used to feed the frenzy. But the PR team doesn’t leave room for argument. You know that declining would only escalate things further, make them harder to fix.

So, you agree.

The access starts almost immediately. They give you a full tour of the Ferrari garage, show you the inner workings of the team, introduce you to the engineers, the strategists, the pit crew. You’re given permission to write about the team’s strategy, their behind-the-scenes preparation, but there’s always a sense that you're being watched—every move, every word.

You can’t help but notice Jeonghan’s absence. Every time you walk through the garage, he’s not there. The driver who once greeted you with a cocky smile and a teasing remark, the one who always found a way to make you laugh, is nowhere to be found. It’s like he’s vanished, swallowed by the thick wall of Ferrari’s PR machine.

It’s as if nothing is real anymore. The false smiles, the calculated interviews, the way the drivers exchange glances with a rehearsed ease. The more you observe, the more you realize how much of this world is a performance, a show put on for the audience, with no room for anything real. It all feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but an empty, fragile façade.

Still, you’re expected to keep writing, to deliver the polished pieces the team expects. You’re supposed to put the headline “TROUBLE IN PARADISE?” behind you and focus on the carefully constructed narrative. So, you do. For now.

But even as you walk the pits, breathing in the scent of burnt rubber and sweat, there’s a quiet ache in the back of your mind. The truth is, you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that everything is fine.

Not when you still feel Jeonghan’s words hanging in the air between you, like the remnants of a storm that’s yet to pass. Not when you still want, with everything in you, to be able to fix it.

And maybe that’s the problem.

The crash happens so quickly, so violently, that it almost feels unreal. One moment, the tell-tale red of Jeonghan’s car is cutting through the circuit with his signature precision. The next, it’s a twisted mess of metal and rubber, skidding off the track, his car spinning wildly as Lee Seokmin’s Aston Martin clips him just before the tight corner at Turn 14. You watch it all unfold from the pit wall, your heart stopping for a brief second as the sound of the crash echoes through the air. 

There’s a collective gasp from the crew around you, followed by the frantic chatter of engineers and strategists, trying to process what just happened. You can see the smoke rising from the wreckage, and your breath catches when the marshals begin to swarm the car, signaling that Jeonghan is still inside. 

The radio crackles to life, but Jeonghan’s voice doesn’t come through. For a second, it feels like time slows down. The pit wall is a blur of motion, but you’re frozen, eyes locked on the track, praying for him to be okay. 

Then, finally, the confirmation comes: “Jeonghan is out of the car. He's fine. We'll move him to the medical center.” 

A wave of relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. The weight of the crash—his crash—still hangs in the air, and it’s clear from the looks of the Ferrari crew that no one knows exactly what went wrong. The tension in the paddock is palpable, and as you’re given full access to the debriefing room afterward, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken frustration. 

Jeonghan walks in with that same seething expression he had after the crash, and the room goes silent. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw clenched, the kind of anger that’s so deep it can’t be shaken by anything or anyone. His usual confident swagger is replaced by a taut, barely contained rage that makes it hard for anyone to even breathe in his presence. His voice, when he speaks, is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. 

“You think this is a joke?” he snaps, looking at his team with a glare so intense it’s almost suffocating. His fists are balled at his sides, his shoulders tense with barely controlled fury. 

The debriefing begins, but it’s clear that no one knows how to handle him. His coach tries to keep things calm, but Jeonghan's sharp words only make the tension worse. The rest of the team sits in silence, unsure of what to say, how to fix the situation. His eyes never leave the table, his posture rigid, as though every part of him is fighting the urge to storm out. 

The meeting goes in circles—strategies discussed, what went wrong, how to move forward—but nothing seems to land. Jeonghan doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to listen to anyone right now. His frustration is palpable, and it’s clear this crash, this failure, has broken something inside of him. 

When he finally stands, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, there’s an air of finality to it. Without another word, he storms out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. No one dares to speak, knowing that anything they say would be pointless. The door slams shut, and the meeting disbands soon after. 

But you don’t leave. You don’t really have anywhere to go. Not yet. 

You make your way to the Ferrari canteen, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. It’s one of those rare moments when you’re not chasing a headline, not following the usual routine, and the monotony of it all feels like a relief. You order two beers without thinking. You don’t need two, but for some reason, it feels right. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the crash, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything—the pressure, the disappointment, the simmering frustration with Jeonghan that you haven’t had the chance to process yet. The beers are cold, the glass bottles slick with condensation, and when you walk outside to the grandstands, you find him. 

Jeonghan is sitting alone, his back against the metal railing, the crowd long gone. The air is warm, the kind of summer heat that clings to your skin and makes everything feel a little heavier. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back as he stares at the sky, and for a moment, you wonder if he even notices you approaching. 

Without saying a word, you sit beside him, the soft crunch of your shoes against the gravel the only sound in the stillness. You don’t offer him a drink immediately. Instead, you hold the bottles in your hands, feeling the chill seep into your palms, letting the silence stretch between you. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hand him one of the beers. He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the faintest shift in his posture, a soft hum of acknowledgement as he accepts it, cracking the cap with a quick twist.

“Jeonghan,” you say, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than you expect it to be. He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. You take a sip of your own beer, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment. You can feel the tension that’s been building between you both, the weight of the unspoken words, but for now, you can’t bring yourself to make him speak. 

Then he does. “Full access, huh?” His voice is rough, the teasing edge to his words gone, replaced by something heavier. The bitterness is unmistakable. “You must be thrilled, getting to see me crash out in front of the entire team.” 

You almost choke on your beer. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuinely hurt, but it stings regardless. 

“I’m not,” you say quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish he would look at you, but he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw still tight, muscles still coiled like a spring. "I don’t want that, Jeonghan. What don’t you get?" 

“No?” He tilts his head slightly, but his gaze stays fixed. “I would think Miss Scathing Articles would relish the chance to tear me down again.” 

A sharp retort sat on your tongue, but you swallowed it. There was no point. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the distant horizon where the racetrack lay, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. "I don’t," you said quietly. "I’m not interested in tearing you down. I never have been." 

Jeonghan’s laugh was hollow, almost like a scoff. "Color me surprised." 

A beat passed between you both, the air thick with unspoken words. You took a sip of your beer, now lukewarm and slightly flat, but it didn’t matter. Neither of you had the luxury of pretending everything was fine anymore. 

He finally turns to you, his eyes meeting yours; there’s something in the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, almost like he’s waiting for the punchline of some cruel joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long silence, your voice softer this time, barely above a whisper. You’re not sure if he hears you, but he looks at you with an expression that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a minefield. 

He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he exhales a long breath, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as though the weight of it all is finally catching up to him. The tension between you hangs heavy in the warm summer air, the quiet hum of distant cicadas filling the space where words should be. Jeonghan takes another sip of his beer, the bottle pressed lightly against his lips as though it might cool the heat simmering under his skin. He looks tired—no, more than tired. Worn down. The type of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says finally, the words coming out uneven, almost like they’re foreign on his tongue. His voice is softer now, missing the sharp edges that had cut into you moments before. “You were just doing your job.” 

“Jeonghan,” you start, but he holds up a hand, silencing you. 

“No, really.” He forces a thin smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of expression you’ve seen him use in press conferences—a shield, practiced and perfect. “You’re here because Ferrari told you to be. Because someone thought it’d be a great PR move. You don’t owe me anything beyond that.” 

The words sting, even though you know they shouldn’t. He’s not wrong. This isn’t your world, not really. But you can’t help the knot tightening in your chest as you watch him retreat into himself, the walls going up before your eyes. 

“I’m not here because they told me to be,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I’m here because I wanted to be. Because I saw the crash, Jeonghan, and I—” You stop, swallowing hard as the memory flashes behind your eyes again. The twisted metal, the plume of smoke, the moment you thought— 

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Not as a journalist. Not as someone with a job to do. As someone who—” Jeonghan’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s something vulnerable there, too, something unguarded. 

You don't finish the sentence. 

Jeonghan watches you closely now, his beer suspended mid-air, forgotten. The sharpness in his gaze softens, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe, or an unease he doesn’t quite know how to address.

The air between you feels heavy, suffocating in its quiet. You can still hear the faint echoes of the crash in your mind, the awful screech of metal against asphalt, the split-second horror of thinking you’d just seen him—

He sets the bottle down with a soft clink against the railing, breaking the spell.

“Scared, huh?” His voice is quieter now, and there’s a touch of disbelief, as though he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words or dismiss them.

You nod, throat tightening as you try to push through the lump that’s settled there. “Terrified,” you admit, the word feeling foreign and vulnerable on your tongue. “Not because of what I’d have to write, but because I thought—” You bite down on the rest of the sentence, unwilling to say it aloud.

Jeonghan exhales, long and slow, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back against the railing. “I’m fine,” he says eventually, the words flat and unconvincing. He glances at you, his lips pressing into a faintly wry smile. “A little bruised. A little pissed. But I’m fine.”

It’s not enough to untangle the knot in your chest, but it’s a start. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

He finishes his beer in a few swallows, the motion oddly decisive, before standing and brushing off his pants. For a moment, you think he’s about to leave without another word, the tension between you both left unresolved.

But then he turns, holding out a hand toward you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint curve to his lips that feels almost... playful.

“Friends?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. “If you’re going to be hanging around the garage all season, might as well, y’know?”

You blink at him, taken aback. The man who’d stormed out of the debriefing room in a fit of rage, who’d spat barbs at you moments ago, now stood here offering a truce like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Friends,” you echo, narrowing your eyes as you take his hand. It’s warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if this is another performance—an act to keep you at arm’s length.

But when he pulls you to your feet, there’s something genuine in his expression, something almost relieved.

“You better not make me regret this,” he says, letting go of your hand as he shoves his now-empty beer bottle into your other one. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the shit you wrote.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he smirks.

For the first time all day, the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. You follow him back toward the paddock, your steps lighter than they’ve been in weeks.

And for now, that’s enough.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Red Bull Ring

The Red Bull Ring stretches out before you like a postcard of precision. Nestled in the Austrian hills, the track gleams under the soft morning sun, its curves and straights inviting the first roar of engines. The garage is alive with motion—engineers bent over laptops, mechanics tightening bolts, and the hum of anticipation that comes with any race weekend.

You step into the Ferrari garage, an interloper in a sea of red. Jeonghan’s car gleams in its designated spot, pristine and ready, as though it hadn’t been a crumpled wreck just a week ago. The team works around it like a well-oiled machine, barely sparing you a glance. You’re supposed to be here, technically, but that doesn’t stop the slight twinge of unease as you find a quiet corner near the monitors.

“Back again?”

The voice is unmistakable, light and teasing. You turn, and there he is: Yoon Jeonghan in his fireproofs, the sleeves tied around his waist, his white undershirt faintly clinging to his frame. He looks every bit the picture of calm, like he hasn’t spent the past few days fielding press questions about his crash.

“Didn’t think you’d miss the chance to watch me run into someone,” he adds, smirking as he adjusts his gloves.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying you’re aiming for Aston Martin?”

He laughs, a real laugh this time, and it’s startling how much it changes the air around you. “Not today. But I’ll keep you updated if Seokmin starts driving like a rookie again.”

“Careful, Jeonghan,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “I might put that in my next article.”

He leans casually against the wall, his dark eyes scanning your face with an intensity that’s become familiar in the past few weeks. But there’s no edge to it today, no armor. Just him, relaxed and—for once—almost easygoing.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are,” he says after a beat, his voice low enough that the hum of the garage nearly drowns it out.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the grin that creeps onto your face. “And you’re not as charming as you think you are.”

He tilts his head, considering this like it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. “Fair. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Purely professional,” you quip, ignoring the way his smirk grows.

Before he can reply, the engineer by the monitors calls him over, gesturing to the screen. Jeonghan holds up a finger, signaling for a moment, then turns back to you.

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” His voice is lighter now, teasing but not in the way that cuts. It feels natural, like banter between...well, maybe not quite friends. Not yet. But something close.

You shrug, watching as he walks toward his team, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. The tension that had lingered after the crash feels like it’s finally begun to dissolve, replaced by something steadier. Not quite trust, but something adjacent.

As you settle into the corner, notebook in hand, you can’t help but glance at him every so often. On the surface, it’s just another practice session, another day at the track. But for the first time in weeks, it feels like something close to normal. 

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS BRITISH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Silverstone Circuit

Silverstone roars to life under a blazing sun, the grandstands filled to capacity with fans waving flags and wearing team colors. The overcast sky has burned off, leaving the track shimmering under the summer sun. It’s one of the biggest stages of the season, and Jeonghan delivers a masterclass in qualifying, the finely tuned Ferrari underneath him responding to every input like an extension of himself. The sharp smell of rubber and fuel lingers in the air, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He’s back.

The final lap times on the leaderboard tell the story: pole position. Ferrari’s garage is electric with celebration, engineers clapping each other on the back, a cheer rising when Jeonghan steps into the swarm of red. His team surrounds him, hands gripping his shoulders, voices shouting praise over the din.

He grins, wide and unguarded, the weight of the last few weeks lifting ever so slightly. Spain and Canada had shaken him, but this—this feels like a reckoning. Proof that the mistakes and setbacks weren’t the whole story.

“Perfect lap, Jeonghan,” his engineer says, beaming as he hands him a water bottle.

He nods in acknowledgment, taking a swig, his heart still racing as he glances around the paddock. The sun is high now, glinting off the sleek curves of the cars lined up in parc fermé. Jeonghan’s gaze sweeps over the crowd, soaking in the energy—until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren garage, the vibrant orange of their branding a stark contrast to the reds and blacks of his world. You’re leaning against a barrier, the breeze tugging at your hair as you laugh at something Mingyu says. Your face is so open, so full of light, that it’s almost magnetic.

Mingyu gestures animatedly, clearly in the middle of some ridiculous story, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. You throw your head back with a laugh, and Jeonghan feels a tightness in his chest he can’t quite place.

The joy that had filled him moments ago flickers.

Why does it bother him?

The thought lingers as he watches you, his water bottle dangling forgotten in his hand. Jeonghan isn’t used to this kind of gnawing discomfort. He’s competitive, sure, but this is something else entirely.

Jealousy.

The sun is lower in the sky when he finds you, his long strides purposeful as he weaves through the paddock. The golden hour light makes everything seem softer, but Jeonghan’s mood is anything but. His thoughts from earlier have been simmering, the warmth of victory eclipsed by a frustration he can’t shake.

You’re leaning against a railing, scrolling on your phone when he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Ferrari garage?” he says, his tone sharper than he intends.

You blink up at him, startled. “I was just catching up with Mingyu.”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Funny. I thought you were doing a full-access piece on Ferrari, not McLaren.”

There’s something in his voice—an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “I am,” you reply slowly, standing up straighter. “What’s this about?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why your articles about Mingyu are always glowing? What, are you sleeping with him?”

The accusation is like a slap, cutting through the air with a harshness that leaves you stunned.

Your expression shifts, disbelief giving way to anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight. The regret in his eyes is fleeting, buried under the weight of his own misplaced frustration.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. “It’s always one step forward, two steps back with you, Jeonghan.”

His lips part as if to reply, but you don’t wait for him to dig himself deeper. You storm off, your footsteps echoing against the paddock floor. The sting of his words lingers, but so does the look on his face as you walk away.

Jeonghan stands there, watching you go, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knows he’s crossed a line, and the weight of his own stupidity settles heavily over him.

The knock on your hotel room door comes before sunrise, soft but insistent. You groan, burying your face in your pillow before dragging yourself to the door.

When you open it, the hallway is empty. But at your feet sits a bouquet wrapped in crisp white paper, tied with a simple satin ribbon.

Roses. Soft blush pink, their petals perfectly unfurled, paired with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

The arrangement is beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so, the kind of bouquet that feels like a story in itself. You crouch to pick it up, your fingers brushing over the velvety petals. The faint, sweet scent of roses fills the air, mixing with the crisp morning chill that seeps into the hallway.

Nestled among the flowers is a small envelope.

You pull it out, your thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as you open it. Inside, scrawled in a slightly messy hand that’s unmistakably Jeonghan’s, are two simple words:

I’m sorry.

You glance down the hallway instinctively, half-expecting to see him lingering in the shadows. But it’s empty, as silent as it was before you opened the door.

You stand there for a moment longer, the bouquet in your arms and the note trembling slightly in your fingers. The apology feels heavier than the flowers, weighted by the memory of his words from yesterday.

He didn’t need to apologize like this, you think. He could have texted, could have mumbled something in passing when you inevitably crossed paths today. But instead, he’d gone to the trouble of figuring out your favorite flowers—roses and baby’s breath, a detail you don’t even remember telling him.

The realization stirs something in you, softening the edges of your anger.

The roses sit on the desk as you get ready for the day, the baby’s breath adding a delicate touch to the arrangement. The card leans against the vase, its two-word apology a quiet presence in the room.

Somewhere in the city, Silverstone is waking up, the air already buzzing with anticipation for the race. But here, in the stillness of your hotel room, you take a moment to breathe, to let the gesture sink in.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes faintly in your mind, the memory of yesterday’s confrontation still fresh. And yet, as you glance at the roses again, the sting of his words begins to dull, replaced by something softer, something not yet ready to be named.

The pre-race buzz was electric. The roar of engines echoed faintly in the distance, a constant backdrop to the paddock’s chaotic rhythm. Mechanics zipped between garages, reporters hustled to get last-minute quotes, and fans outside the barricades chanted their favorite drivers’ names. Amid all this, your footsteps fell heavy against the asphalt, your target in sight: Yoon Jeonghan.

There he was, leaning against the nose of his red Ferrari, his race suit a striking flash of scarlet that caught the sunlight and made him look annoyingly pristine for someone who had caused you so much grief. He was chatting with an engineer, that easy, charming smile plastered on his face like he hadn’t thrown baseless accusations your way less than 24 hours ago.

You marched toward him, purpose sharpening your steps. The bouquet from this morning was still vivid in your mind—blush pink roses, soft and elegant, their delicate petals almost glowing against the green of the baby’s breath, a stark contrast to the seething frustration you still carried. And the note—just two infuriatingly simple words—burned in your pocket, a reminder of the apology you hadn’t quite accepted yet.

“Jeonghan,” you called, your voice cutting through the low hum of conversation around you.

He glanced up, his casual demeanor faltering for a split second when he saw you. Then, like a switch had flipped, his smile returned. “Oh, hey.”

You stopped a foot away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “How did you know my favorite flowers?”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, and he leaned ever so slightly against the car, as if the conversation were a game he’d already won. “Oh good, they got delivered to the right room.”

“Jeonghan,” you said, your tone sharper now, “don’t deflect.”

“Deflect what?” He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with that infuriating glint of mischief that made you want to throttle him and laugh in equal measure.

“JEONGHAN.” The snap in your voice turned a few heads nearby, but you didn’t care.

He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. A certain papaya-colored birdie told me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Papaya-colored birdie... Mingyu?”

Jeonghan hesitated, his grin faltering for just a moment. You saw the gears turning in his head, calculating whether to deflect again or come clean.

“Spit it out, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, stepping closer, “or I’ll never write a single kind thing about you for the rest of your life.”

His mouth twitched, caught between amusement and resignation. Finally, he shrugged, his voice almost too casual. “Childhood friends, eh? You and Mingyu? That explains yesterday.”

You blinked, thrown by the abrupt shift in topic. “Don’t change the subject,” you snapped, though his words tugged at something in the back of your mind. “You really went to Kim Mingyu for help? After accusing me of—”

“I might have... aggressively encouraged Mingyu to spill everything he knew about you,” Jeonghan admitted, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised a brow. “Aggressively encouraged?”

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I threatened to steal his steering wheel from the McLaren garage if he didn’t talk.”

Despite your irritation, a snort escaped you. “And he just handed over my life story, huh?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, mirroring your stance. “What can I say? He’s surprisingly chatty when he thinks you’re in trouble. Very protective, that one.”

You clenched your jaw, the pieces clicking into place. “So, that’s why you jumped to conclusions yesterday. You thought—”

He cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know. I was out of line. That’s what the flowers were for.”

For a moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade. The wind carried the faint scent of burning rubber, and the distant cheers of fans reached your ears like a muted hum. Jeonghan’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, his tone lower now, “I really am sorry.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of the last day lifting slightly from your chest. “You’re lucky I like roses.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin returning, lighter this time, almost boyish. “Good taste, huh?”

“Good recovery, at least,” you muttered, your lips twitching despite yourself.

Jeonghan’s laughter followed you as you turned and walked away, the sound less grating than it had been the day before. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it felt like a start.

FORMULA 1 HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Hungaroring

The Hungarian Grand Prix paddock was buzzing, but you could tell something was off. The sound of chatter and engines felt like distant echoes as you stood by the garage, watching Jeonghan’s Ferrari pull back into its stall after a less-than-stellar FP1. The car’s engine quieted as the mechanics immediately went to work, inspecting it. But it wasn’t the car that caught your attention—it was Jeonghan himself.

He was unusually quiet, his usual cocky confidence buried beneath the furrow of his brow as he stripped off his helmet and gloves. His gaze was focused on the car, but it was clear his mind wasn’t in the garage. He seemed... distant, almost frustrated. The others in the team were busy talking strategy, discussing the data, but Jeonghan barely spoke up during the debriefing. It was strange.

The team finished up, but you noticed Jeonghan lingered near the back, hands on his hips, staring at his car like it had personally betrayed him. It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, especially not after a session where he was so used to being in control. You could practically feel the weight of his thoughts from where you stood.

You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t ignore it—something was wrong.

You walked over, careful not to disturb the mechanics who were still busy at work. "Jeonghan," you called softly, stepping beside him. He turned to you, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. They were focused on something distant, like he was seeing the track or the car but not really seeing them.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the concern out of your voice, but it slipped through anyway. “You’ve been quiet since the debriefing.”

He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t buying it. You had known Jeonghan long enough to recognize the way he carried his frustration. It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be hidden behind a casual smile, no matter how practiced.

“You sure? You know you don’t have to be okay all the time, right?” you pressed, stepping a little closer. The air around you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words.

Jeonghan exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into his gloves before he slowly pulled them off. He seemed to be gathering himself before speaking. “I hate it,” he muttered, and his voice had a rawness to it that caught you off guard. “Not being perfect. I... I can’t stand it.”

“Not being perfect?” you echoed, surprised. Jeonghan, the ever-cocky, confident driver, admitting that?

He looked up at you then, his eyes intense, as though he was searching for something in your gaze. “Yeah. I know it sounds stupid,” he said with a wry laugh that lacked its usual humor. “But it’s who I am. I’m a perfectionist, always have been. Every little mistake... it sticks with me. I can’t just move on. I think about it. Constantly.”

You watched him, absorbing his words, the vulnerability in his tone feeling like a crack in his otherwise polished exterior. Jeonghan, always so composed on the surface, always teasing and joking, was admitting something deeper now—something more personal.

“Is that why you were so quiet during the debriefing?” you asked, keeping your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to the car again. “I know I didn’t have the best session, but it feels like... like I failed. Like I’m not doing my job right. I could’ve done better.” His jaw clenched as if he were angry at himself.

The silence that fell between you was thick, almost suffocating, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. You hadn’t seen him like this before—not with this level of self-doubt.

“You’re not failing,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re allowed to have bad sessions. Hell, everyone has bad days. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It’s just a part of it.”

Jeonghan glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, nodding. “I mean... it’s not all about being perfect. Sometimes it’s the mistakes that push you to be better.”

Jeonghan looked down at his hands, still clutching the gloves, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I get it,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the side of the garage. “But you’ve got a whole team behind you. And we all know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there. It’s just one session.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes softening. “Thanks.”

There was a long pause, the sound of distant chatter and the hum of the paddock filling the silence. You were so used to Jeonghan’s teasing and cocky attitude that this quieter, more introspective side of him felt like a different person altogether. And maybe it was—it was the side that wasn’t the driver who fought for every fraction of a second on the track, the side that just wanted to be good enough.

“It’s not stupid, you know,” you added quietly. “Caring about being good at what you do isn’t stupid. It’s just... exhausting sometimes.”

Jeonghan laughed lightly, the sound a bit more genuine this time. “You have no idea. But I’m getting better at... handling it. I think.”

You smiled at him, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. There was still that hint of unease in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders, but for the first time all day, he seemed a little more at ease with himself.

As you turned to leave, you shot him one last look. “Just don’t be so hard on yourself next time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, you almost believed him.

The stands were eerily quiet now, a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd just hours earlier. You wandered through the empty paddock, your steps unhurried as the hum of the night settled around you. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint clatter of the Ferrari team packing up, but Jeonghan wasn’t with them.

You’d seen him after the race, his jaw tight as he climbed out of the car. Finishing P5 wasn’t bad by any measure, but it wasn’t what he wanted. And with Mingyu overtaking him in the Driver’s Championship by just twenty points, it was clear Jeonghan had taken it as a personal blow. His disappointment hung around him like a shadow.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he’d gone.

Sure enough, when you climbed up into the grandstands, there he was. Sitting alone in the middle row, still in his Ferrari race suit, unzipped to the waist to reveal his black base layer. His hair was tousled from the helmet, his posture slouched, shoulders hunched as though the weight of the day hadn’t yet left him. Beside him were two bottles of beer, one already open and resting loosely in his hand.

You approached quietly, but Jeonghan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn around when you reached him, your feet crunching softly against the debris of the crowd—discarded programs, empty wrappers, and forgotten flags. He must’ve known it was you, though. He always seemed to know.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, your voice breaking the stillness.

He finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “It’s a free grandstand,” he muttered, gesturing to the empty seats around him.

You slid into the seat next to him, the cool metal chilling through your clothes. Jeonghan’s gaze returned to the track ahead, where the floodlights illuminated the ghost of the race. He took a sip of his beer, silent.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—just heavy. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, the bitterness that came with being so close but not close enough.

“You should drink this before it gets warm,” he said suddenly, pushing the unopened beer toward you.

You picked it up, twisting off the cap with a small smile. “Thanks. Not exactly the post-race celebration you were hoping for, huh?”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Not exactly.”

The silence fell again, but this time you weren’t willing to let it linger. You turned to him, watching the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the neck of the bottle. “You’re still in the fight, you know,” you said gently.

Jeonghan’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you are,” you insisted. “Three points. That’s nothing. You’ve come back from worse.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back, looking up at the dark sky above the track. “You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It’s not just about the points. It’s about everything. The mistakes, the pressure... the expectations. It’s like... like I have to prove that I deserve to be here. Every single time.”

“You do deserve to be here,” you said firmly, the conviction in your voice enough to make him turn to you. “You wouldn’t be in that seat if you didn’t. You’re one of the best drivers on the grid, Jeonghan. Everyone knows it. Even Mingyu. Especially Mingyu.”

Jeonghan scoffed, a flicker of a smile breaking through his stormy expression. “Bet he’s loving this right now.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning back against the seat. “But knowing Mingyu, he’s probably already plotting ways to rub it in at the next race.”

That earned a laugh, small but real, and the sound was enough to make you smile too.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his tone softer now. “Talking me off the ledge.”

“Someone has to,” you replied with a shrug. “And honestly? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. One race doesn’t define you, Jeonghan. You’re not just a number on the leaderboard.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering. There was something in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Thanks,” he said simply, the word weighted with more than just appreciation.

You clinked your bottle against his. “Anytime.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the weight of the day slowly lifting as the quiet of the night wrapped around you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And as Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles, you knew he’d be okay. Eventually.

You took another sip of your beer, the chill of the bottle grounding you as Jeonghan’s earlier tension began to melt away. The ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips, and for the first time since you’d climbed up to find him, his shoulders seemed lighter.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice tinged with a familiar mischievousness, “what’s your headline going to be this week?”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. “You’ll see it when you see it, Yoon Jeonghan. No spoilers.”

His chuckle was low and warm, a sound that felt like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “Should I be worried?”

“Always,” you replied, the corners of your lips quirking upward. “But maybe not too much this time.”

He gave you a curious look, his expression halfway between wary and amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting back to the track. The night was calm now, the weight of the day’s disappointment tucked into the folds of shared silence.

The headline hit Monday morning, and Jeonghan had to admit, you’d delivered once again.

Ferrari Falters in Hungary: Yoon Jeonghan's Fight for the Title Tightens

The article was incisive, as sharp as he’d expected. You broke down his struggles in FP1, critiqued his race strategy, and even called out the overtaking move that cost him crucial points. It was the kind of detailed, no-nonsense analysis you were known for, and Jeonghan read every word with a mix of frustration and admiration.

But at the bottom, tucked beneath the last paragraph, there was a footnote—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

“Despite Hungary’s setback, Yoon Jeonghan remains one of the most popular and formidable contenders for the championship. With only twenty points separating him from the lead, Belgium offers a more than fair chance for the Ferrari star to close the gap and reclaim his momentum.”

Jeonghan blinked, then read it again, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, the paper still in hand, and shook his head.

“Subtle,” he muttered, though his tone was anything but annoyed. It was gratitude, warmth, and a flicker of hope all wrapped together in a single word.

He might have faltered in Hungary, but you’d reminded him—the season wasn’t even half over. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fighting alone.

FORMULA 1 ROLEX BELGIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

The weekend at Spa began like a dream.

The legendary Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps was a driver’s haven and a monster in equal measure. The longest track on the calendar, its 7 kilometers of asphalt wound through the lush forests of the Ardennes, combining high-speed straights, sweeping corners, and the unpredictable challenges of its microclimate. The iconic Eau Rouge and Raidillon dared drivers to go flat out, while the downhill plunge into Pouhon tested their courage and precision. It was a place where skill separated the good from the great.

Jeonghan thrived on its challenge.

FP1 and FP2 were his playgrounds, his Ferrari gliding through corners like it was made for this circuit alone. The car was responsive and balanced, every adjustment in setup shaving precious milliseconds off his laps. Jeonghan pushed it to its limits, feeling every bump and curve beneath him as if Spa’s asphalt were an extension of himself.

By the time he returned to the garage, his name was at the top of the timesheets, and his team wore expressions of pride and relief. Engineers crowded around him during the debrief, their excitement palpable. Even Mingyu wandered over to toss a mockingly impressed, “Don’t get used to it, Yoon,” in his direction.

Jeonghan, basking in the buzz of dominance, had only winked.

But then came the penalty.

A breach in power unit regulations—an unavoidable technicality that slapped him with a grid penalty. It was frustratingly bureaucratic, a punishment that felt out of his control and yet deeply personal. His pole position was stripped away, and he was relegated to P10.

In the Ferrari garage, Jeonghan leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, the weight of his helmet heavy in his hand. The rhythmic hum of power tools and bursts of chatter around him did little to soothe his simmering frustration.

It wasn’t just the penalty—it was the sting of perfection slipping through his fingers, a weekend that had started flawlessly now teetering on the edge of disappointment.

He glanced up, ready to bury himself in the chaos of the paddock, and froze.

You were there, leaning casually against the pit wall, chatting with one of the mechanics. The glow of the overhead lights caught in your hair, and despite the whirlwind of activity, you were a picture of calm. Your hands moved as you spoke, animated yet confident, the faintest flicker of a smirk playing on your lips.

His gaze lingered.

It hit him—a memory of your words from Hungary, your unwavering belief cloaked in sharp wit: “A more than fair chance to close the gap.”

For the first time since the penalty, the gap didn’t feel insurmountable.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until you caught his eye. Your brows rose, and you tilted your head in mock curiosity before excusing yourself from the mechanic and walking toward him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with a note of amusement and something softer underneath.

Jeonghan shrugged, plastering on his signature cocky grin. “Since when are you worried about me?”

Your lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. “Oh, I’m not worried. Just curious. I wanted to see how Ferrari’s golden boy handles a little adversity.”

His grin faltered for the briefest moment before sharpening again. “Keep watching,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I might surprise you.”

You tilted your chin, your expression a blend of challenge and intrigue. “Don’t disappoint me then.”

The way you said it—like you meant it—sparked something fierce in him.

As you turned to leave, the faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, anchoring him to the moment. Jeonghan watched you disappear into the paddock, your confident stride a sharp contrast to his brooding, and for the first time that day, a smirk tugged at his lips.

It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

P10 to P1. 

It was the kind of race drivers dreamed of—the kind that earned its place in highlight reels for years to come.

The chaos began even before the lights went out. Rain had threatened all morning, dark clouds heavy over the Ardennes, but it held off just long enough to keep everyone guessing. Jeonghan sat in his Ferrari on the grid, surrounded by cars that had no business being ahead of him. He’d spent every second since the penalty recalibrating his mindset, shifting his frustration into fuel.

As the lights went out, his singular focus kicked in.

Turn 1, La Source: Jeonghan dived inside, threading through a gap that barely existed. The radio crackled with his engineer’s voice, commending his clean move, but he barely registered it. Eau Rouge and Raidillon loomed ahead, their uphill sweep demanding precision, bravery, and trust in his car.

He took the corners flat out.

By Lap 5, Jeonghan was in P7. His mind churned as he studied the cars ahead, each one a problem to solve. Every braking point, every shift in weight through the curves—it all required perfect execution.

But then came the rain.

It began as a drizzle at Pouhon, the light sheen on the track turning treacherous by the next sector. Jeonghan’s grip on the wheel tightened as he adjusted his lines, feeling for every ounce of traction.

“Box this lap for inters,” his engineer instructed.

“No,” Jeonghan replied, his voice steady. He could feel it—the balance of risk and reward. He stayed out one lap longer, the gamble paying off as he overtook two cars struggling on the wrong tires. When he finally pitted, the stop was flawless.

By Lap 20, the red flag came out, the rain too heavy for safety. Jeonghan sat in the pit lane during the suspension, helmet off, sweat beading his brow. His thoughts wandered for the first time since the race began.

Your words came back to him.

"Jeonghan’s perfectionism is both his weapon and his curse. When he is at his best, he’s untouchable. But the question remains: can he handle the pressure when the odds aren’t in his favor?"

His jaw tightened. You were right—about the pressure, about the way he held himself to standards so high they sometimes crushed him. But you’d also written something else.

"A more than fair chance to close the gap."

He wasn’t sure why, but that sentence anchored him.

When the race restarted, Jeonghan was a man possessed.

Sector by sector, he clawed his way through the field, each overtake cleaner and bolder than the last. At Blanchimont, he overtook Soonyoung in a move that was half instinct, half calculated risk. His engineer’s voice came over the radio in a disbelieving laugh: “Mate, you’re insane!”

By the final lap, he was leading. The roar of the crowd blended with the steady beat of his heart as he crossed the finish line, victory his once more.

The pit lane was a blur of celebration. His team engulfed him in a sea of red, their cheers drowning out even the din of Spa’s loyal fans. Soonyoung appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Winning in Spa from P10? You better believe I’m buying the first round,” Soonyoung declared, grinning despite his P2 finish.

Jeonghan laughed, the sound ragged and raw from effort, but his mind wasn’t entirely in the moment.

Later, in the quiet of the motorhome, when the adrenaline had settled and exhaustion was creeping in, Jeonghan pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the search bar before typing your name.

The article was already live.

His breath caught as he read your headline:

From P10 to Perfection: Yoon Jeonghan’s Masterclass at Spa

It was glowing, but in your unmistakable style—balanced, sharp, and honest. You praised his overtakes, his strategy, and his ability to rise under pressure. Your writing was like poetry, an ode to his resilience, his precision in the rain, his ability to claw victory from the jaws of defeat.  But what caught him off guard was the final line.

"With the championship fight closer than ever, it’s not a question of if Jeonghan will close the gap. It’s a question of when."

Jeonghan read it three times, his chest tight with something that felt almost like pride.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe them.

The bass thrummed low and heavy, a pulse that seemed to reverberate straight through the packed room. 

Jeonghan leaned against the bar, his drink in hand, his racing suit long since replaced by a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone. The sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his forearms, the dark fabric clinging to his frame in a way that effortlessly commanded attention. Around him, the club buzzed with post-race energy—drivers, engineers, and team members alike reveling in the victory and chaos of the day.

Soonyoung was next to him, buzzing with his usual infectious energy. Jeonghan caught snippets of his teammate’s banter, but his mind was elsewhere.

“God, Jeonghan, if you stare any harder, she’s going to spontaneously combust,” Soonyoung teased, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Jeonghan blinked, startled. “What?”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, nodding toward the dance floor. “Her. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a particularly tricky apex all night.”

Jeonghan followed his gaze.

There you were, dancing with a group of Ferrari engineers, the colored lights spilling across your frame, making your skin glow. You laughed at something one of them said, your head tilting back, your hair swaying with every movement. Jeonghan’s grip on his glass tightened.

“You’re hopeless,” Soonyoung said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just go talk to her. Or better yet, dance with her. God knows you’ll make everyone else jealous.”

Jeonghan scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure, and you just happened to spend the past ten minutes glaring at the poor guy she’s dancing with.”

Jeonghan shot him a warning glance, but Soonyoung only grinned wider.

“Look, you’ve already won at Spa,” he added, leaning closer. “Might as well take another victory tonight.”

Jeonghan shook his head, but the heat in his chest betrayed him. He cast one last glance at you before downing the rest of his drink and pushing off the bar.

The crowd was a blur of movement, bodies packed tightly together under the pulsing lights, but Jeonghan moved with purpose. He found you easily, your energy magnetic even in the chaos.

The beat shifted as he approached, slowing to something deeper, sultrier. He stepped in behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You turned slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a teasing smile, your eyes dancing in the dim light. “Jeonghan. Didn’t think you were the clubbing type.”

He smirked, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “I make exceptions for special occasions.”

You arched a brow, leaning back into him just enough to blur the line between teasing and inviting. “Special occasions, huh? Like winning at Spa?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice a touch quieter now. His fingers rested lightly on your waist, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

You turned to face him fully, your hands drifting up to rest on his shoulders, playful and almost casual. “So? What’s it like being untouchable?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. “You’d know,” he said smoothly, “if you were paying attention during my races instead of writing snarky articles.”

You laughed, a soft, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “I did pay attention,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your lips barely a breath away from his ear. “You were alright, I guess.”

“Alright?” he repeated, feigning offense. “You called it a masterclass. Don’t think I didn’t read your article.”

Your grin widened, the fire in your eyes matching the teasing edge in your tone. “Oh, that? Don’t let it go to your head, Yoon. I still expect a proper interview.”

His hands shifted to your hips, grounding you against him as he swayed slightly to the beat, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“And if I did?” you teased back, your voice soft but no less challenging.

For a moment, the world around you fell away. The music, the lights, the press of the crowd—it all faded as the space between you closed. Jeonghan’s eyes lingered on your lips, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing.

Then, just as you tilted your head, leaning closer—

“JEONGHAN!”

The moment shattered.

Sunwoo’s voice boomed over the music as he appeared out of nowhere, the mechanic’s grin wide and oblivious. “Bro, come on! You can flirt later! Dance with me!”

Jeonghan groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as your laughter spilled over him like warm sunlight.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You pulled back, still laughing, and met his gaze with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN DUTCH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Zandvoort

The paddock at Zandvoort was always one of Jeonghan’s favorites. The smell of fresh sea air mixed with the unmistakable tang of fuel and rubber, while the orange-clad crowd painted the stands in a fiery glow. Jeonghan didn’t even mind the noise—something about the Netherlands had a way of energizing him.

He was walking back from the driver’s parade when he spotted you outside the Ferrari hospitality tent, a coffee in hand, your eyes scanning the throng of people with practiced ease. The crisp breeze tugged at your hair, and Jeonghan slowed his pace, his lips curling into a familiar smirk.

You glanced up just in time to catch him staring. “Don’t you have a race to focus on?”

“Don’t you have an article to write?” he shot back, his voice smooth as ever.

“I’m multitasking,” you replied, raising your coffee in a mock toast.

Jeonghan stepped closer, close enough that the conversation felt private despite the bustling paddock around you. “Let me guess,” he said, crossing his arms, “today’s headline is, ‘Ferrari Driver Jeonghan Looks Extra Handsome Under Dutch Sunlight.’”

You snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Oh, please. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘Can Ferrari’s Yoon Jeonghan Deliver After Spa Masterclass?’”

“Flattering,” he mused, tilting his head. “I thought you’d save the sarcasm for the post-race write-up.”

“I aim to keep you humble,” you said with a shrug, though the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word in—

“Jeonghan!”

A voice cut through the tension like a knife. You both turned to see Soonyoung jogging up, waving enthusiastically. “There you are! We’re late for the strategy briefing!”

Jeonghan sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced back at you. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

You grinned, your eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t let me keep you from your briefing, Ferrari’s golden boy.”

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. “I’ll see you after I win.”

He walked off, Soonyoung talking his ear off as you watched him go, the heat in your chest lingering far longer than it should have.

The race came and went, and though Jeonghan didn’t win—Mingyu’s dominance at Zandvoort was almost an inevitability—he still managed to bring home a solid podium finish.

Later, back at the hospitality suite, you found yourself standing near the balcony, staring out at the ocean waves in the distance.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” came a familiar voice behind you.

You turned to find Jeonghan leaning casually against the doorway, his hair still damp from the post-race shower. He’d swapped his racing suit for a simple white shirt and jeans, but somehow, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Though I was expecting a win. Should I change the headline to ‘Close, but Not Quite’?”

Jeonghan’s laugh was low and smooth as he closed the distance between you. “I think you’re just trying to rile me up.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Is it working?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint freckle on his cheekbone, the way his lashes caught the light. “You tell me.”

The air between you crackled, your banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Jeonghan!”

The door slammed open, and Mingyu’s booming voice shattered the moment.

Both of you jumped, turning to see the taller driver grinning sheepishly. “Uh, sorry. Team dinner’s starting soon, and they’re waiting for you.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, but he plastered on an easy smile. “Of course they are.”

Mingyu left as quickly as he’d come, leaving you and Jeonghan alone again.

“Do people just have radar for this?” Jeonghan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you to focus on racing.”

He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Or maybe it’s telling me I’ll just have to try harder.”

Your pulse quickened, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically, stepping back with a rueful smile. “Guess I’ll have to settle for third interruptions.”

You smirked, folding your arms. “You’re consistent, at least.”

“Don’t forget it,” he said with a wink, his voice smooth as ever as he walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone, the waves crashing in the distance as you wondered how long this game of cat and mouse could last.

another lil a/n: full throttle is probably one of my favorite things i've EVER written and i am so proud of myself for getting this out of my head and onto the page.

[pochaccoups]

things you do that make svt bust quick (nsfw)

seungcheol —; tell him how good he’s doing

he’s a leo male… please stroke his ego.

tell him how you love his cock, how big he is, how it hits so deep inside you. tell him “right there,” and “keep going,” and to do it “just like that.”

stroke his possessive side too. tell him no one else can fuck you like he can, no one else can stretch you out so good, no one else can make you cum like he does. tell him that your pussy is made for him only.

be loud for him. god, he loves hearing you moan. say his name, beg for more, sob, whimper, gasp for him. don’t be shy about it. it’ll only be a matter of time before you butter him up enough to make him cum.

jeonghan —; beg

everyone knows yoon jeonghan likes having people at his mercy. he gets a little unhinged when he has power over someone—so imagine what he gets like when you’re writhing on his cock, gasping his name so sweetly, your eyes glimmering with tears as he fucks you hard.

“what is it, pretty?” he asks, and like the devil he is, he slows the movement of hips, pulling out of you until his tip barely kisses your also weeping hole. it’s torture for him too, to leave the hot, tight haven that is your cunt, but to him it’s worthwhile.

“wanna cum, hannie,” you whimper.

“hm… i don’t know if i should let you yet,” he says, dipping back inside just an inch. years of him being yours means you don’t miss the tiny strain in his voice that betrays his perfectly collected demeanour.

“please, hannie, please, please, please, let me cum. i’ve been so good,” you sob, squeezing your thighs where they rest on his hips.

you watch as a switch flips in his eyes within a millisecond. a grin lights up his face and he shudders, and he’s sliding back inside you, fucking in and out of you harder and faster than before. safe to say it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum after that.

joshua —; make eye contact

his pretty doe eyes make staring into them your favourite thing in the world, and if you asked him his favourite pastime, he’d tell you that it was gazing into your irises.

it’s also his biggest weakness. from the way you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his dick, throat gagging even though you’re only halfway down it, joshua feels his sanity slipping away. his fingers curl into the bedsheets below as he watches you work him, revels in the warmth of your tongue sliding up and down his shaft.

when your eyes flick up to meet his he doesn’t stand a chance. not with how glimmering they are, brimming softly with tears, yet swimming with adoration. with worship.

heat washes over his whole body, he’s gasping, and the salty warmth of his release pools on your tongue.

jun —; put his fingers in your mouth

when junhui gets inside you he has a one-track mind. he becomes rapt with pleasure, drunk from the warm squeeze of your pussy around him, focused on nothing but the sensation of you, the sight of you under him, the sound of you in his ears.

the effect you have on him is dangerous, because you’re equally obsessed with him as he is with you, and you’re not afraid to show him.

and you love his hands, he knows you do—knows how you love his slender fingers and their soft touches all over you, inside you. your brain is cloudy, fogged by lust when you take him by his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. your eyes sparkle as your lips wrap around his index finger, your soft tongue swirling around it.

jun’s mouth parts with awe, his eyes growing round. a second later, he stills inside you with a gasp of your name, like he’s praying to you, all the while you’re sucking on his finger like a devil.

hoshi —; scratch him

he’s a little bit of a freak, and a masochist too.

when he’s got you folded in half, hitting all the right spots inside you, you cling to him in every way you can—fingers grabbing at his biceps, his shoulders. one particular stroke of his hips has you squealing.

your nails sink into his skin, crying out his name as you rake them down the toned planes of his back. the second you do, soonyoung is grunting, hips stilling, cock twitching as a sticky warmth suddenly floods your cervix.

the worst part about it is how he always has the stupidest, most shit-eating smug grin on his face when he examines your damage in the bathroom after, and you know that if he could, he would post the selfies he takes in the mirror all over instagram. what’s even worse though? seeing your marks makes him hard again.

wonwoo —; cry

you’re such a sensitive little thing and wonwoo adores you. one orgasm on his fingers and you’re already overstimulated—“but baby, i haven’t even put my cock in you yet,” he’ll coo.

like it’s your fault you have a boyfriend with skilled fingers and a skilled tongue and who knows you inside and out like the back of his hand, who knows where to touch you and how hard and what pace makes you writhe the most.

by the time he does get inside you, you’re gasping and whining and clawing at him, tears springing to your eyes because he’s so big and so deep, but the stretch is so addictive that it’s dizzying. his voice is low and husky as he mutters to you a mixture of teases and praise, calls you his pretty girl and then laughs at sensitive you are, pretends he’s not on the verge of coming from the sound of your choked gasps.

your belly starts to pulse with that familiar heat and by then you’re keening for him, whimpering a mixture of his name and endless pleas as it starts to become too much. your sobs go straight to his cock, and it’s only a matter of time before he reaches his climax, and his gasps of pleasure harmonise with your own cries.

woozi —; pull his hair

he’s been growing his hair out. after all your begging, he finally listened. in a way, though, it’s backfired a little on you, because the longer it gets the more insane you become. and the thing is you never expected him to let it get to his shoulders—and still he doesn’t plan on cutting it. well, good. you would kill him if he did.

when his face is between your legs you’re nothing short of a feral animal—your hips bucking wild against his mouth, your legs trembling on his shoulders, your fingers, of course, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. he makes you whine when he pulls away from your needy, sticky cunt to tsk at you, tells you to cut it out and keep your hands to yourself. (it’s because he’s about to cream his pants).

when he bends you in half beneath him, ruts into you hard and fast and relentless, you need leverage. your hands land on the back of his neck, fingertips grazing at his roots, then one slam of his hips into yours has his cock bumping against the most sensitive spot inside you and your grasping at his hair and crying his name so desperately. no longer can he hold back, strained groans slipping past his lips as he lets go inside you.

dokyeom —; hold his hand

a sentimental sweetheart, seokmin is an utter romantic who thinks that being inside of you, whether in your mouth or your pussy, is intimacy in its purest form. now imagine showing him just how much more intimate things can get.

he’s losing his mind at the feeling of your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the way you swallow his length down making him see stars. he can’t bare to look at you—he needs to focus on taking deep breaths so that he doesn’t cum straight down your throat. then he feels you grabbing at one of his hands, lacing your fingers together, and no amount of deep breathing can stop him from releasing.

and when he fucks you it’s no different—it’s him in near tears, whimpering your name between incoherent words over and over, and as soon as you take his hand in yours and your fingers wrap around his, there’s nothing else he can do but succumb to his own pleasure.

mingyu —; take control

he’s big and strong; strong enough to put you into whatever position he wants, to make you cum at his command, to do just as he pleases with you.

but that’s exactly why he likes it when you slap him around a little.

you can’t exactly bend him into doggy or use your weight to keep him pinned to the mattress, but you can sit yourself pretty on his cock and ride him teasingly slow. you can tell him he’s not allowed to touch you or you’ll stop moving. you can tell him to kiss you, to go slower, to go harder.

you can sit up and put a hand around his throat, still your hips, and tell him he can fuck you himself if he wants to cum. and he’ll do just that—and as soon as you utter the words, he’s gone, whining out curses as he fills you up in white, warm spurts.

minghao —; whisper in his ear

minghao often tells you how he adores your voice. when you talk to him he’s entranced, and he’s always been more of a listener than a talker, and it’s perfect because you always have so much to say, and minghao will listen to every last word of yours.

your voice—minghao’s kryptonite, his achilles’ heel, his undoing and, oh, the way you moan for him when he’s got you on his cock is enough to make his heart stop beating. the perverted part of him wishes he could record you, hide the file away on his phone and listen to you when he’s overseas and he can’t call you. maybe he’ll ask you about that, if he can find the courage.

the final blow is when you’re getting close. you lean in, right next to his ear, so close that your breath sends shivers along his skin. “please, hao, i’m so close,” you whisper, yet you still sound so desperate and depraved. “you are too, right? cum for me, please. i’ll cum for you too.”

so he does just that—minghao gives in and lets his orgasm wash over him, fingertips drawing circles on your clit until mere moments later he hears the sound of your own cresting pleasure and he feels himself getting hard again.

seungkwan —; wrap your legs around him

it’s a fact that seungkwan loves to be close to you. if he could, he would crawl inside of your skin and live in your heart. but since he can’t, constant physical touch is the next best thing.

he likes to think he has relatively good self-control…most of the time. like when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, he’s incredible at keeping in rhythm, fucking into you at the most perfect pace for both you and him, hitting the spot that makes your back arch off the bed.

somehow he never sees it coming—when your arms are snaked around his neck and you’re holding onto him for dear life as he takes you to heaven, and your legs wrap around his waist so that you can pull him in impossibly deep. then you bring his face to yours, and you have the most irresistible little pout on your face when you make your request. “cum inside me, seungkwannie?”

and it’s not like he has much choice with the way you’ve trapped him inside of you, but that’s the very reason why the next second he’s pumping you full, because when it’s you, how is he supposed to have any self-control?

vernon —; touch yourself

it’s not like vernon can last long in general. he thinks you’re the hottest thing alive and he’s so enamoured with you that it’s too much for him sometimes, but you best believe he’ll put his all into holding out just for you.

there are times, however, where he’s just a man. and what’s a man to do when he has a goddess riding his dick? when your tits look so pretty, bouncing in his face, when you have that fucked out look in your eyes, when you feel like heaven and hell all at once?

and what the fuck is a man to do when your hand drifts down between your legs, to your aching clit, and your fingers start to rub it in circles, or when your other hand grasps one of your tits and tugs at one of your own nipples? and your sweet pussy clenches around him so tight when you do, clamps down on him in an hot, wet embrace, so what else can he do but cum?

dino —; say ‘i love you’

another sweet, sentimental boy. lee chan is head over heels for you, enamoured, obsessed, smitten, infatuated with you… the list of things he is around you is endless.

it shows in the way he fucks you—always takes his time with you, never rushes taking you apart. every touch of his is intentional, meant to set you both ablaze. when he eats you out to prep you for his cock, he has to try not to cum in his pants from how pretty you are.

where he really doesn’t stand a chance however is when he’s bottomed out inside you, as close as he can possibly be with you—so close you’re practically one. the sweetest sounds fall from your lips, spurring on his expert thrusts.

his forehead is plastered to yours, the pair of you revelling in one another’s sweat and gasps for air. “i love you,” you confess gently, and chan falls over the edge of pleasure not a moment later.