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mochacoda · 2 months ago

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too nice | hjs

Pairing: Hong Joshua x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Joshua Hong is nice. Too nice. He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special. The answer is, no. Problem is, he's your coworker and your neighbor.

Content: Fluff | Coworkers to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: slightly insecure reader, totally inspired by the youngji chocolate milk grandchildren interview, lots of elevators, lots of tension, a bit of drinking, mutual pining, "sweetheart" as a petname, gentleman agenda indeed, except he goes a bit mad at the end, seungkwan is a comedic genius, woozi is the wingman of the year, konglish w/ context clues, reader is scared of loud noises, no "y/n," loosely connected to python (seungcheol)

Word Count: 10K

Masterlist

────୨ৎ──── Monday

Joshua Hong is nice. Really nice. He opens the door for you every morning walking into work. He insists that he carries heavy file boxes from your boss’ office to your desk. He buys you coffee from the cafe down the street, knowing that the instant machine is almost always broken. Whenever he passes you in the hallway, he always smiles and mouths “fighting!” He notices when your enthusiastic mask slips and your tiredness peaks through. He tells you not to work so hard, and asks if you’ve been sleeping well.

He’s the kind of nice that makes people think twice about their relationship to him, wondering if they might be special.

But the answer is, no.

“He’s just like that. He’s nice to everyone. Get a grip.”

You sigh, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging above your vanity. You’ve been absentmindedly rubbing moisturizer on your cheeks for the last three minutes, at least, thinking about your coworker. How have you gotten to the point of talking to yourself in attempts to rationalize the thoughts of him clouding your mind?

All of a sudden, your alarm rings. You jolt upright, reminded that you have to leave your tiny apartment and head over to your equally small office cubicle.

You quickly stand up from your vanity chair, then walk over to your closet to grab a jacket. Relying on muscle memory, your hand moves toward the hook it always lies on, only to swipe at air.

The one and only winter coat you own isn’t there.

You groan, remembering that you’d put it in the laundry bin after staining it with beer over the weekend, at that disastrous company “bonding” event. You look down at the taupe sweater you’re wearing, pinching the material to guess if it’d be warm enough. It’s barely a centimeter of fabric.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you decide that the thin sweater would just have to do.

You turn back to the mirror to do one last check of your appearance, when something catches your eye. Sitting on your bedside table is the plushie Joshua had won for you at the arcade. The bunny stares back at you innocently. You’d placed it there last night before crashing out on your bed, fatigued from the chaos of the company outing—or, more specifically, the secondhand embarrassment recalling your attempts at trying to be normal around Joshua.

You shake your head roughly. You could cringe at yourself on the way to work. Grabbing your work bag and shoving your shoes on, you rush over to the door.

Squaring your shoulders, you open it and walk out. And for a moment, as you’re turning your key to lock the door, you think that you’ll be alone for the commute to work for once.

But then you hear a familiar voice.

“Good morning!”

You tense, heart beginning to race, then turn around with a weak smile.

“Hi, Joshua.”

Somehow, you’re not only coworkers with your crush, but also next door neighbors.

“Hey,” he says, then takes a sharp breath. “It’s pretty cold today. Is that sweater going to be warm enough?”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, avoiding eye contact as you drop your keys into your bag. “It can’t be that cold.”

You adjust the bag strap on your shoulder and walk toward the elevator on your floor, pressing the down button. It immediately opens.

“You sure?”

You nod as the two of you walk inside the elevator.

Hoping he’ll stop pushing you on your lack of a coat, you ask, “Did you look into the McKinley and Lee file yet?”

“Come on, it’s not even 9am and you’re already attacking me with work!” Joshua dramatically clutches his chest, then lightly punches your arm. “What’d we say about 워라밸, huh?”

You feel your face getting hot, your right hand reflexively going up to where he’d touched your left arm. Was it always this toasty in the elevator?

Meeting his eyes for the first time today, you say, “Yeah, yeah, work-life balance. You’re right.”

His lips turn up and his eyes crinkle into bright crescent moons. You find yourself smiling back at him, despite having tried so hard to avoid his stupidly sweet gaze.

“I’m just teasin’, you know?” he says, leaning casually against the steel walls of the small elevator.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble again, rubbing the handle of your bag and tapping your foot to give yourself something else to focus on, suddenly aware that the two of you were alone.

God, could the elevator move any slower? Fidgeting with the loose threads of your sweater, you were on the verge of melting from being near his vicinity for so long.

Ever since Joshua Hong had arrived two months ago as a transfer from the Seoul branch, you haven’t gone a day without running into him. It was HR’s fault, really. The Human Resources department had placed him in yours, and also gave him the company-funded apartment next door to you.

He’d spent so much time around you that, if you didn’t see the people who regularly flocked to him, you’d think you were his only friend in the States. It was, and still is, ridiculous. His constant presence has meant that you are constantly aware of yourself. Of how you’re breathing too loud, and how your heart is beating too fast, and how you were in too much of a rush to do your full routine this morning. He makes you care more than usual about how well you perform at work, and, worse, he makes you think about how happy and funny you appear to be.

The way he teases you for being nervous (although that’s only because he’s around practically all the time) and the way he always notices when you aren’t feeling well—it’s as if he sees right through you. Yes, he sees right through you, and it’s incredibly scary knowing he could confront you at any time—maybe even in this elevator—and say that he’s known all along that you’ve had feelings for him. And what’s worse is that you know he’d be polite with his rejection. He’d be a gentleman, carefully letting you down with—

“Hello? Hellooo?” Joshua says, waving his hand in front of your face.

You jump, blinking rapidly. “Huh? Sorry, what?”

“We’re here, sweetheart,” he says gently.

“Oh,” you reply lamely.

He gestures with his hand for you to walk out of the elevator first. Inside the lobby, he walks by your side. As the two of you approach the door, he reaches it first, and opens it for you to head outside.

You’re immediately hit with a blast of winter and harsh winds. Your arms instinctively tighten around your stomach, trying to prevent the cold air from rushing up your sweater.

Joshua turns to you, brows furrowed. His eyes glance over your sweater again, and you can tell he’s about to say something. Certain it’s an I told you so, you quickly say, “Before you start, I’m fine. It’s really not that cold, and the bus is coming soon anyway.”

You march forward toward the crosswalk before the bus stop, knowing he’s following behind you. Once you reach the start of the white lines, you slow down to a stop, waiting for the signal to change.

Still behind you, Joshua says, “거기 있어봐.”

“왜?” Though confused, you listen to his request to stay where you are. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling somewhat awkward just standing with your back turned to him.

He doesn’t answer your question why, but you hear a shuffle and the sound of fabric rustling. Then you feel a warm coat draped over your shoulders.

You turn back to face Joshua with a start, opening your mouth to protest.

But before you can get a word out, he takes his pointer finger and lightly presses it against your lips.

“Shh,” he says with a smile. “Tomorrow, wear a jacket, okay?” He pats the top of your head.

Speechless, you barely bring yourself to nod, then remember to shut your jaw. Let’s just survive this bus ride, you tell yourself. God, it was unfair how nice he was. It only made it harder for you to believe he was like this with everyone—or to stop hoping that, somehow, you might be the exception.

────୨ৎ──── Tuesday

Ever since you showed up to work on Monday wearing Joshua’s coat, your coworkers have been speculating nonstop about your nonexistent relationship with the man. More specifically, your two closest friends in the department, Boo Seungkwan and Lee Jihoon, have had a lot to say.

Today would be no different. Huddled around the coffee table in the break room with Seungkwan and Jihoon, you’ve been roped into listening to their comments.

Eyes darting between the two of them, you silently sip on your coffee.

“I’m a hundred percent sure now. I swear it’s real, he’s so into you,” Seungkwan says while staring at you, waving his hands in the air like a madman.

Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Remember when you said that the delivery guy had a crush on this one,” he replies while pointing at you, “only for it to be me? Your 촉 is trash.”

Seungkwan scrunches his nose, and huffs in your direction, as if you’re going to defend his skill of guessing office relationships. (You’re not.)

“Your hunch is horrible, I said,” Jihoon says, goading him.

“No,” Seungkwan frantically shakes his head. “That was a one off. Remember when I said the nepo baby in Finance liked Director Chun’s secretary? He kept staring at her and nobody believed me but I was right!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Lucky guess.”

“No, no, no, my 촉 is excellent, thank you very much.” Seungkwan turns to you, all pouty. “You trust my 촉, right?”

Finding the entire conversation ridiculous, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. Though Seungkwan prides himself on his supposedly superior hunches, he is really only accurate half the time.

You raise your coffee cup to your lips and sip on the liquid inside, a perfect state in between steaming hot and lukewarm.

“Kkah, this coffee is great,” you say to Seungkwan, ignoring his question.

His eyes suddenly widen, and he frantically waves his pointer finger at you. “Oh, oh! Another thing! He always gets you coffee from that expensive place next door, Cafe whatever. He never gets us coffee, but he always gets you coffee.”

Taken aback, you put the cup down, saying, “No way, he does that for a lot of people. He bought coffee for the receptionist like, last week.”

“That’s because it was her birthday,” Seungkwan says.

“And how’d you know that?” you ask.

“Because there were happy birthday balloons next to her desk?” Seungkwan says matter-of-factly.

“Well—” you retort, before getting cut off.

“You know,” Jihoon suddenly interjects. “I hate to agree, but it’s true. Joshua doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

“Right?” Seungkwan exclaims, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Come on, I’m so right. Woozi said I’m right. Trust the 촉.”

You rub your temples, feeling ambushed by your loud friends.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You wave them off as you stand up from the little coffee table chair you’d been sitting on for the last few minutes. “I’m going to head out.”

“Where are you going?” Seungkwan asks.

“Away from you,” you joke.

“I know you’re going to the vending machine,” Jihoon accuses. "You always get a snack after coffee."

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

“Can you get me a granola bar, then? You know the one I like, the blueberry one.” Seungkwan asks.

“Oh, and a Coke Zero for me?” Jihoon adds. “Y’know, not everyone has a coffee fairy named Joshua, like you do.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You know it’s not like that. Besides, you guys just love using my money, don’t you?”

“Guilty,” Jihoon grins.

“Come on, I paid for karaoke last Friday,” Seungkwan complains. “That was way more expensive than a granola bar and a Coke.”

“Coke Zero,” Jihoon says, emphasizing the “Zero.”

“Tomato, tomato.” Seungkwan wrinkles his nose, enunciating the “ay” and “ah” in the two pronunciations of the word.

“Apples, oranges,” Jihoon insists.

“Okay, okay, let’s not fight, children. A blueberry granola bar and a Coke Zero, on your way.” You give a pretentious salute.

Grasping your coffee, you down the rest of it and get up from the table. You crumple the cup and toss it into the trash can before leaving.

Walking through the main hallway, you pass the vending machines on your department’s floor, which are known to swallow dollar bills without offering products in return. Between the youngest employees in the department—people like you, Seungkwan, and Jihoon—you’ve discovered a secret spot that has better machines.

Once you reach the elevator, you tap on the down button. When the doors open, you walk inside and press on the “G” and “Door Close” buttons.

The elevator doors close smoothly, and you tap your foot as you watch the numbers at the top right corner go down from 8. It reminds you of the awkward elevator ride from Monday morning, but you quickly shake those thoughts out of your head.

It’s best not to think of Joshua when you don’t have to.

The garage is a relatively far trek from floor 8, but it’s a worthwhile time sacrifice. The other floors (and by extension, their vending machines) are locked by key cards for employees of their respective departments, so it’s either you take a chance with the floor 8 machines or head to the basement. You, Seungkwan, and Jihoon have all found that you’d rather not take that chance.

The elevator announces your arrival to the ground floor with a ding, and as the doors open, you make a beeline toward the machines.

Seeing that someone is already using the vending machine closest to the elevator, you walk past it toward the machine closest to the doors leading out of the hall and into the garage.

“Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero. Blueberry granola bar, Coke Zero,” you repeat to yourself under your breath.

Coming to a stop by the vending machine, you scan the snacks inside. Grabbing your wallet, you fish some dollars out and double check the numbers of the items before lifting your right hand up to the combination pad.

Jihoon first, because he was slightly less annoying than Seungkwan this morning: Coke Zero, number 405. You punch the numbers into the machine. When it flashes $2.00, your eyes widen.

“Two dollars for a soda is robbery,” you groan.

Still, you count two dollars out from the wad of cash in your left hand, then feed it into the machine. The machine begins whirring, the spiral in 405 moving forward. But just as you think the drink is going to come out, the spiral stops.

“Oh, come on,” you mutter.

You press on the small button next to the number pad that you guess is made for delivering change, but it doesn’t return your money.

Maybe putting in two more dollars would make the machine move and spit out two drinks? Immediately acting on the thought, you punch 405 in the number pad again and feed two more dollars into the machine, only for it to whir without delivering the Cokes again. Another two dollars later, and the same happens.

Taking matters into your own hands, you begin banging on the front of the vending machine. After around five seconds of failing to make the machine respond to physical force, your arms fall from the screen back down to your sides.

Clenching your fists, you sigh and count out two more dollars from your left hand. Then, your right hand stalls.

On second thought, you really don’t want to lose more money to the machine. Maybe you should try to force it out one more time? You shove the remaining cash into your back pocket.

You raise your clenched fists again, but before your hands meet the vending machine glass, a voice suddenly comes from right behind you.

“Whoa, whoa.”

Unfortunately, you’d recognize that honey-coated voice anywhere.

You spin around wide-eyed, coming shockingly close to Joshua Hong. His face is dangerously near yours, and his arms have wrapped around your body to clasp your hands in his.

“Shua? Wha—” Your voice is breathless, trailing off like you’ve forgotten how to speak.

“Hey, don’t fight the machine. You’ll only end up hurting your hands.”

His words are soft, but the way his thumb grazes your knuckles leaves a faint hint of warmth, like he’s lit a match against your skin. You should pull back—really, you should. But the closeness, the weight of his presence, keeps you frozen in place.

Your heart stutters in protest. This is nothing. He’s always like this. Always caring, always thoughtful. Always too close.

And yet, remembering what Seungkwan and Jihoon said, some part of you also wonders: Why does it feel different when it’s me?

Scowling, you drop his hands and take a step back, like distance will save you. "It's fine. I'm handling it."

His brow arches at your defiance, and for a moment, his gaze searches yours, like he’s looking for something you’re not ready to admit.

"Are you?" he asks, the words laced with amusement.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, both in frustration and to keep them from reaching out for him again and betraying you.

“I am,” you insist, though the heat rising in your cheeks threatens to undermine your confidence.

But then, just as quickly, he tilts his head, and his lips curve into a smirk—soft, upturned at the corners, with those faint dimples that could bring a fortress down.

And for a moment, just a moment, you wonder if you’re the only one feeling this way.

But before you can think of a sharp retort, his voice cuts through the haze in your head.

“You should’ve just asked me for help—like always.”

The softness in his tone, the familiarity, pulls you up short. It’s almost unbearable how easy it is for him to say things like this. Like it’s normal. Like it’s not turning your brain into static.

It’s too much. He can’t keep getting away with this, with being so nice to you all the time. It’s not fair.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you blurt out, clenching your fists tighter. You’ve got to hold your ground.

Joshua cocks his head slightly. “I thought you like it when I help you?”

Your face gets, if possible, even hotter.

Honestly, what can you even say to that?

Desperately avoiding his face, you stare at the much safer collar of his shirt. It’s an off white color, like the fur of the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you at the arcade. It remains on your nightstand because you still have no idea what to do with it.

Realizing that you didn’t answer him, you finally deflect. “Where’d you even come from? I didn’t see you.”

“Over there,” he says softly, pointing at the vending machine by the elevator.

“Oh.” You press your lips together, belatedly realizing that the person you’d passed on your way to this vending machine had been Joshua all along.

“So, what’d you need? I’ll fix it for you.”

You feel your face getting hot again. “Coke Zero,” you mumble.

“I thought you didn’t like Coke?” Joshua asks.

He remembers?

“It’s not for me,” you explain. “For Woozi.”

“Woozi?”

“Oh, I mean Jihoon.”

Strangely feeling like you have to explain yourself to him, to let him know that you’re only friends, you say, “We went to college together. Me, Jihoon, and Seungkwan. We just happened to get into the same department here.”

Joshua hums in acknowledgment. “No wonder, I always saw the three of you together. Made me feel left out.”

Your heart drops. Eyes wide, you cross your arms repeatedly, saying, “I never—we never meant to exclude you at all!”

“That’s okay, I have you to talk to, right?” he says with what you can only describe as an upside down smile.

You swallow and nod.

“Y’know I was just teasing,” he says casually. “I wasn’t offended.”

Before you can confront him about the mental whiplash he’s putting you through, he grasps your shoulders and maneuvers you to the right, so that he can stand in front of the machine. His touch was fleeting, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

You watch as he grabs two dollars out of his wallet, then punches 405 into the keypad. As the spiral whirs, he sends two precise kicks to the bottom left of the machine.

Doubting his method, you raise your eyebrows in uncertainty. But just as you do, the whirring is accompanied by the sound of the soft drinks falling.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

That actually works?

Joshua bends down and sticks a hand into the bottom flap of the machine, pulling out the drinks that had just dropped from slot 405.

“Four Coke Zeros, at your service. Anything else?”

“Oh, a blueberry granola bar for Seungkwan. And those chips for me,” you say with mild surprise, pointing at slots 201 and 302.

“Sure thing.” He taps the corresponding numbers and slips some bills into the machine.

Thankfully, 201 and 302 are very cooperative, unlike 405.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to pay for those,” you say, your fingers brushing against his as you accept Seungkwan’s granola bar and your bag of chips. The faint contact sends an unexpected jolt through your chest, one you force yourself to ignore.

“Oh, it’s not for free,” Joshua replies, his lips curling into a smile that’s soft yet pointed. “You owe me a coffee from next door.”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Tomorrow morning, then?”

He nods his head slightly, a gesture so casual it almost feels calculated. “How about today, after work?”

Your heart stutters. The way he’s looking at you—his eyes shining, eyebrows raised a little, with a faint crease between his brows—feels strange. It’s somewhat vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something.

No, surely not. Surely, he’s not—

The thought dies before it can fully form, drowned out by the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Sure,” you manage to squeak out, your voice embarrassingly small in the space between you.

His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something else in his expression. Relief? Satisfaction?

You swallow hard and grip the snacks in your hands like they’re a lifeline. You need to get a hold of yourself. Joshua Hong is not asking you out. He’s just nice. That’s all.

────୨ৎ──── Wednesday

“You’re joking. You’re actually joking.” Seungkwan’s voice rings throughout his waterlogged apartment.

“Most unfortunately, I’m not.” You blink, feeling a droplet of sweat getting dangerously close to your eyes.

You carefully wipe the sweat that’s gathered at your forehead using your forearm, since your hands are gloved up. You definitely don’t want the nasty residue from the rubber gloves getting on your face.

Seungkwan glares. “You didn’t tell me that you were on a date with You Know Who! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you.”

“Well, you did,” you say exasperatedly, grabbing an antique-looking lamp and lightly placing it in the box of items to throw away.

“Tell me what happened, exactly. Don’t leave a single thing out!” Seungkwan barks, waving at you from across the room, where he’s dismantling a chair to put in the box.

In the middle of clearing out Seungkwan's damp furniture, your mind drifts back to yesterday afternoon, to the cafe where…

────୨ৎ────

…The soft hum of coffee grinders and the steady chatter of customers make you feel warm inside, easing the tension from earlier that morning. You sit across from Joshua at a tiny table near the main window, taking in how the late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his face. He looks like royalty, and you think you could watch him for forever.

He’s nursing a cappuccino, his slender fingers tracing absent patterns on the side of the mug, while you sip on a mocha latte, its foam already starting to lose its shape. Staring at the latte, you think it’s about time you moved on from small talk.

“You really didn’t have to pay for my drink,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. It’s hard to argue with him when he wields his secret weapon every time.

He smiles, that same boyish, disarming grin he always gives you. “It’s just coffee. I get you one almost every day, y’know?”

“Yeah, but I was supposed to—”

“Exactly,” he interrupts, eyes sparkling. “Think of it as payback. For all the mornings you made brighter just by showing up.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, heat spreading down your neck as you lower your gaze to the coffee table, suddenly fascinated by the faint scratch marks on its surface. “You’re too nice,” you manage, the words feeling as flimsy as tissue paper.

“Only to you,” he says, and though his tone is light, the words feel impossibly heavy. Like they’re carrying something you’re both too afraid to name.

Your heart twists violently as your eyes snap up to meet his. The way he’s looking at you—steady, unyielding—makes your breath hitch. This is Joshua, you remind yourself, the nicest guy you’ve ever met. And yet, you can’t ignore the way it feels like he’s waiting for something. For you.

“You don’t mean that. I don’t believe that.” The words spill out before you can stop them, shaky and uneven. But even as you say them, a part of you aches with the knowledge that it’s not entirely true.

Because deep down, you want to believe him. You want to hold onto the idea that he’s different with you, that the warmth in his voice and the way he looks at you isn’t just another facet of his kindness but something more.

But that hope is dangerous.

If you believe him and you’re wrong—if this is just Joshua being Joshua, warm and selfless to everyone he meets—it’ll break you. So instead, you tell yourself that it’s impossible. That he can’t mean it.

You clutch onto every reason why: the way he always holds the door open for others, how he buys coffee for the entire team sometimes, the way he seems to know exactly what to say to make anyone smile. It’s who he is, you think, not just with you.

The idea of reading too much into his words—of exposing your heart only to realize you’ve misunderstood everything—is unbearable. So you push it away, burying the small flicker of hope before it has a chance to grow.

But even as you deny him, there’s a quiver in your voice, a hesitation that gives you away.

He leans forward slightly, his arms resting on the table, shrinking the distance between you. “You should. Don’t you ever wonder why?”

Your breath catches. His words hang in the air, heavy and charged, and for a second, you think he’s about to say something that will upend everything you’ve convinced yourself to believe about him.

“Joshua, I—”

Before you can finish, your phone buzzes loudly on the table, shattering the moment.

You scramble to grab it, breaking eye contact as you glance at the screen.

It reads: “Kwannie Kwannie Kwannie.”

You sigh deeply but answer the call, putting the phone to your ear. “What?”

“Help!” Seungkwan’s voice comes through in a panicked shriek. You take the phone a few inches away from your ear, wincing at the sound, then stiffen. His tone did not sound like one of his regular, made-up crises. Bringing your phone closer to your ear, you hear him shout. “My apartment’s flooding! There’s water up to my knees, my coach is floating! I don’t know what to do! Jihoon’s useless with this kind of stuff, and you’re the only person who knows where my emergency shutoff is—”

“Okay, okay, breathe. 4-7-8 method. I’ll be right there,” you say, shooting up from your chair.

Joshua watches you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Seungkwan’s apartment is flooding. I have to go help him,” you explain, grabbing your bag.

“I’ll come with you,” he immediately offers, already standing.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” You force a smile, though you’re still buzzing with the tension of whatever had just happened. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Before he can respond, you rush out the door, heart racing—not just from Seungkwan’s crisis, but from the words Joshua almost said. You hear him calling your name, but you’re unable to bring yourself to look back, afraid you’d cave.

If you had, you would’ve seen a crestfallen Joshua still standing by the table, frozen in place...

────୨ৎ────

...Seungkwan drops a chair leg.

If the water hadn’t already been drained (by you, yesterday, when you figured out how to use Seungkwan’s emergency shutoff valve), the metal leg would have made a small splash and floated in knee-deep waters. Instead, it fell obnoxiously loudly onto Seungkwan’s hardwood floor, ringing throughout the half-empty apartment with full force.

“Ah! Seungkwan!” You jump, nearly dropping your drill, which you had been using to unscrew the legs of the coffee table while retelling what had happened Tuesday afternoon.

“He was about to confess,” Seungkwan says slowly and robotically, as if caught in a trance.

You can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“He was about to confess,” he repeats.

Letting out a major sigh, you hop up onto the dining table, tapping it. “You know, we have to dismantle this too.”

“He was about to confess!” His sudden shout startles you again. “And where the hell is Woozi when we need him?”

“Probably on his way, as he was when you checked 20 minutes ago?” you say dryly.

“He needs to get a load of this. I was right!” Seungkwan waves the chair leg in the air triumphantly, far too close to the ceiling for comfort.

“Dude,” you laugh, “you’re going to scratch the ceiling, put it down!”

Seungkwan pouts. “But this is my victory leg.”

“Tell that to Woozi,” you grin. “I think you should show him the leg, first thing.”

He lights up. “Excellent idea.”

All of a sudden, you hear someone knocking on Seungkwan’s door. Jumping off of the table, you skip across the living room down to the narrow main hallway. Once you reach the door, you crack it open a few inches—as far as the chain link will let you.

“Woozi, you’re so late!” Your face breaks out into a smile upon seeing your friend.

“My bad,” Jihoon says with a chuckle.

“`Y’know, Kwannie has a big surprise for you?”

“I can’t wait,” he says with a sigh. “How bad is the damage?”

“See for yourself.” You take down the chain lock and swing the door fully open with a smile, only to falter at the sight of the one person you thought you’d successfully avoided all day.

Joshua.

For there he was.

“Here to help,” he says shyly, hands folded behind his back.

You give Jihoon a panicked look.

Jihoon explains, “I was heading out of the office when I caught him in the hallway. He said he was down to help Seungkwan, and I figured the more, the merrier.”

The sight of Joshua standing in Seungkwan’s doorway makes your stomach drop. It’s like all the tension from earlier has come rushing back in, this time amplified by the unexpectedness of his arrival.

You plaster on a polite smile, though you’re sure it looks more like a grimace. “Great,” you manage to choke out, turning on autopilot to lead him and Jihoon down the hallway.

But inside, your thoughts are spiraling. What is he doing here? Does he know you’ve been avoiding him all day? Did Jihoon tell him anything on the way over?

Your chest tightens as you think about Seungkwan waiting in the living room, blissfully unaware of Joshua’s presence. You can already imagine the chaos—Seungkwan, ever the open book, accidentally blurting out something incriminating.

What if he says something about the coffee shop? What if he mentions the way you couldn’t stop talking about Joshua just now?

You’re half a step ahead of them, your mind racing through ways to keep the situation from unraveling, but drawing nothing but blanks.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Joshua. He’s walking casually beside Jihoon, his hands tucked into his pockets, a beanie snug on his head. He looks different, less polished than usual, but still effortlessly himself. And for a moment, you falter.

Because despite your panic, there’s a part of you that’s almost glad he’s here. A part of you that can’t help but wonder what it means that he came at all.

When you reach the living room, you come to a hard stop, frantically making a small X with your arms.

But Seungkwan has his attention focused on that blasted chair leg, and of course, he immediately opens with: “Guess who has the biggest news of all time! The biggest action since the Great Orange Plaza Incident—”

Cue the obnoxiously loud laughter from you. “Joshua’s here! Say hi!”

Seungkwan turns to the hallway, where, indeed, Joshua is standing. Shocked, he drops the metal leg, and it announces its contact with the ground through a loud clang.

Wincing at the sound like earlier, you accidentally shift your body backward into someone behind you.

“Sorry,” you say, hoping it was Jihoon.

His arms come up to grasp your waist, holding you steady.

“No worries,” comes Joshua’s voice.

You shut your eyes, somehow both drowning in embarrassment and burning up at the spot where he’s touched you.

You quickly step out of his hold, trying not to let your flustered state show. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go now.”

Joshua chuckles softly, his voice like velvet. “그래, 바로 가자.” Right, let’s go straight away.

Seungkwan, thankfully, is too caught up in his shock to notice the moment, though Jihoon raises a single eyebrow in quiet observation.

As you guide Joshua and Jihoon into the living room, you internally rehearse all the ways you can deflect or redirect the inevitable awkwardness. But before you can settle on anything, Joshua is already rolling up his sleeves. You avert your eyes from his biceps.

“What needs moving?” he asks.

You glance around the room, desperate for something to hand off to him. Your eyes land on the dining table—big, heavy, and far too ambitious for one person to handle. Perfect. “The dining table,” you say, trying to sound casual. “We need to get it downstairs to the lobby for pickup.”

Seungkwan perks up. “Oh, that thing’s a beast. Good luck.”

“I’ll help,” Joshua says immediately, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you.

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh, okay. You and Woozi can move it.”

But Jihoon smirks, catching on. “Actually, I just remembered I promised to help Seungkwan with,” his voice trails. “Something else. You’ve got this, right?”

Before you can protest, Jihoon grabs the metal chair leg and joins Seungkwan in the corner, leaving you and Joshua alone with the daunting table.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Joshua says, his teasing smile widening.

You swallow thickly, resigned. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Together, you begin maneuvering the table toward the hallway. It’s heavy and awkward, and you struggle to find a good grip on the edges.

“Here,” Joshua says, dropping his side of the table and moving closer. His hands brush over yours as he adjusts your grip, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “That should help.”

The contact sends a jolt through you, but you force yourself to focus. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

By some miracle, the table fits in the elevator, though the tight space forces you and Joshua closer together. You’re much too aware of how little distance there is between you, the faint scent of his cologne making your heart race even faster.

“This reminds me of Monday morning,” Joshua says suddenly, his voice soft.

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze. What is he talking about? The elevator? The coat? Both?

He nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

Your stomach twists. “What about it?” you ask cautiously.

His eyes searching yours. “I just,” he hesitates for a moment, before continuing. “I feel like we keep dancing around something. Don’t you?”

Your breath catches, and suddenly the space feels even smaller. “What do you mean?”

Joshua steps just a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I mean,” he pauses for a second or two before picking up again. “This. Us. I feel like there’s something you’re not saying. And I’m not sure if I should say it first.”

The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at the lobby, but neither of you moves.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Shua, I—”

Before you can finish, the doors slide open, and an older woman waiting outside peers in, her curious gaze snapping you both out of the moment.

“Uh, sorry,” you stammer, quickly stepping out with your end of the table.

Joshua follows, but you can feel his eyes on you, his earlier words hanging heavy in the air.

As the two of you set the table down near the designated pickup area, he leans in slightly, his voice low. “This isn’t over.”

Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, but you force yourself to nod, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”

Even as you head back to Seungkwan’s apartment, your mind is racing with the possibilities of what he might say—and whether you’re ready to hear it.

As you reenter Seungkwan’s apartment, the weight of Joshua’s words hangs like a thick fog in the air. It’s almost suffocating, the way your heart beats erratically at the thought of what he might say next.

You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Joshua to be right behind you, but he's still out by the lobby. The sound of Seungkwan and Jihoon’s voices floats down the hallway as they continue their discussion, oblivious to the tension that’s spiraling in your chest.

You step inside, but you can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to change. Joshua’s words—“This isn’t over”—echo in your mind, repeating with every beat of your heart. What did he mean? What does he expect?

“Everything okay?” Seungkwan calls from the living room, looking up with a raised brow as you walk in.

“Yeah,” you chirp, trying to act normal, but your voice comes out too high.

He narrows his eyes. “You sure? You look a little off. Everything go well?” It’s unsaid, but you know there’s a “with Joshua” attached to the end of his sentence.

You force a smile, but it’s shaky at best. “Yeah, the table's gone now.” You can’t tell him. Not yet. Not with the weight of Joshua’s unspoken words still pressing against your chest.

Seungkwan studies you for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the hallway. “I’ll take your word for it. So, you two, huh?”

Your eyes widen involuntarily, and you try to laugh it off. “아니, 아니! 그런거 아니야, it’s really not like that.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, me and Jihoon are going to go to the bar. Want to come?”

The offer hangs in the air, and you realize, suddenly, that it’s the perfect distraction. You need space from your own thoughts. You need to calm your racing heart. Maybe getting out of here will help.

“I’ll go,” you blurt, before you can second-guess yourself. “Haven’t gone weekday drinking in a while. Let me just grab my bag.”

Seungkwan gives you a knowing look but says nothing more. As you step into the hallway to grab your bag off a high-hanging hook, your mind is still whirling with the unanswered questions about Joshua.

Walking further down the hallway, you find Seungkwan and Joshua standing near Jihoon.

Jihoon’s already at the door, his hand on the handle. “Come on, let’s go. I need some drinks in my system after today.”

You nod, attempting to shove your thoughts away for the night. The cool air outside greets you, and the cacophony of the city feels like a welcome distraction. As you make your way to the bar, Seungkwan and Jihoon immediately dive into their usual banter, but your mind is elsewhere. You keep glancing over at Joshua, who seems uncharacteristically quiet tonight, his usually playful energy subdued.

By the time you reach the bar and order drinks, you’re beginning to relax. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact that you don’t have to think about what’s going on between you and Joshua, but you can’t help but feel like you’re walking a thin line between tension and relief.

But as the night goes on, Seungkwan and Jihoon quickly fall into drunken antics, leaving you and Joshua alone on the quieter side of the bar. The air between you both is thick, like an invisible thread is pulling you closer, yet neither of you dares to speak.

You fiddle with your glass, wondering if you should speak up first. You only have so much courage, though.

Thankfully, Joshua clears his throat, his voice low. “넌 좀,” he hesitates for a bit, before deciding to call you out, “조용한데?”

Well, it’s no secret that you’re being quiet. He was, too, at least until now.

You glance up, meeting his gaze for the first time since earlier. His eyes are intense, his lips pulled into that soft, half-smile you know and adore.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang between you like a dare.

Joshua leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. “What part?”

Your heart races, but you hold his gaze. “About how this isn’t over?”

He’s quiet for a beat, then smiles—just a little. “I meant what I said.”

And in that moment, you realize you’re in way deeper than you thought.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest, like a stone sinking deep into water. You want to ask him more, to press him, to demand answers, but the words feel trapped in your throat. Instead, you look away, fidgeting with the rim of your glass, your fingers tracing the condensation. The alcohol has started to mellow your nerves, but the tension still hovers in the air between you two, thick and almost palpable.

“You’ve been quiet too,” you manage to say, keeping your voice steady despite the jittery feeling in your stomach. “What’s on your mind?”

Joshua doesn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering toward the noisy group in the corner where Seungkwan and Jihoon are laughing too loudly, practically leaning on each other for support. The laughter echoes in the background, a sharp contrast to the quiet bubble that has formed around you and Joshua.

It’s the kind of moment that feels too intimate, too close to the edge of something that could change everything.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, and his voice is soft, thoughtful. “I guess I’m trying to figure out if you’re really as clueless as you act, or if you’re just pretending.” His eyes meet yours, and there's something almost vulnerable in his gaze, a flicker of hesitation that’s rare for him.

You feel your heart skip a beat, caught off guard by the question. “Clueless?” You repeat, the word tasting strange on your tongue. “I’m not clueless.”

“그래? Are you sure about that?” he asks, his smile barely there, his tone teasing but with an edge of something else—something deeper.

You narrow your eyes, a little irritated by how easily he toys with you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and then immediately regret it. It sounds too defensive, too much like you’re trying to cover something up.

Joshua leans in slightly, his expression serious now, no longer playful. “I think you do. I think you’re scared.” His voice drops, barely above a whisper, but it lands like a truth you can’t deny. “You’re scared of what might happen if you admit what you feel.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world feels like it slows down, the noise of the bar fading into the background as his words settle in your mind. The truth in them stings, and you don’t know how to respond.

He’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.

Not yet.

Not to him.

Before you can say anything, Seungkwan stumbles over, dragging Jihoon along with him. “You two are too quiet,” Seungkwan says with a grin, clearly tipsy. “What’s going on here? Trying to plot against us?”

Joshua straightens up quickly, his smile returning to its usual playful, disarming self. “Nothing like that, we were just talking,” he replies, his voice smooth and easy.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the moment away, but the tension still lingers in your chest. You force a smile, though it feels weak. “Yeah, just talking.”

Jihoon gives you both a sideways look, too drunk to notice the underlying current between you and Joshua. “You two really are something, huh?”

Seungkwan laughs, waving a hand as if dismissing Jihoon’s comment. “Yeah, yeah, don’t mind them. They’re just having a little ‘moment,’” he says, emphasizing the last word with air quotes.

You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Contrary to Seungkwan’s comment, the moment’s long gone now, robbed by the chaos of their antics. But you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that you and Joshua are standing on the edge of something—something both terrifying and irresistible.

And for the first time, you decide that you’re ready to see where it leads.

────୨ৎ──── Thursday

You wake up on Thursday with a start, the events from last night already feeling faraway. Joshua had dropped you off, and you had spent most of the night restlessly thinking of him, going over how to confess.

The bright morning light filters through the blinds, causing you to squint at the time on your alarm clock. It’s much earlier than you’d usually get up. You fight the urge to go back to sleep.

With resolve, you push yourself up off your bed and run through your morning routine with extra care. And by the time your last alarm rings, you’re ready to tell him.

You walk over to the front door, waiting for the telltale signs of movement coming from the apartment next door. Only, you hear nothing. Not even footsteps shuffling around.

Your elevator ride is silent. Your bus ride is silent.

Joshua had left before you’d even woken up—and you’d woken up pretty damn early—and his absence only made you more aware of the pressing silence between the two of you.

When you reach your cubicle, your eyes graze over the desk repeatedly, finding something is wrong.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Jihoon asks from the cubicle next to you.

“Nothing.” Everything.

You stare at the spot where Joshua puts a cup of coffee from the cafe next door every day. It’s empty.

“설마,” you whisper. No way. Did he decide to drop you because you didn’t answer him? But what else could explain his radio silence? You haven’t gone to work alone in over a month.

“설마 what?” Seungkwan asks, dropping into his office chair to the left of you at 9 on the dot.

When you don’t answer, he asks Jihoon, “What’s going on over here?”

Jihoon shrugs. “Probably drama with You Know Who.”

“Oh,” he says, and the two of them drop it.

Before you know it, the clock has hit 5pm, and you’ve spent the entire workday soullessly typing on your keyboard, lifting your head up every time you’ve seen movement in the room. Only, the man you were looking for was nowhere to be seen.

You miss the stolen glances and bright smiles you used to exchange. The silence had been stifling. You really did want to talk to him, to clear the air today, but he just never showed. Heart sinking, you pack up your bag and put on your coat. You stall for a moment remembering how he’d given you his coat just a few days prior. Did he really decide to give up because you weren’t responding well?

The bus ride back to your apartment is silent, but your head is full of speculative thoughts. When the driver announces your stop, your heart settles into a newfound determination.

Maybe he could let go, but you can’t. You won’t let him go.

“I’ll just barge in! Say my piece, then let him talk,” you mumble under your breath, pushing the lobby doors open.

Is it a good plan? You aren’t sure, but hopefully he’d forgive you for being hesitant for so long. You honestly don’t know how he did it—how he was able to stand your wishy-washiness?

Eyes tracing the ground, you make a beeline for the elevator, continuing your whispers. “And what am I going to say? God, I need a good opening line. Something like, please please take me back? Actually, we were never dating, so I guess that doesn’t make sense. Please please like me back? Is that too desperate? Well, I am desperate, so—”

Out of the corner, you see the elevator beginning to close.

“Hold the doors, please!” you shout, running as fast as you can. Speed is of the essence, so you can confront him as soon as possible.

You make it across half the lobby in record time, panting as you enter the elevator.

“Thank,” you say in between breaths, hands on your knees, “you—”

When you look up, your heart stops.

Joshua Hong. Dressed dapper in an all black suit and carrying, of all things, a briefcase?

“Shua?” you say breathlessly, immediately straightening.

Joshua looks down, his usual calm expression faltering for just a second when he sees you out of breath. For a moment, the two of you simply stand there in silence, the elevator’s gentle hum filling the space between you.

“Where were you?” you ask, your voice quieter than you'd intended, a hint of nervousness creeping in despite your earlier determination.

Joshua clears his throat, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Director Chun had me accompany him to the Lee meeting. You?” he asks, his gaze softening as he watches you catch your breath.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. The reality of the situation hits you hard.

This was it.

This was the moment.

But now that you’re face to face with him, you’re unsure of what to say. You should’ve prepared a real speech, practiced your words properly. Instead, the dreaded silence lingers.

“I,” your voice trails off. “I just—” You let out a shaky breath, then shake your head as if to clear the mess of thoughts swirling inside. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About things. About us.”

Joshua tilts his head slightly, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “About us?”

You nod, trying to steady your breath. The elevator seems to be going slower than usual, as if the universe itself is giving you more time to process, to speak. You feel a strange mix of nerves and determination pushing you forward.

“I didn’t handle things right. I was,” you pause for a moment, carefully choosing your next words. “Unsure. Confused. And I thought maybe if I stayed quiet, I’d be able to ignore everything. But I can’t,” you say, the words finally coming out in a rush. “I can’t ignore you. I don’t want to.”

Joshua’s eyes soften, his posture shifting, his briefcase clutched tightly in his hands. “You’re not the only one who’s been confused,” he admits, his voice low, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t know what to do either, but I couldn’t let you slip away without at least trying. I care about you. A lot.”

The elevator jerks suddenly, and you both look up in surprise as the lights flicker. A loud noise rings through the space, and with a groan, the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. You both freeze, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“Shit,” you gasp, instinctively taking a step back from the elevator doors, but your foot catches in a brief moment of panic, and before you know it, you’re pulled toward Joshua.

He catches you effortlessly, his hand impossibly warm at your back, steadying you as you stumble. “괜찮아?” His voice is gentle but concerned.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, him holding you in his arms, your heart still racing from the shock. Then you both realize the situation. No Wi-Fi. No way to call for help. Just the two of you, stuck in this tiny box, the tension thick in the air. The sound of your heavy breathing fills the silence as the elevator remains motionless.

Joshua clears his throat, his voice teasing again. “Well, if you think about it, this isn’t that new.”

In response, you lightly laugh, thinking back to all the times throughout the week where he's kept you steady. The you of Monday morning never would have thought you’d be in this position now, not to mention the you of two months ago.

You glance up at him, mind still racing. The unexpected turn of events had thrust you into a corner. And yet, in some strange way, you felt it was just the kind of moment the two of you needed.

Alone.

No distractions.

No running away.

“Well, at least we have some time to talk now, huh?” you say with a small, tentative smile.

Joshua meets your gaze, his eyes full of understanding. “Yeah. Looks like we do.”

And for the first time in days, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. Instead, it feels like an opportunity, a moment to finally clear the air.

────୨ৎ──── Friday

You’ve been in the elevator for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. Somehow, conversation just flows.

“I liked you first,” you find yourself saying, voice barely above a whisper as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“그래?” comes Joshua’s soft reply, so close that you can feel the vibrations in his chest. Really?

You can’t believe he even has to ask. Yes, really. You were so obvious about it. So affected by him that you couldn’t even look at the stuffed bunny he’d gotten you on Sunday, reminded of his soft, kind eyes.

So you nod, “Mm-hm.”

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, your body still adjusting to the peaceful rhythm of being near him. You’d been thinking about this for the longest time, but now it feels so natural, so certain, and you can’t help but regret all the time you’d spent secretly pining over him. God, you’d even asked him to stop being so nice to you out of pure desperation. Who does that?

“Since when?” His voice is smooth, warm, like a soft melody, and you can’t help but feel drowsy with the way it lulls you into comfort.

You pause, eyes drifting to the floor of the elevator as you try to gather your thoughts. “Since when?” you repeat, the memory taking you back.

It was a chaotic day, the kind of day where everything felt so loud and full of people. You were at that welcome party for the new transfer—Joshua—but it had been too overwhelming. So, you’d slipped away, finding solace in the quiet of the cafe next door. You’d gotten a coffee to-go, and you sat outside on a bench, letting the world pass you by as you listened to your audiobook. That was your kind of perfect Saturday.

You never saw him that day.

But you did see him a week later, in the hallway of your apartment building. You’d just locked your door, ready to head out when you noticed the man next door fumbling with his own keys. His moving process had seemed slow, but that day, you finally got to exchange quick introductions before stepping into the elevator together. And somehow, in that brief exchange, you found yourself already falling, the way his laugh filled the space between you, the way you both laughed at the coincidences stacking up—the apartment, the floor, the building, the department. It was electric, the start of something special.

You glance up at him now, still leaning against his shoulder. “When we first met, in the hallway,” you finally say, voice soft.

Joshua smiles, a glint of fondness in his eyes. “That was when we first met?”

You furrow your brows, confused. “Wasn’t it?”

Joshua laughs quietly, the sound like a comforting hum in the otherwise still elevator. “I remember differently,” he says, poking your cheek gently.

You tilt your head. “If not the hallway, what was it?”

“The first day I came here, sweets,” he says, his fingers brushing a lock of your hair from your face.

Your mind races, wondering if you’ve forgotten an important memory. “But we didn’t meet, did we?”

Joshua hums, the kind of hum that carries a story behind it. “I guess you didn’t see me, but I saw you.”

You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “When?”

He leans back slightly, eyes distant as if replaying the scene in his head. “I remember being bombarded by all the office workers. God, it was so chaotic. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out, so I said some BS excuse about needing a drink.” He chuckles softly, then his expression shifts, softer now. “I went to the drink station by the window, grabbed whatever they had, and just stared out. I was wondering how long I could hide before it was socially acceptable to go home, when I saw you.”

You shift, intrigued by his words.

“You sat outside on the bench. You weren’t even aware of the crowd inside, just focused on,” he pauses, thinking of the right word, before continuing, “Existing? Listening to something, I guess. I watched you for a while. You were so still, so peaceful in the middle of all that noise. It made me stop and think. I’ve never really done that before. I’ve always been in ‘go, go, go’ mode. But there you were, just being, and I don’t know. I think that’s when I started thinking about you.”

His words settle over you like a blanket, warm and unexpected.

“I decided then to keep giving you coffee after that,” Joshua adds with a shrug. “You’re my elevator to my small enlightenment, if you will. You made me slow down, sweets.”

At that, your heart flutters in your chest. “I never knew,” you murmur. “I thought you were just nice to everyone. All this time, you’ve been looking at me like I’ve been looking at you.”

Joshua smiles softly, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve been thinking about you for a lot longer than you’ve been thinking of me.”

“Only a week!” you protest.

Joshua’s eyes shine as he looks at you, crinkling into crescents. His hands steadily clasp yours, thumb rubbing against the back of your left hand. “Still think I’m too nice?”

“No,” you say, burying your face in his chest. “Keep being nice to me.”

When the elevator finally dings, and you can hear firefighters shouting things past the doors, it’s a few minutes past 12am. But neither of you moves, content in making up for lost time late into the night.

Masterlist

Author's Note: yes they were stuck in an elevator for like 7 hours from thurs after work to midnight, 내 마음이야

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

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itssunshinetoday · 9 months ago

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★Videocall with your long-distance boyfriend, Wonwoo

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pinkmoontaco · 1 month ago

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It all started at a survival show||Boo Seungkwan Pt. 1

Pairing: Idol Seungkwan X Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: Y/n, a reserved and confident idol, meets Seungkwan, SEVENTEEN's lively vocalist, on a survival show. Initially rivals, their playful competition evolves into mutual respect and a budding connection as they navigate challenges together. Despite their contrasting personalities, Seungkwan’s warmth and unintentional care for Y/n soften her aloofness, and their chemistry becomes undeniable. Author's Note: Hi everyone! I’ve been away for a while because of my exams, but now that they’re finally over, I’m back with a brand-new story for you all. I’m so excited to share it and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it. Please give it lots of love and support! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts and comments—they mean so much to me and help me improve. Your feedback and encouragement keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Love you guys. And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other groups Pt.1 _ Pt.2

The bright studio lights flooded the room, reflecting off the polished floor and amplifying the excitement in the air. Rows of contestants sat in anticipation, their expressions a mix of nervousness and determination. The audience’s buzz filled the space, but it was the booming voice of the host that commanded attention.

“Welcome to Idol Championship: The Ultimate Showdown!” he declared, his energy palpable. “This is where the best idols battle it out in singing, dancing, and acting challenges to prove who truly reigns supreme!”

Seungkwan, seated comfortably among the contestants, couldn’t help but flash his signature grin. Confidence radiated from him as he leaned back slightly in his chair. He’d been through countless stages, grueling schedules, and high-pressure performances as SEVENTEEN’s powerhouse vocalist. This survival show? It was just another stage to conquer.

Until she walked in.

The studio doors opened, and Y/n stepped inside, the click of her heels punctuating the room’s sudden hush. Heads turned as her presence swept through the space. Dressed impeccably and exuding an air of effortless confidence, she moved as if the competition was already hers. Y/n, the soloist known for her flawless performances and laser-focused demeanor, was not one to be trifled with.

Seungkwan watched her with raised brows. Her reputation had preceded her: a perfectionist, fiercely competitive, and someone who left no room for mediocrity. As she took her seat, her gaze remained locked on the stage ahead, not even sparing a glance for her competitors.

Leaning toward a fellow contestant, Seungkwan whispered with a cheeky grin, “Guess we’re all playing for second place now.”

The group around him chuckled nervously, their laughter dying quickly as Y/n’s sharp eyes flicked toward him. She didn’t say a word but raised a single eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. The silent acknowledgment sent a clear message: Game on.

The host interrupted the tension, his voice cutting through the room. “Let’s dive right into the first challenge! A vocal duel to kick things off.” The announcement was met with a ripple of excitement and murmurs among the contestants.

As names were drawn, Seungkwan sat back with feigned indifference. But when his name was called, his smirk widened. He stood, giving an exaggerated bow to the audience, earning a mix of cheers and laughter.

“And his opponent…” The host paused for dramatic effect. “Y/n!”

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath as Y/n rose gracefully from her seat. Her calm expression didn’t waver, but the subtle shift in her posture spoke volumes. She was ready.

Seungkwan’s grin faltered for half a second before he leaned toward the contestant next to him. “Of course, it’s me,” he muttered with mock despair, earning a few chuckles. “Why wouldn’t it be me?”

Y/n made her way to the stage with the poise of someone who belonged there. Seungkwan followed, his usual bravado intact but his mind racing.

This was no ordinary competition. This was the beginning of something much bigger.

The stage was set, and the air was electric. Seungkwan and Y/n stood at opposite ends of the platform, their contrasting energies palpable. Seungkwan radiated confidence, his charming smile directed at the audience, while Y/n exuded an unshakable calm, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.

The host grinned, clearly relishing the tension. “For this vocal duel, our contestants will perform a classic ballad—Timeless. They’ll showcase their individual styles, and the judges will decide who captures the essence of the song best. Let’s give it up for Seungkwan and Y/n!”

The audience erupted into applause, and Seungkwan flashed his trademark grin. He turned to Y/n and offered a playful, mock bow. “Ladies first?” he quipped, earning a few chuckles from the crowd.

Y/n’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but her eyes stayed sharp. “Don’t worry, Boo. I’ll set the bar high for you.”

She stepped into the spotlight, the soft glow highlighting her poised figure. The opening notes of the ballad filled the studio, and as she began to sing, the room fell silent. Her voice was ethereal, perfectly controlled yet filled with emotion. Each note was deliberate, her delivery precise. She wasn’t just singing—she was telling a story, and everyone was captivated.

When the final note lingered in the air, the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Y/n gave a slight bow, her expression serene as she stepped back.

Seungkwan clapped along with the crowd, though his competitive spirit burned brighter. “Not bad,” he said, stepping forward. “Now let me show you how it’s really done.”

The music began again, and Seungkwan transformed. His voice carried raw emotion, drawing the audience in with every note. Where Y/n’s performance had been refined and polished, Seungkwan’s was dynamic and heartfelt. He poured his soul into the song, making each word resonate deeply.

By the time he finished, the audience was on their feet, cheering wildly. Seungkwan took an exaggerated bow, shooting Y/n a playful wink as he stepped back.

The judges deliberated, their faces serious as they whispered among themselves. Finally, the head judge stepped forward. “Both performances were exceptional,” he began. “Y/n’s technical precision and emotional depth were breathtaking, while Seungkwan’s heartfelt delivery brought a new dimension to the song. However, the winner of this round is… Y/n!”

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped, his expression exaggerated for effect. “Wait, what? Did we hear the same performance?” he exclaimed, earning laughter from the audience.

Y/n walked past him, her voice calm but laced with amusement. “Better luck next time, Boo.”

The audience roared with laughter as Seungkwan clutched his chest dramatically. “This isn’t over!” he called after her, his tone a mix of humor and determination.

The first clash had ended, but the rivalry was just beginning.

Backstage, Seungkwan was still nursing his defeat. He leaned against the snack table, nibbling on a rice cracker, his thoughts consumed by Y/n's flawless performance. The room was abuzz with chatter, contestants recounting their moments on stage, but his ears were tuned only to the faint sound of Y/n’s laugh from across the room.

“She’s good,” he muttered to himself. “Too good.”

“What’s that, Seungkwan?” a fellow contestant teased, sidling up to him. “Already feeling the pressure?”

Seungkwan scoffed, puffing out his chest. “Pressure? Please. This is just the warm-up round. I’m saving my best for later.” His words were confident, but his eyes betrayed the flicker of determination brewing within him. Losing to Y/n had ignited something he hadn’t felt in a while—a burning desire to prove himself.

On the other side of the room, Y/n was seated with her small circle of supporters, sipping tea and quietly listening to their chatter. She wasn’t one for gloating, but the faint smile tugging at her lips was enough to make her satisfaction known.

“Y/n, you were incredible out there,” one of the contestants said. “That high note? Unreal.”

Y/n nodded graciously. “Thank you. But it’s still early in the competition. There’s a lot more to come.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes flicked briefly toward Seungkwan, who was now animatedly recounting his “strategic loss” to another contestant.

The next day, the contestants gathered again in the brightly lit studio for the announcement of the second challenge. The host stood at the center of the stage, holding a gleaming envelope.

“Contestants, it’s time to reveal your next test. This challenge will push you out of your comfort zones and test your adaptability.” The crowd murmured in anticipation. “For this round, you’ll be performing duets! And the pairs have been carefully chosen by our producers.”

Seungkwan’s heart sank. The word “duet” sent a wave of unease through the room. Collaboration was not always easy, especially in a competitive setting.

The host began reading the pairings, and with each announcement, the tension grew. Finally, the words that would define the next chapter of the competition rang out:

“Y/n and Seungkwan.”

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped for the second time in as many days. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

Y/n, meanwhile, remained as composed as ever, though a faint glimmer of surprise crossed her face. She met Seungkwan’s wide-eyed stare with a raised eyebrow.

“This should be… interesting,” she said, her tone measured.

“Interesting? That’s one way to put it,” Seungkwan shot back, attempting to mask his nervousness with humor. He extended a hand to her, his grin disarmingly boyish. “Let’s try not to kill each other, yeah?”

Y/n regarded his hand for a moment before taking it briefly. “We’ll see.”

The host clapped his hands together, bringing the room’s focus back. “For your duet, you’ll perform a reimagined version of Eclipse, a song known for its contrasting vocal styles and emotional depth. You’ll need to showcase both harmony and individuality. Good luck!”

As the contestants dispersed to begin rehearsals, Seungkwan and Y/n were left standing awkwardly together.

“So,” Seungkwan began, scratching the back of his neck, “how do you feel about this song?”

“It’s a challenge,” Y/n replied, her tone neutral. “But I think we can make it work.”

Seungkwan tilted his head. “You think we can make it work? Wow, I feel honored.”

Y/n shot him a sharp look but couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

Their banter continued as they made their way to the rehearsal room, where the true test of their partnership awaited. The rivalry that had sparked on stage was now forced to evolve into something more cooperative—or combust entirely.

Rehearsals began early the next morning, and Seungkwan and Y/n found themselves locked in a small, soundproofed room, facing each other across a grand piano. The air was thick with anticipation, both of them unwilling to acknowledge the unspoken tension that lingered between them after their first showdown.

Seungkwan, ever the optimist, took a seat at the piano. He flashed Y/n a wide grin. “Alright, let’s make this duet the best thing this show’s ever seen. How about you take the high parts, and I’ll handle the fun ones?”

Y/n’s lips quirked upward for the briefest of moments, but she didn’t respond immediately. She studied him for a moment before speaking, her tone calm but pointed. “Seungkwan, this isn’t about playing to our strengths. It’s about balancing the song and complementing each other. That’s what the judges will look for.”

Seungkwan chuckled, the slight sting in her words not lost on him. “Got it. No more ‘fun’ parts. I’ll be the serious, refined Seungkwan from now on. Promise.”

Y/n’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second. She nodded. “Good. Let’s get to work.”

The first few minutes of rehearsal were anything but smooth. They each took turns singing their parts of Eclipse, but the two voices clashed rather than harmonized. Seungkwan’s bold, free-spirited delivery contrasted sharply with Y/n’s controlled, composed tone. It was clear that neither of them was quite sure how to adjust to the other’s style.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous,” Seungkwan muttered after several attempts to sync up their voices. He rubbed his temple, exasperated. “We’re never going to make this work if we keep fighting the music like this.”

Y/n tilted her head, her expression contemplative. “I agree. Maybe we need to focus on blending, rather than competing for the spotlight.”

Seungkwan shot her a sideways glance. “So, you’re saying I should tone down my charisma?”

Y/n didn’t flinch. “Not entirely. But you need to find the balance between emotion and technique. If you let the song guide you rather than forcing your style into it, we might just make it through.”

Seungkwan sighed dramatically, though he was beginning to see her point. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

Y/n’s gaze softened, but there was no mistaking the steely focus in her eyes. “I don’t want to just win. I want us both to shine.”

There was something in her words that caused a shift within Seungkwan. He looked at her not just as a competitor now but as a collaborator—someone who could actually help him be better, even if it wasn’t always easy to admit. The realization left him a bit disoriented, but it also sparked a renewed determination.

“Alright,” he said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. “Let’s do this your way. Show me how it’s done, Y/n.”

She nodded, accepting his challenge without hesitation. They started over, this time with a new sense of focus. Y/n’s voice guided the pace, and Seungkwan began to soften his approach, matching her precision while still keeping his own vibrancy intact.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

As the days passed, the tension between them slowly began to ease. Their rehearsals were no longer just about competing; they were about learning from each other. Seungkwan was amazed at Y/n’s ability to remain calm under pressure, her voice effortlessly gliding through complex runs. Meanwhile, Y/n found herself quietly impressed by Seungkwan’s emotional depth. Where she had once seen him as too flamboyant, she now recognized the sincerity beneath his playful exterior.

One afternoon, as they took a break from rehearsing, Seungkwan sat on the floor, sipping water and tossing a small ball up and down. Y/n, perched on the piano bench, absentmindedly hummed a few notes of Eclipse, clearly lost in thought.

Seungkwan glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “You know, for someone who never seems to let her guard down, you hum a lot.”

Y/n didn’t look at him but simply shrugged, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s a way to center myself. Keeps my focus sharp.”

“Interesting,” Seungkwan mused, his gaze softening. He paused before continuing, the playful tone gone from his voice. “You don’t ever get nervous, do you? You just seem… unshakable.”

Y/n stopped humming and finally turned to face him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s because I’ve had to be. People expect a lot from me, and I can’t afford to show weakness. Not when it matters.”

Seungkwan tilted his head, intrigued. “You know, you’re not as cold as you seem. You’ve got layers, Y/n.”

She met his gaze for a long moment, then stood up, brushing off her pants. “Maybe. But I’m here to win this competition, not make friends.”

Seungkwan stood as well, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You might end up liking me more than you think.”

Y/n shot him a quick glance before turning back to the piano. “We’ll see about that.”

Despite her words, there was a subtle warmth in her expression, the faintest flicker of a smile. Seungkwan noticed it, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching her with a newfound appreciation.

The rivalry that had started with sharp words and pointed glances had begun to shift into something more complicated. Trust was being built, and while neither of them would admit it out loud, they were starting to rely on each other in ways neither had expected.

As the final days of rehearsals approached, they were no longer just competitors—they were partners. And with every note they sang together, the bond between them grew stronger, setting the stage for what was to come next.

With their duet victory still fresh, the producers decided to lighten the mood by introducing a bonding activity for the contestants: a variety of fun, team-based games.

The stage was transformed into a playful arena with colorful props, oversized cushions, and a giant wheel of fortune to decide the challenges. The contestants, now divided into pairs from the duet round, were informed that the games wouldn’t affect the competition rankings. Instead, it was an opportunity to relax and build camaraderie.

Seungkwan, ever the social butterfly, was already buzzing with excitement. “Games? Oh, this is my specialty!” he declared, clapping his hands.

Y/n, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled. She crossed her arms, eyeing the obstacle course skeptically. “I don’t see how this is supposed to help us bond,” she muttered under her breath.

Seungkwan leaned closer, his grin infectious. “Come on, Y/n. Where’s your competitive spirit? This is going to be fun!”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t completely suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine, Boo. But if we lose, it’s on you.”

The first challenge was a classic: tug of war. Each pair had to work together to pull a rope against another team. Seungkwan and Y/n were up against a duo known for their strength, but Seungkwan was undeterred.

As they took their positions, Y/n glanced at him. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Are you doubting me?” Seungkwan feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “I’ll have you know I’m stronger than I look!”

Y/n smirked. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

The whistle blew, and the game began. Seungkwan dug his heels in, pulling with all his might. Y/n matched his effort, her expression one of fierce determination. They moved in perfect sync, their teamwork surprising even themselves.

With one final pull, they sent the opposing team stumbling forward, securing their victory.

Seungkwan whooped, throwing his hands in the air. “I told you we’d win!”

Y/n, breathless but smiling, nodded. “Not bad, Boo. Not bad.”

The next game was a balance relay, where contestants had to carry a water-filled bowl across a wobbly beam without spilling it.

As Y/n prepared to go first, Seungkwan noticed her hesitating. “Nervous?” he teased gently.

She sighed, adjusting her grip on the bowl. “It’s not exactly my strong suit.”

“Don’t worry,” Seungkwan said, his tone softer now. “Take it slow. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

Y/n shot him a glance, her cheeks warming despite herself. “I won’t fall.”

But as she stepped onto the beam, the wobbling made her falter. True to his word, Seungkwan was immediately by her side, steadying her with a firm hand on her arm.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice calm and encouraging.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his closeness, and she quickly looked away. “Thanks,” she mumbled, focusing on the task.

With his support, she made it across the beam without spilling a drop.

The last game was a music trivia challenge where one partner had to hum a tune while the other guessed the song.

“Alright, Y/n,” Seungkwan said, bouncing on his heels. “I’m a music genius, so this should be easy.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

She hummed the opening notes of Very Nice, one of SEVENTEEN’s iconic songs. Seungkwan instantly lit up. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try to make it hard. It’s Very Nice! Next!”

Y/n smirked, her competitive side kicking in. She hummed a more obscure ballad, and Seungkwan scratched his head, mumbling the melody to himself before snapping his fingers. “Beautiful Goodbye! Got it!”

As the game progressed, they found themselves laughing more and more, their banter light and natural. Y/n even caught herself smiling at his exaggerated frustration when he got a song wrong.

After the games, the contestants gathered for a brief break. Y/n, tired from the activities, leaned against a wall, closing her eyes for a moment.

Seungkwan appeared beside her, holding out a bottle of water. “You look like you could use this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

Y/n opened her eyes, blinking in surprise. “Oh… thanks.” She accepted the bottle, their fingers brushing briefly.

“You okay?” Seungkwan asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/n replied, though her voice was quieter than usual.

“Here.” Seungkwan grabbed a chair and placed it beside her. “Sit for a bit. You’ve been working hard.”

Y/n hesitated but eventually sat down. She watched as Seungkwan rummaged through a nearby snack table, returning with a small pack of crackers. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”

Y/n couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as she took the crackers from him. “You don’t have to fuss over me, you know.”

Seungkwan shrugged, his smile easy. “What can I say? I’m a caring guy.”

For the first time, Y/n felt her carefully constructed walls begin to crack. She glanced at him, her heart betraying her calm exterior with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Thank you, Seungkwan,” she said softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that surprised even herself.

Seungkwan grinned, leaning back against the wall beside her. “Don’t mention it. Partners take care of each other, right?”

Y/n looked away, hiding the small smile that crept onto her lips. For the first time in a long while, she felt something she hadn’t expected—something dangerously close to butterflies.

The games had ended, but the playful energy lingered in the air as the contestants were given the rest of the evening to relax. Y/n found herself walking to the outdoor terrace, seeking a moment of solitude to gather her thoughts. The cool evening breeze brushed against her skin, and the city lights twinkled in the distance.

She took a deep breath, the events of the day playing back in her mind. Seungkwan’s unwavering support during the games, his care when he noticed her fatigue—it wasn’t something she was used to.

“Figured you’d be out here.”

Y/n turned to see Seungkwan leaning against the doorway, his trademark grin softening into something more genuine.

“Didn’t think anyone would find me,” Y/n said, turning back to the view.

“Well, I have a sixth sense for finding people who are trying to hide,” he teased, stepping closer.

Y/n chuckled softly, surprising herself. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the city below filling the space.

“You were really good today,” Seungkwan said suddenly, his tone sincere.

Y/n glanced at him. “So were you. You’re always so… lively. It’s refreshing.”

Seungkwan laughed. “Lively? That’s one way to put it. Most people just call me loud.”

“Maybe,” Y/n admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. “But it works for you.”

Seungkwan looked at her, his usual humor replaced by something softer. “You know, you don’t have to keep your guard up all the time, Y/n.”

Her smile faltered, and she looked away. “I’m not…”

“You are,” Seungkwan interrupted gently. “And I get it. You’re used to being the best, to having to prove yourself over and over. But you don’t always have to be perfect. It’s okay to let people in sometimes.”

Y/n felt her chest tighten at his words. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit, but he wasn’t wrong. She had spent so much of her career striving for perfection that she had forgotten what it felt like to just… be.

She looked at him, her expression softer than before. “Why are you so nice to me, Boo?”

Seungkwan shrugged, his grin returning. “Maybe I just like a challenge. Or maybe I think there’s more to you than the icy perfection everyone sees.”

Y/n blinked, his words hitting closer to home than she expected. She shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” Seungkwan said, spreading his arms dramatically.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unguarded.

Later that evening, the contestants gathered in the common area, where someone had set up a few board games. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, a rare break from the intensity of the competition.

“Alright, who’s up for a game of Jenga?” one contestant called out.

Seungkwan immediately jumped up. “Count me in! Y/n, you too.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow from her seat. “Why me?”

“Because I want to see if you’re as precise with Jenga blocks as you are with choreography,” Seungkwan said with a mischievous grin.

Reluctantly, Y/n joined the group. The game began, and as expected, Seungkwan’s antics quickly became the highlight.

“Careful, careful!” he exclaimed dramatically as Y/n pulled out a block with steady hands.

“Stop distracting me,” Y/n said, trying to hide her smirk.

“Distract you? Me? Never!” Seungkwan replied, placing a hand over his heart in mock innocence.

Despite herself, Y/n found that she was genuinely enjoying the game. When it was Seungkwan’s turn, his exaggerated expressions and nervous commentary had everyone laughing.

But then, as he carefully placed a block on top of the precarious tower, it wobbled and came crashing down.

“No!” Seungkwan cried, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Y/n laughed, a sound that made Seungkwan pause for a moment. Her laughter was rare, and seeing her genuinely enjoying herself made his defeat feel like a win.

As the night wore on, Y/n found herself reaching for her water bottle, only to realize it was empty. Before she could get up, Seungkwan appeared beside her, handing her a fresh bottle.

“Here,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Y/n stared at him, surprised. “How did you…?”

“I noticed yours was empty,” he said with a shrug. “Figured you’d want another.”

It was such a small gesture, but it sent her heart fluttering in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her fingers brushing his as she took the bottle.

Seungkwan grinned. “What are partners for?”

Y/n looked at him, her walls crumbling a little more. For the first time, she wondered if this rivalry wasn’t just about competition anymore—maybe, just maybe, it was becoming something much more.

The next morning, rehearsals for the duet resumed, and Seungkwan and Y/n found themselves alone in the practice room. The producers had given them creative freedom to reimagine the song, and the stakes were higher than ever.

Y/n sat on the edge of the piano bench, scribbling notes in her lyric book, while Seungkwan lay sprawled on the floor, humming the melody softly.

“So,” Seungkwan said, propping himself up on his elbows, “are we going for heartbreakingly emotional or ‘I can’t believe they’re rivals’ chemistry?”

Y/n looked up from her notebook, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘chemistry’?”

Seungkwan grinned. “You know, that undeniable spark we bring to the stage. The kind that has the audience rooting for us, not just as performers but…” He paused dramatically, “as soulmates.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a smile. “Let’s focus on making the song good first, Boo.”

“Fine, fine,” Seungkwan said, sitting up and reaching for his notebook. “But don’t be surprised if we end up stealing the show.”

The hours passed in a blur as they worked on harmonizing their vocals and perfecting the song’s emotional tone. Y/n, as always, was meticulous, stopping mid-line to tweak a note or adjust the phrasing.

“You’re like a human metronome,” Seungkwan teased after Y/n made them restart the chorus for the fifth time.

“And you’re like a walking hurricane,” Y/n shot back, though there was no bite in her words.

When they finally ran through the song without stopping, the result was breathtaking. Their voices blended seamlessly, creating a sound that was both powerful and intimate.

Seungkwan stood back, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes. “We’re going to make the judges cry. I can feel it.”

Y/n chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Let’s just hope we don’t make them cry for the wrong reasons.”

Later that evening, Seungkwan noticed Y/n massaging her neck, her movements tense and stiff.

“You okay?” he asked, concern coloring his voice.

“It’s nothing,” Y/n replied, but her wince betrayed her.

“Come here,” Seungkwan said, motioning for her to sit down.

“What are you—”

“Just sit.”

Reluctantly, Y/n sat on the couch, and before she could protest, Seungkwan’s hands were on her shoulders, kneading the tension away.

“Seungkwan, what are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted. “You’re always so focused on everything else. Let someone take care of you for a change.”

Y/n froze at his words, the warmth of his hands and the gentleness of his voice catching her off guard.

“There,” Seungkwan said after a few moments, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Feeling better?”

Y/n turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly.

“I know,” Seungkwan replied, his grin softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

Y/n’s chest tightened. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from him, but this… this was different.

That night, Y/n found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling of her room. She replayed the day in her mind—Seungkwan’s teasing, his support during rehearsals, the way he had eased her tension without expecting anything in return.

Her hand unconsciously brushed over her shoulder, where his touch had lingered. She felt her cheeks warm, and she groaned, pulling the blanket over her head.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t ridiculous at all.

It was the beginning of something she couldn’t quite put into words yet—something that scared her as much as it excited her.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/n allowed herself to smile at the thought of what might come next.

The next morning, the rehearsal room was quieter than usual. Y/n arrived first, settling into her usual seat by the piano, her lyric book open in front of her. She scribbled notes absently, her mind wandering to the events of the previous evening.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. She looked up to see Seungkwan, his bright energy a stark contrast to the calm atmosphere. He flashed her a grin as he walked in, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“For the perfectionist,” he said, placing one cup on the table in front of her. “Thought you might need some fuel for another round of ‘let’s rehearse until we drop.’”

Y/n raised an eyebrow but accepted the coffee. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Ulterior motive?” Seungkwan gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Can’t a guy just bring his duet partner a coffee without being accused of scheming?”

Y/n shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Thank you, Boo.”

“Wow,” he teased. “Did Y/n just thank me? Is this my reward for putting up with your obsessive note adjustments?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the amused glint in them. “Keep talking, and I might make you run the chorus twenty more times today.”

Seungkwan laughed, plopping onto the seat beside her. “Fine, fine. Truce.”

As the day wore on, the duo rehearsed tirelessly. The song had taken on a life of its own, their contrasting styles blending in a way neither of them could have predicted.

“Alright, let’s take it from the bridge,” Y/n said, flipping through her notes.

Seungkwan groaned but stood, adjusting the microphone. “You’re lucky I like this song.”

They began again, their voices rising and intertwining in perfect harmony. The emotions they poured into the performance felt raw and real, and by the time they reached the final note, the room was silent.

Y/n turned to Seungkwan, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. “That was… good,” she admitted.

“Good?” Seungkwan said, his hands on his hips. “Y/n, that was amazing. Admit it—we’re kind of incredible together.”

She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of a chair tipping over behind her. Startled, Y/n stumbled, her ankle twisting awkwardly.

Before she could hit the ground, Seungkwan was there, catching her in his arms.

“Careful!” he exclaimed, steadying her.

“I’m fine,” Y/n said quickly, though her cheeks flushed as she tried to pull away.

“Fine? You almost face-planted,” Seungkwan said, his brow furrowed in concern. “Sit down for a second.”

Y/n didn’t protest this time, letting him guide her to the bench. He crouched down, examining her ankle with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“It’s not swollen,” he said after a moment, looking up at her. “But you should be careful. You’re not invincible, you know.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his concern, the teasing edge in his voice softened by genuine care.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, her gaze meeting his.

“Anytime,” Seungkwan replied with a lopsided grin. “Can’t have my duet partner out of commission, can I?”

That evening, Y/n found herself lingering in the hallway outside the rehearsal room. She had left her notebook behind and was debating whether to retrieve it when she heard Seungkwan’s voice from inside.

“... she’s tough, you know?” he was saying, his tone softer than usual. “But there’s something about her. It’s like she’s carrying the weight of the world, and I just want her to know she doesn’t have to.”

Y/n froze, her heart pounding. Was he… talking about her?

“She doesn’t let people in easily,” Seungkwan continued, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and frustration. “But when she does, it’s worth it. She’s worth it.”

Y/n stepped back quietly, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to see her in a way that no one else did.

As she walked back to her room, her thoughts were a jumble of emotions. But amidst the confusion, one feeling stood out: a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time, spreading through her chest.

Seungkwan wasn’t just her rival anymore. He was becoming something much more, and the realization both thrilled and terrified her.

117 notes · View notes

yjhzies · 7 months ago

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“Mr. Blushing Boo.” — Boo Seungkwan

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . crack . self-indulgent

⋆ pairings : seungkwan x gn!reader ⋆ warning : not proof-read, mentions of a ghost (not literally) ⋆ wc : 0.8k [✉️] · when you're bf hates you addressing him by his full name, but he is down bad for you.

⋆ - note : DON'T WE JUST LOVE A LOSER BOO 😼 he is so cute i couldn't shake this thought off so I'll share some of my delulu-ness <3 also my first seungkwan fic! this man is wrecking me so hard it's not even a joke anymore, hannie is shivering timbering in his boots 💔🙏

"I swear, this recipe said 'easy'."

Seungkwan groaned in frustration, scowling at the recipe book on the counter in front of him and reaching out to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

You let out a small laugh, handing him a tissue. "Use this, stinky."

Huffing out a breath, he took the tissue from your grasp while rolling his eyes and sneering. He returned his gaze to the recipe book, his face painted with an unimpressed expression.

"Baby, can you bring me the flour?" He said, not taking his eyes off the book as he began mixing the batter in a bowl.

"Ah, okay," you say, washing your hands and walking over to the cabinet.

You extended your hand to unlock the cabinet and then grabbed the flour bag. Your hands were shaky from the weight, and you prayed that it wouldn't fall. Just as you gradually took it out over your head—

boom.

You just stood there dumbfounded with flour all over your face, not even bothering to scream. You blow the flour from your lips away.

"I heard a sound, are you oka-"

Seungkwan arrived on the other side of the kitchen and called out, only to stand there with his mouth agape. He looked you up and down, then burst out laughing.

"Baby-" He squealed, leaning on the counter to support himself and keep from falling. You scowled at him. However, you could not suppress the small giggle that escaped your lips when you saw him laughing.

His hands move away from the counter, causing him to roll on the ground as he laughs.

"What a boyfriend," you murmured under your breath, amused by the sight of your boyfriend rolling on the floor, laughing instead of helping you.

"Come and help me now, will you?"

With a gasp for breath, he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out as he began laughing once more.

You stood there, looking stupid like a ghost. With a sneer, you inhale deeply, prepared to scare your beloved boyfriend half to death.

"Boo Seungkwan!"

He paused at the full ass goverment name, and perked up his head to look at you. His eyes widened as if they were about to pop out, and his lips pursed.

"Come and help me." Your tone was firm, and Seungkwan pushed himself off the floor and dashed straight to you. He picked up the flour bag and set it on the table before taking a cloth to wipe your face.

With a pout on his lips and his eyes fixed on your cheek, he gently started wiping the flour off your face. You knew it was because you addressed him by his full name. He obediently followed your words as you tried not to laugh at his pout.

"Baby," he said quietly, staring at his hand. "I'm sorry for laughing earlier..."

"I swear I didn't mean it! you see, it was just really funny seeing you covered in f-" He paused and raising his head to study your expression before lowering it once more. "Okay, I'll shut up."

But he flinches as you grab his face and peck his lips. As he digests what happened, his eyes enlarge.

"You're so cute, boo." You grin, squishing his pink-dusted cheeks. Unlike him, he smiled shyly and looked down, like a shy high school boy facing his crush.

"Aw, should I name you Mr. Shy Boo?"

He giggled lightly as you called him Boo. Suddenly shy to touch you, he reached out to hold the fabric of your shirt on the sides of your waist.

It was one of those goldy moments when you fluttered THE Boo Seungkwan's heart. Because, first thing, there has not been a day when he has not side-eyed you if you are being clingy more than usual (he actually enjoys it and gives in after acting whiny), and second, he will be teasing and poking you every chance he gets, so you are the one who is giddy at the end of the day. But that doesn't stop you from knowing his weaknesses.

"No, just call me boo..." With a slight smile on his face, he mumbled and leaned in to place his head on your shoulder while placing his hands lightly on your hips.

Reaching out, you take his hands in yours, adjusting it so that it encircles your waist before you put your own arms around his neck.

"Guess what, boo?"

"Mm?"

"+1 for my collection."

"Huh? what collection?"

"The Blushing Boo collection!" You giggled, and suddenly Seungkwan is side eyeing you. He raised his head to intensify the glare, which appeared more like to a pout.

"You don't like it? should I change it to Boo Seungkwan?"

"Don't call me that." With a light foot stomp, he let out a whine. "The name boo sounds much better from your mouth."

"So can I name the collection as blushing boo?" You grinned.

He huffed with a hint of smile, and shrugged. "Whatever."

"Got it, Mr. Blushing Boo!"

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mejaemin · 8 days ago

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his favorite kisses ❀⋆.ೃ࿔

an ot13 series ♡

˚❀　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.　˚　　❀ .　˚✦　. ✿ 　　˚　　 ❀　　*　

wc: 1.2k (current total)

summary: a drabble series about seventeen and their favorite way to kiss you !!!

status: ongoing, updates will be slow !!! comment if you’d like to be tagged in the updates

extra: warnings will be added next to the word count instead of a chapter summary! my inbox is open for any ideas for any of the members + requests for one to be posted !!!

˚❀　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.　˚　　❀ .　˚✦　. ✿ 　　˚　　 ❀　　*　

❀ choi seungcheol 🍒

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ yoon jeonghan 🪽

↑(wc: n/a) in progress!

❀ hong jisoo 🦌

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ wen junhui 🐱

↑(wc: 0.4k) fluff, older!jun (not by much), not much else !!!

❀ kwon soonyoung 🐯

↑(wc: 0.4k) clingy soonyoung, fluff, suggestive, thigh kissing/biting

❀ jeon wonwoo 🐈‍⬛

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ lee jihoon 🍚

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ xu minghao 🐸

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ kim mingyu 🐶

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ lee seokmin ⚔️

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ boo seungkwan 🍊

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ chwe hansol 🐻‍❄️

↑(wc: n/a) coming soon…

❀ lee chan 🦦

↑(wc: 0.4k) older!chan (again, not by much), fluff

˚❀　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.　˚　　❀ .　˚✦　. ✿ 　　˚　　 ❀　　*　

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simpxxstan · 9 months ago

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boys over flowers (booseoksoon + chan)

this summer, four new teachers are joining sebong elementary school: kwon soonyoung, the physical education teacher, lee seokmin, the science teacher, boo seungkwan, the music teacher, and lee chan, the dance teacher. join them as they embark on this new journey, and how they navigate through the world of romance and friendship!

a series of four short stories, wrapped around the same setting, arriving soon!

themes: elementary school teachers!au, romcom-ish, fluff, minor angst

word count: less than 10k for each oneshot

#1: lunch lee seokmin x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers out now!

#2: it isn't you boo seungkwan x f.reader genre: exes to lovers out now!

#3: flat no. 1102 lee chan x f.reader genre: friends to lovers release date: 30th May

#4: bad boy bad girl kwon soonyoung x f.reader genre: enemies to lovers release date: 2nd June

all release dates are tentative! warnings and word counts for each oneshot will be mentioned when they are released.

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hcuyk · 2 years ago

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SYNOPSIS : jeonghan loves you. the happier ending to kidult

PAIRING : daycareworker!jeonghan x genderneutral!reader

GENRES : established relationship, daycare au, angst, fluff, features seventeen as children

WARNINGS : mentions of car accident and child neglect

TEASER WORD COUNT : 329

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT : 7-10k

ESTIMATED RELEASE DATE : within the next week. i lied its coming out when i get time cause why tf is my college doing sm

TAGLIST : lmk if you want to be added!

A/N : this is for kidult jeonghan reaching 1k notes. i love you all

K. COLLECTION [Y.JH] ONE | TWO

Tears began to stream down your face, unable to hold them back, and you were thankful Jeonghan missed it, but when you heard him apologize, you turned around and snapped at him.

“What the hell do you even want?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“You had two weeks to talk to me!” you yelled, fighting the loudness of the rain. The stream of tears ran faster down your cheeks as you brought a hand to your forehead, shielding the rain from getting into your eyes.

“I tried!”

“By knocking on my door for an hour straight at two in the fucking morning?! You could’ve called! You have a key!”

“Well it’s not like you tried either—”

“I got hit by a car!” you screamed, storming towards him as the sky reflected your mood. The thunder was just as loud as the pounding in your heart, and the rain poured just as much as your tears. You pushed Jeonghan, and behind him you saw a crack of lightning. Your vision started to blur as you didn’t hold back your sobs, wanting to show him the pain he’d inflicted on you ever since he left.

“I got hit by a car, Jeonghan! What about you? Were you hit by a car?! A truck? Perhaps a plane?” You forced out a manic laugh before continuing. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. Let me guess,-”

“Y/N—”

“-mauled by a bear?”

“I can explain-”

“Tell me I’m goddamn overreacting.” You took a step forward, and instead of pushing him again, you stared, making him look at the pain he created. “Tell me I’m overreacting, Hannie. Look me in my eyes and say it loud and clear.”

“I knew you’d be there for me.”

“I missed you, I needed you-”

“I know.”

“The day I lose you is the day I lose myself.”

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize I’m not the one for you. I don’t want that for us.”

hopefully the svt readers see this 😔

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honeyshua · 1 year ago

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“Can you hold me? The stress isn’t good for the baby.” Your words caught Seungkwan off guard. While it wasn’t possible to say “???” out loud Seungkwan’s face said it for him. “What baby??” Seungkwan whisper yelled trying not to freak out too much. “I’m the baby.” “Yah Y/N you can’t scare me like that!” He raised his voice and dramatically put his hand on his heart.

A few seconds later Seungkwan was giving you a back hug. You sighed happily and took a deep breath. Seungkwan could feel some of the stress seem to leave you just from his touch. “What’s got my baby so stressed?” At that point you were glad he couldn’t see your face and the blush that suddenly appeared.

He guided you to the couch and let you lay on his chest. You vented about everything that was making you stressed. After you vented you felt better and thanked Seungkwan for listening. “You don’t have to thank me for listening. I love listening to you and knowing what’s going on in your mind.”

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beefboyandbabygirl · 2 years ago

Note

this is my first (1st!!) ever request so im sorry if im not clear or if anything is too vague.. </3 just had a thought about virgin!svt member (any one of your choice) x experienced but shy reader?? like they usually tease each other like crazy and reader is kind of cocky and all bratty (basically all talk) but when it comes to actual sex they're unexpectedly crazy shy and the member just 😞😞 cant get enough... im just curious about how you'd write the dynamic :) it can be vice versa as well! feel free to write about whoever comes to mind when you read this!

- anon 🐱❤️

oh my gooood im so honored to be ur first request hihi <3 i hope u like it!!

Show me how

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

pairing: seungkwan x fem!reader

genre: smut, first time, fluffish

warnings: unprotected sex, handjob, mentions of oral, kissing, mentions of making out, veryyyy slight degredation, mentions of restraint, mentions of masturbation

beefboy quotes: "kitten wants seungkwans cock🤧" (im sorry for including this but it made me laugh) "IM WET".

wordcount: 1k

a/n: phew this was a difficult one. im practising writing more detailed smut and do a little less plot lmao. beefboy says its working so im going to trust i did okay haha.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why this is happening right now.”

What you had told Seungkwan was true. You were fairly experienced when it came to sex. However, experienced didn’t exactly equate to confident, even though you might have given him that idea. And it wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t like you had tried to fool him, or pretend you were something you weren’t. All the dirty secrets whispered to make him blush, the not-so-accidental brushes of your ass over his crotch or fingers over his chest, were done out of pure love and adoration. You liked to tease him, and he absolutely loved when you teased him.

You just wanted his first time to be special, and now you were afraid it was all ruined.

“No, why are you apologizing? You’re doing great.”

He was laid out beneath you, already all sweaty and glowy from the heavy makeout session that had prompted the current situation. A large hand gently came in touch with one of the thighs straddling his torso, silently saying it’s okay, we’re okay. And his pupils were all blown out, and the room was dimly lit and humid. It was beautiful and perfect. He was perfect, and you were ruining it.

It all felt completely upside down to you. That he was giving the reassuring words and the calming touches when he was supposed to be the nervous one. He didn’t look nervous at all. He sported that confident smile, the inquiring tilt of his head and he was shirtless underneath your bare thighs.

“I just feel like I've let you down. Like I made you expect all these things for tonight, that I was supposed to be all dominating, and sexy and what not-”

“Babe, you’re literally so fucking sexy.”

“Oh yeah, suddenly having a mental breakdown in the middle of your boyfriend's first time. So sexy of me.”

Without replying he grabbed you by the hips, giving them a gentle squeeze and locking eyes with you for permission. Your ‘yes’ was barely a whisper. Slowly, he shuffled you further down his body, so you were positioned over his cock. His hard cock. Really hard and also, really big. Not that you were surprised.

“You feel that?”

None of you were even moving, not even the slightest, and yet sparks of pleasure were rushing through you. He could probably feel the wetness soaking through your panties and onto the fabric covering his hard dick, but for the first time that night, you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you were nervous, you didn’t feel like you had a single expectation to live up to or promise to fulfill. He was hard, and you had barely done anything, which made you both incredibly relieved and wet.

“M-mhm…”

When he noticed how your shoulders suddenly dropped and your jaw unclenched, he too felt all his muscles loosen up and a held back sigh escaped him.

“You did that baby, made me so hard. Because you’re so sexy, and beautiful and hot-”

“Okay okay, I get it.” Your attempt at shutting him up was to lean down for a kiss, but he just continued to ramble and mumble onto your lips, and you realized you shouldn’t keep him waiting much longer.

“Can I take these off?” You asked, your voice quiet as it spilled onto his lips while your fingers hooked onto the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes, f-fuck, please.”

Before you could even have the chance though, he was ripping them off himself, so you instead took the opportunity to take your panties off, leaving you both fully naked.

“How- How do you want me?”

His question barely registered with you as his dick entered your line of sight. You had seen each other naked a few times, sure, but only for short moments while changing clothes or walking in on the other showering. Now his dick was so up close you could see every vein, every drop of precum leaking down his shaft, and you hadn’t even noticed you were practically laying on your stomach, crosseyed and nearly drooling at the sight.

“Don’t look at it like that.”

His voice snapped you out of your cockdrunk trance and you somehow managed to tear your eyes away from his cock.

“I’m just admiring it.”

“Yeah, I can tell, but please don’t look at it like that for much longer, or I’ll actually cum untouched.”

You giggled lowly before crawling further up his body again. Your noses were touching and his heavy breaths tickled your lips as your hand dragged over his nipples, down his abs until it reached his cock.

“That’d be so hot”, you whispered. Your boyfriend let out a breathy whimper in return, one you so badly wanted to hear again, so you wrapped your fingers tightly around his cock, squeezing until he was throbbing so hard you could have been convinced it was his heartbeat going straight into his dick.

“You like the sound of that? I could touch myself in front of you, have you tied to the bed so you can’t touch me yourself, see how long you’ll last…”

He was already close. Embarrassingly close, but what was he supposed to do? For weeks before you asked him out he would simply think of something gross, like Vernons three week old laundry or the floor in the subway, whenever he accidentally popped a boner around you. But now, that was actually impossible. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but you everywhere, in every corner of his mind.

“Please, I’m so close…” The way your hand alternated between squeezing him at the base and going up and down in a fast motion, was making him dizzy.

“I know, I know. You’ll get what you want”, your hand let go of his cock, as you resumed your position from a few moments ago, straddling him, but now with no layers of fabric between you. Your pussy radiated actual heat, and occasionally a drop of your wetness would fall onto his abs and trickle down towards his v-line, and if he didn’t get your pussy around him now he would probably faint.

“Remind me what it is you want again?”

This wasn’t your usual teasing. Even though your words were bratty as always, they were now laced with something different, something loving. You were smiling adoringly and your eyes were sparkling, and even though you were being so cruel, you were still so doting.

“I Want…Want your pussy. Need it.”

You rewarded his answer with a quick kiss, before lining your entrance up with his cock and sinking down slowly. Seungkwans facial expression twisted into one of pleasure and he was muttering profanities into the air.

“Feel okay?”

He felt more than okay. He had never felt better, but if you began to move even a single inch, he would cum, and he didn’t wanna be that guy.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m fine just, fuck, give me a second…”

“Hm? But I thought this was what you wanted?”

Seungkwan knew you weren’t actually denying his request. You weren’t moving, and you wouldn’t unless he wanted you to. You were testing him. You had a goal, and once you went for something, there was no way Seungkwan could convince you otherwise.

“I do! I do, I just don’t wanna-”

“But I do.”

Your hips began to swivel back and forth on top of him. The subtle movement would have been barely noticeable had he not been so sensitive.

“You can cum Seungkwan, it’s okay. I want it.”

When he didn’t argue further, when he looked at you with pleading eyes, you kept going, escalating the speed of your hips more and more, until your boyfriend was a wonderful mess underneath you, writhing and moaning desperately.

“Cum for me, Seungkwan.”

Your words were the last tug pulling at the knot in his stomach. He was releasing inside of you, coating your walls in white and tensing every muscle in his body. It was only after the fact he got to see it, his eyes struggling to open from how tight they were shut, and once they landed on his cum dripping down your plush thighs onto his stomach it was as if the high just kept running through him.

“Should I- Can I try to eat you out? Can you show me how?”

You hadn’t had expectations of cumming tonight. This was about him. That being said, you were hardly surprised that he wanted to return the favor, selfless as always.

Your mind wandered to just a few moments ago, when you were so worried about ruining this moment. About making him uncomfortable, or doing something wrong, or not living up to his expectations. Now you were realizing that this hadn’t been about expectations at all. It had been about trust. Seungkwan trusted you enough to be his first. To show him how.

And there was nothing more sexy than being trusted.

#seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen oneshot #seventeen request #seungkwan oneshot #bbygirl🦌#svt smut #svt x reader

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cheolism-archive · 2 years ago

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first

✿ — seungkwan x reader ❀ — summary: you and seungkwan were new to relationships, and netiher of you felt rushed to do anything. six months in, and you both still haven't had sex. but then you start looking at his hands and thighs, and find you just can't help yourself. ✿ — wc is approx 5.8k ❀ — tags: virgin!reader x virgin!seungkwan. first times, established relationship. ✿ — warnings: reader is fem and demisexual coded. love confessions during sex. thigh-riding and humping, cumming in pants.

Seungkwan never made you feel rushed.

The two of you walked the path of your relationship at your own pace. Mingyu said the two of you were moving slowly, too slowly, but you never felt like you were. Your relationship moved at its own pace, one comfortable to the both of you, and neither of you minded it.

Your first kiss had been in your front hallway as he dropped you off after your first official date. He had bitten his lip, glancing between your mouth and eyes as you talked about how you had enjoyed the night.

Then, you let your smile blossom. You stepped to him, the tip of your shoe brushing against his. “You can kiss me if you want to,” you had muttered, looking at his pretty mouth. “But know you’ll be my first, so I won’t know what to do.”

Seungkwan’s answering smile was brilliant, and he slowly reached up to cup your face. His hands were large, encompassing your cheeks. He lowered his face, nose brushing yours. “Is it bad that makes me happy? Knowing I’ll be your first kiss?”

Your hands made their way into his shirt, curling into the fabric and tugging. You pushed up, letting your lips brush against his in answer.

During a truth and dare session that followed after your first kiss, Mingyu, who made it his business to know your business, asked you when your first kiss was. When you had answered honestly, that it was only a few weeks before and with Seungkwan, Mingyu had gasped, as if it was rare for someone your age to have gone all this time without kissing.

But, remembering how Seungkwan’s lips gently moved against yours, pressing and giving and guiding, you couldn’t be bothered to be offended. Not when you knew how precious your first kiss had been; not when you had shared it with Boo Seungkwan.

Despite Seungkwan’s experience in kissing, which he assured you was hardly any, the relationship between the two of you brought a lot of new experiences for the both of you. Neither of you had really dated before one another, finding a different sort of loneliness in your young adulthood that your friends never seemed to share.

“I’ve never brought someone to meet my grandma,” Seungkwan admitted as you parked outside his grandma’s home.

“I’ve never kissed anyone in a theater before,” Seungkwan confessed as you pulled away from where you had leaned across the seat.

“No one’s ever called me that before,” Seungkwan admitted as you mouthed against his neck one evening, a breathy darling leaving your lips.

“I’ve never spent Valentines with a partner,” He had laughed as the two of you were rejected from the restaurant, which was filled to the brim with couples who had the same idea as you for the Valentines evening.

“I’ve never had sex before,” He had blurted during the evening of your fourth-month anniversary. You blinked from across the kitchen island at him, holding the saucepan in one hand and the wooden spoon in the other as you were preparing his pasta plate. “Just -- just in case you’re wanting . . .”

“Well, I’m not in a rush if you’re not.”

And so it was just another thing the two of you had decided to breach when the moment came. You didn’t want to plan for it; didn’t want to force the moment. It would happen when it did, and the best either of you could do was prepare for when it did happen.

Not that you didn’t want to.

Sometimes you looked at Seungkwan and couldn’t help but feel a need, a desperation, that was entirely foreign. One that had you battling the urge to grab him from where he stood talking to Seokmin, laughing and brushing back his stray bangs that had managed to escape his pushed-back hair, pulling him away from his friend and into the car for some privacy.

One horrifying time it had happened when he was cooing at a baby. He was reaching out, fingers brushing against the infant’s soft cheek, complimenting her on how sweet she was. Seungkwan’s lips were curling, obviously endeared by the baby, eyes soft and gentle and filled with a sort of adoration that reminded you of how he looked at you.

You were absolutely appalled at your urge to whisk him away from the baby and jump him, to press your hands underneath his shirt and feel his stomach flex as you pressed desperate kisses to his neck and collar.

Seungkwan was turning you into some sort of degenerate. Some wanton, promiscuous, shameless, licentious creature that woke up with soaked underwear and the image of Seungkwan’s bare thighs still at the forefront of your mind.

Even now, sitting next to Seungkwan and watching a movie, those salacious thoughts sent wetness gushing from your pussy and had you shifting in your seat, fighting to keep your cool.

It wasn’t as if the two of you were watching anything pornographic. It was some movie Seungcheol had suggested, one with too many fights and villains and not enough plot or good writing. You had attempted to watch it, of course you had. Date night, whether it was sitting on your couch and watching a movie or walking alongside the river, hand in hand, was something that never failed to brighten your day and put a smile on your face.

But after another cliche, misogynistic comment by the red-headed love interest who served as nothing more than a plot device, you rolled your eyes and chanced a look at Seungkwan. Seungkwan didn’t like action movies, had gotten bored watching the Dark Night and would much rather see a good romance (your first “argument” had been over whether Love, Actually, was actually any good and how only two aspects of the movie didn’t salvage the entire thing from being bad).

The romance between the lead and the love interest was enough to keep Seungkwan keyed in on the movie. He watched with wide eyes as the red head pressed a kiss to the lead’s lips before rushing away, ashamed at her bravery.

Your Boo Seungkwan was so fucking cute, you couldn’t help but think. There was a blush on his cheeks and on his ears as he watched the lead run after the red head and sweep her up into a classic Hollywood-style kiss. He watched eagerly, practically drinking the scene up.

Then he licked his lips and it was game over for you.

Seungkwan’s mouth, which you had stared at far too often, was small and pouty and constantly tempting. A day without kissing Seungkwan was a day wasted, in your opinion.

His hair was slightly wavy from the shower he took before coming over, brown bangs brushing against the edges of his eyes, where his lower and upper lids kissed. It had grown longer in the months the two of you had been dating, and you never ever dared complain.

From his hair your gaze went to his ears. There was your favorite place to kiss besides his lips (and neck and collar and shoulder and the spot where his neck and collar met, and his --). Three beauty marks, perfectly spaced, practically begging for the brush of your lips.

Movement brought your eyes from his ears. Seungkwan’s eyes were still trained on the movie, but he had begun pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. His forearms flexed, veins appearing, and you were transfixed as you watched his hands, his impossibly beautiful and elegant hands, slid up his forearms to push up his sleeves. His fingers were long and smooth, the veins of his hands prominent.

What did it say about you, you wondered, that you had dreams of those hands. That you had dreamt before about his hands running up your thighs, fingers skimming the hem of your shorts; his fingers pressing against the wet spot in your underwear, the tips of his fingers dipping underneath the waistband of your underwear; the pads of his fingers brushing against your clit.

Fuck.

Your heart in your throat, you shifted against the couch. The insides of your thighs brushed against your underwear, the cold wetness that soaked it shocking you.

“This is a good movie,” Seungkwan said, bringing your attention from where his hands had settled on his thighs. “I really like the romance in it.”

You glanced at the screen. The lead was verbally fighting his mentor in a moment that would, surely, lead to a horrific death scene from the mentor where the lead was choking out apologies. “Yeah. I can see why Seungcheol liked it.”

Seungkwan hummed. Your eyes went back to his thighs.

His thighs. Seungkwan opted for wearing shorts more often than not, and everytime you were gifted with the sight of his smooth, tanned skin you wanted to fall to your knees. His thighs were meaty from hours filled with cardio, and you constantly wanted to dig your fingers into the flesh and feel.

You wanted to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his thighs in worship; suck them, nibble at them, listen to Seungkwan’s breathy whines as you teased him. You wanted to feel them squeeze around your shoulders as you took his cock into your mouth, wanted to feel them beneath your own thighs as you bounced on his cock.

You could feel the wetness that trickled from your pussy, could the slide of it. Your pussy clenched around nothing in desperation. Shame flooded through you, and you took a heavy breath, feeling as though you hadn’t been breathing all this time.

Thighs clenching, you threw one over the other and squeezed in an attempt to quench your thirst.

All it did, however, was get Seungkwan’s attention. Your boyfriend glanced at you, head tilted. “You okay?”

You smiled at him, reaching out and setting your hand on his and squeezing. “Yeah. Just getting hungry is all.”

“We can order something now, if you want,” Seungkwan offered. “I can pause the movie.”

You laughed breathlessly, leaning against him and burrowing your face into his shoulder. Seungkwan smelled good, as he always did. Like laundry softener and lavender, cotton sheets and freshness.

“We can order after.” You said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s not so bad.”

Seungkwan angled his head to press an awkward kiss to your hair. Then he went back to watching the movie.

The hunger in your stomach was nothing compared to the hunger, lust, you felt for him.

You licked your lips, eyeing the full curve of his cheeks and the hardness of his jaw. Like a parched man offered a cup of water, you desperately drank him in. The stretch of his neck, unmarked; the beauty marks near his ear; the angle of his fingers as he reached up and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, how they softly settled back on his thighs.

Seungkwan’s navy blue shorts had ridden up, revealing the meatiness of his thighs that had you swallowing nothing, pussy clenching around nothing.

You wanted your mouth on those thighs, wanting your hands on them. You wanted to be sat on them, pussy grinding down, clit dragging against his bare skin and riding them.

Slowly, without drawing his attention from the movie, your hand went to his thigh. Seungkwan’s hand went to yours, fingers lacing together instinctively, and you wanted to curse at your boyfriend’s innocence while you were suffering.

You took your time unwinding your hand from his. First you started with your thumb brushing gently against his warm skin. Then you shifted your hands so only your middle three fingers were tangled with his, your pinky laying against his thigh and thumb constantly kissing his skin.

Seungkwan huffed when you fully separated your hands, turning to you with a pout. “Why aren’t you holding my hand, Y/n?”

You chuckled at his whine, peering up at him. Your heart was full of adoration for the boy next to you, and you wondered if your eyes were dripping honey from how sweet he made you feel.

How ironic it was that Seungkwan had your heart feeling as if it would burst out sunshine while also making your pussy constantly gushed wetness.

“What a baby,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Why don’t you put your arm around me so we can cuddle, baby?”

Seungkwan huffed, still looking offended. But he did as you suggested, his arm going around your shoulders and hugging you to his side. His warmth melted into you, and the position leaning into him, one of your thighs over the other, allowing you to frantically squeeze in a foolish attempt to ease the throbbing of your pussy.

However, this position allowed you to do something important.

With his hand brushing against your shoulder, it gave you free reign over his thigh. You settled your hand on his thigh, face towards the television in an attempt to make it seem mindless. His thigh flexed against your hand before relaxing, and you squeezed in response.

The two of you sat for a handful of moments, Seungkwan content while your fingers brushed against his thighs. He was deeply immersed in the movie still, watching as the mentor was killed by the villian.

Your hand shifted, sliding up his thigh and stopping where his shorts had ridden up. You tapped your forefinger against his flesh, trying to keep up the relaxed appearance.

You wanted to suffocate between his thighs. Wanting to take them into your mouth and suck and bite, wanting to pinch and listen to his cries as you swallowed around his cock and knead them. Wanted to hold onto them as you dragged your throat down his cock, his length bringing tears to your eyes as you swallowed his cock back down and took it deep.

Your pussy gushed again. You couldn’t salvage your underwear, no way.

Maybe you could take them off and leave them somewhere he could see, you wondered. You imagined him taking notice of your underwear, imagined the red blush that would take over his face. Imagined him bending down, hesitant as he reached to grab them. Imagined him feeling the wet spot left by your pussy; him slowly bringing your underwear up and to his nose, smelling the fragrance of your cunt.

Fuck, fuck.

Your hand moved again, sliding underneath his shorts and towards his inner thigh. You still fought to look at the television.

Seungkwan sucked in a breath from beside you. He snapped his head towards you as you squeezed the fat of his thigh, your name leaving his lips in something crossed between a warning and a sigh.

You glanced at him, brows furrowed in false confusion. “Something wrong, darling?”

He stared at you for a moment more. You waited for him to admonish you, for him to ask you to remove your hand; for him to draw the line. You’d stop, of course, would retract your hand and press a kiss to his cheek in apology.

But he did none of those things. Instead Seungkwan pressed his lips together, narrowed his eyes at you, and then went back to watching the movie.

Grinning and feeling like the cat that got the canary, your hand sunk further into his shorts. Seungkwan took a long, shuddering breath as your fingers brushed against the edge of his underwear. You played with the edge, smoothing your fingers over and under it, nails brushing against his skin.

“How’s the movie, baby?”

Seungkwan tightened his jaw. “Good.”

“It’s good?” You responded, biting at your lip to suppress your grin and doing a bad job of it. Seungkwan nodded.

You shifted, turning on your side and rising. His eyes immediately snapped to you. “Keep watching the movie, baby. You said it was good.”

“What are you --”

“Don’t pay me any attention,” you said. When Seungkwan didn’t look away from you, your free hand went to his jaw. You softly nudged his face with your fingers, turning it from you and to the television. “That’s a good boy.”

The answering inhale from Seungkwan had your pussy clenching once more. You hummed, moving to your knees. You pressed your face into his neck, nose pressing against his warm skin, lips ghosting. Your hand pressed up the fabric of his shorts, bearing his thigh, before it settled over the bulge pressing against his underwear.

Seungkwan let out another shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing. The arm that was around you moved, clutching at your shirt.

You kissed his neck, keeping your hand still. “You good?”

He hummed, a slightly shrill noise.

“Shall I keep going?”

You could feel his answering nod against your head. “I need words, babe.”

“Please,” he begged, voice breathy and the hand in your shirt repositioning to grab more of it and clench. A blush high onto his cheeks.

You pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his skin. Slowly, gently, you began moving your hand against his clothed dick. Your hand moved in a constant soothing motion, rubbing. “You might have to tell me what to do, baby.”

“Touch --” Seungkwan cleared his throat. You kissed his neck again, though this was unlike any of the innocent kisses you had been laying. You kissed his neck as if you were kissing his mouth, lips rolling against his skin. “Touch me, please.”

“I am,” you reminded him. You pressed your heel down on his bulge in proof.

Seungkwan moved his face towards you. His face was still flushed, his brows still furrowed and lips still pouting. His dark eyes were wide, pupils large. “Please.”

You pulled away from him in response. He made a protesting noise, moving to reach for you and pull you back. You moved farther away from him, hands meeting his and stopping him. “Take off your hoodie, Seungkwan.”

He compiled, making quick work of his baby blue hoodie and throwing it to the floor. Seungkwan’s shoulders had broadened due to his hard work at the gym, and the muscle on his biceps were impressive.

You drank him in eagerly. His chest wasn’t as tanned as the rest of him, but it still had you practically drooling. Working out had given definition to his chest, had given weight to his pecs. You wondered what they would feel like in your hands, what they would look like decorated with red and purple bruises left by your mouth.

His breathless whine of your name brought you out of your imagination. You stood from the couch, hands going to the waist of your pants. “This okay, Kwannie?”

At his answering nod, you were shoving your pants down to your ankles. You kicked them off, ignoring Seungkwan’s shocked inhale, and then were climbing on top of him.

Your hands went to his shoulders, pushing him back and flush against the couch. You straddled one of his thighs, knees on either side with one brushing against his bulge. His hands went to your shirt, yours smoothing down his biceps and squeezing the muscle. “Tell me if you’re nervous. Okay?”

Seungkwan laughed breathlessly. “Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to lose my virginity to the love of my life.”

Your eyes widened, and his immediately followed suit. Both of you froze against one another, hands still, breaths suspended.

Then your heart swelled, feeling as though someone had filled it with sun. You laughed breathlessly, hands sliding up his biceps and shoulders to cradle his neck. Pressing close, you brought your mouth to his and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“And the love of my life is a massive dork,” you said, nose pressing against his cheek.

His mouth sought yours in answer, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers sinking into the strands and tugging. His tongue went to the seam of your lips and you opened them easily, tongue sliding against his.

Seungkwan’s hands began wandering, moving from your shirt to the hem. His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, pressing against the base of your spine. Seungkwan broke away from the kiss, his mouth smeared with spit. “This okay?”

“It’s okay,” you returned, taking his lower lip between your lips and sucking. Seungkwan moaned, a deep sound that seemed so at odds with your lovely boy.

His hands went up your back, nails scraping against your skin. Your mouth wandered from his, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chin and underneath it. One of your hands moved from his hair, ghosting over his chest. You felt his stomach jump underneath your fingers as you pressed your palm there. “Okay?”

Seungkwan nodded. You took pity on him and didn’t ask again. Your mouth skimmed his neck before attaching to the part where it met his shoulder, taking the skin between your teeth and before sucking. His chest moved against yours as he sucked in a deep breath.

Then you settled your hand over his bulge, squeezing through his shorts. Seungkwan let out a loud groan in response, his neck straining as he tossed his head back.

You began marking in earnest in response to his moans and groans, hand smoothing over his dick, rubbing it through the fabric. His nails began to dig into the skin of your back, scraping and pinching.

Soon enough Seungkwan began panting, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. You shifted, sucking another hickey onto his collar, before pulling away. “Hold onto me. Okay, baby?”

Seungkwan’s hands moved from your back to your hips, holding as you asked. You sat back, separating your torso from his and taking a good look at your boyfriend. His blush not only was on his cheeks but spread down his neck, the flush joining the red blossoms left by your mouth in painting a picture of a debauched man.

His thigh flexed beneath you. Taking the opportunity, you grinded down. Your pussy dragged against his thigh, creating a faint spark of friction that sent another gush of fluid.

Seungkwan gasped, mouth dropping open and head tipping. “Fuck,” he hissed, brows meeting. “Fuck. You’re so fucking wet.”

You laughed, grinding down again. His hands gripped at your hips, nails digging in. You took care to ensure your clit dragged down, the movement making your mouth go ajar and hips cock forward once more in an attempt to feel the relief once more.

“Can you,” Seungkwan began, his voice deep and dark and sending another gush of wetness out of your pussy and further soaking your underwear. Seungkwan let out a little moan at feeling the wetness taint your underwear, soaking his bare thighs. “Can you cum? Just from that?”

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I feel like I could.”

Then your hands were back on him, going to his waistband. You used one hand to pry open his shorts and underwear, holding it open for your other hand to slide down his pelvis, feeling the little curls of the hair there brush against your palm.

When your fingers brushed against the base of his dick, you couldn’t help but pause. Your eyes went up to his, unsure. Seungkwan’s hands squeezed your hips. “You don’t have to. We can -- we can stop.”

You shook your head. You moved your hand, skin gliding against his dick. It felt impossibly big and heavy in your hand. Seungkwan shivered, eyes fluttering shut and head going back to rest against the couch.

More curious than anything, you moved your hand over his dick, exploring. You mapped the veins of it, following them down to the head. You pushed your thumb against the head, wetness from it spurting out onto your hand.

Seungkwan let out a weak exhale. “We -- usually I use lube or something. It. It makes it easier.”

You retracted your hand from his pants. You offered it to him, palm out. Seungkwan closed his eyes, inhaling. Then he leaned forward, tongue poking out from his mouth. He began running his tongue over your hand, spreading his spit.

Absent-mindedly you began rocking your hips, grinding your pussy against his thigh once more. His tongue ran over your palm and fingers, coating it in his spit. You thought about his tongue on your wrist, your shoulder; then your breast, dragging down your stomach and to your pussy.

You leaned forward against his thigh, bearing down on him and grinding down aggressively. You lowered your head, hair falling and framing your face. One of Seungkwan’s hands left your hips, moving to grab the wrist of the hand he had been licking -- licking!!!!

Seungkwan tugged. You looked up. “Here. Get off for a moment.”

You did as he asked, stumbling. Seungkwan raised his hips off the couch, pulling down his shorts and letting them drop beside the couch. Then he shimmied away, moving so he was laying down the length of the couch. He looked embarrassed, laying there, nearly entirely bare for your eyes.

“Get on me,” Seungkwan said, though it sounded more like a question than anything. “Straddle my -- my --”

His face was a brilliant shade of red, and he turned away from you to look at the ceiling. Once Seungkwan wasn’t looking at you he was able to speak. “Straddle my dick and grind down on it.”

Never one to object from a good idea, you slowly made your way on top of Seungkwan. Your knees dug into the couch on either side of his hips, and when you positioned yourself so your pussy was directly over his clothed dick, the both of you let out matching moans.

His hands went to your hips again. Seungkwan slowly began guiding you into a gentle rocking motion, letting your pussy guide up and down his bulge, letting you grind down on him and use his length.

You leaned forward, hands bracing on his chest. His loud pants and broken moans filled your ears, clouding your brain. You dragged your pussy down his length and back up it, using it like you would your own hand. Each drag was delicious, had you shoving yourself back down and searching for more friction, for more press.

“Wait,” Seungkwan panted. You looked up at him. He was breathing heavily, bangs beginning to stick to his forehead from his sweat. “I’ll -- I think I’ll come from this.”

“Just from this?” You asked, brow furrowed. You grinded down on him and Seungkwan let out a loud groan in response, eyes fluttering and tipping his head back.

Delighted, you kept on moving on top of Seungkwan, watching him. Your boyfriend was always so expressive. You knew when he was mad, irritated, when he was happy or amused. Watching him now, brows furrowed, face red and mouth parted with sweet moans escaping his lips, you had another face to add to your mental catalogue.

Then his jaw dropped; his grip on your hips tightened and his hips were bucking up, a loud, low moan ripping from his mouth. You watched, amazed, as Seungkwan thrusted up into you twice more before his voice broke off.

He stilled beneath you, going lax. Seungkwan’s chest heaved, and his hands left your hips to hide his face. He let out a high little whine. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You shifted up his body, reaching for his hands and prying them away from his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Seungkwan pouted, sticking out his lower lip. “I’m fine. Just have to live with the knowledge that I came in my pants the first time I ever had sex for the rest of my life.”

You laughed, leaning down and kissing his pout. “It’s okay,” you giggled, kissing his mouth twice more before moving to kiss his cheeks. “It’s cute.”

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes at you. His hands returned to your body, and then he was moving you off of him. You went easily, letting Seungkwan guide you to lay against the other end of the couch. “What’s up, babe?”

“Your turn,” Seungkwan announced, determination heavy on his tongue. He grabbed two pillows that had fallen off the couch. Seungkwan settled one beneath your head; his fingers ran down over your shirt before he found your hips, lifting them up to settle the other pillow. “This good?”

You hummed, shaking your hips. “Comfy as can be!”

Seungkwan huffed. Then his fingers -- his long, beautiful fingers that you dreamt of -- were pulling down at your underwear. You lifted your hips off the pillow so he could guide them down your legs. Seungkwan dropped them beside the couch, and you watched, tongue flicking out to run over your lips in anticipation, as his hands went to your ankles.

For a moment he just stared at you. Like you were a piece of art, a Mona Lisa amongst masterpieces, an angel amongst humans. His dark eyes took in your wild hair, the heaving of your chest; where your shirt had ridden up, revealing the soft curve of your stomach, the hair surrounding your pussy.

“Tell me when to stop.” Seungkwan said. His hands ran along your legs as he spread them out, making room to be between them. Goosebumps raised along the trail his fingers left behind.

Your pussy gushed in anticipation. Your heart seemed to stop, and you know for a fact your brain did. His fingers hovered over your thighs, ghosting your skin.

Then his hands were on your pussy. One of his hands held it open, fingers splayed around your lips. His other hand went to your clit, thumb attaching itself to it. Immediately you gasped, hips bearing down in an attempt to seek more.

Seungkwan laughed breathlessly, watching. His thumb pressed down on your clit, offering itself. “God. You really are soaked. I didn’t realize you could get so wet.”

You furrowed your brow. One of your hands gripped at the cushion beneath you, the other moving to grip at the cushion pressed against your side. You continued grinding down on his thumb, feeling the friction mount within your gut.

Seungkwan continued talking all the while, eyes still watching your pussy. As he talked he maneuvered his hand, fingers brushing against your entrance. “I knew pussies --” Another wave of wetness escaped from your pussy after that word, that crude, horrid, delightful word, left his lips. “-- got wet. But fuck. Your underwear was drenched, baby. And your pussy? It’s soaking. If I put my mouth down there I’d fucking drown, I think.”

The image of Seungkwan’s head between your thighs, mouth attaching itself to your pussy and clit, sent a moan from your lips. His fingers continued moving, one of them dipping into your entrance. “It’s like. It’s like your pussy is begging me to put something in.”

“Please,” You whispered, hips bucking into his hold. “Please, Kwannie.”

Then two of his fingers were dipping inside you. If he tried to move slowly, it was to no avail; your pussy greedily sucked him in, squeezing around his digits as if they were his dick instead.

You gasped, feeling as his fingers, which had a better angle than yours ever did, stretched your walls. He didn’t move them much, shifting every few seconds. His thumb continued to work against your clit, however, and you felt something tightening in your gut, as if someone was pulling a string taut.

“Fuck,” Seungkwan breathed, “fuck you’re beautiful.”

And then the string was cut, and your orgasm washed over you in wave after wave. Seungkwan kept pressing his thumb against your clit, his fingers inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your body tightened and released, and as it released you felt as if every single worry you ever had about anything left with the tension.

Slowly, as to not harm you, Seungkwan removed his fingers. You let out a soft little whine as he did, eyes opening just enough to watch him. He held his hand up, splaying out his fingers. Your fluids glistened in the light, strings of it connecting his fingers.

You forced your eyes shut. Seungkwan shifted off the couch. For a moment there was quiet.

“Uh. I didn’t bring another pair of underwear.”

You looked at him. He had your discarded pants in one hand, the other hand burrowed into the fabric -- no doubt getting your fluids off of his hand. You looked over his body, taking in the muscles of his thighs and calves and arms. The golden skin, the beauty marks and moles that decorated him.

You wanted to press him to the bed and kiss each and every single mark.

For another time, you decided. Instead you slowly moved into a sitting position, kicking out the pillow from beneath your hips. “I’ll have to throw them into the wash. I think I have something that’ll fit you.”

“It’ll take all night to get clean,” Seungkwan mumbled, pouting.

You grinned, opening your arms. Seungkwan dropped your pants and went to you, sliding his arms around your shoulders and yours going around his middle. You pressed a kiss to his stomach, enjoying the feel of it against your cheek.

“Then you’ll just have to stay the night.”

Seungkwan sighed. “I guess.”

You mocked him, screwing up your face and peering at him. “How horrible of me to offer for my boyfriend, who took my first kiss and my virginity, to spend the night. Should’ve kicked you out as soon as I finished.”

“Please,” Seungkwan said, rolling his eyes. “You were so wowed by my performance you couldn’t even move.”

You burrowed your face back into his stomach. “Whatever you say, princess. I’ll throw the clothes into the wash, you order our food? And we can just eat in bed and cuddle?”

Seungkwan hummed, fingers running along your shoulders. His hands settled on either side of your head, moving your face from his stomach. You pouted up at him. “I mean, I guess that’ll be all right. I suppose you want Mexican.”

You nodded, lips parting in a wide smile. Seungkwan laughed, and then he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll have to start the movie over again.”

“What movie?”

Seungkwan paused, pulling away to look down at you. “Uh. The movie Seungcheol recommended?”

“Oh,” you said. “Okay. So. Here’s the thing. That movie fucking sucks.”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “But -- the romance! The chemistry between the mains! You can’t tell me that you don’t see it!”

You stood. The wetness between your thighs had begun to stick, and you couldn’t help but wince. “Yeah, no. We’re not watching it.”

“But --” Seungkwan pouted, sticking out his lips and widening his eyes. It was his classic puppy-eyed look, the one that had you handing everything to him on a silver platter. “But baby! If you love me like you said you do, you’ll replay the movie and watch it with me!”

Sighing, you went to him. You cupped his cheeks in your hands, rising to your heels and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I do love you, Boo Seungkwan. So much.

“But I don’t love you that much.”

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mochacoda · 2 months ago

Text

[teaser] too nice | hjs

Pairing: Hong Joshua x GN!Reader

Content: Fluff | Coworkers to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: slightly insecure reader, totally inspired by the Youngji chocolate milk grandchildren interview, lots of elevators, lots of tension, a bit of drinking, mutual pining, "sweetheart" as a petname, gentleman agenda indeed, except he goes a bit mad at the end, seungkwan is a comedic genius, woozi is the wingman of the year, konglish w/ context clues, reader is scared of loud noises, no "y/n"

Word Count: 9.9K (full)

Full Version: January 8 -> RELEASED HERE

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