#seventeen happy ending

[ylangelegy]

cables and crackle ꩜ jihoon x reader.

♬⋆.˚ It's goosebumps when you hear the drums / The running start before the big jump / It's that feeling, so stellar / Bro, if you like her just go and fucking tell her!

🎸╰› includes: f!producer!reader, feelings realization and denial, jihoon has a crush <3, pining/yearning, fluff, [light] angst, first date, confessions, references to producing (that may or may not be accurate).

💽╰› this is part of my ongoing series, buzz (seventeen's version) + this piece is inspired by track 01, buzz. word count: 13,800+

When you first started working with SEVENTEEN three years ago, Jihoon wasn't all that excited to have you around.

Perhaps it was his pride. BUMZU and PRISMFILTER had been the company's go-to's until they decided they wanted to bring in someone fresh, new, up-and-coming. You had been the result: Someone two years younger than Jihoon. Scrappy and hungry. Experimental, ambitious.

His hesitance at your music production has morphed from begrudging respect, to genuine appreciation, to something akin to admiration. Jihoon would never say it out loud, but you've grown to be one of his favorite producers to work with. (He doesn't have to say it, really. Everyone is already privy to Jihoon's biases.)

Now, three years in, Jihoon finds himself trying to reckon with a foreign feeling—

The flutter of his chest as you walk in to the studio. The stutter in his pulse as your fingers lightly brush over the digital audio workstation. The hitch of his breath as your head, ever so lightly, falls on to his shoulder the longer the evening drags on.

Jihoon is a 27-year-old man. As he tries to stay absolutely still, there's only one thing on his mind: Wasn't he too old to have crushes?

You could usually keep up with Jihoon when it came to these long-night sessions. One had to, considering how he was practically nocturnal at this point. But it had been a long day of minor misfortunes, the type that wear you down bit by bit.

You don't even seem to notice that your head is lolling to one side. When your cheek lands on something solid, you might think it's the back of the chair next to you— except it's Jihoon's shoulder, and he absolutely freezes underneath you.

He would be the first to admit that this isn't the first time you've ever been this close. There's been many times your bodies have gravitated to the same spot on the couch, or times when your heads are practically glued to one another while your hands are both at the keyboard, or during the times your feet accidentally meet with each other under the desk.

It's just never been this close, where Jihoon can feel the brush of each of your lashes against his neck every time your eyes fall shut.

He think he might pass out if he dwells too much on it.

He watches from his peripheral vision as your eyes flutter shut, and he thinks, for a moment, that you're out of commission. But then, you mumble, "The reverb on the snare, just now."

If you hadn't been right next to Jihoon's ear, your words might have been drowned out by the speakers. But, as it is, he hears you loud and clear. "Too heavy," you go on to say, without even opening your eyes. "We need to dial it back for a cleaner sound."

There it is, he thinks with both awe and bitterness. Even half-lucid, even half-asleep, you're still as brilliant as you've ever been.

"Mhm," he hums lowly. "I'll adjust it."

He does as you've asked. When he runs the track back, you let out a soft sound of contentment and shift slightly in your seat, blissfully unaware of how you're leaning more weight in to Jihoon's side. It's absolute torture, he thinks.

"Better," you mutter. A beat. Your drowsy inquiry comes in next. "How do you feel about the tempo in the bridge?"

He forces himself to pay attention. He runs the song back once more, this time paying particular attention to the bridge. It doesn't take him long to identify the issue— one of the main ones, anyway.

"A little too dragging," he replies. "It slows the track down a bit too much. I think it disrupts the flow. Makes the chorus—" He suddenly stops mid-sentence.

Because, for some reason, he's become acutely aware of the way your head fits perfectly into the crook of his shoulder.

He's now fully conscious of how close you are. Of the way your breath fans against his neck. Of the way your knee seems to bump against his whenever you unconsciously readjust your position.

Jihoon feels his pulse pound at his chest as he tries to keep his tone steady.

"It disrupts the flow," he repeats, his voice slightly gruff. "Makes the chorus less of a… high, for lack of word."

When your initial response is a thoughtful hum, he bites back the urge to smirk. It should come to no surprise that you're about to disagree with him. More often than not, you butted heads over minor things like this.

"Thought it was too fast," you grumble, somehow sounding a little sulky because of your drowsy state. You're usually a lot more adamant and fiery when it comes to asserting your opinions. But in the late— or early, since it's already past midnight— hour, you've tamped down my temper.

It does absolutely nothing for Jihoon's poor heart.

Your cheek nuzzles against Jihoon's sweater as you shake your head in a very that won't do manner. "The lyrics might suffer. Try slowing it down by 8 BPM so we have more space for vocal delivery."

8 BPM? Jihoon nearly chokes on an incredulous laugh. The number is so arbitrary, so out of pocket. "The tempo's already sitting at 139 right now," he bites out. "It's not like slowing it down by another 8 BPM is going to—"

Jihoon makes the mistake of glancing down at you, and damn it. You're not just leaning against his shoulder at this point.

You've practically cuddled into him.

Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as you shift once more, leaning your chin against his shoulder.

He finds himself wanting to wrap an arm around you and pull you closer. Press you into his chest until your cheek is up against his. Until your head is tucked right under his chin.

But then you're grumbling out your next words. "139?" you repeat. "Notch it down by 9, then."

The slur in your tone is just enough to remind him that you're not entirely coherent. He swallows hard, his fingers a little too gentle as he inputs the changes. 9 BPM it is.

It's a bad call, one that's made abundantly clear when Jihoon plays the track back. He doesn't even have to tell you; you're already groaning, pressing your face in to his shoulder. Your words are muffled against the soft material of his sweater.

"You were right. Should have amped it up instead of slowing it down," you mutter, though there's a distracted edge to your tone. He gives it a cursory couple of seconds, letting you gather your thoughts.

"There's an issue with the kick and the bass, isn't there?" you note.

He listens closely— and, as always, you're right. There's a dissonance between the kick and the bass.

Jihoon frowns, a little more focused now. "Yeah, I hear it too," he manages to say succinctly.

His brain is still trying to conjure up a solution when you let out a slight huff and finally peel away from Jihoon's side. He doesn't know if he's grateful or disappointed because of it.

You're bleary-eyed and your fingers fumble but your work is efficient as you click away at his mouse, at his digital audio workstation. He watches with a straight face as you add sidechain compression to the bass, as you drag the bridge's BPM up.

It's not just the music that's synced, but the way the two of you work as well. A little push, a little pull, and you manage to find balance. You know exactly what to do, even when you're tired.

Jihoon listens closely as soon as the bridge plays back and he's pleasantly surprised.

"That fixed it," he says, his eyes darting rapidly as he takes in the revised audio levels. "Yeah, I think it's good. We should move on to verse three now."

"Jihoon."

He blinks and glances over at you. You've slumped back heavily in to your chair; it spins slightly on its wheels when you do.

"I'm not going to make it through another verse," you warn. "I think I need, like, a power nap."

"Power nap?"

Despite Jihoon's best efforts, a corner of his mouth twitches. A glance at the clock tells Jihoon that it's past one in the morning. They'd been working on the track for a solid eight hours now.

He lets out a low, considering hum, before looking back at you with a slight frown.

"How long is this power nap supposed to last?" he asks dubiously.

"I only need fifteen minutes," you respond.

There's a decisiveness to you tone, one that brokers no argument even if you're rolling your shoulders from sheer exhaustion.

"You're too stubborn for your own good," he replies, though not unkindly.

He rolls the chair back, moving so that he's facing you fully. One leg is crossed over the other, his eyes studying you carefully. He's going to attempt to convince you, obviously.

"You need a good night's rest. You won't be any use at all when you're this tired," Jihoon insists, but he immediately regrets his choice of words when he sees you wince slightly.

You're no stranger to his bluntness; you know just as well that he can be both brutally honest and painfully inconsiderate. That he shows his care and concern in much more roundabout ways compared to others.

And so when you insist that you'll be good as new in fifteen minutes, he can only sigh, leaning forward to rest his forearms against his knees.

"And if you're still tired after fifteen minutes?" he counters. His tone is gentler, softer, this time.

"I'll go home," you grumble, like the thought physically pains you. "If I'm still out of it after my nap, I'll go home."

Jihoon feels some of the tension in his shoulders abate as you finally agree to a compromise. "Fifteen minutes," he reiterates firmly, holding up a single finger for emphasis. "And if you're not ready to work again by the end of it, I'm driving you home."

You open your mouth, almost like you're about to argue at the thought of Jihoon driving you home, but then you opt to purse your lips. You know how the two of you can go in absolute circles some days and so you merely shoot him a heatless glare before stalking over to his studio's couch.

It's not really the type that should be slept on. With its stiff, black leather, the couch is an awful makeshift bed for anyone. But you and Jihoon have figure out little workarounds after spending so much time working together— like the fluffy, folded comforter at the foot of the sofa and the throw pillow that's shaped like an onigiri.

Jihoon watches with a small smile as you curl up on the sofa, underneath the blanket and with the pillow. "G'night," you call out mid-yawn. "See you in fifteen."

He watches you for a beat longer, his eyes tracing the way your expression relaxes, just a little, as your head hits the pillow. After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away. He really had to work on his habit of staring.

"Yeah," he huffs as he tries to go get a head start on the third verse. "Night."

It's difficult because he can't help but steal glances, and every single time he does, he's struck by a wave of affection. You're so small, so fragile-looking, burrowed in to the sofa. He notes the way the pillow's slightly squished underneath your head, your face half-buried in the plush material…

He almost feels the urge to take a picture just to capture the scene.

And then he realizes: Why not? You're friends, aren't you? And friends take embarrassing photos of each other.

He picks his phone up from his pocket with one hand and angles the camera with the other. He knows just what he wants to take a picture of. The way your cheek is squished against the rice ball pillow, just barely visible underneath the edge of your tangled mess of blankets. The way your expression is relaxed, softened in sleep, with the slightest pucker to your lips.

He presses down on the snap button, and the shot is just perfect. The way the glow of the monitor catches in your hair, bringing out the natural color. The way your eyelashes fan out over your cheek, and the way the shadows highlight the sharpness of your features.

Jihoon's eyes linger on the image, something akin to longing twisting in his gut.

This time, he doesn't bother to push the feeling away. He does go back to work, though.

Fifteen minutes pass. And then twenty, thirty. The longer you sleep, the more Jihoon's guilt gnaws at him.

He knows he's about to wake you up, to ruin the temporary blissfulness that sleep has brought you. He knows he's about to drag you back to the studio to work again, despite the bags that are under your eyes and the exhaustion that is evident in every line of your body.

He knows he's going to be the cause of your fatigue. And he hates that— hates himself, just a little, for his need, his drive.

Still. At the thirty-minute mark, he makes his way over to your side. He reaches out, fingers hesitating for a second, before he gently shakes your shoulder.

"Hey," he calls, his tone soft and neutral. "Wake up. We need more work done."

It's very likely that the unceremonious way you've been dragged out of your sleep has gotten to you, because how else can Jihoon explain the way you drowsily move to hold him?

Your fingers reach up and curl gently around his wrist. Your eyes are still closed as you exhale, "Jihoon-ah."

It's more of a whine than anything, really, but it's one that he can't deny, not when you clutch his wrist like that. "What," he asks, his tone flat out of panic. "What is it?"

It's surreal, in a way. The way your tiredness has loosened your inhibitions, has stripped you down to the simplest, most vulnerable version of yourself, one that's practically begging for closeness.

You give his hand a gentle tug. "Come nap with me. Y'need to rest, too."

Jihoon's mind goes blank the moment the words leave your mouth, his whole body freezing. Because no, he didn't just hear that, you didn't just ask that—

And then you tug on his wrist again, and he swears his heart stutters.

On one hand, the rational, reasonable part of his mind is screaming at him to push you away, to reject the idea entirely. He needs to focus. He needs to finish the track. He needs to work, not rest.

But then he looks down at your sleepy form, the way you're clinging on to him, and all those thoughts are thrown out the window.

Slowly, Jihoon lowers himself onto the couch, his body sinking against the plush material. It's a tight squeeze. Months ago, the two of you might have called each other ridiculous for even trying to fit in a piece of furniture that was clearly not for two people to lay on.

The thick of comeback season absolutely shatters any attempts of appropriateness or discretion. As Jihoon complies with your absurd request, you somehow manage to throw the blanket over the two of you.

Jihoon isn't a stranger to casual touches— he's had to survive through years of constant skinship between the members— but there was something different about this.

The feeling of your body, curled against his own. The way you hold his fingers in your grip, like a comfort, like an anchor. The scent of your hair, so close he could just nuzzle his face into the messy strands.

He tries very hard to focus on the negatives. On how cramped and uncomfortable the couch is, how he's going to end up with a backache—

— but his mind doesn't want to cooperate. Because all he can see is you, all he can feel is you; the way your soft, warm body is pressed against his own, the gentle rise-and-fall of your chest against his, you, you, you.

His mind goes blissfully vacant, and before he can even think to stop himself, Jihoon is wrapping his free arm around your waist, drawing you in.

Jihoon doesn't mind the sudden increase in body heat that comes with having you pressed so close to him, not when your back is solid and warm against his chest, not when the curve of your hips slots so smoothly against the shape of him.

He lets out a shuddering breath as you press his palm against your stomach, the fabric of your shirt slightly rucked up by the motion. You're so soft.

For once, Jihoon finds himself hating everything else— the studio, the album, the uncomfortable sofa, this damn comeback for robbing him of an opportunity to simply hold you.

Jihoon swallows, his throat suddenly dry as the words slip past his mouth before he can even stop himself.

"You're too close," he mutters in your ear, his lips so close to the shell that he's half-convinced you were going to feel his words against your skin. He's being a hypocrite, really, since he's the one holding you, but he needs to maintain some sense of propriety.

"Mmm," you hum, still more asleep than awake. You exhale an apology as you try to sleepily shift away, mumbling something like "didn't notice" in your languid effort to disentangle.

Your movement has to be the most half-hearted attempt at putting space between the two of you. So Jihoon tightens his grip, his fingers curling over your hip to keep you from shifting away.

He doesn't want you to move, not even an inch— and it's greedy of him, really— but the thought of losing the heat from your body is more than he can bear, not when you're here and you're so close.

His hold is firm, almost demanding. As you settle back down, Jihoon buries his face against the back of your hair, his mind going blissfully quiet.

"Dunno why y're so cozy," Jihoon murmurs, his words slightly slurred with the exhaustion that's catching up on him now, too.

He tries not to think too hard about it, the intimacy of it all. He tries not to focus on how he's practically molding his body against yours.

Just a nap, he thinks. It's just a nap.

Your voice is so soft, so quiet, nearly lost against the sound of Jihoon's thrumming pulse in his ears. He catches it anyway. Your quiet murmur of "G'night, Jihoon-ah."

He feels strangely light-headed. It's hard to focus, hard to think, his thoughts fuzzy around the edges as he slowly starts to succumb to drowsiness.

Jihoon lets his lids flutter shut, his mind sinking into darkness. "Sweet dreams," he mumbles back.

In the end, Jihoon is the one who has sweet dreams.

They're fractures of a bigger picture, pieces to a puzzle he could never piece together.

He sees your tired smile, hears your soft laugh, feels the brush of your hair against his chin. He sees you in flashes, in glimpses, always out of reach. Never close enough.

They're so vivid, these dreams— so real— that Jihoon swears he can almost feel you, can almost hold you. When he reaches out for you, for the dream version of you, it feels like he's grasping at air.

There are hints of other things— flashes of studio lights, melodies and songs that drift in snippets. But they all fade to the background in the face of you, the way you shine in his dreamscape like a sunbeam.

Seungcheol is the one who finds Jihoon and you the next morning— or, rather, the next early afternoon.

He's not surprised to hear that Jihoon didn't come home to the dorm. He's not surprised to find Jihoon asleep in his studio. He is surprised to find Jihoon spooning you— his co-producer, the one they all thought he was a little too soft towards.

Seungcheol's eyebrows raise to his hairline. Jihoon was never the affectionate type. And yet here he was, curled around you like a parentheses. Seungcheol takes a quick picture on his phone before gently nudging Jihoon with his foot.

"Yah," the leader says, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his tone, a little too-amused. "Jihoon."

It takes a few nudges for the words to register, for Jihoon's sleeping mind to slowly come back to the world of the living.

He feels… groggy. Exhausted. And strangely warm.

After several long moments, reality catches up with him. As his sleep-addled mind slowly pieces everything together, Jihoon's eyes flutter open and it takes all of two seconds for him to process the fact that he's spooning you.

Jihoon's eyes widen, and his head snaps up to a grinning Seungcheol.

"This isn't what it looks like," Jihoon says immediately, his words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush.

He almost screams when he tries to move away, when he tries to untangle himself from you, and your soft, sleepy whine sounds more like a protest than anything.

He should've let you go. He should've, but when you make that noise, when you curl in closer to him, the part of Jihoon's brain that's awake shuts down entirely.

Jihoon freezes and tries desperately to ignore the way Seungcheol snickers.

Seungcheol keeps his hands in his pockets as he watches Jihoon with growing amusement. Put-together, frumpy Jihoon, stunned in to silence because his co-producer is latched on to him.

It is, as Jihoon had said, very much not what it looked like. Seungcheol can see that the two of you are still fully clothed. Hell, he wouldn't have even imagined Jihoon going that far when the boy barely thought of romance that way.

Still, it's just a little funny. "Long night?" the leader drawls, not even trying to conceal his sheer mirth at the situation.

Long night is a huge understatement, and Jihoon shoots Seungcheol an acerbic look that's not nearly as effective as it normally might be. Not when he's still trying to detangle himself from you without waking you up.

"You have no idea," he grumbles under his breath, his eyes flickering down to your exhausted expression as you cling to him.

He can feel the way his heart stutters at your closeness, the way his chest tightens. Not the time, he scolds himself.

"We were working on the album," Jihoon says, as if that explains everything.

He's given up on trying to move, because he knows that if he keeps trying, you're going to stir— and the last thing Jihoon needs is an awake you, all warm and soft and adorably disheveled.

"Can you... leave?" he croaks to Seungcheol. Jihoon's cheeks are tinged with a furious red color; he prays to any deity that Seungcheol will simply chalk it up to shame. "I'll give you details later, just..."

Jihoon shifts minutely, and a muted noise of protest escapes from you. He shuts his eyes and sends a silent plea at the ceiling of Please, God, not now.

Seungcheol, for his part, lets out an amused huff, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Alright, alright," the leader says, holding his hands up to show he's conceding. "I'll leave. I'll talk to you later."

He grins. "And try not to have too much fun, yeah?"

The smirk only widens when he sees the flush on Jihoon's face. The leader saunters out of the studio, the door clicking shut behind him.

And Jihoon is... well... left with you.

Silence descends, and it's deafening.

Jihoon can feel each and every beat of his own heart, can hear your slow, soft breath coming out in steady, even exhales. You're asleep— still clinging on to him, your body pressed firmly against his own— and Jihoon tries not to focus on the feeling, tries not to think about how you're so soft, so warm.

He should move, he thinks. He should untangle from you, put at least two feet of space between you, and yet.

Jihoon can't, not when you look so peaceful against him. Not when you're making little noises every now and then, the soft, low sounds coming from somewhere in your throat.

It's a special kind of torture, having you so close when he knows he can't do a single thing about it. Just a taste, an inkling of closeness— and now he's hooked, wanting for more.

He knows it's selfish, what he's doing. To have his arm wrapped around you, holding you tighter than he should. To relish in your warmth as you sleep— but Jihoon can't help it, not when he knows this might be the only way he could ever get to hold you.

He knows you're not his. You can't be his, for several reasons.

But for this brief, quiet moment in time, you feel like you could be.

There's no way of telling how much longer you stay there. To Jihoon, it feels like an eternity and then some; in reality, it's probably only a couple more minutes. You shift in your sleep, letting out a big yawn. Jihoon tries to not flinch when you stir.

For one ridiculous moment, he considers closing his eyes and pretending to sleep, so he can have a few more seconds, a few minutes longer with you in his arms. But then you're moving again, and Jihoon can feel his heart in his throat as you blink, shifting to look up at him.

"Huh," is the first thing you say as you squint up at him. "Hi."

"Hey," is his lame response, his tone oddly, uncharacteristically soft. He swallows when he catches the way your eyes flicker all over his face, as if drinking him in.

There's a lot to take in, he's sure. His arm is still around your waist and your leg is slotted between his. The blankets are a mess; the noonday sun, peeking through the studio's heavy curtains.

As your mind finally seems to catch up, you let out a groan. "S'rry," you slur, voice still thick with sleep. "We overslept. I'm a bit clingy when 'm tired."

Yeah, right. Clingy is not a strong enough word for what you had become in your sleep.

Jihoon tries to ignore the feeling of your legs tangled together, the way you're practically molding against him. He tries to tamp down the way his breath hitches, to ignore the way his heart skips a beat when you let out a sleep-filled groan.

"You were hanging on to me for your life," he remarks in a tone that is far more amused than exasperated.

"Yeah, I figured," you say wryly, glancing over at the clock to see the damage. Jihoon's eyes follow your gaze. Two in the afternoon. Your shared 'nap' had lasted a full twelve hours.

"Wow," you huff. "We were out for a while."

"That we were," Jihoon agrees, and he's more than a little reluctant when he lets you go, unravelling his own limbs from yours. The space between your bodies feels like a physical blow, but Jihoon tries not to seem too put off by it.

He sits up, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't slept that long since I was a trainee."

"That's unhealthy."

"Pot calling the kettle black."

There's a calculated casualness in your next words. "Did you at least sleep well?"

The slight concern undercutting your tone makes Jihoon rather light-headed. "I slept like the dead," Jihoon answers easily, and he doesn't even have to lie about that.

His rest had been more peaceful than it had been in years, and if he's truthful, he'd blame it all on the fact that you were wrapped so firmly around him, all soft skin and sleepy warmth. You'd fit so perfectly with him and Jihoon is fairly sure he's never going to get the sensation of you pressed against him out of his mind.

A corner of your lip twitches upward. "Don't say that," you tease as you stretch your arms over your head. "Because we may actually be dead soon enough."

There's still an album to finish. A couple more tracks due in mere days. But Jihoon's suddenly feeling much better in a way that he hasn't in a while.

Even the ever-present stress and exhaustion feels almost like an afterthought, like it's barely even there. In the midst of it all, there's only you, still mussed from sleep.

It helps that you're taking the little cuddle session with surprising grace. "Wanna order in breakfast? Lunch?" you inquire, like you can't quite decide what to call your first meal of the day when it was well in the afternoon.

"Breakfast-slash-lunch sounds good to me," he answers, a hint of a smile visible in the curve of his mouth.

You order Chinese food. Something proper and real, a break from the convenience store rice balls and energy drinks. In the time it takes for the takeout to come, you and Jihoon speed through the song that had been plaguing you both last night. It seemed that being well-rested did you both well.

When the food comes, you go to collect it. In your absence, Jihoon finally checks his phone.

Suddenly, the studio feels ice cold, because he has seventy-something unread messages from his group chat with the boys.

He clicks the little arrow that takes him back to the first unread message, and surprise, surprise— it's from Seungcheol. The stolen snap of Jihoon and you cuddled together glares up at the producer, paired with the world's most annoying message.

🍒: Our Woozi-yah's a big boy now. ㅋㅋㅋ

The messages don't stop there, because Seungcheol had essentially given the others the green light to blow his phone up.

Jihoon scrolls through them, his expression growing more and more irritated as he reads through the suggestive and ridiculous messages the boys have chosen to send.

⚔️: Jihoon-ah~ Who knew you had it in you~ 🐈‍⬛: finally! 🦦: LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

Jeonghan, as per usual, is the worst offender of them all. Jihoon is just about to try and get a word in when a new, rapidfire sequence of texts pop up, the second eldest member clearly having entirely too much fun with this.

👼: So cozy, our Jihoon-ie! So cozy ♡ ♡ ♡ 👼: Finally, our Jihoon found himself a pretty girl 👼: We didn't know you were such a cuddler~~~

Jihoon's fingers are itching to reply something back, but it's hard to even make sense of the messages; they're coming in so fast. Every time he tries to type something back, another notification pops up with more texts, so he's forced to sit and watch as the members tease him relentlessly.

But then—

🐱: Cough up @Joshua @Vernon 🐢: dammit. couldn't have waited four months, woozi hyung? -_- 🦌: I didn't lose as much, so it's okay~ 🐯: WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER

The other boys all chime in with their own odds, and Jihoon realizes with horror that his bandmates had bet on him.

The horror quickly morphs into disbelief mingled with irritation.

So they'd bet on him? And on what exactly? That he wouldn't fall for a girl over the course of three years working together?

He doesn't even look at the odds before he types an aggravated reply.

🍚: You guys bet on me???

No one even tries to deny it. Soonyoung, the menace that he is, is the first to respond.

🐯: Not all of us ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ 🐈‍⬛: and it's just if you'd get with your fav producer. lol

It occurs to Jihoon, then and there, that the boys presume him and you are dating. It's a misconception he has to amend before any of the twelve can make some wisecrack about it in front of you.

🍚: We're not dating.

Jihoon doesn't bother to hide his irritability.

🍚: We were just napping together.

It's not the last of it, as it turns out.

More texts flood in after his message, and while there aren't as many jokes as before, it's easy to tell that the members are just dying to tease him about this whole thing.

When you return to the studio bearing your takeout, you're greeted with Jihoon typing furiously away at his phone, a disgruntled sort of look on his face. "You alright over there?" you call out amusedly as you pad over to the studio couch.

"Yes, and no," Jihoon answers shortly, a hint of petulance to his tone. If he looks up at you, it's only for a moment.

For someone who tends to be stoic and brooding, he's not exactly having the best morning right now. Jihoon is more than a little annoyed from the relentless teasing, and while he tries to fight it, there's a lingering feeling of humiliation, too.

A part of him wonders if this is what he deserves— for having had that moment with you this morning.

"Well, whatever it is—" you give a dismissive wave of your hand before plopping down on the couch.

He almost smiles at that; you've known each other for an odd number of years. It was enough time to be fairly acquainted with each other's habits and mannerisms, to know when something was worth pressing in to or not.

"Come on," you urge him. "The faster we eat, the sooner we can finish."

"Okay, yes, I'm coming," Jihoon answers hurriedly, and he makes a hasty beeline for the coffee table, where your takeout boxes are set out neatly.

He gives the group chat a final glance, just to make sure they're not texting anything too embarrassing. The more he scrolls the more he's bombarded with messages about you, and you would have thought the group chat was dedicated entirely to you, considering the number of texts.

He groans and locks his phone, turning it face down on the table as he takes his seat.

"Here," you say as you gently place Jihoon's order in front of him. Chao fan with a side of sweet and sour pork; a can of cola.

The way you seem to automatically know all the things he orders, the way you know what the right order to pick for him is, it almost gives Jihoon the sense that you've been working with him for even longer than three years.

He's not sure what to make of it, but it feels strangely nice, somehow, knowing that there's always something or the other that you would already know. He takes a bite out of his meal, wondering when it was that this relationship of his with you had become so comfortable.

It's an odd sensation, really.

Jihoon had always been more than content to keep to himself. But there's no denying that he feels a certain kind of peaceful contentedness when he's with you.

Perhaps it's how the two of you work so seamlessly together. Perhaps it's how you somehow managed to get under his skin. There's a certain comfort that Jihoon isn't used to having that's settled around the two of you.

And it's the kind of comfort that might make him vulnerable.

He can't have that, so he privately decides to keep you at a distance.

It's a distance you reciprocate. Both Jihoon and you know better than to tread the careful line of your friendship, especially in your line of work.

The two of you work like a well-oiled machine, like a lit match being tossed in a haystack. Jihoon and you are relentless, as always, and you finish off the rest of the mini-album in the next three hours.

There's still fine-tuning to hurdle through, but as Jihoon and you replay the last track for the first time, he has to concede. The worst is over.

You slump forward in your chair, your forehead resting against the work desk of his studio. "Done," you breathe. After a moment, you add, "For now."

"For now," Jihoon echoes.

There's a long pause between the two of you as you both relish the peace and quiet of a fully completed mini-album.

"Let's go for coffee?" he finally asks, glancing to where you're slumped in your chair.

You tilt your head ever so slightly until your cheek is pressed against the desk and you're looking up at Jihoon. You smile ruefully as you speak, your tone almost apologetic. "No to coffee. I think I want to go home and knock out for twelve hours."

You go on, "You should do the same. We've been in this studio for…" You pause like you're doing the mental math, and then a disbelieving laugh slides past your lips. "About thirty-three hours, Jihoon-ah."

Thirty-three hours is almost incomprehensible. Jihoon isn't even surprised, because of course, that's the kind of work ethic you've come to expect from an idol— but, thirty-three hours?

Jihoon's head is spinning. There's a strange, odd kind of haze settling around him, almost like he's caught between a dream and consciousness. He's tired, yes, he's more than tired, but Jihoon knows that he doesn't really need to go home to sleep.

Except he can't say no, not when your words are coming with all the weight of a command, not when you're looking at him like he's some helpless, pitiful wreck, needing some sort of care. He hates it.

He hates that you see him.

"Okay, okay," Jihoon says in a rush, standing from his chair. "I'll go home."

He's always known that any work done with you ends with him doing exactly as you say. You might have never said the words to his face before, but Jihoon isn't an idiot.

He's wrapped around your goddamn finger some days.

The thought that he's now more than willing to do whatever you want from him has never occurred to him before now, and it leaves him feeling slightly shaken, slightly unsure of everything.

It takes you both about ten minutes or so to get everything in order, then another seven minutes to head out of the company building. The relief Jihoon feels as you finally find yourselves outside is immense, even if it is a chilly, early winter evening.

You glance at your wristwatch before distractedly asking him, "You'll be okay behind the wheel?"

"'Course," he says as he fishes for his keys. For a moment, he contemplates asking if you want a ride home. It'd be out of his way, but it's something he's almost willing to bear.

Almost.

Instead, he forces himself to say, "See you. Take care."

You give the same pleasantries back before beginning your trek to the train station. Jihoon, for his part, finds his car in his designated parking space.

The drive home is the most boring and uneventful thing ever— except when Jihoon looks in his rearview mirror. The sight of you disappearing into the distance makes him feel strangely hollow and a bit wistful.

His stomach gives a weird, twisting lurch, and he's tempted to make a U turn right there and then and find a reason to be back in his company.

Maybe he'll tell you just how alone he can sometimes feel after an album is completed. How there's always this sort of lull in the days, hours after his work; how he fights it off by doing more work, even if it's not all that necessary.

He wants to ask if you ever feel the same way, too.

But you had never really been a part of that loneliness, and now you were leaving. And— just for the night— Jihoon can't help but feel more lonely than ever.

He doesn't want to be lonely.

He wants to be left alone, in a company of his own thoughts, with nothing and no one to distract him. But, for some odd reason, he wants you around.

It's almost too much to bear, so Jihoon turns the radio on louder and lets the sounds of music drown out the patter of his ragged heartbeat.

Jihoon and you are forced to reconvene a couple of days later, albeit on circumstances that neither of you are particularly fond of.

Sungsoo, the company's CEO and executive producer, is already seated at the head of the table when you walk in. Jihoon sees the way your eyes scan the meeting room; he tries not think too much of the way the tension in your shoulders seem to ease when you spot him.

The sight of you makes Jihoon's heart do a little dance, which makes him want to both pull you close and run far, far away from you.

For now, he just gives you a nod of acknowledgement and shifts his eyes back to the older man sitting across the meeting table from the both of them.

You sit across from Jihoon. Sungsoo doesn't even bother to sit; he merely launches straight in to his agenda.

"Good work on SEVENTEENTH HEAVEN," Sungsoo says right off the bat. Jihoon knows it's more of a cursory greeting than anything; there was always going to be more than just a pleasant compliment.

The other shoe drops soon enough. "I think there's more work to be done, though, specifically on three tracks," the CEO presses on.

Three tracks.

Jihoon feels his jaw clamp tightly. He's been through these kinds of corrections before, of course, both from himself and the company. Sungsoo says things about the lyrics of Back 2 Back, and the organization of Yawn, and the chorus of Diamond Days.

And while Jihoon has been through this, has needed to take things apart or put stuff together to appease the higher-ups, it's never any easier. His hands are clasped tight, and he's trying his best to hold himself together, but on the inside, he wants to scream.

This is a part of him. These are all parts of him, big and small, and it's always just a bit of a jab— to have his heart put in someone else's hand, and then to watch that heart be poked and prodded for the sake of... what? Commercial gain?

At one point, Sungsoo pauses to look between Jihoon and you. "Are you not going to take notes?" the older man asks.

You respond before Jihoon can. "Rewrite the second half of Back 2 Back, tweak the instrumentation balance and structure of Yawn, adjust the rhythm for Diamond Days' chorus," you rattle off. "I— we got it, sir."

"Right. Good," he says, and Jihoon doesn't like the condescending tone that Sungsoo uses with you, but at least it's not aimed at him.

The older man sits back in his chair, and Jihoon lets his eyes drift away from the company boss just for a moment to look at you. A strange feeling fills him. He wants to name it appreciation, wants to claim it's nothing more than a little admiration.

But then he'd be lying to himself. Because that warm kind of feeling shifts into— just a little— something a bit more than what he's supposed to be feeling for a co-producer.

Before he could dwell on this thought any longer, Sungsoo clears his throat and Jihoon quickly tunes back in. He's not thinking about that right now, and that's final.

The meeting wraps up not too long after with some parting reminders on deadlines and the upcoming comeback. Jihoon can tell by the look on your face that you're a bit dazed, and Sungsoo's parting words only add gasoline to the fire.

The CEO says both your names as he readies to dismiss you. "The two of you are a good pair," he notes, and Jihoon almost short-circuits.

Pair.

Right. A good pair of co-producers. Not anything else, not anything more.

Both of you mumble your appreciation for the CEO's remark. And Jihoon, like the fool that he is, feels that warm, fuzzy glow bloom again. He doesn't care what it signifies; at the moment, he's just too happy to work with you again.

By the time you head back to his studio, there's not much that either of you can really say. Marathon edits were not new to either of you; you both slide in to work mode without much preamble.

The music starts playing and the edits start pouring in, and the five or six hours spent on the three tracks fly by without Jihoon even noticing it. It gets to the point where he's working on autopilot— one hand on the mouse, fingers flying across the keyboard.

The thing about working on autopilot was that it made the process quicker but left little room to feel or think, which was both a blessing and a curse.

At the six-hour mark, he finally deigns to glance at you. Your gaze is focused on the digital audio workstation as you cut some low frequencies from the guitar on Diamond Days, but there's a slight quiver in your hands as you do it.

While Jihoon doesn't see what you're having trouble with, he can sense that you're off. He knows the signs of stress and exhaustion better than most, what with the hours he puts in.

"Aigo," he calls out to you, and his voice is a little raspy— hoarse— because he's been humming and singing for the better half of the evening. "Are you okay?"

"Still in the green," you say wryly. You had a bit of a traffic light system to refer to when talking about how far gone either of you were.

He watches intently as you implement the changes to Diamond Days, as you give a disapproving shake of your head at the revision. Still not to your standard.

Of course you wouldn't be at the red light stage— not even close, he muses. But in Jihoon's head, there was already one foot on the red light spectrum— and it wasn't just because of the revisions.

"Let's take a break," he suggests.

The idea comes out of absolutely nowhere, even for him. A break—? When was the last time he had voluntarily done that?

Jihoon's been having more questions than answers lately, but he just chalks it all up to being stressed. And maybe a little tired.

Anything except what it really is.

This time, you actually do glance up from the workstation. There's mild surprise on your expression as you tease, "Yah, who are you and what have you done to the indomitable WOOZI?"

"Huh?" he deflects. For a brief moment, he almost feels a little shy around you.

"I'm just bored," he explains, and he's surprised that he can lie so well and sound so casual. "You don't need to come if you don't want to. I just wanted to get some air."

But of course you're coming, already pushing back against the table at the rare invite from Jihoon. "The usual?" you prompt.

To others, a 'usual' might have indicated a trip to the cafeteria, a smoke break on the sidewalk. But Jihoon and you both hated the company's food and neither of you smoked, and so your breaks were spent somewhere a little more unorthodox.

"The usual," he agrees.

He leads you across the company building, the walk to your destination full of comfortable silence. Eventually, you make it to your designated break place: The company's rooftop.

Jihoon takes his usual seat at the far end while you sit closer to the ledge. The atmosphere is thick and humid from the weather, but there's a breeze to keep the heat bearable.

When Jihoon said he wanted to get some air, he meant it quite literally.

He doesn't want to give away his real intentions on calling for the break. Still, he can't help the question that slides out of him as he watches the glittering lights of Seoul beneath the two of you.

"Are you feeling better now?" he asks, glancing at you.

"I am," you answer quietly, your gaze still fixed on the city. "Thanks, Jihoon-ah. I needed this."

He almost smiles. "Of course."

This was the first time since he's met you that he'd asked you to do something just because he thought you needed it. And it isn't long until that fact has Jihoon wondering why the heck he's been putting things off so much lately.

He doesn't get to mull over his thoughts for long though— not when there's a sudden urge to do another thing that he realizes he hasn't ever done.

He takes out his phone and opens up the camera app. "Yah," he calls. "Look here for a second."

You do as he asks, glancing over your shoulder, and the soft click of his phone breaks through the white noise of the city below. When you let out a surprised laugh, he thinks it's the second best thing he's ever heard. Only after music.

"What are you doing?" you chide, a bit of a giggle in your tone as you raise your hand— palm facing Jihoon— to your face, as if trying to shy away from the camera.

"I don't know," he admits. A laugh tumbles out of him, and he knows he's blushing— but he's not ashamed of it this time, not really.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," he assures you. He holds in a chuckle at the way you're blocking your face and snaps another picture.

Maybe he's delirious from all his work. That has to be it, he thinks, as he clicks away despite your sputtered protests.

"Alright, fine," you huff, feigning annoyance. And then— oh.

You brace your hands against the ledge and tilt your head to one side so you can flash Jihoon an easy, practiced grin. "Cheese," you sing-song.

It takes quite a lot of willpower for Jihoon not to just sit and stare, that strange feeling welling inside of him coming to fore. He's not proud of it, but it's there, and the fact that there's something about you that makes him feel this way makes everything a little bit more complicated.

"Cheese," he agrees, taking just one more picture of you.

He knows he's smiling too hard, his eyes turning in to crescents with just how damn fond he feels to be snapping photos at your side.

You can never tell from the expression on his face, but he's wrecked with the knowledge that he had just done three things he had never done before:

He's asked you to do something solely because he thought you needed it.

He's taken a picture of you (with your knowledge, this time).

And he's let this thing he has for you be so in control of him.

It's a damning thing, he muses as he tucks his phone away. What would happen next was up to the universe.

Admittedly, it almost all felt like a test, and Jihoon is terrified he had failed.

But then you reach out, your hand casually resting atop of Jihoon's. You don't clasp your hands together or intertwine your fingers. You merely keep it there as you cast your gaze back down at the city, like you're giving Jihoon a chance to pull away.

It's almost instinctual, how he turns his hand over and links his fingers together with yours. His fingers are longer, so your fingertips curl over his and you’re left holding his hand for the first time.

You don't say a thing about it. Jihoon tries to rationalize the action on your behalf. Maybe you're just delirious and tired, too. Maybe it's cold and you need something to hold on to. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

All the while, his heart thumps in his chest.

Did he even deserve this? Was this okay?

Would it be okay if he just sat there, looking down onto the city, holding your hand and nothing more?

His brain refrains the earlier remark he'd given you. It doesn't have to mean anything. It's just a hand in his, a quiet evening, a moment that will eventually pass.

It doesn't have to mean anything, but why does Jihoon want it to?

Back in the studio, neither of you say a word. Not about the photos of you that Jihoon now has in his phone; not about the way you initiated holding his hand. Not about how the two of you held on for just a bit too long before heading back from your break.

The two of you do what you do best: You throw ourselves in to the last of your work.

It takes you two a record of fifteen minutes to fix what had been wrong with Diamond Days, and then some twenty more minutes to make sure the three other tracks are alright. Jihoon does the honors of sending them over to Sungsoo for some final checks.

Once the email goes through, you lean back in to the couch of Jihoon's studio. "And now we wait," you exhale, sounding equally exhausted and elated.

With your work for the day done, it feels like whatever veil of formality had held the mini-album together is broken— and you're now just two people in Jihoon's workplace, tired, and done working for the day.

Jihoon stretches his arms out and sags against his chair, letting out a groan.

"And now we wait," he repeats. A beat, as he keeps his eyes trained to the ceiling. Then, softly, he adds, "You did good, you know."

He sees you glancing at him from the corner of his eyes. "You, too," you offer quietly, sincerely. "You did well, Jihoon-ah."

His eyes remain on the ceiling, his mind taking him back to how it felt when your hand rested atop of his. It had felt strange and it had felt good— and the fact that you'd so boldly initiated it in the first place made it even better.

The thought that there was a possibility of it being a one-time thing made him almost want to cry, for whatever reason.

It's just so weird, and Jihoon has never felt like this before. He's never caught in a complicated sort of feeling like this. But the way you'd held his hand was different— and the more thoughts he thought about it, he realized that your touch was different from the touch of anyone else's.

"Can we talk for a second?" is all he finds himself able to ask, and it's a surprise to him— considering how much the two of you have never talked about things that were just about you and him.

Still, he wonders that perhaps now, with everything that's happened here, there was something he needed to tell you. Something he wanted you to know.

He hears you shifting on the couch, spots a corner of your lip quirking upward in a show of interest. When he fully turns to look at you, he notices the way you've braced yourself against the back of the couch to meet his gaze.

"Sure," you say. "What's on your mind?"

Jihoon rubs his hand over his mouth as he thinks of a way to articulate his thoughts.

There are so many words here that don't need to be said. There are some words that he wants to say but that you simply don't need to hear.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, but he needed to filter them very well because he wasn't sure if they'd cause a misunderstanding.

"I'd like to keep doing this," is what eventually comes out.

His fingers find his earlobe out of nervousness. His heartrate only seems to spike when you stare back at him for a moment, your eyebrows raised like you're waiting to see if he'll elaborate.

And so elaborate he does. "All of this," he goes on. "Producing for the group, collaborating with you, just… seeing you and talking to you and… having you around."

It feels a bit weird to express after three years of working alongside each other, but it's also the first explicit admittance Jihoon has made abut wanting to keep up your collaboration.

He's not surprised when you try to pass it off with some humor. "I'll stick around for as long as you'll have me," you say almost jokingly, but there's almost a desperate weight of truth in your words.

Jihoon sighs, his expression tightening. There was a whole lot he wanted to say to you— he wanted to make a lot of things very clear— but he also wanted to keep whatever was blooming between the two of you going.

He tries not to dwell on it. Not now, with his feelings as fresh as they were.

"I've been thinking," he starts, his voice quieter now. "Maybe we could… get to know each other or something. Spend the day together— away from the company. Away from this life. Just as… two normal adults."

Another pause.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Jihoon-ah?" you kid after a torturous minute.

Jihoon goes quiet for a moment, the gears turning in his head.

He really was asking you out on a date, wasn't he? How would he even spin this as something simple and innocent?

What had he been expecting in return when he asked you? Why did he ask in the first place if it wasn't to actually find out who you were and why you were the only person he could really say he wanted to spend time with?

Questions, no answers. He's going to go insane.

"You know what," he blurts out before he can lose his nerve. "Yeah. Yes, I am asking you out on a date."

You're both stunned in to silence, and you look like you're just about to say what you should. A 'no'. Something about this not being proper.

But then there's a faint ding from Jihoon's laptop, and he glances over just in time to see that Sungsoo had responded in the affirmative to your revisions for the group's eleventh mini-album.

A stuttering, relieved breath escapes you. Jihoon, for his part, lets out a huff, his shoulders falling. He hadn't even meant to ask you out on a date; he was only going to ask you to spend the day with him.

Now, though, it was out in the open. And he'll be damned to take it back.

"Looks like we're free now," he muses, far too prideful to let Sungsoo derail this conversation. Jihoon's voice is edged with hope as he goes on, "So, what do you say?"

Jihoon has no way of knowing this, but you admire his persistence. When you laugh, it's what changes your mind, what privately convinces you to take him up on his offer.

Because Jihoon had still somehow managed to make you laugh despite it all.

"You know what? Okay," you say readily, one shoulder raising in half a shrug. "Let's go on a date next week, Jihoon-ah."

It would definitely beat sitting in Jihoon's studio, alone and bored, until Sungsoo had sent over their next project.

"Okay," he repeats, his lips curling in a tentative smile. "I'll let you know what plans I come up with, then."

"Alright." You're already rising from the studio couch, preparing to take your leave for the evening.

As you gather your things, Jihoon tries to look back at his workstation instead. Like the sight of it might somehow give him the answers to where to take you, what to do, how to go about all this.

You pause at the door of his studio. "Text me," you say.

It's nothing short of a miracle, how Jihoon is able to respond "I will."

And then you're gone, but the loss doesn't feel as prominent as it usually does. Because now, Jihoon has something to look forward to.

He doesn't remember the last time he allowed himself to be so selfish.

His thoughts over the next few days are consumed with the upcoming date.

Everything he does seems to center around how the date will go, where he'll bring you, and how he would survive a day in your presence without completely humiliating himself.

He takes his time planning. By the time next week rolls around, he's a mess.

His ears are burning as he dials your number and presses the call button.

Your tone is casual on the other line. "Hey, Jihoon-ah," you greet. "What's up?"

Jihoon takes a moment to just hear your voice. He internally groans at how a simple what's up already has his heart rate picking up like nobody's business.

"Hey," he finally says after he gathers himself, his free hand shoving into his pocket. He's pacing his apartment bedroom, fighting for his life to keep calm. "I… just wanted to call about tomorrow."

When you respond, your voice is cautious. "Sure. What about tomorrow?"

There's a slight pause again, and Jihoon can already feel the sweat forming on the inside of his palm.

Surely, you wouldn't think he was calling to cancel? Why would he have waited until the day before?

"Just needed to ask you about something," he admits, his free hand coming up to fiddle with the hair on one side of his ear. "I just wanted to… ask a question. Uh…"

"What… are you going to be wearing?" he finally spits out, his face already going red as the words leave his mouth.

Why the fuck can't he be cool about this? Why can't he be casual and chill about the date and about seeing you? It's so goddamn frustrating— he needed to get a handle on himself and soon, he thinks with despair.

"Oh. Uh…" From the other end of the phone, you seem to be shuffling around. "I was actually going to ask what our plans were," you admit rather meekly. "So I can dress accordingly."

Jihoon's eyes widen, and for a moment, he feels even more like an idiot than he usually does.

You had no idea where you were going, he realizes, and as a result— you had no idea what to wear.

"Oh… right," he says, mentally facepalming himself. He was supposed to be the one giving you information, not the other way around. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense."

He takes a second or two to collect himself, because— God, he did not want to mess this up. If you found out about the amount of work and effort he'd put in this thing, you'd definitely laugh at him.

"Nothing too formal, but don't be super casual," he says slowly. "You'll want a jacket, maybe. And wear comfortable shoes."

He takes another deep breath, steadying himself before he adds, "And I'm going to pick you up at ten. Is that alright?"

Jihoon's instructions are a touch on the vague side, but you don't seem to mind as you let out a huff of amused laughter. "Dress warm, comfortable jacket and shoes, ten in the morning," you repeat. "Okay. Got it."

You go on, "I'll text you my address. I— we've known each other so long, but I don't think you've ever come over, have you?"

Another good point. Jihoon and you spent most of your time at the company. There were rare occasions where you'd join the group's post-comeback celebrations with the rest of the staff, but those were always at some rented-out restobar.

"Yeah. Well. Just text me, then," he says lamely, already mentally berating himself for how much of a fool he's acting. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Jihoon-ah," you bid, and he can hear the smile in your voice.

Just like that, Jihoon's heart rate picks up again— except this time, it's not just nervousness he feels.

There's that strange sense of anticipation, the slight thrill of excitement he gets with the mere thought of seeing you the next day, and he nearly lets out an exhale to quell all those feelings.

"See you," he says finally, his voice barely above a murmur.

And then suddenly— he's hanging up, the realization of everything finally settling on him. This was actually happening.

He sits on his bed for a moment, just mulling over the conversation, before he lets himself fall back onto the mattress in horror. He had just hung up, hadn't he? Did he even say goodbye? Did he even say something nice? He was a mess.

He lets out a long, pitiful whine in to a pillow as he wonders for a second or two if he should call back just to say good night to you properly.

In the end, he decides against it. He didn't want to come off as desperate and it was pretty likely that he'd just dig a deeper hole for himself.

Still, he can't help but let out an annoyed, strangled sound as he turns to look at the ceiling.

He was going to have to put a lot of effort if he didn't want to embarrass the hell out of himself.

Come the next day, Jihoon is standing outside your apartment at exactly ten in the morning.

He knocks almost tentatively, and he's only a little surprised that you swing the door open without missing a beat.

You flash him a smile in greeting. "Come in," you say, ushering him in to what he can only describe as uncharted territory. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice?"

He's so tripped up over how you look— the smart-casual outfit, focused on warmth, as he'd advised— that he almost misses the offer.

"Ah," he stutters. Barely a minute in and I'm already done for, he thinks ruefully. "Do you have— cola?"

You give a small sound of assent as you move further in to your apartment, towards what he assumes is the kitchen. "Make yourself at home," you call, and Jihoon is left to bear witness to your space.

It looks very much like that of an artist's. There's floor-to-ceiling corkboards on almost every wall and a blackboard full of chalk markings— bearing everything from concepts to half-finished lyrics.

You have bookshelves groaning under the weight of music albums— Jihoon sees a number of SEVENTEEN's— and instruments crammed in to nooks and crannies.

He suddenly remembers how, for some reason, you had never really let him come over to your apartment before. And now, he understands why, because your apartment almost felt like a reflection of your own brain— chaotic, but brilliant. It was a creative genius's studio, and it was more than just a little bit captivating.

You return with a can of Coke. "It's a lot, isn't it?" you muse.

Jihoon shakes his head. It is a lot. But also— he knows how gifted you are, knows how driven you can be. Seeing it here, so openly on display, has something stammering in his chest.

"Is this all your work?" he asks a moment later, still glancing around. "Is this… everything you've been working on? You've been keeping it here?"

"Not all of us have separate studios," you shoot back. There's an easy smile on your face, indicating that you're just teasing.

When you seem to realize that your initial jab hasn't answered Jihoon's question, you amend, "It's not all of my work. You should see my childhood bedroom back in Jeju."

"Jesus," he says with a slight chuckle, his fingers pressing around the metal of his soda can.

He doesn't know why the thought of your childhood room in Jeju having more of this surprises him. But, then again, that was just the kind of person you were. An ambitious, freethinking, creative genius, the same qualities he'd grown to appreciate over time.

And now he was about to go on a date with you. How the hell had he gotten this lucky?

He isn't quite sure what compels him. All he knows is that the question, almost rhetorical in nature, is out of his mouth before he can reel it back in.

"You really love music, don't you?"

The question seems to throw you off-kilter, but you recover surprisingly fast. You're thoughtfully smoothing out the patches on your denim jacket as you retort, "I love it about as much as you do."

If it had been any other person, Jihoon might have scoffed, might have privately thought they were cocky or just outright lying. But it's you, and his heart twists in to a knot at the thought of how willing he is to accept that cardinal truth.

That you and him loved music in equal measure.

In a hopeless attempt to collect himself, he shoots back his soda in several big gulps. The carbonated drink burns as it goes down his throat; he forces it to stay down.

"We should probably get going," he prompts once he's done with his drink.

"Right, of course."

You go to throw away his empty soda can for him, and the way you move makes it abundantly clear that you're unaware of the effect you have on him.

As the two of you step out of your apartment and find your way to Jihoon's car, he can only hope that it won't be that long of an afternoon.

Despite the way he keeps both hands on the steering wheel, Jihoon can still feel the nerves racing up and down his spine. He's nervous, excited, his emotions a mess as he tries to get himself together.

He can't believe that after years of talking about music and just working together, after all this goddamn time, you were finally going on a date together.

The car radio is just a touch too loud, which is to be expected, considering that it was Jihoon's vehicle. You have to pitch your voice above it to be audible.

"Where are we going?" you ask as he peels in to traffic.

"You'll see when we get there," he responds.

The disapproving pinch of your expression draws a laugh out of him. He doesn't give you the opportunity to press any longer as he fiddles with the radio dial, upping the volume just a touch more.

He'd planned this date carefully after spending far too much time agonizing over all the details. He was damned if he wasn't going to keep some things in the dark.

It's a quiet drive for the most part, with only the radio keeping the silence from being too deafening. But, frankly, Jihoon isn't too bothered by the silence because it gives him ample time to collect his thoughts, to try not to focus on the way your hand is right there, a few inches away from his on the gear shift.

He keeps his eyes on the road, keeps his expression neutral, and keeps his cards as close to his chest as possible.

Once Jihoon is finally pulling in to a parking lot, he manages to find his voice. "We're here," he notes, like it's not the most obvious thing in the world.

He waits a moment for you to also unbuckle your seatbelts, and only then does he climb out of the car. He quickly walks around to your side, pulling open the door for you and gesturing for you to follow him as he crosses the parking lot.

"What is 'here', exactly?" you ask Jihoon as you walk up to the building in front of you. It looks rather unassuming; nothing on the outside giving out what it might be. Just white walls and a sign outside that's still too far to read.

Jihoon catches the way you try to make out the sign, and he can't help but find himself feeling a touch flustered because goddammit, was he allowed to find everything you did endearing?

He clears his throat before finally answering. "A planetarium."

Now, Jihoon definitely doesn't miss the way your eyes widen, nor the small tone of excitement that betrays the otherwise casualness of your voice.

"That's cool," you say with your hands shoved in to the pockets of your jacket. "Never been to one before."

He can clearly see how excited you'd gotten just at hearing where he'd brought you. And, frankly, it just makes his pulse race all that much more.

"Well, let's go in and have a look then, shall we?" he offers, his voice a little on the quieter side as he tries valiantly to not mimic your excitement.

As you approach the building façade, the signage comes in to better view. It boasts of an immersive planetarium experience, but what stops you dead in your tracks is a note tacked on the front door.

Closed for a private event.

"Oh?" you're saying, a slight edge of disappointment in your tone. "It's looks like it's—"

But before you can finish your sentence, the door is pulling open, and an important-looking man— the manager— is already stepping up to address Jihoon.

"Mr. Lee, right on time," the employee greets with a bow. "We've set everything up for you."

The oh that escapes you, this time, is a lot softer.

Jihoon can't help the small grin that immediately works its way across his lips at your reaction. He'd been hoping to catch you by surprise, and he can tell that it worked.

He gives a polite, somewhat formal half-bow in return to the manager before glancing over his shoulder to you. There's a hint of smugness in his voice as his gaze lands on you again. "C'mon," he says as he starts making his way in to the planetarium.

The inside is mostly dark; Jihoon gives his eyes a moment to adjust to the change. There's no one else here but the two of you, and Jihoon isn't really complaining about the emptiness. It just means he can have you all to himself, without having to worry about having anyone else around.

He can hear your footsteps, following behind him, and he has to mentally remind himself to keep himself together before he finally glances over his shoulder at you.

"Surprised?" he teases, the ghost of a smirk making its way on to his face.

He revels in the look of awe on your face, the way you all but ignore him to pull a couple of steps ahead. You're surveying the lobby like it's already the main exhibit, and Jihoon has the sudden urge to rent out every gallery in Seoul for you to see.

Your next words are one-two punch on Jihoon's poor, poor heart. "I think you've got some nerve, Jihoon-ah, pulling out all the stops on our first date," you muse, your face still upturned to the entryway.

Jihoon almost trips right over his own two feet as the casualness of your words registers in his mind.

Multiple dates. You were implying that there might be multiple dates to follow. That you wanted there to be multiple dates.

He takes a quick breath, trying to maintain any semblance of a nonchalant attitude as he responds. "What?" he says, the smirk just a touch more shaky on his lips. "You think this is 'going all out'?"

He continues to walk, catching up to you a few moments later. "I'm offended. How dare you think that I'd settle for anything less than perfection."

"If this isn't 'all out' yet for you," you quip. "I'm a bit nervous as to what is."

He only responds with a small chuckle. "You'll see."

He leads you to the next room over, and this particular one is far more darker. The only source of light is from the projector against the back wall, projecting a constellation map on the opposite wall.

Jihoon glances over his shoulder once more, watching the small look of wonder on your face. He leads you to a small couch in the center of the room before sitting comfortably beside you on it.

His face is partially illuminated by the lights of the projector, and he can clearly see the way you're taking in everything around him.

"You like it, hm?" he gently prods, watching you again.

It's a lot to take in, honestly. The high ceiling, the projected constellations, the lights dancing across both your faces. Even the way the room has been rearranged— the single plush couch, the type that allows you to recline and gaze up at the faux sky of constellations— is all so damn good.

"I like it," you concede, your voice barely above a murmur. You speak like you're scared that talking any louder will break an illusion. "It's— yah, Jihoon-ah. It's so pretty."

In that moment, Jihoon almost forgets how to breathe.

There's something so soft and gentle and fond to your voice as you speak, and the way your words came out almost reverently does something to Jihoon that he couldn't quite explain.

"Pretty," he repeats, eyes still trained on you. "It is, isn't it?"

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a long time; Jihoon still watching you instead of the exhibit. You didn't just say it was pretty. You'd said it with words and tone and expression that told him just how much you loved it.

Christ, he was a goner. He was far gone for you.

After what feels like both an eternity and a second at the same time, Jihoon finally shifts his gaze away from you, glancing up at the ceiling above him. He's quiet for a few more moments before he finally speaks again.

"Y'know…" He starts, the sound of his voice just a touch quieter than usual. "When I was a kid, I always thought the stars were my favorite thing."

Jihoon glances over at you again, noticing the way you were still practically enchanted by the projected stars above you. It makes him bite back a small, amused smile, before he continues.

"I used to sit out in the field by my house and count them, name them, make up my own stories for each of them. I thought they were the most magical, most incredible things in the whole universe."

He thinks of his home back in Busan, the way the moon reflected over the sea water. He thinks of a version of him from lifetimes ago— a boy he'll never be again.

He almost misses him.

Jihoon lets out a soft huff. "And then I got older, and life got really shitty and busy, and..." His voice falters a bit. "The stars were no longer as important to me as they were before."

He exhales, the sound filling the quiet room. He can feel you listening, can feel you taking in every sincere word of his. And that's enough. That means something.

"But..." He goes on quietly. "Sometimes, there are moments that come, and the only things that matter are the stars again."

It's just like Jihoon to spew something poetic without pretense or shame. In his peripheral, he sees you glancing at him, and it takes everything for him to not let this feeling overwhelm him.

"I hope you have more moments like that, then," you say, your voice equally soft.

There was something so endearing about the sentiment you'd said, and he knew that you meant every word of it. And that made it all so much worse for his heart.

He's so whipped, it almost makes him want to laugh.

This is one of those moments, he almost says. Even if it's not real stars.

He can't help it anymore. Despite all the times he's had to keep up his usually cool, calm demeanor with you, despite his usual attitude, despite his usual shyness, the urge is just too much and—

He slides his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer.

That was one thing the stars could do: Give him a bit of courage.

When you don't resist his gentle tugging, he figures he can do just one more thing.

His free hand moves to your chin, gently coaxing your head up so that you’re looking at a specific point up at the ceiling.

You're so focused on the stars, you barely even register the sound of Jihoon’s voice again.

"The most special stars," he murmurs. "They all have names."

He’s still speaking into your ear, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin. "That one," he says, his voice like gravel. He slowly, carefully tilts your chin up just a little more. Coaxing you to look up even further. "Is my favorite."

His calmness is belied by the fact that his heart is a jackhammer in his chest. All he can do, really, is try to get you to look at one of the larger stars that's almost dead center in the middle.

"Why is it your favorite?" you inquire, the genuine curiosity in your tone almost mistakable for breathlessness.

"It's the brightest star in the entire sky." His gaze darts between the star and your face, the shadows of the room hiding the way his chest tightens at the sight of you listening intently. "It's called Sirius."

His voice is still soft, but there's a new note to it that you've never heard before. It's quiet, reverent, almost like he's about to tell you a secret.

"The Romans called it the 'dog star'," he continues. "Because it's the brightest star in Canis Major, the big dog constellation."

He lowers his head a little so that his chin is almost resting on your shoulder, and his arm around your shoulders tightens just a fraction.

"But to the Chinese, it was known as the 'heavenly river commander'," he goes on. "And the Arabs called it the 'chief star in heaven'."

Jihoon is getting nervous, now, but he has to do this. He has to.

It feels like the first flicker of a neon sign as he goes on, "To all those different people, it was all of those things. To me—"

He pauses, feeling the words stick in his Adam's apple.

The brightest star in the night sky.

For the longest time, Jihoon had wondered whether he would find something to call it, too. The closest he's come has been the boys, his music.

But that felt like an understatement. They weren't just a group, after all; they were his whole life. And so it was more apt to describe them as the universe, as the entire planetarium.

Which left him with the brightest star—

"To you?" you repeat, tilting your head back to meet Jihoon's gaze head on.

"What's it called to you?" you prompt.

In the relative darkness, he can't read you as well as he might have wanted.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't change what's he's going to say, anyway.

He gives you his answer—

He says your name.

And then he leans in— his heart at your feet, all yours for the taking.

[miaoua3]

Seventeen-How Would They Protect You From Creepy Men Hitting On You?

had a very scary situation a few days ago where a man tried to constantly talk to me while i was waiting on my bus, even giving me advice that i could take another bus and still end up on the same station and that “he could show me the way from the station to my dorm”. in that moment i wished that i were a man or that i had a boyfriend, because if i were either of those, none of that would’ve happened. apparently if you are a woman, even when you’re constantly moving away from them, giving them one worded answer, as long as you are alone-they won’t leave you alone. after i lied to him about having a friend pick me up from a different place and walked away while crying, i desperately got the feeling to write this, as i know for sure that none of the boys would’ve let that happen.

Pairing: ot13 x f! reader

Genre: light angst, protective! svt, creepy men, implying of sexual assault

Description: just as the title says

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

scoups: he went away just for a second to buy you a drink and when he turned around, there was a man all in your face, smiling in what he can only describe as unsuccessfully flirty manner. he immediately walks back to you, sliding his arm around your waist. kisses your temple as a cover to whisper in your ear and ask you “are you okay baby?”. by your shaking form he assumes that you aren’t. pulling you behind him, cheol then lets all of his emotions, all the anger and disgust, show on his face and says “leave. now.” in such an intimidating way, it makes your unwanted suitor run away with his tail between his legs. after he’s gone, cheol will give you a tight hug as a way to comfort you, and after a few minutes, will just take you two back home.

jeonghan: the moment he turned around and saw a man playing with a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, your face set in discomfort, he was on the move. in a few seconds he was beside you two. without any warning he grabbed the man’s hand-the very same one that was playing with your hair, and twisting it behind his back in such an uncomfortable angle it had the man screaming in pain. coldly, he asked the man “didn’t your mother ever taught you when to leave a girl alone and how it looks like when a woman is uncomfortable being around you? she’s been moving away from you the entire time you’ve been talking to her and yet you didn’t stop.”, before pushing him away so hard that the man ended up falling down. with cold eyes, jeonghan then finished the conversation with “leave. before i make you permanently banned from this place.”

joshua: unlike the two other men, he wouldn’t go to such extremes when he sees you getting hit on and being uncomfortable because if it. instead, he will quickly approach you and put himself between the two of you, his back to the man. in a soft voice he will ask you “are you alright baby? do you want us to leave?”. or at least, until the man goes to grab his shoulder and to say something stupid like “we were in a middle of a conversation”. joshua will look at him like he’s an idiot before saying “you weren’t in the middle of anything, you were hitting on a taken woman and she tried ignoring you. how delusional do you have to be to confuse that for flirting? she didn’t even say anything yet you thought you were successful in flirting with her?” would snort once before adding “a lot of delusional and pathetic men roaming this earth” before taking your hand in his and walking out of the place.

jun: this scaredy cat would definitely use his height to his advantage in these type of situations. just as he was coming back from the restroom, he saw a man waving a phone in your face, your hands making an ‘x’ as a way to reject him, but to no avail. seeing this, jun will jog a bit to get to you before pulling you behind him. looking the man deadly in the eyes (with all the courage that he can summon in himself) he will ask him “do we have a problem here?”. his cold and calculated look, along with him towering over the guy will result in the guy nervously shaking his head no and quickly leaving. after the guy is gone, you two will end up hugging each other as a way to comfort each other. and yes, you need to comfort him too because standing up to that man was so scary 😖

hoshi: at first i thought that hoshi might cause more of an embarrassing scene rather than defending you in a proper manner. but then i remembered how scary he is when he is angry (the moment that comes to mind is that live where saesangs constantly were calling his phone and he said something among the lines of “do you not have any manners?” and oh god-) and immediately changed my mind. bro was just enjoying his time, you two mingling with different people, no need to be glued to each other the entire time, you two can simply coexist in the same space sometimes. but then he will hear your voice distinctly, repeating the words “stop, i’m not interested, i have a boyfriend”. the moment he finds you in the room, almost trapped against the wall due to a man’s hand blocking your way, the hand resting on the wall beside your head. he will calmly walk towards you. the moment he’s there, he will harshly pull the man’s hand away from the wall, making him stumble a bit. looking at him, hoshi will then darkly say to the man “are you deaf or stupid to not be able to understand such a simple sentence “i have a boyfriend”? or are you just that desperate, thinking that you will successfully get her to comply to your flirting?”. getting all up in the man’s face, he will then add in almost a terrifying whisper “do not ever try to flirt with my girlfriend ever again, or i can promise you-i will end your whole life.” staying for a few seconds to let the man see in his eyes that he meant it, he will then turn towards you before intertwining your hands and leaving the function all together.

wonwoo: he just went up to order coffees for the both of you, when he turned around and saw a man in his chair, sitting across from you, trying to talk to you and touch your hand. seeing the panic and discomfort on your face, he will quickly take the tray with him before quickly moving to your table, trying hard not to spill your coffees. seeing that the man still wasn’t paying attention to him, his slimy smile directed at you, wonwoo will then just raise his foot before harshly kicking the chair that the man was sitting on, making him almost fall out of it. seeing that he finally got his attention, wonwoo will then say in a bored voice “you are in my chair. scram. i want to enjoy my date with my girlfriend.”. the moment the chair is free, he’s sitting down and grabbing your hands in his, asking if you are alright, doing a total 180 on you

woozi: just as he was pulling up the location that you two agreed for him to pick you up from, woozi will start seeing black the moment he registers the scene unfolding in front of him- your form pushed all the way on the wall of the building, shaking in fear as a man is rubbing your arm, all up in your face. the moment he snaps out of his trance, he is quickly getting out of his car, slamming the door so harshly that it catches both your and the man’s attention. without any words, he walks up to you two quickly before punching that man so hard it knocks him out in one. jihoon doesn’t really care about the possible consequences of his actions, all he knows is that he would kill for you, which he felt he was about to do to that man. the moment you see him ready to swing his leg at the man to kick him, you quickly stop him by hugging him. the moment he felt your trembling form against his back, he will quickly snap out of it, turning around and hugging you back just as tightly. the moment he hears you sobbing against his neck, he’s picking up your bag from the floor in one hand and picking you up in the other, carrying you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger’s seat.

minghao: roaming around the house that you two were in for the afterparty, he’s trying to find you, getting slowly worried because he hasn’t seen you in the last 15 minutes. not that that was long time, but it was just that he had a bad feeling about it in his stomach. rounding up the corner on the second floor, right where the bathroom is, he finds the door of it blocked by a man who is leaning on both sides of the doorway, ultimately blocking your way. with a deep sigh you tell him “for the hundredth time, i am not interested, i don’t want to give you my number because i. have. a. boyfriend.”. he then responds to you “c’mon, he doesn’t have to know”. feeling like he has heard enough, minghao speaks “little too late for that, as the boyfriend in question is right here”. both of you turn towards him, the man’s eyes looking at him nastily. feeling no fucks to give, he takes one of the man’s arms off the doorway and pushes him away before taking your hand in his and pulling you out of the bathroom and behind him. with cold eyes he tells him “maybe next time find a girl who is taken already. and maybe also a girl who is naive enough to be willingly talking to you, because that is not my girl here, she doesn’t like waisting her braincells on assholes like you.” before leading you back downstairs.

mingyu: as the night went on, you naturally drifted apart for a bit. he wanted to talk to some friends of his while you wanted to talk to some other people, resulting in you standing in the different corners of the room. just as you crossed his mind, he hears a loud voice yelling distinctly “i said leave me alone! i don’t want to do anything with you!”. his heart sinks the moment he realises that it’s your voice. sharply turning around he sees your arm being gripped by another man, so tightly he can see on your face that it’s hurting you. wasting no time, he lets all over his anger take over him. speed walking towards you, he yells a loud ‘hey!” before grabbing the man’s arm and pulling him away from you harshly. not realising his strength, he pulls a man so harshly, that he ends up falling over a small table and into the wall. loud gasps erupt in the room, but that doesn’t stop him. crouching down beside the man, he takes his collar in his hand before harshly speaking through his teeth “she said to leave her alone. are you that stupid to understand that or too ignorant to not do as she says?”. not being able to stop, he then grabs the man’s jaw harshly “do that again to her and i will break every bone in your body”. in the end coups and three other members will have to pull him away from the man before he stops and calms down for a bit. seeing your shaking form, he will wrap his jacket around your shoulders before taking you home, apologising profusely for losing his control.

dk: walking into a bar where you two agreed to meet for a little night out, dk’s eyes immediately went to search for you in the crowd of bodies. finally, his smile spread the moment his eyes landed on you, sitting at the bar in your pretty dress. the same smile was wiped off his face the moment he saw a man on your left, trying to get your attention by reaching for your hair. feeling something burning inside of him, he quickly started approaching you, and when he was in your earshot, he loudly exclaimed “baby! i’m here!” before engulfing you in a hug before kissing you passionately, with way too much tongue than is appropriate for a public display. ignoring your surprised yelp, he opened his eyes and purposely look the man behind you directly in his eyes, smirking a bit when he was the man fuming in anger. afterwards, when the man has already long been gone, you will tease him for his actions and he will blush while whining to you “babee stoooop”

seungkwan: oh this little firecracker. he was meeting you for a much needed session of badminton, so excited to finally be able to do it together with you after a long time. as he was walking out of the locker room and into the gym, the smile that was decorating his beautiful face disappeared the moment he saw somebody trying to talk to you, your unsure facial expression, and you taking unsure steps away from the man. with an awkward smile, he heard you say “ah, i’m actually waiting on my-“ before the man rudely cut you off “let’s just play together, why are you being so difficult? i mean seriously why are all women such b*tches nowadays-“ and that did it for seungkwan. all of a sudden, he yells “ya!” before throwing his racket with such a precision it misses the man’s face by a few inches, like he intended it to. shocked, you both turned towards him just to see him quickly walking to you. pushing the man away by his shoulders, seungkwan points at him with his finger “say that shit to my girlfriend again and i swear on everything that is holy, i will push that same racket that just barely missed you so far ip your ass-“. eventually, you will have to call staff to throw that man out because holding seungkwan back seems to be quite pointless.

vernon: actually the only normal one in these types of situations and who won’t actually incriminate himself just because he doesn’t know how to control his emotions and actions. just as he was coming back with the popcorn and your drinks, all prepared for you two to watch that new movie that you wanted to, he sees you smiling awkwardly at the man in front of you, shaking your head ‘no’. awkwardly standing in front of you two, vernon says “babe? are you ready? i’ve got everything for us, let’s go and find our seats.” seeing how thankful you look for the interruption, you happily hurry up to his side, wrapping your arms around his biceps. awkwardly you say to the man “this is my boyfriend that i was talking about, now if you will excuse us”. before turning away from him. but if the man dares to utter something like “stupid b*tch under his breath, you bet your ass vernon will stop in his place before turning to the man “ya. if you call her that one more time, i will have you swallowing all of your teeth. understood?” before continuing his route. just because he doesn’t overreact doesn’t mean be doesn’t threaten or put men in their place who dare speak of you like that. :)

dino: dino felt like picking you up from your work on that day, simply to be a good boyfriend and to see you as soon as possible. knowing both the way around the building you work at and people that you work with, he easily accessed the floor that you were on. rounding up the corner the scene in front of him has him gripping the umbrella in his hand and holding the puke down. leaning as far as possible in your chair, your face was as white as a paper due to nervousness. towering over you was your male colleague, leaning on your desk and leaning in your face. putting two and two together, he quickly approached your desk, exclaiming “babe!” loudly for you both to hear. when he approaches you, he quickly bends down to wrap his arms around your neck from behind nuzzling in your neck as a way to hide his words. “are you okay?” will be whispered against you ear, and upon your slight nod, he will stand up normally again, his hands reassuringly resting on your shoulders. smiling in a really fake manner, he will say to the man “hope you don’t mind but i’ve come to pick up my girlfriend today, we have a very busy night in front of us.” the insinuation of what the ‘very busy night’ is supposed to mean is as clear as ever, making the man look at chan with eyes full of jealousy. quickly helping you pack your things, he will throw a nasty smirk and a wave to the man over your shoulders as you are walking away.

[whoreforgyu]

“and i’d rather never talk to you again than stay friends with someone i love but can’t have,”

his face ruined with snot and tears, eyes red and cheeks flushed. his previously towering frame, now seemingly ant-sized kneeling under your gaze. he knew that it was selfish to give his best friend of two years an ultimatum that could potentially destroy whatever friend-situationship the two of you had, but he didn’t care.

the feeling of having you so close, yet so distant, almost taunting. after all, you two were roommates, the first people you’ve made friends with since moving to the big city, your bond was inseparable. the two of you talked like lovers, cooked like lovers, hung out like lovers, fucked like lovers.

but this was the final string tugging at his heart. the internal conflict soon making him short circuit after seeing the repost on your instagram story, a simple picture of a girl with an exhausted expression on her face behind a piece of text reading: “when you finally thought you actually had a male friend but he confesses to you”

you didn’t think much of it while reposting, it was lighthearted and relatable, that’s it. to mingyu, it meant that you’ve already imprisoned him into the friend-zone, and there’s no amount of money in the world that could bail him out, that all those moments you’ve shared together aren’t only reserved just for him. who is he kidding? you act this way with everyone! observing the way you smooth and confidently converse with anything with a pulse within a ten mile radius.

his confession, hitting you like a freight train. the unwavering, strikingly handsome, slightly egotistical man now whimpering at your feet like a kicked puppy. who knew the guy who could pull anybody he wanted like a magnet without even lifting a finger only had eyes for little old you.

cupping his face you wipe a tear from his cheek before kissing him softly. he melts into tour touch, hugging your waist tight, as if he’s too afraid of what would happen if he let’s go. every stereotype you’ve initially thought of him proven to be wrong yet again. he lifts you up, not breaking the kiss, before taking you to bed.

[97linelover]

The Idol‘s Encore - Choi Seungcheol

summary: meeting an idol was crazy enough, but getting close to him,makes it all even crazier.

content: Idol scoups x non Idol reader, fight,angst, sad end,fluff,smut, drama, heartbreak I’m sorrryyyy

wc: 1.5 k

a/n: I really think that’s how it goes. Dating in this business? Hard.

Lollapalooza was unreal and Cheol looked so so so good!!!

As you navigated through the bustling stadium, weaving through the throngs of fans, you followed closely behind your best friend, who was practically sprinting toward the stage. The entire place was alive with energy, people running and shouting, excitement buzzing in the air like an electric current. The fanbase was wild, and it was barely 11 a.m.

You somehow made it to the barricade, squeezing through the sea of people — all of this, for her. The things you did for your best friend. The heat was intense, the sun already blazing down, and there were no clouds to offer any relief.

Your best friend, always the social butterfly, was already chatting animatedly with a few others nearby. They were all Carats, all equally thrilled to be there. You stood beside her, nodding along, but truthfully, you were just hoping the time would pass quickly. Concerts weren’t really your thing, and although you liked the occasional song, this wasn't your scene.

But to your surprise, the crowd was lively yet well-behaved, and time seemed to move faster than you expected. The acts were fantastic — energetic, polished, and engaging. The organization was impeccable too. Staff moved through the crowd, offering free water and ice cream to keep everyone cool under the scorching sun. It was a thoughtful gesture, and it made the heat more bearable.

As the opening notes of the music filled the air, the crowd exploded into cheers and screams. Fans around you were losing their minds, singing along at the top of their lungs. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, amused by their enthusiasm. You weren’t as familiar with the songs, only knowing a handful of them, but there was one person on stage that you knew all too well.

Choi Seungcheol.

He commanded the stage effortlessly. His sleeveless shirt clung to his toned arms, revealing his muscles as he moved. The way he looked out over the crowd, scanning it with an intensity that seemed purposeful, sent a small shiver down your spine. His eyes swept over hundreds of faces, and then, as if by fate, they found yours.

The instant his gaze locked onto you, you saw something change in his expression. His eyes brightened, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed down. He started to make his way down from the stage, stepping right up to the barricade — right in front of you.

He sang directly to you, his voice rich and powerful, never breaking eye contact. The fans around you screamed louder, sensing something special in the moment, but you barely noticed them. It was like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

He had found you. And you knew exactly what that meant.

Tonight, at 10 p.m., you would meet him at the park near his hotel.

But how had all this happened?

It started just a few days ago. Your sister had been at a K-pop party that Saturday night while you had decided to wander around Berlin. You’d had a craving for donuts and hot chocolate, so you found yourself in a quaint little café, settling down with your book. The smell of fresh pastries filled the air, and marshmallows floated in your steaming cup of hot chocolate as you opened the first chapter.

The bell above the café door jingled softly, and you glanced up to see a tall, handsome man walk in. You tried to refocus on your book, not wanting to be rude, but you couldn’t help overhearing the interaction at the counter. The cashier was struggling with English, and it was clear the man didn’t speak German.

With a sigh, you closed your book and stood up, walking over to the counter. “What do you want? I can order it in German for you,” you said with a small smile.

He looked relieved, smiling back at you. “I was just trying to order a water.”

“A water? Do you know it’s basically a rule to drink hot chocolate at this time of night?” you teased, laughing a little.

“I’m on a strict diet,” he said, pouting slightly.

“Not tonight,” you grinned. “I’m ordering you a hot chocolate. No arguments.”

He chuckled but didn’t resist. “If you insist.”

After placing the order, you paid for his drink and a donut, feeling a bit mischievous. As you turned back to him, you introduced yourself. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Seungcheol,” he replied, and your eyes widened in recognition.

Of course — the handsome stranger, the strict diet — it was your sister’s bias, Choi Seungcheol.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asked softly, a hint of something like disappointment in his voice.

You nodded. “Yeah, my sister’s a fan. We’re actually here for your concert.” You took a sip of your hot chocolate, trying to keep things casual.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you a fan too?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not exactly. I’m just here for my sister. I know a few of your songs, but I’m not a big fan.”

His grin widened. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. At least you’ve heard of us.” He took a bite of the donut and sighed dramatically. “This is going to cost me an extra mile on my run tomorrow.”

You laughed. “Don’t stress about it. One donut won’t ruin you.”

Seungcheol looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “You know, we’re always filmed from every angle. It messes with your mind sometimes, seeing all these sides of yourself that you don’t like.”

“I don’t think you have any bad sides,” you said, half-joking but also flirtatious, and he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think I’m good-looking?” he teased.

“As if you don’t already know that, Seungcheol,” you retorted, standing up to grab your bag.

“Leaving already?” he asked, quickly getting to his feet to follow you.

“I was planning on walking around a bit more. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

He didn’t hesitate, and the two of you spent the rest of the night wandering through the quiet streets of Berlin. Time flew by as you talked, eventually finding yourselves at a small playground, where you lay side by side on the swings, gazing up at the stars.

“Will you be at the show tomorrow?” he asked softly, turning his head to look at you.

You nodded. “I’ll be there with my sister. She wants to be up front, so I guess I’ll be at the barricade.”

His eyes darkened with a playful intensity. “So, you’ll be watching me from up close, huh?” His hand gently brushed your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll make you a deal. If I find you in the crowd tomorrow, we’ll meet here again at 10 p.m., and... I’ll get my kiss.”

You gasped, cheeks flushing. “You want that kiss so badly?”

“You have no idea,” he murmured, and you found yourself nodding.

“Deal.”

Now, just a few hours after the concert, you sat on the swing at the playground, replaying concert videos on your phone. He was half an hour late.

With a sigh, you put your phone away, feeling a sinking disappointment. Of course, you’d been foolish to think this could be real. Seungcheol was an idol — why would he be interested in someone like you?

As you walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Stupid. Stupid boys, stupid me.”

You were halfway back to the hotel when you felt a hand grab your arm, pulling you into the shadows. “I’m so sorry,” a familiar deep voice said.

You looked up, heart pounding. “Seungcheol?”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered. “We got held up with interviews, and when I finally got to the playground, you were gone. I had to find you.”

“I thought you played me,” you admitted softly, trying to hide the hurt.

“Never,” he said firmly. “I wanted to see you more than anything.”

You leaned closer to him, whispering, “Did anyone follow you?” He shook his head, his expression soft yet intense.

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The moment his hands pulled you closer, your heart raced, and your mind went quiet. His lips moved in perfect rhythm with yours, and the world around you seemed to disappear. That kiss—it made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t before.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “Do you want to come upstairs? Fans could show up any minute now.”

You nodded, breathless. “Sure.”

You followed him through the quiet corridors, the space between you feeling like too much. The air was thick with tension and anticipation, every step increasing your need to be close to him again.

The door to his room had barely closed behind you before he had you against the wall, his hands exploring, his lips on yours again, more urgent this time. Every touch was electrifying, every kiss deepened the connection between you. It wasn’t just physical—it was intense, overwhelming, and all-consuming.

Time blurred as you spent the night tangled together, losing yourselves in each other. Moments of tenderness and passion intertwined as you explored each other’s bodies, finding new ways to make each other smile, gasp, and laugh. The intimacy was raw, yet filled with affection. By the time Seungcheol finally fell asleep, he was wrapped around you, his breathing soft and steady as he rested his head against your chest.

You lay there, your hand gently stroking his hair, your heart still racing from everything that had just happened. It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was the unexpected bond that had formed between the two of you.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, you stirred awake. Seungcheol was still asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breathing slow and peaceful. For a moment, everything felt perfect—like a dream you never wanted to end.

But as you lay there, reality started to creep in. The world outside this room was different, harsher. Seungcheol wasn’t just any man; he was an idol, adored by millions. And you… you were just a girl from Germany, someone who had stumbled into his life by accident.

You sighed softly, careful not to wake him. It was easy to get lost in the fantasy here, in the quiet intimacy of the early morning, but what would happen when you left this room? He had a life in South Korea—a public, highly scrutinized life. And you? You had your life in Germany, far away from the spotlight and the complexities of fame.

Seungcheol stirred beside you, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He smiled sleepily, pulling you closer. “Good morning,” he whispered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You smiled back, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. "Good morning."

For a moment, you stayed there, wrapped in each other, neither wanting to face the inevitable. But as much as you wanted to stay in this perfect moment forever, you knew the conversation couldn’t wait.

“We need to talk,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

Seungcheol frowned slightly, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to start. “This… last night, it was incredible. But you know we can’t keep this up, right? You’re an idol, Seungcheol. You live in Korea. And I… I’m just a girl from Germany.”

He sat up, his expression darkening. “What are you saying? That last night didn’t mean anything?”

“No, it meant everything,” you quickly reassured him. “That’s the problem. It meant too much. But you and I… we live in two different worlds. How can we possibly make this work? We just met, you don’t know me and I don’t know you“

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustration building in his eyes. “I don’t care about the distance. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks. I want to be with you.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “But it’s not just about us, is it? You know how it is for idols. The fans, the media… if they found out, it would destroy you. It would ruin everything you’ve worked for.”

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “I don’t care about any of that. I’ve spent my whole life doing what’s expected of me. For once, I want to do what I want.”

“But at what cost?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Do you really want to throw everything away for me? For someone who lives on the other side of the world?”

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol’s eyes softened, the fight draining out of him as the reality of your words sank in.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And it’s funny because we just met, but we talked about things nobody knows.“

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we have to be realistic. We can’t be together… not like this.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. For a moment, you stayed like that, holding onto each other as if you could stop the inevitable from happening. But deep down, you both knew the truth.

With a heavy heart, you pulled away, grabbing your clothes and getting dressed in silence. Seungcheol didn’t stop you. He simply sat there, watching as you prepared to leave, his face a mask of heartbreak.

Before you left, you turned to him one last time. “Maybe one day things will be different. But for now… this is goodbye.”

His eyes were glossy, but he nodded, understanding that there was nothing more to say. "Goodbye, Y/N."

And with that, you left the room, your heart breaking with every step. As you walked down the hotel corridor, you realized that some love stories don’t have happy endings—not because they aren’t real, but because the world isn’t ready for them.

Seungcheol would always be a part of you, a memory tucked away in your heart. But your worlds were too different, the distance too great. And no matter how much you wished otherwise, some things were just not meant to be.

Seungcheol would just be a beautiful memory tucked away with he thought about lollapalooza 2024.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

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Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

---

Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[gyuzgrl]

her //kmg// pt.3 happy ending

summary- as confusions build to an overbearing crescendo, a sudden visit by Mingyu's sister leads to an unplanned encounter with your ex-husband. will seeing him one last time help you make up your mind?

Things can't possibly get any more confusing.

For Mingyu and for you.

While on one hand, he wants to do right by you and let you go, he can't escape the simple fact that he needs you. Long, hard days filled with thoughts of you are his reality now- they have been for the past week or so. Unable to move, to eat, to sleep, Mingyu finds himself at the lowest he's ever been.

And that message- god, he feels so stupid for contacting you when you clearly didn't want to talk. The tiny letters below his text, marked 'read' feel like little needles moving deeper into his heart every time he clicks on your chat.

That isn't to say he resents you, though. It's quite the opposite. Mingyu's time alone has given him the opportunity to grow a newfound hatred for himself, and he spends every waking moment wishing he was someone else. Someone who didn't hurt you.

You, on the other hand, are confused too, but for a different reason altogether. Although you love him, and long to be with him, the question of your self-respect remains. Letting him back in would mean giving the man who cheated on you a second chance, but staying away would mean losing the man you love, over a mistake he regrets making.

As you sit across from your lawyer, hand trembling with the weight of consequence, your thoughts race around like jolts of electricity- flooding your head with doubt.

"...and this is the last of it, so you can jus-" he trails off, noticing your shaken state.

"ma'am?"

Your head snaps up, eyes widening.

"y-um, yes, I'm listening- sorry-" you mumble, swallowing hard as you blink away the tears welling up in your eyes. Thankful for the opaque, white table separating you, you suck in a deep breath, trying to hide your trembling limbs.

"don't be,"

He offers a gentle smile, eyes filled with pity as if to say- 'oh, you poor thing...', and slides one final paper your way.

"here's the last of it- after this, you'll be free for good,"

For good? As in permanently? There's no going back? You look towards the man before you, helpless and confused. Although this is all your own doing, you can't help but feel a pang of doubt at the last leg of your journey.

"so after this we would have officially separated? he'll no longer be my husband?"

From the slight tremble in your voice, your lawyer gathers that something isn't right. It's the same quiver he detected in Mingyu's words a few days back.

He sighs, retracting the final document.

"ma'am, we can do this on another da-"

"no I just-"

"there's no rush, is there? I can tell your mind isn't completely made up just yet, and the last thing I want is for you to make a decision you aren't 100% sure of."

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, dripping onto the papers below. And then another. And another.

The universe can be so unfair, so cruel, sometimes. What twisted satisfaction do the Gods get from watching you suffer like this? Things could've been so good with Mingyu. He could've treated you so well, been the perfect husband, loved you so truly- but no.

They had to come in and ruin it all.

"you can take your time, I'll be at the front desk if you need"

You barely acknowledge his departure, staring blankly at the table as tears blur your vision. It shouldn't be this hard. It really shouldn't. After all, this was your decision- your choice.

Mingyu fucked up. He broke your heart. He's the reason your self esteem is at the lowest it's ever been.

So why...

Why does this feel wrong? Why does it hurt so bad?

Your breaths grow shallow, each inhale speeding up until your heart thuds against your chest. The rapid rise and fall of your shoulders paints a pitiful picture, and you want nothing more than for the Earth to open up and swallow your sorrow.

That night you spent with Mingyu, opened up a world of possibilities- a world of hope- only to have it all come crashing down in an instant. For one night, you got to lay with him, to love him, to be loved by him and that was it. You saw a faint glimmer of hope, that shining light at the end of a long tunnel, but it slipped away just before you could reach out and grasp it.

Reality shook you awake and now here you are- crying in a cold meeting room, all by yourself, wishing none of this ever happened.

It pains you to say it, but the truth is these past few days have been really hard. You've spent hours scrolling through your phone in search of Mingyu's pictures, spent every night forcing yourself to put your phone away only to have him haunt your sleep- you just can't push him away.

All of a sudden, there's a knock at the door. Your head jerks up, eyes making out a petite frame through the translucent glass doors.

"come- come in," you call, rubbing your eyes furiously, "I was just about to leave"

The door creaks open and a familiar face comes into view.

"oh-"

Mingyu's sister.

Minseo's eyes grow watery at your state and she hurries into the room, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"how did you-"

"word travels fast," she interrupts, cradling your face as she stares sympathetically at your puffy, red eyes. "I thought I'd check in on you both, but neither of you has been answering my calls..."

"sorry I-"

"don't be! I just wanted to see if you're doing okay, y'know?"

Her eyes lock onto yours, asking silently- 'you are doing okay, right?' and you can't help the way your gaze falters. She looks so sincere, so apologetic, you don't want to lie to her.

"y/n,"

"I'm fine"

"y/n."

Her voice is firm.

You meet her stare.

"let me buy you something to drink, hm?" she smiles, veiling her concern. "starbucks?"

"I don't go there anymore,"

"someplace else, then."

You nod, offering her a small smile, and you make your way to a coffee shop nearby. As you find a table and place your orders, Minseo's smile falters ever so slightly.

And then she begins to speak.

"I know this is the last thing I should be asking, but um- you haven't- you haven't heard from Mingyu, have you?"

You sigh, shaking your head.

"oh."

The slight quiver in her voice has you on edge, and your fingers itch to reach out and hold her hand. Before you can stop yourself, a hesitant- "why're you asking?" slips past your lips.

"it's been a little over a week... all of us have tried to call or text or- I don't know, we've tried everything- fuck, I even went to his house, but still, there was no response. I'm a little worried, you know?"

Attentively, you nod along, brows furrowing as she goes on to explain further. A few minutes pass, and her story moves from bad to worse. So far, from what you've gathered, it isn't clear where or how he is.

Minseo's eyes begin to glass over, lips quivering as she speaks on.

"I know what he did is wrong, I would hate him too if I was you, but he's-" she cuts herself off with a trembling sob, "he's my brother, my family- and- and I don't know how to fix him, y/n. I don't know what he's doing in that house, I don't know if he's even in there anymore-"

Before you know it, your own eyes begin to water, and she takes in a breath.

"I don't know what to do, y/n"

"listen- Minseo I, I'm the last person he'd want to see right now- I'm not sure what you've got planned but-"

"no- no he loves you don't you get it? he only wants to see you right now. not me, not his friends, certainly not that other girl- just you."

You stay silent.

"I'm asking for a lot, I understand, but he's- I just need to know he's okay. and- and you're the only person he'll let in"

That's how you find yourself here, standing before the doors to your apartment. The familiar frame floods you with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, and you're almost about to turn around when something catches your eye.

Newspapers, bills, letters- all scattered at the foot of the door, unopened, piled upon each other the way you've seen before at abandoned homes.

Tentatively, you press the doorbell, cringing at how the sound seems to pierce through the still air. The sharp twang echoes all throughout the house, like a bullet ricocheting, and your heartbeat quickens.

For about a minute, there's no response- just silence. Maybe this was a bad idea. He probably isn't even h-

"leave me alone, Minseo." a hoarse voice interrupts suddenly, drawing your attention right away.

He's here.

Right behind this door, he's standing, breathing.

"it's um, it's y/n, actuall-"

Before you can finish your sentence, the door swings open, and to your dismay, Mingyu looks like shit.

Standing before you dressed in the same old pajamas, your ex-husband looks a mess. His eyes are so red and swollen you can't tell if he's slept at all. He's lost weight too... The once proud bulk of muscle he sported has drastically reduced to a much slimmer, skinnier figure.

But this all seems like nothing when you notice something held tight within his grasp-

"is that my-"

"no! no- it's uh, it's" he sputters helplessly, stepping back to let you in, "I was jus-just cleaning up! yeah just um, just cleaning,"

Your heart twists. The iron grip he's got on your t-shirt tells you a completely different story, but for now, you let it be. You don't need to dig up his feelings. Not when you haven't sorted your own out.

"how come you're- why are you here?"

"oh uh, m-my stuff? yeah! all my stuff is here and I need it, so..." you lie, looking around the house as you walk to the living room.

It's colder than before, somehow. Haunted. There's not a light or a lamp in sight, no fire burning in the fireplace- just total darkness. Everything is just as you left it too; your mug of coffee is still on the dinner table, Mingyu's briefcase is still set near the couch, the wall clock still hasn't been wound, now telling the tale of the past.

He notices your wandering gaze and suddenly feels conscious. Scratching the back of his neck, Mingyu ushers you quickly to the couch, blocking your view from the side so you don't see the true mess.

The bedroom.

Your bedroom, rather.

Oh, if you saw the state of that room-

Dark, heavy blinds shut off the outside world, a swirl of your clothes and blankets litter the bed, and the air hangs heavy, with spritzes of your perfume clinging to every surface.

The last thing Mingyu wants is for you to see the state of that room.

"could I-"

"have a seat-"

You both start at the same time, turning to each other awkwardly. He let's his gaze linger on yours for a moment too long, and all hell breaks loose. The air of pretense dissipates within seconds. Mingyu's eyes tell you all you need to know.

You're the first to look away, suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion behind his stare. The longing and guilt and hurt etched deep in the universe of his eyes is too much. If you stared any longer, there's no holding either of you back.

"you first," he urges, "you were saying?"

"nothing really, no I uh, I just wanted to get some of my stuff, so if I could just go ins-"

"I'll do it!" he interjects suspiciously, his body going rigid at the thought of you walking into his pathetic little chamber of secrets. "I'll um. tell me what you need"

Unable to catch on, you insist further, telling him- "no! no really I can do it myself, please-"

A few dozen fruitless protests later, you've won.

Somehow.

Mingyu tried his best, although in vain, and now he's got you sitting on the couch as he scrambles to tidy up to the best of his abilities.

But of course, he should have known.

With your level of patience, it was only a matter of minutes before your curiosity got the better of you and led you straight into the bedroom.

"hey, you really don't have to bother so mu-" you start as you walk in, freezing at the door when your eyes glance over what once was your bedroom.

With a bunch of your t-shirts tucked away under his arm and a couple more scattered over his pillows, Mingyu halts his actions, paralysed.

The air is damp and clammy and it stinks of your perfume- strong enough to give you a headache. It feels as if time itself has stilled, as if it hasn't moved past that night you spent together.

Your bra is still in the corner of the room, your slippers are still at the foot of the bed, your pillow still has tear stains at the edge; it's like you were here just yesterday.

"Mingyu..."

He looks guilty. Like a puppy that got caught red handed with it's little snout burried deep inside a can of treats. You hate to say it, but it tugs at your heart a little more than you would've liked.

"I know how this looks-" he starts, still clutching desperately onto your clothes, "but I promise I'm okay." His voice cracks at the end, a slight quiver making it's way through the tough facade he's put up, and you feel your eyes begin to water.

Your eyes glisten with the saddest tears you've shed- the brightest, most sorrowful stars in Mingyu's galaxy- and suddenly, it doesn't matter to him that he's not yours anymore. Taking long, purposeful strides towards you, he closes in, dropping the clothes in his arms and taking hold of your face instead.

"I'm okay." he whispers, cradling your face, "I promise."

The tears begin to fall, one after another, and soon you're sobbing like a lost child. Your face crumples into the most devastating look Mingyu's ever seen, and before long, a heavy drop cascades down his cheek.

He thumbs away your tears continuously, swiping gently at your skin in distress with an expression that reads- 'but why are you crying? baby, please stop crying-'

It's a pathetic picture you two paint, but the moment means more to you than the he would know. All your thoughts of revenge and rage have cooled and now you see things for what they truly are.

He loves you.

He loves you and he knows he's fucked up so he's letting you go, no matter what becomes of him. To give you a shot at finding someone better, someone who won't hurt you like he did.

"please don't cry-" he begs, "I'll stop! okay? I'll clean up and give you your things ba-"

"you idiot"

The quiver in your voice silences him in an instant.

"you- why are you-" your voice gives way, cracking as you choke back a sob, unable to speak further.

Mingyu's lips tremble watching you. This is all his fault. You don't need to see this. You don't need to feel sorry for him. Yet, here you are, crying terribly for the man who hurt you.

Crying for him. After all he's done.

As if he hasn't given you reason enough to cry, Mingyu seems to have managed to add to the list, albeit unintentionally.

"baby-" His thumbs wipe away your tears and he lowers his face towards yours. "baby, please don't cry,"

He looks defeated. Like the last standing soldier, helplessly outnumbered by the enemy. If he felt like an asshole before, this just took the cake. Despite vowing to himself every night to never hurt you again, never make you cry again, here he is.

"c'mere, we'll go outside, okay? don't- don't stay in here"

Dumbly, you let him lead you to the hall, standing beside him as he grabs a tissue from it's holder. With the most gentle touch, Mingyu dabs at your skin, blotting away your tears, unaware of his own.

The proximity between your faces is dangerous. He's too close. While he's focused on wiping away your tears, you're torn between your thoughts.

His lips are right there, a mere inch away from yours. Technically, kissing him would be the easiest thing in the world- afterall, he's right there,- but somehow, he couldn't feel further away.

"did you stay in there this whole time?"

Finally, your voice finds it's way back.

His fingers halt their movements, and his eyes meet yours.

"yeah." he sighs.

There's an immeasurable guilt in his eyes, one that almost forces you to look away.

Almost.

Screaming from within, your mind urges you to draw your eyes back, but your body doesn't yield. It can't, rather. This was a bad decision to begin with- going to see your now ex-husband, when you yourself aren't certain where you stand. Do you still love him? Are you going to be okay without him? Will you be able to forgive him?

Despite being on shaky ground, you decided to come see him, and now, whatever resolve you've managed to build over the past week, comes crashing down.

One thing sticks out to you.

If there's anything that hurts more than a divorce, it's this- seeing the man you love turn into something unrecognizable, seeing him so struck with guilt and grief he barely seems alive.

As if connected by string, your eyes stay on each other's, neither one of you daring to look away. The pull of a strong magnet draws your bodies closer, and he whispers- "I miss you,".

With the gap between your lips closing soon, your eyes flutter shut, lips trembling ever-so-slightly with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Mingyu's breath fans over your face, the heat of his body burning softly against yours, and you lean closer, trying to close the gap between you and him, when all of a sudden, that warmth disappears.

Your eyes snap open, widening when you see that he's backed away.

"what ar-"

"we shouldn't-" he gulps, turning away as he steps back, putting safe distance between you and him. "it didn't uh, didn't end too well last time,"

Oh.

Right.

You hang your head, shoulders drooping- "you're right I shouldn't have forc-"

"no! no, I want to kiss you so bad, god I wanna kiss you- I just, let-let's talk first? before rushing into things, I just, y'know, I think we should talk. and- and I need you to be sure that this is what you want"

Your stomach flips hearing him speak.

'god I wanna kiss you'

"just kiss me, please" you whisper, holding back another wave of tears.

"I don't want you to leave again" Mingyu's brows scrunch together, a look of pain painting his features as he reminds you of what happened. Of how you made love only to part the next morning.

"I-"

"we c-"

You interrupt each other once again, growing tense as the air begins to weigh down on you both. There's a stale, heavy feeling clinging to everything, and it smells distinctly of the past.

"I can't lose you again," he says softly, eyes glossing over. "I won't be able to live with myself if I get to feel you again only to let you go in the end"

Here lies the last step, the final decision.

Mingyu's words mark the end of your dilemma- you have to choose now.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you shake your head, trying to stop the free fall of tears- "I'm so confused-"

"you're confused and I've hurt you and I wish I could change things but-" he winces, running his hands through his hair, "but I- no matter how I think about it, I love you. I love you and I've never stopped loving you. If you want to end things here, I understand, okay? I really do. After what I've done- I don't want to be forgiven I just- just please stop hurting"

He pauses, sniffling.

"and if moving on is what you need, if someone else can help you heal, I'll gladly let you go. so stop caring about me, okay? I'll- I'll be fine, I am fine, see?" he laughs through tears, clenching his fists, "just- I want you to be sure of whatever you decide."

"Mingyu..."

"I love you, okay? I really fucking love you and that's why I'll be alright. just show me that you'll be okay, that you'll find someone better-"

"there is no one better you idiot-" you sniffle, stepping towards him slowly, mind miraculously made up. "I'll find a good man, an honest man, a man who doesn't make me cry but I'll know for every second that I breathe, that he isn't you."

The air stills. The sound of cars and people and the city suddenly disappears as if in a vacuum.

Marching towards you, Mingyu closes the distance between you and him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you throw yours over his shoulder. His palms press down on your lower back, fingers splayed, and he burrows his head in the crook of your neck.

"I love you- I love you I love you I love you," he chants, lips pressed against your skin.

A hand slides up to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer still, and your grasp tightens around him.

It's like a scene straight out a movie- like perfect fiction with it's tear-stained confession and reconciliation- and you swear you hear music. The orchestral build, the grand crescendo that plays when two lovers are finally reunited at long last.

There's violins and cellos and harps and rhythm, and it all feels complete. It all feels right.

A tear wets the skin of your neck, and you pull back, gazing intently at Mingyu. He opens his mouth, taking in a sharp breath.

"I've missed you-"

"I missed you too,"

You reach up briefly, standing on your tip-toes, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, smiling sweetly with tears swelling in your eyes.

He clears his throat.

"what's next?"

You shrug, eyeing him mischievously.

"I've just gotten divorced", a humorous smile lights up your face, "don't I need to find myself a handsome young man now?"

Mingyu matches your grin, pecking your lips quickly before saying-

"how 'bout I take you on a date- say, Saturday, 8 o'clock- and we see where it goes?"

"mm, I'd like that very much"

[hongtonie]

9 years with SEVENTEEN ♡

[kyeomszone]

decode ○ lee dokyeom

synopsis. you wish there was a word that described what you felt for Lee Seokmin, but alas, all you had to settle for was hate. The man might be worshipped throughout the city for his work. You knew the cruel creature that lay beneath the surface, and one day, you would prove that to the world. Except, a wrench is thrown in your plans when old feeling resurface and you find yourself falling back into a habit you thought you'd left behind.

tags. exes to lovers. ex friends with benefits. unresolved sexual tension. unresolved romantic tension. angst.

series masterlist.

one. motive

there aren't a lot of things that can get the Lee Seokmin angry. He's seen a lot in his career as the district attorney, has lived through a lot but goddammit did you know how to get under his skin better and faster than anyone with the infuriating smirk of yours.

two. good graces

after sleeping with your ex (?), the last thing you wish to do is come across him. But fate has other plans, and you find yourself watching him with another woman, green tinting your vision as he smiles at her.

however, you take this opportunity to look deeper into the man he had become.

three. sharpest tool

there are a lot of things you don't want to admit about what you and seokmin have. sex is easy. it's easier than voicing all the things left unsaid. it's easier than facing your tumultuous past.

And running is easier, muffling your resentment with sex was easier until you find yourself losing him again.

four. how many things

at some point, everything boils over. making mistakes is human, but what you did, you're scared that this might be the end. And, you realise that you'd rather have parts of him than nothing at all.

five. i wish i hated you

the aftermath of it all

[turtleblogatlast]

Sometimes I think about how the turtles are just kids, y’know? Just kids and yet it’s up to them to save people, save New York, save the world.

It’s honestly really sad. They were created to be soldiers and while they chose to protect rather than destroy, they remain soldiers all the same.

[thefriendlyghvst]

distant // svt jeon wonwoo (pt. 2)

synopsis: after you come home drunk and angry late one night, wonwoo realises he has to change to keep loving you from this close.

(forced marriage trope, non-idol au, kinda(?) angst)

a/n: ask and you shall receive HAHAHAH due to popular demand here's the second part my sweets! i'm sorry it took a longgg while for me to write this, i've been pretty busy 😅 it's a bit long (i may have gotten carried away) but i hope you guys like it!! enjoy xx

for the friends that wished for a part 2 🫶

@ykh94 @feat-sun @yoonclip @zeervzn @laquarosere @septemberskies @celestarvs

—————

you tucked a lone strand of hair behind your ear as you hooked on the earring that matched your outfit, adjusting your dress as soon as you were done. you smoothed out whatever crinkles that were visible and inhaled deeply as you took a final look in the mirror.

it was the night of the dinner. the dress you were wearing was pretty, a v-line maxi dress that reached just below your knees with sleeves that puffed a little bit at the shoulders and cuffed at your wrists. you paired the navy blue dress with a silver belt and a matching silver watch and butterfly shaped earrings. wonwoo had bought the jewelry for you in secret, telling you they would look good with your favourite watch when he gifted it to you a few days ago.

"you look pretty," he complimented you as you stepped out of your room.

very, very pretty, he thought, but he kept it to himself. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he noticed the earrings and his heart swelled.

i knew it would look good, he thought to himself.

"i... uh, thank you," you managed a smile at him. "you look nice too,"

wonwoo smiled. he was wearing a button-up that matched the colour of your dress, donning his signature office look. his shirt was tucked into his black trousers, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. his hair was parted and styled neatly, his rectangular frames resting on the bridge of his nose making him look all the more appealing to anyone who had eyes. he looked really nice.

the both of you left the apartment and made your way to his car quietly. the dinner was being held by one of your closest friends, choi seungcheol, to celebrate his birthday.

wonwoo was nervous, to say the least. he was pacing around the living room just moments before you stepped out. the idea of a social event thrilled neither of you, but he was more worried about messing things up between the both of you.

the morning after your outburst, you had been the one to apologise first over breakfast. you told him you had a long week and shouldn't have taken it out on him, but it bothered him. why were you the one apologising when he was the one in the wrong? there was one thing wonwoo realised over and over: he didn't deserve you.

it bothered him so much his heart hurt for days. he didn't think he deserved you, but a selfish part of him wants you by his side. your marriage was forced, but over time it seems he found comfort in your smile and peace in your presence. so his selfishness is working to keep you as close to him as he can. he should have been better to you from the start, but at least (he hoped) it wasn't too late.

it's been almost two weeks since your confrontation, and every day since, he's been trying to make it up to you. you noticed, no matter how grand or subtle his gestures were.

it was awkward at first. you weren't used to being the centre of his attention. he was being more attentive and you weren't just strangers living in the same house anymore, so it felt weird. you were confused. you were finally getting along with him as you've wanted, but it was so odd you contemplated whether going back to the way things were was a better option.

you contemplated going back to the way things were to the time even before you met him.

you had touched on the topic of divorce that morning while the both of you were eating, but wonwoo stopped chewing and paled so ghostly white you thought he was going to fall sick, so you just cleared your throat and said it was about a friend. you never brought it up again. wonwoo still saw through your lie and it's been keeping him on edge. he was determined not to let you go.

you wanted to give in. he wasn't a man of many words, but he was trying. he was trying his absolute best and you wanted so badly to let yourself love him with everything you have to give. but you were scared.

what if he's just being nice? he's a good guy, it's how he is.

so many thoughts would cloud your mind and wonwoo would catch you zoning out often, sometimes even when you watched him. you've seen his kindness. he was a good hyung, son, and friend. he doesn't usually raise his voice and you were sure his heart was made of gold. his smiles were warm and sincere, and he was so beautiful and gentle with just about anything and anyone. there wasn't anything extravagant and special about the way he is with you now, he was just being himself and warming up to you more.

and it was so hard not to notice. he'd come home earlier on some days just to have dinner with you, or sit with you to watch TV while he worked. he'd crack jokes you'd think were funny, and even if you tried, you couldn't miss the fond smile that rested on his features as he let his soft gaze linger while you talked, or laughed, or did something.

it petrified you. the care and love you felt for him scared you to your wit's end. you didn't know what to do with yourself. if you let the walls you tried so hard to build crumble, whose fault would it be? wonwoo's for showing this side of him that you so desperately wanted to see? or yours for never learning your lesson?

"we're here," you heard him say.

you turned to face him, surprised to see him leaning his weight on his elbow that he had propped onto the storage compartment between your seats.

the light from the streetlamp outside illuminated his features so well he looked ethereal. heck, even the light in the car could have been the moonlight with the way he looked right now. 

his seatbelt was already off, which meant that you might have already reached your destination for a few minutes. you could have sworn you were at a stop light just a few seconds ago. so had he just been watching you?

wonwoo did park the car a few minutes ago. he turned to announce your arrival, but you were chewing on your bottom lip so deep in thought that he didn't want to interrupt. he settled for taking off his seatbelt and propping his elbow on the storage compartment, watching you with your eyebrows furrowed.

he wanted to know what you were thinking. he wanted to know how you felt. he worried if you were trying to find reasons to leave him, not that it would be difficult. he wanted to know if you thought about him. he wanted to know everything about you, beyond his observations.

please don't leave me, i love you. he thought.

i love you. he realised.

his heart ached. the only regret in his life right now is not realising how much you meant to him sooner.

he noticed you sigh subconsciously and decided to tell you that you were already at the venue. when you met his eyes, he smiled warmly. the kind that emphasised his smile lines as he flashed his perfect teeth and made his eyes small.

you returned the expression with a smile of your own, your heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. you wished so so much that your face wasn't burning up. that would be embarrassing. you haven't had the chance to admit it to him, but wonwoo's smile was your favourite thing in the world.

"shall we?" he asked and you nodded.

you inhaled. suddenly nervous, you fumbled a little with your seatbelt but managed to unbuckle it, moving to open the car door and get out.

"wait, let me do it," he said.

"it's okay, won. i can do it," you tried but he was already out of the vehicle and jogging to the other side.

you collected your birthday gift for seungcheol and your purse from your lap as he opened the car door. wonwoo's heart was beating in his ears as you thanked him with a small smile, stepping out of the vehicle and letting him lock it behind you.

you walked towards the event hall while he collected his own gift, deciding your heart couldn't take it if you turned around to wait for him. you couldn't watch as he tried so hard to win you over. it broke your heart.

but it was also because of your weak heart that you walked slowly, pretending to make sure everything was in your purse so that he could catch up to you quickly. it worked, and you felt his presence next to you shortly after. his height allowed his shadow to loom over you, blocking the light from the streetlamp.

you couldn't resist and looked at him. he had a look of concern washed over his features, wordlessly asking if anything was missing. you swallowed hard. he was closer than you thought, but you managed a reply and told him you were just double-checking and that you had everything. he nodded and the both of you walked quietly across the street.

"can i... uh- can i hold your hand?" he broke the silence, taking the risk after contemplating it in his head for what felt like hours.

wonwoo felt like he couldn't breathe when you didn't respond. you were taken aback and couldn't find the words at all. he was beginning to regret even asking, awkwardly adjusting his collar until he felt your hand clasp his.

he exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding and looked at you while he smiled in relief, but you weren't looking at him.

you refused to. if you did, your guarded walls would crumble. the effect he had on you was dangerous.

the both of you reached the venue where the dinner was being held still hand in hand, but you let go as soon as you saw seungcheol to wave at him. wonwoo gave his hyung a hug and wished him a happy birthday and you did the same when he came up to you. the two of you passed the older man his gifts and he beamed, inviting you further in the hall as he welcomed other guests that came after you.

wonwoo licked his lips nervously, wanting to take your hand in his again. but since you made no move to do it, he decided against it and kept his hand balled into a fist by his side. he didn't want to push his luck too far.

the both of you walked over to where some of your mutual friends and wonwoo's colleagues sat. you took a seat next to vernon and seungkwan, who have been your best friends since high school. wonwoo took a seat in between you and his best friend and business partner mingyu, who you smiled at politely while walking past him earlier to take your seat.

"do you need anything?" vernon asked from next to you while the waiters started serving food on all the guest tables.

"no, thank you. i got it," you smiled at him.

vernon nodded and passed you a glass of water that was handed to him by the waiter, which you thanked him again for. he mumbled a 'no problem' as he grabbed another two glasses for seungkwan and himself.

"kwannie, could you get me two sashimis there?" you pointed at the sushi buffet laid out in front of him in the middle of the table.

wonwoo bit the inside of his cheek as he watched seungkwan grab your plate to help you, wishing you asked him for help too. he was fond of seungkwan and vernon, he really was. he was glad that you could count on them, but wonwoo wanted you to rely on him too. especially since he knew you rarely asked for help if you could do it yourself.

the rest of the dinner flew by. you mostly spoke to vernon and seungkwan, and occasionally to seungcheol who came by every now and then to talk or check how things were going.

most of the dinner's guests left after seungcheol's closing birthday speech, and only about twelve of his closest friends, wonwoo included, stayed behind for some drinks and a short get-together.

it was well after midnight when you and wonwoo reached home. since wonwoo had a few drinks, you drove home and let him take a nap in the car. you appreciated the quiet ride, not willing to strike up a conversation. you preferred the silence mostly because you didn't know what to say.

what you also didn't know was that wonwoo only pretended to be asleep in the car. at the function today, he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach as he watched you interact and laugh with other people.

he wouldn't have minded. he would have actually loved it had you not been ignoring him for the most part. he wanted to brush it off as you haven't met your friends in a while due to your work, but you actively avoided eye contact and looked away quickly whenever you did meet his eyes. it made him think the worst case scenarios.

he wanted to share laughs with you too. the dinner was an opportunity he had been looking forward to, but he forgot that it was a social event after all. he couldn't help it. it felt like all his progress went down the drain.

so he pretended that he was asleep in the car and stood behind you when you unlocked the door to your shared apartment. you took him by surprise when you turned and grabbed his arm to guide him in, letting go only when you sat him on the sofa and went to pour him a glass of water.

you set the mug of water down and wished him goodnight. when you straightened up to leave, he quickly held on to your forearm. his grip wasn't too strong but it stopped you in your tracks anyway.

"why are you avoiding me?" he finally asked the burning question in his head.

"i'm not avoiding you," you denied.

it was a lie and even he knew it, but he relented when you gently peeled his fingers off of your arm.

"yes you are," his voice lowered as he stood. "why?"

"i don't know what you're talking about," you averted his gaze.

"you're doing it again," he stepped forward and you stepped back.

"i'm not doing anything," you tried to stand your ground, looking at him again.

"you're taking care of me one moment and then the next you're refusing to speak to me," he explained. "did i do anything wrong?"

his voice cracked and your heart wrenched painfully in your chest. he gently held your hands but you pulled away, apologising softly.

"no, no. i'm the one who's sorry," he retracted his hand and paused.

you shook your head. "you didn't do anything to be sorry for,"

"then why are you avoiding me?"

"wonwoo, please understand," you began, and his heart hurt that you called him by his full name. what happened to the nickname you gave him?

your throat was closing up and you were finding it more difficult to control the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

"what is there to understand?" he pried. "you're confusing me,"

"i can't spend a single second more with you," you admitted, the tears you tried so hard to hide streaming down your face.

his eyes widened and his heart leapt up to his throat. his head hurt. this was it. you were set on leaving him already, no matter what he did to try and keep you by his side. he desperately searched your expression, but all he saw were your tears. you were crying and it pained him. he hated himself for being the reason you were crying again.

"sweetheart, please don't cry," wonwoo reached forward, but you stepped back, wiping your tears and turning away from him.

a choked sob from him forced you to face him again. he sat back down, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as tears of his own started to wet his cheeks. he wiped his face quickly.

"whatever it is, i'm sorry," he cried. "but please don't leave. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry,"

"wonwoo, please," you begged.

your resolve was crumbling. you couldn't watch him fall apart like this. you kneeled in front of him when he buried his face in his hands. it could have been the drinks he had, but wonwoo found himself unable to control his emotions. you pried his hands away from his face and forced him to look at you.

"please let me go, hm?" you coaxed, but he shook his head, still crying.

"why can't you understand?" you rested your forehead against your fists that were holding his hands. "i can't spend another second with you or else-"

you froze. you almost let it slip and wished he wouldn't ask, but of course he heard it and had to know.

"or else what?"

"nothing," you got up quickly and turned your back to him.

"stop avoiding me, y/n. talk to me, please," he begged.

"or else what?" his voice cleared.

"or else i'll fall in love with you!" you confessed, facing him while you threw your hands up in frustration.

wonwoo was standing again, frozen in place at your admission. you sniffled and sighed, eyes burning into his.

"again," your voice lowered to barely a whisper. "and you won't love me. again,"

your words hung so thick in the air it suffocated you. both of you.

"i'm tired of this, won. if you don't want me, let me go. i can't keep loving you if-"

your sentence was cut short as he grabbed your hands and pulled you into his embrace, engulfing you in his arms and his large frame. this was the first time you were this close to him, and you could feel his heart hammering against the shell of your ear.

a fresh stream of tears escaped the corners of your eyes and you sobbed into his chest. if this was how he felt, why didn't he ever tell you? wonwoo didn't know what to do, so he tightened his embrace, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

when you regained yourself, he cupped your face in his hands as you pulled away and sniffled. he grinned at you, that heartache he called a smile tugging at your heartstrings. his cheeks were wet with his own tears, which you reached up to wipe. he chuckled and shook his head, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb and then his face with his sleeves.

"do you love me that much?" he asked quietly. "enough to love me a second time?"

you nodded, still unable to find the right words that expressed your thoughts. you didn't have to, though, because wonwoo understood. he studied your features for a little while, caressing your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear.

"may i?" he asked again, this time making you raise your eyebrows.

you hummed inquisitively and he leaned forward. oh.

you closed the gap between the both of you, your lips meeting his. the both of you held on to each other as if you were afraid the other would disappear if either of you let go. his hand cupped your cheek gently while the other rested on your waist, and your hands were in his hair and on his back. the both of you eventually broke the kiss and he nestled his face in the crook of your neck while you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"i love you too," he pecked your skin. "i'm sorry it took me so long to realise. please don't leave me,"

"wonwoo..."

"hmm?" he hummed against your neck, worried again when you didn't call him by his nickname.

"that tickles," you joked and a loud laugh reverberated from his chest.

i love you. enough to love you for more than just this lifetime. you thought as you let yourself giggle and tighten your arms around him.

—

masterlist // part 1

[carattaca]

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

“𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃 ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒷ℯ𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ𝓈 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉，𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ“

synopsis: joshua x reader

"Can I get an iced americano please?"

words: 791

themes: angst, fluff at the end idk

warnings: crying, mentions of break up

a/n: part 3 of my seventeen as wave to earth series. I hope you guys enjoy this, i kinda rushed, kinda didn't so I hope it turned out okay :)))

(I would also really recommend listening to love by wave to earth -linked in the title- while reading this)

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The past week had been something similar to hell. Constant reports that needed to be given in, your boss pestering you about paperwork, your very weird nice co-workers who you're sure you've never spoken more than five words to. And of course. Him.

As you walk down the street, the grey pavement starts turning darker in splotches, the water beginning to soak your clothes. Great. It just had to rain too. Could my life get any better? You think sarcastically.

Quickly rushing into your favourite cafe for shelter and mostly for your daily dose of caffeine, you feel immediate relief. The warmth wraps around you and even though your damp clothes stick to your skin the smell of rich coffee beans gives you comfort. 

“Can I get a caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso please?”

You smile at the barista pulling your card out to pay. After you finish you step to the side and wait for your drink. But that's when you hear it. The familiar voice ordering, jolting you out of the cosy atmosphere making you suddenly aware of the damp clothes that cling tightly to your body.

 A voice that makes your stomach sink and your heart skip a beat, memories flooding your mind.

“Can I get an iced americano please?” Joshua asks with that sweet voice of his and a small smile on his face. The voice that talked to you through your darkest days, the voice that carried some of your favourite memories.

You must have been shaken or rather debating whether to run or to just stand there like an idiot because you just now realise that the barista has been calling your name out for a good two minutes now. You rush over to collect your drink and profusely apologise to the barista for not hearing them. And it seems like you chose option one as you bolt over to the exit of the cafe but before you can escape a soft voice calls out from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You turn to meet his doe eyes, your heart beating as you do so. And there is something in them. Something melancholy and confusing… like regret.

At that moment you just need to get away. Away from the memories, the good and the bad, away from his presence, just  away. You find yourself back where you started on the pavement, the rain heavier this time, drenching your clothes and your hair. But honestly you didn't really notice or care because all that mattered was getting away from him. 

It's not like you and Joshua had a long, argumentative, one-sided break up. You could both agree that it was mutual and that it was for the best for both of you. Yet you never stopped loving him. And that hurt.

The rain starts to mix with your tears as you come to a stop. Why was everything so screwed up? You angrily wipe the tears off your face but no difference was made as the rain dripped down your hair to your face. But after a moment, the rain seems to stop falling and you feel someone next to you. You look up to see a black umbrella sheltering the both of you.

“Y/n? Is it really you?” he whispers.

And strangely enough the rest of the world feels silent. It feels like the busy city traffic and the bustling of civilians couldn't even interrupt this moment.

“Joshua? Why are you here?” you ask cautiously. The first words you have spoken to him in months.

“I just… had work here for a couple days” he mumbles this out as if dismissing it like it's unimportant to him. Like you are his only focus right now.

In a daze you nod and you feel your body turn to walk away as the sheer amount of emotions overwhelm you.

“Y/n, wait!” 

He grabs your arm and looks into your eyes again. gosh those eyes of his.

“Just let me ask you something before you walk away.” he pleads as if grasping onto the last string of a piece of thread.

“What joshua?” you ask softly, defeated.

“Just give me one more chance” he whispers, never once breaking eye contact.

“What?” You are just barely able to get the words out as they come out more like a sharp exhale.

He breathes in steadying himself for what he is about to ask you. And what he says makes your heart beat faster and your mind spiral. And you feel it. You feel the warmth spread through you, the nostalgia and hope coursing through your veins and the fluttering in your stomach as he utters the words you would never imagine to hear from him again.

 “Please give me one more chance to love you”

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[vcrnons]

VERNON // fishbowl & sea.

[miaoua3]

Aa you asked me to say it here, can you make a “husband svt reactions to their wives fighting with them” pls☺️☺️ tysm

hii! sure i can, sorry i made you wait for so long, it's been a few hectic days :((

Seventeen And How They Would React To You Two Fighting

scoups: he will try his best to remain calm and collected, but sometimes even he loses his self control and ends up yelling back at you, which results in a screaming match between you two. he isn’t yelling so much because he’s mad, but rather because he feels like you aren’t hearing him out and because he feels like the fight isn’t going anywhere. in the heat of the moment he might unintentionally say something very hurtful to you. but the moment he sees tears falling down your cheeks, he’s hugging you closely to his chest, so tight that you can only breathe in his smell. will probably tear up himself, all while apologising to you. in his deep voice you will hear him say in your ear “i’m so sorry baby, i didn’t mean it, i’m an idiot, don’t cry because of me, i’m not worth your tears, sweetheart”

jeonghan: i can see him either trying to calmly talk it out or getting so defensive that he becomes emotionally unavailable for that moment, scoffing and rolling his eyes at almost anything you say to him. it’s just frustrating how you both can see what he means and how you aren’t to just let it go, even after he went in detail explaining how he was right and you were wrong. will probably respond only with sarcasm, scoffing he will say “yeah you would know a thing or two about that wouldn’t you”. he doesn’t mean to turn that cruel, but the whole situation is just so frustrating to him that he doesn’t know what to do anymore, plus you putting the blame on him makes him become so defensive that naturally he starts responding with cruel and mean words. but the moment he sees your shoulders shaking, he’s abandoning both his pride and anger, and is instead running to you, your face immediately being developed in his big and warm hands. will mumble something like “didn’t mean to make you cry pretty girl, i’m sorry, i don’t even know what the fight is about anymore. forgive me?”

joshua: i honest to god can’t see this man getting so angry at you to the point that it would make you cry, he’s always so gentle with you and your heart i just can’t realistically see it happening. he would try to make his point come across, if a bit forcefully but it wouldn’t escalate (at least not from his side) beyond that. if he sees that the fight is leading nowhere, he would suggest taking a few minutes for yourselves, before making you both sit down on a couch and talking it out, speaking in turns. you would still end up crying but not because of him yelling at you, but because at some point his own eyes would well up with tears, making you realise just how stupid both of you are. the moment he sees you crying, he’s pulling you onto his lap, hugging you so tightly to his chest, his own tears hitting the skin of your neck where he’s hiding his face. eventually, you two would end up falling asleep like that, the fight forgiven and forgotten from both sides

jun: oh this sweet baby would actually be the one to end up crying please never raise your voice at him. the fight would start as normal as fights can be, but the moment he sees you losing it and you raising your voice at him, it’s done. he will try to respond in a trembling voice, his hands shaking next to his body out of fear. the fear wouldn’t be because he’s afraid of you, like that you would do something to him, because he knows you would never. no, his voice would shake out of fear that this is it for the two of you, that he has officially fucked it all up and that you will break up with him. he would stress himself out so much he will eventually just break down, soft cries escaping his plush lips. the moment you see it, you’re running to him, hugging him close to you and repeating your apology like a mantra. the most heartbreaking thing, the thing that will make you cry too, will be hearing his broken voice whisper “please don’t leave me” in your ear🥺 protect jun at all costs my baby i miss him sm

hoshi: oh fighting with this man would give me a headache, genuinely, i would just leave and/or apologise just to end it lmao. not only would he respond kind of rudely, scoffing at every remark he doesn’t agree with, he would also yell over you, trying to make his reasons be heard loud and clear. what he doesn’t realise is just how much this hurts you, how unheard and silenced you feel, with him just yelling and yelling. his words wouldn’t be necessarily cruel, but he might slip in some truth that cut deeper than he thinks it would. the moment that he sees you running to the bathroom, tears staining your cheeks, he would feel his mouth dry up. after giving you a few minutes, he would just sit in front of the bathroom door, softly apologising and asking if he can give you a hug. just hearing your soft cries echo off the tiled walls of the bathroom would break his heart so much, he himself would let a few tears slip out.

wonwoo: i genuinely can’t really tell how he would react in a fight with his significant other. he definitely doesn’t seem like the type to yell at you, not would he be a wild one like hoshi is. i think the most realistic scenario is him just repeating his point over and over again, slowly getting more and more frustrated, sighing and massaging his temples in an effort not to lose it. at one point he would be so fed up with it, he would either say “im not talking to you anymore”, ignoring everything you say after that and also you in general, just sitting down and either staring at something or being on his phone, or he would just get his keys and walk out while saying “i can’t do this anymore now, im going for a walk, we will talk more later”. the walk would give him the space to think about your fight again with a calm mind, he would end up understanding your points and what your thought process is. this would help him out so when he gets back, he would talk it out gently with you, holding your hands on his lap, softly brushing his thumbs against the back of your hand. after coming to a mutual agreement, he would hug you close to him, kissing your forehead softly as an apology

woozi: i think it would take jihoon genuinely a lot to get him truly pissed off, and if it gets to that point, expect his words to cut so deep, you two might never come back to the point you once were. he would try to be reasonable in the beginning, talking as calmly as he possibly can, trying really hard to make you see his point of you. but eventually, as you start losing it, so will he. he won’t ever raise his voice at you, there’s no need for something like that- especially because his words will be venomous enough that it will hurt much more than him raising his voice at you ever would. he would say such horrible things because it’s his defensive mechanism, he wouldn’t realise just how hurtful they truly are until he sees you running out of the house, crying so much, you don’t even think about taking your coat. he will stay behind for a minute, thinking about what he said before he’s running after you too. after the most stressful 20 minutes, when he finds you on a bench in a park, he will be getting on his knees to beg for your forgiveness, the rarity that are his tears would make their appearance. his voice would tremble while saying “you have no reason to but please forgive me. i can’t live without you, you are everything i have ever dreamed of and im taking it for granted. please forgive me so i can make up to you and treat you like you should be treated”

minghao: the most rational one out of all of them, so soft spoken and kind to you even during a stressful situation like a fight. he wouldn’t even get it to the point where you might completely lose it, the moment he sees that your anger is about to boil over, he takes your hands in his and puts one of your hands on his chest, where his heart is. while gently holding the eye contact, he would say “my love. i understand where you’re coming from, and although i don’t really agree with what you are saying, i understand where you are coming from. but i feel like this fight isn’t going anywhere. can we sit down and talk it out? find a middle ground that both of us can stand on? i just think otherwise we won’t stop fighting for a while-we need to agree on this one way or another.” 30 minutes later, the fight is over, the middle ground has been found, the tea has been brewed, and cuddles have been shared. i just can’t imagine him reacting any differently in this type of situation- the most extreme scenario would be him going to a room alone to calm down for a few minutes before coming back to you to make up.

mingyu: i feel like this one would try to play victim big time every time and it would personally piss me off lmao. he genuinely doesn’t understand how you think that this is his fault and why you’re still fighting him. like it genuinely baffles him that you aren’t seeing your own faults in this situation. would definitely scoff at every other sentence that lives your mouth, saying things like “oh so this is my fault too? so it’s everything that isn’t according to your standards my fault now? if im so bad, why are you even with me?” at some point you will start crying out of frustration for being with such a dumbass lmao. the moment he sees your tears however, every word dies before it gets the chance to leave his mouth. when you turn away from him, he will gently tug on the hem of your shirt before mumbling “im sorry. i wasn’t thinking clearly and was very rude to you by not responding to you properly.” after a few seconds he will shyly ask “can i hug you? please? im so exhausted because of this fight and… i miss you”. after a few millions of kisses all is well

dk: oh this baby, he would NEVER let the fight get so far as for you to end up crying because of him. you two will go back and forth for a while, but the moment he sees you getting annoyed, he’s rushing to you, your hands teleporting themselves into his, his gentle eyes looking at you while saying “my love please don’t get mad. im sorry, i didn’t mean to push you this far, please forgive me.” and just like that it would be over. this is of course in case that you two just misunderstood each other. if you did something very hurtful to him however, expect him to yell at you in the heat of a moment, before ignoring you for the next two to three days. he would avoid you at all cost, although you will still find your morning coffee ready for you and the dinner heated up for you, but he won’t talk to you, still mad at you for what you did. that is, until one night you corner him in the kitchen and hug him from behind, your soft voice breaking as you utter the words “im sorry”. the feeling of longing and hurt and anger will finally subdue enough for him to return your hug, saying “ im sorry too.” after a few second he would add “im still mad though. i want cuddles and kisses tomorrow, all day, the whole day, as an apology” because he wouldn’t be our seokminnie if he didn’t add something like that.

seungkwan: oh god may god help you if your fight with seungkwan ever turns very serious, it will be so loud and painful and illogical it will drive you mad. we all know that our diva is a bit sassy, but once the sassiness turns to annoyance and anger oh you will get it in the neck. at some point the initial cause for the fight would be forgotten by both of you, just throwing insults at each other, trying to hurt the other more than it hurts you. the fight would get so messy you would just walk out, slamming the door behind you. after an hour or two, you will be welcomed with seungkwan jumping off the couch, his eyes bloodshot, yet again yelling at you “where the hell have you been?!” before speed walking to you. the moment he’s within the arms reach, he’s pulling you to his chest, so tightly it feels like he’s tying you to himself. in a most broken whisper, he will shakily exhale ��i was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again…please…i thought- i-i thought that you left me…” cue more tears from the both of you

vernon: i know that a lot of people deem vernon to be clueless and stoic and somewhat emotionless, but i really don’t think that’s the case. vernon is one of the most mature ones out of all the other boys, he’s so emotionally intelligent and careful with his words. and he can definitely get angry if something rubs him the wrong way. although he wouldn’t yell at you, his frustration would be very visible due to the frown caressing his face and also with how animatedly he’s moving his hands. and because he’s a bit thick headed, i feel like he would repeat his points over and over again in an effort to make you understand what he means, even when they aren’t making any sense or aren’t really that relevant to the argument. eventually he will just walk into the other room to calm down, saying “i can’t do this anymore right now, we will talk later”. once he’s calmed down, he will go over both your pointe, finally hearing you out, but also making you understand what he meant more clearly. over all, arguments with vernon would never last that long because he wouldn’t let them last that long. once the movie is turned on and you are all cuddled up into his side, all so forgiven and forgotten

dino: see, dino is one of the only ones who i can’t really tell how he would act during an argument. while generally more on the quieter side, i can see him lashing out a bit once he has reached his limit, but i feel like he would immediately feel guilty about it and would apologise to you for saying it that way. he would probably feel a bit repressed, thinking you don’t care about what he thinks, which would make him yell out “you never hear out what i have to say! is that hard for you to just listen to what i say?” the further it escalates, the worse he’s going to feel, until eventually he inevitably starts crying. feeling a bit embarrassed, he will just walk out and lock himself in the bathroom for the next few hours. channie is so sensitive, that your words always get to him, making him overthink about everything-is he a bad boyfriend? does he even deserve to be with someone as amazing as you? were you maybe right, was he in the wrong after all? he would spiral so much that you will have to talk him into joining you outside to talk about the fight and to make up. cue more tears from him, he would feel so ashamed and embarrassed, he would be looking down at his lap the entire time until you put a finger under his chin and raise his face so you can kiss his cheek as an apology. after the apologies are said, he will need you to hug him for the next several hours, just holding him like a little child until he feels better about both the situation and himself.

[peachesyeo]

welcome to my seventeen masterlist

back to main page? 🎐fluff ; 💎 angst ; 🌀 mature ; ❄️ smut ; 🧊 crack ; 💧dark romance

»»— ot13 series 𓏲 ๋࣭ little fourteen 🎐🧊 welcome to my fourteenth member au!

𓏲 ๋࣭ happy ending 🎐💎🧊 when can they find their happy ending?

𓏲 ๋࣭ the maestro 🌀💧 the strange thirteen tenants of the maestro complex...

»»— oneshots/drabbles 𓏲 ๋࣭ the cherry club 🌀❄️ svt mingyu, bts jungkook, atz mingi, kard bm, dpr ian welcome to the cherry club, for my dearest @sousydive

𓏲 ๋࣭ lost fourteen 💎🌀 have you heard of the fourteenth member of SEVENTEEN?

i do not own the dividers nor pictures used in banner. all credit goes to their original owners. owner of animanted divider

[wonijinjin]

falling for u

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘falling for u’ by seventeen. this is the second part of my work ‘thinkin’ about you’. the first part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.6k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, a little bit of angst, close friends to lovers | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

joshua almost dozed off, but being the only one awake in the car with his thoughts gave him a reason to be on alert even though it was late in the evening. 15 minutes after parking the car he decided on waking you up so you could finally lay down in your bed, which would probably be more comfortable than a carseat. “wake up sleeping beauty, we are here.” he said, softly caressing your arm. you stirred and opened your eyes, trying to register where you were exactly. “huh? i fell asleep, didn’t i? i wasn’t gonna, you probably had a boring drive as i was not awake to entertain you with my fantastic jokes.” you giggled. “yeah, actually i let you sleep a bit more, you were knocked out bad for real.” he explained, opening the door to get you out. you managed to climb out of the vehicle and the two of you walked to your front door. you pulled out the keys and tried to open the door, failing miserably. “you know what? give me this, i will open it.” joshua said after a minute of you not being able to get the key in the hole. you laughed at this. “sorry shua.”

you got into the house, leaning on joshua as you felt dizzy from all the alcohol you had consumed through the night. “woah y/n be careful, i will have to carry you on my back or something if you continue to make this more difficult than it should be.” he lightly joked while manoeuvring your tired body towards the bedroom. “i wouldn’t mind that. my prince in shining armour coming to rescue me from the consequences of my poor decisions.” you chuckled, to which although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks grew bright red. “okay let’s just get going, you need to sleep, you are drunk.” he said in a hushed tone. while you changed into your pajamas he went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of water and a painkiller on your nightstand to take in the morning, because you would probably need them to soothe the hungover symptoms. “are you okay in there?” he asked, standing in front of the bathroom door. “of course silly, i am so perfectly okay, more than okay.” you shouted as the door burst open and you left the room. “well i can see that you still have energy, but too bad for you, i don’t, so come on, to bed you go.”

he tucked you into bed and was ready to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. “what? you know i know this place like the back of my hand, if you are worried that i won’t find my way out you don’t have to be-“ “joshua shut up, i know you can get out by yourself.” you slurred while looking up at him. he raised his brows at this. “then what do you want?” you grinned. “i want a goodnight kiss.” he froze at your words, eyes wide. “y/n you are not acting like yourself, you are saying nonsense right now.” he whispered in the dark, the moonlight from outside shining on his face, confusion all over it. “and what if i mean it?” you replied “what if when i say i love you i mean that too shua?” you mumbled to yourself, voice barely audible. you thought he didn’t even hear it, little did you know he did hear the last sentence too. his lips formed into a thin line “you don’t mean it y/n. i should really go, i will lock the door when i get outside, i have a spare key anyways.” he said, turning on his heels to walk to the door. “please shua.” you pleaded for the last time. he didn’t say a word, just stepped next to your bed, and crouched down beside it. “close your eyes and hurry to dreamland y/n. please.” you did as he told you, already regretting your request, even though you knew he thought you said this because you were still very drunk. you were embarrassed for sure, not wanting to look him in the eye ever again.

while you were lost in thought he hovered over your head, slowly bending down and giving a tender, soft kiss on your forehead. you gasped in surprise. when you felt his lips on your skin you didn’t want the moment to pass as quickly as it did, him standing up after a few seconds, leaving in a rush. “goodnight y/n, sleep well.” he whispered from the doorway.

the next morning when you woke up you found the medicine and the water joshua left for you and the events of the previous night flashed in your head, however you didn’t remember what happened after you fell asleep on the way home. you sat up in panic, and checked your phone. you saw a missed call from joshua with a text message saying you two needed to talk. you were scared to answer the text so you left him on seen thinking you could reply later, but as you were to get up your phone rang again, it was joshua of course. with shaking hands you picked it up. “i saw you saw my text. we need to talk y/n.” he sounded serious. you gulped. “about what? i am so sorry about last night i shouldn’t have drank that much at the club.” he sighed on the other end of the line. “you don’t need to apologise, but we need to discuss something, in person.” you were freaking out at this point, you didn’t say anything hurtful to him, did you? “did i say something that hurt you? i really hope not, gosh i cannot even remember how i got into bed and-“ “y/n, stop. i will be at your place in a few, okay?” you couldn’t say no to him because he hung up, so you just hoped it wasn’t something really serious that happened last night.

few minutes after the call your doorbell rang, which upon opening revealed a tired joshua; you could see bags under his eyes like he didn’t get a wink of sleep at night, hair messy, breathing heavy like he just ran the marathon.

“did you mean it?” he asked immediately as you opened the door fully. “meant what? shua come inside let’s talk there-“ “no y/n. i need to know. were you being serious? that you think about me a lot? that you love me? do you mean what you said, or were you just too drunk last night?” you stood there in shock, still in your pajamas, with messed up hair, looking like a zombie, not even fully awake to be ready to process this. your mouth went dry, already regretting everything you did and apparently said last night. “why? would you not want to be friends with me if you knew i loved you like a best friend shouldn’t? would it change how you view me? would you be disgusted by the fact that your best friend fell for you?” you questioned, tears welling up in your eyes. you were not ready to let him go, to let him avoid you because he knows about your feelings, but looks like it was already too late to back down. “yes, i meant it. every word. i love you joshua hong.” your cheeks were now wet, you didn’t realise that you were crying. you shut the door before he could answer, not wanting him to see you in this state, an emotional mess. “y/n open the door.” “i don’t want to hear it. now you know my secret, just go away. i know i messed up shua, i know. i shouldn’t have fallen for you, my best friend who clearly wouldn’t ever return these feelings.” there was a moment of silence, only your sobs could be heard. “who said i don’t return them?” you stopped crying for a moment. “look shua i don’t need your pity-“ “open the fucking door y/n. right now.” he said in a soft but still firm tone, and you did. he caught your form in his arms, cupping your cheeks. “you are such an idiot. i have loved you for so long y/n. you don’t know how many nights i spent thinking about you, everytime i see you i am falling for you even deeper. when you said you loved me before i left i couldn’t believe my ears. i have been so sure of the fact that you are not looking at me in the way i look at you that i thought it was just you being drunk. i love you y/n.” he held your hand. “i needed to make sure you were serious. to make sure you were mine and i wouldn’t have to let you go when you sobered up in the morning.” he whispered, looking into your eyes.

you had no words to say, you couldn’t form sentences correctly. so you let acts speak for you; you leaned in and kissed his lips. he kissed back, pulling you closer into him. it was a soft and quick kiss, but to you it had everything. all the love you had been holding for each other, you could sense it.

“y/n, will you let me take care of you the way you take care of me without even realizing it? will you be mine?” he asked when you managed to catch your breath, to which you replied with a peck on his lips, smiling when breaking apart. “is that a good enough answer for you, gentle sexy?”

[prettygirl-gabi]

I'll be home soon

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Hiii every thank you for reading this mini series I hope you all enjoyed. I wanted to do something for Jeonghan going to the military I wasn’t going to do so, but I felt it in ny heart that it needed to be done. Our sweet, beautiful angel 😇 will be waw front us for two years but it's for a good reason (he doesn't go to jail).... he's serving his country and we will continue to love and wait on him because he and the members deserve to be loved and waited on... as each member go on their journey it'll only be a short while before we are truly whole again!

"It will be okay... Like the hands on a clock, it will find its place again after going in circles."- Seventeen's Circles

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Rating:General Audiences

Warning: Fluff, sadnesss through and through, happy ending

Category:F/M¹³

Fandom:Seventeen (SVT) (boyband)

Relationships: !idol S.coups x f reader, !idol Jeonghan x f reader, !idol Joshua x f reader, !idol Jun x f reader,!idol Hoshi x f reader, !idol wonwoo x f reader, !idol woozi x f reader, !idol dk x f reader, !idol The8 x f reader, !idol Mingyu x f reader, !idol Seungkwan x f reader, !idol Vernon x f reader, !idol Dino x f reader.

Summary: Seventeen doesn't want to say goodbye, you dont wanna say goodbye. None of us do but it's Jeonghan's time for his mandatory enlistment.

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Hey everyone! Welcome to the 2nd bouns installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I wake up to the feeling of warmth pressed against my back. The soft hum of breathing fills the air as I shift slightly under the covers. I know without opening my eyes that it’s Mingyu. His arms are wrapped securely around me, and even though he’s fast asleep, there’s a quiet reassurance in his hold. It's like he's trying to tell me that everything will be okay, even though nothing feels okay right now.

I glance at the clock. 6:15 AM. Jeonghan leaves in forty-five minutes.

The lump in my throat swells as I turn to look at the other side of the bed. Jeonghan’s not there. The space where he usually sleeps is empty, the sheets cold. A small sigh escapes my lips as I quietly slip out from Mingyu’s hold, careful not to wake him. I make my way out of the bedroom, the sound of my feet padding softly against the floor.

The living room light is on.

There, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, is Jeonghan. His hair falls over his face, hiding the tiredness in his eyes that I know is there. He’s been dreading this day for months. Hell, *we’ve* been dreading it. Every time the topic of his military enlistment came up, the atmosphere between us would shift, turning from light-hearted conversations to heavy silence.

"Hey," I whisper, not wanting to startle him. He lifts his head and gives me a small, tired smile.

"Couldn’t sleep," he mutters, his voice hoarse. I walk over to him, sitting down next to him on the couch. The space between us feels suffocating, like it holds every unsaid word, every unspoken fear.

"Me neither," I admit, reaching for his hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing just a little too tightly, as if he's afraid to let go.

“I don’t want to leave you all.” His voice cracks, and the raw vulnerability in it makes my heart ache. He’s always been the one who held us together, the one who teased us, made us laugh, and softened the edges when things got hard. But now, the cracks in his armor are showing, and I don’t know how to fix them.

"I know," I whisper. "I don’t want you to leave either."

He lets out a bitter chuckle. "It's not fair, is it? Just when everything is perfect…"

Perfect. It feels like such an impossible word right now. I think about the nights spent curled up in bed with all of them—Seungcheol’s steady presence, Joshua’s gentle kisses, Wonwoo’s quiet affection, and the rest of them who made my heart feel so full it might burst. And now, Jeonghan, a crucial part of us, is leaving.

I feel the tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. I have to be strong for him. For all of us.

“You’ll come back,” I say, trying to sound reassuring, though the words feel hollow. “And we’ll all be here, waiting for you. You're our home and we're yours.”

Jeonghan leans his head against mine, his breath warm on my skin. “Two years is a long time.”

“I know.”

A long silence stretches between us, the weight of the next two years heavy in the air. We’ve talked about this before, about how we’ll all stay connected, writing letters, video calls whenever he can. But it won’t be the same. The empty space in our bed, the missing voice during movie nights, the absent laughter during game nights—it’ll be felt every single day.

“I’ll miss you,” I whisper, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay composed.

Jeonghan turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. “I’ll miss you too. All of you. More than you can imagine.”

Before I can respond, I hear footsteps behind us. Mingyu, followed by Seungcheol and Joshua, walk into the living room. They must have woken up when I left. Mingyu looks at us with a tired, pained expression, his eyes red from lack of sleep. He sits down on the other side of Jeonghan, wrapping an arm around him in silence.

“I hate this,” Mingyu murmurs, his voice barely audible. Seungcheol sits down on the floor in front of Jeonghan, looking up at him with a steady, reassuring gaze.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Seungcheol says, his deep voice full of conviction. “We’ll get through this together. Just like always.”

Jeonghan lets out a soft laugh, though it’s more of a breath. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Joshua says softly, taking Jeonghan’s other hand. “But we’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

We sit there together for what feels like hours, even though it’s only minutes. No one says much, but the weight of everything unsaid hangs heavily in the room. I try to memorize every part of this moment—the warmth of their bodies close to mine, the sound of their breathing, the way Jeonghan’s hand feels in mine, strong yet fragile.

And then, too soon, it’s time.

Seungcheol helps Jeonghan to his feet, and Mingyu grabs the small bag he’s packed. The silence is deafening as we walk him to the door. Jeonghan turns to face us one last time, his eyes scanning over each of us as if he’s trying to take us all in, to remember us just as we are.

“I’ll come back,” he says, his voice strong but laced with emotion. “I promise.”

Mingyu lets out a quiet sob, and I can feel my own tears finally spill over. Jeonghan steps forward, pulling us all into one last hug. The embrace is warm, tight, and filled with a desperation none of us are willing to admit.

“I love you,” he whispers, and it feels like the words are being carved into my heart. “I love you all.”

“I love you too,” I manage to choke out, and the others follow with their own murmurs of affection.

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

---

The next two years are hard. Some days are better than others. There are moments where I can almost forget the hole Jeonghan’s absence left behind. But then there are nights where I wake up, reaching for him, only to remember that he’s not here.

We keep in touch as much as we can. Letters, video calls when his schedule allows. But it’s not the same. It never will be.

But we get through it. Seungcheol, Joshua, Mingyu, the others—they make it bearable. We lean on each other, finding comfort in the small moments, in the knowledge that we’re all in this together.

And then, one day, the wait is over.

It’s a quiet afternoon when the front door opens, and there he is—Jeonghan, standing in the doorway, looking exactly the same and yet somehow different. My heart stops for a moment, and then I’m running toward him, throwing myself into his arms.

He laughs, the sound warm and familiar, and suddenly, everything is okay again. The others join us, and soon we’re all piled on top of each other, a tangle of limbs and laughter and tears.

“I told you I’d come back,” Jeonghan says, his voice full of warmth and relief.

“Yeah,” I say, burying my face in his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily against mine. “You did.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people I love, I know that everything is going to be okay.

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‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀