Pairing : Boyfriend!seventeen X Gn!reader

pairing : boyfriend!seventeen x gn!reader

genre : fluffff !!!

warnings : mention of food

synopsis : how they show love around people

an : felt so ispired today that I writed sm 😭

〔masterlist〕

S.COUPS 』

I think he would be always clingy even around the boys

he is not ashamed to show love at all, just a little bit laied back

and, we know seventeen, they would tease their leader so much about his

he would pout, while wrapping your waist with his arms and leaning his chin into the crack of your neck

never speaking to the boys until they stop with their teasing

eventually, he would scold them still with pouting lips

he clinges beside you when it's crowdy, always staying on the front so he can lead you and you are safe

JEONGHAN 』

this man is SHAMELESS (loved this serie btw)

don't even think he will hide his actions, he will most probably display them

maybe he would even do it on propuse, just to see you all frustrated

the boys don't even try to tease him, Jeonghan would roast them ×13 so

the type to kiss you on the lips, your forehead or play with your hair

eventually he has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, leaning closer to you so he can smell your scent

JOSHUA 』

a true gentleman, so he wouldn't do nothing if you are not the type of skinship in public

but, if you are he is still so gentle about it

when you two accidentally do eyes contact, he would smile and pinch your cheeks because you are too cute for him

but he is much cuter

he is feeding you for sure, but he is so casual about it that it makes you a hundred times more confortable

observe you from afar doing nothing, he just likes to admire you

JUN 』

he is shyyy

he likes to move your hair on the side so your neck and cheek is exposed to him

he is looking at you like he want to shower you with love but he is blocked for some reasons

you look at him with a smirk when you feel his eyes on you

you'll do nothing, you want him to be bolder

when he finally find the courage he would place a quick and warm kiss on your jaw

he is blushing after this tho

HOSHI 』

soo clingy

he just looks at you and it's over, you're too cute in his eyes

scares you by suddently hugging you from the side and shaking you in his arms

or he would lower at your height squeezing your cheeks togheter

pecking your lips is a must

he would laugh a little embarassed after, especially if someone point it out

but he can't help it, he needs to do it

WONWOO 』

reserved about it but not that much

he would fix you hair even if they are pefect just to have a claim

he need to touch you but at the same time not dispaying it, leave him alone

holding your hand or squeezing your thigh under the table every single time

if you wear glasses, he is cleaning it for you

this is his love lenguage

WOOZI 』

he is really reserved about his relationship

pda isn't really a thing for him in private, so imagine in public

maybe he is putting his hand on your lower back

mostly for letting you walk, but if he is in the mood the would just do it because he wants to feel him

whispering things in your ear and thats when he slightly touches your shoulder or you arm

DOKYEOM 』

man is WHIPPED fo you, so don't even try to ask him to not touch you in public

he phiscally cannot touch you when you are near him

calling you pet names is a must

his voice goes so sweet and honey when he talks to you

his eyes and big smile tells everything that needs to be said

when he feels extra clingy, he goes so far as to kiss you on the lips

BLUSHING SO HARD AFTER that he hides his face on your neck

MINGYU 』

man is so goofy

even himself is confused about what he is doing

when he thinks he is going to hug you, he change his mind mid way and now he want to coup your face

thats only make him hit your face with his elbow

he laughs at your face holding the place where he hitted you

for excusing he kiss your forehead or near your eye

feel like he is the type to lay his head on your shoulder and listen silently your conversation

MINGHAO 』

it may seems the contrary but he is reserved about his relationship

he search for your hand, just for intertwine your pinkys

yk, they are smaller, they get less attention lol

he checks on you COSTANTLY

he almost look like a mother for how he worries for you

words are deffo his way to show love and get unnoticed at the same time

he adjustes your dress or lace your shoes or even the heels

SEUNGKWAN 』

he is stressed because he would shower you with love every second but at the same time he is awkward

he makes sure that everyone is listening when youre talking

and if someone interrupts, he is giving them a big side eye

becomes almost like the evil when someone disrespect you and would stand for you like his life depends on it

small touches are the cherry on top

maybe when youre talking he move your hair out of your face

or hold your purse for you

VERNON 』

vernon is weird (in a good way)

he doesn't even realize he should do something to show love lol

the love is inside of him and he tells you when there are just the two of you

unconsciously orders food for you because he knows you too well

or buy things for you at the vending machines even if you didn't ask because when he thinks about whay you like frist

feel like he would intertwine his arm with yours even if it's unexpected.

or take the Seunkwan habit and touch your ears every now and then

DINO 』

not shy to admit his love in public

he have 12 hyungs that will probably make fun of him? yes. He cares? absolutely not

he touches you every chance he get

if he passes you something, It is MANDATORY to let your hands touch

he gets so into you that he literally gets stuck, he can't leave his eyes from you

gets so involved in your side profile, an hand supporting his head and love escaping from his eyes

someone always gotta call him back to the real world

fuck your ex

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

tw/cw. Protected sex, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, hand job, dry humping, grinding, foreplay, threesome, bathroom sex, using a shower head as a vibrator, multiple sex scenes, multiple reader orgasms, slight cum kink, Cheol cum’s on reader’s chest, size kink, dirty talk, praise, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.3k 

🍭 aus. Non idol au, cop au, poly au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know cops are a touchy subject, but I've had this idea for months, and I figured it's fan fiction so hopefully it's just a fun au :)

Prologue

You’re so busy blasting nostalgic break-up music that you’re not paying attention to how fast you’re driving down the speedway. The loud Kelly Clarkson song drowns out your sorrows, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of the siren when a Police car lights up behind you.

“Fuck!” you scream, immediately turning down your stereo and pulling over onto the shoulder of the road.

Your heart is racing in your chest- being pulled over isn’t something you’re used to, and you fumble to roll your window down while two cops exit their vehicle and approach.

You wipe at your eyes, which are tearing up again, and you reach for your purse to pull out your license.

The man standing next to your window leans down to look at you, and you try to flash him a smile. His expression is cold, blank even. “Do you know how fast you were going?” he asks.

Now, your heart sinks. It’s such a direct question, and for some reason it makes you snap. You can feel tears begin to roll down your cheeks, your skin heating in embarrassment at having been caught doing something wrong.

“Officer- I’m so sorry, I don’t know how fast I was going- I just broke up with my stupid ex-boyfriend, and I was listening to some breakup music to distract myself from how I’m feeling, and I wasn’t paying attention-”

The second cop pulls up to your window, and the two of them exchange a glance while you cry and blab your reasoning behind doing something wrong.

“Are you headed home?” the second officer, whose nametag reads ‘KIM’, asks. 

“Yeah, I just went to get a bottle of wine, and now I’m going home to drink and watch movies and cry myself to sleep,” you admit, voice shaky.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?”

“No, sir.” 

The first officer, ‘CHOI’, sighs, and you see him scan the surrounding freeway. “We’re going to let you off with a warning,” he says finally. “It’s late, there’s hardly anyone driving right now- you were doing the wrong thing by speeding, but it sounds like your day is already pretty shit as it is.”

“Really?” You blink up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “No ticket?”

“No ticket,” Choi confirms. “But don’t get caught doing this sort of thing again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good luck with your wine and your movies,” Kim nods, and with that, the two officers go back to their vehicle.

You wait patiently, watching them in your rear-view mirror as they pull out and drive past you. Only then do you release a deep breath.

One

“Oops!” You let out a squeak as you turn from the bartop and nearly run straight into someone. Your drink sloshes over the edge of your glass, coating your fingers in fruity liquid.

“My bad,” the tall man immediately apologizes, steadying you with a hand on your hip.

Your eyes meet, and your heart leaps into your throat. It’s not common to see men who are this attractive out and at bars-

“Wait, have we met before?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I’d remember if we had,” you retort quickly.

The man cocks his head to the side, and after a moment of studying you, his face lights up. “Wait, I remember! You’re that chick we caught speeding two or three months back! The one who’d just had a breakup!” 

Your eyes widen as the memory washes over you. As you look up at this tall man, you realize he’s right. You hadn’t recognized him at first, without his officer hat and uniform he looks much more boyish.

“I’m Mingyu,” the large man says, holding out a hand. Without a second thought, you shake it,  which is when you remember your skin is still sticky from your spilled drink. 

“Shit, sorry-” you apologize. 

Mingyu only laughs. “You’re still a bit of a hot mess, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you agree with a sigh.

“Are you here with people?” he asks next, looking around. 

“Waiting on some friends.”

“Want to come join me and Cheol for a bit while you wait?”

“I really couldn’t-” you try to side step the question, but Mingyu insists, and soon, you find yourself seated at a table with the two sexy cops who had let you off with a warning three months ago. 

“This is the chick who was speeding, the Kelly Clarkson break-up one,” Mingyu introduces you to his buddy, and you watch recognition blossom over his face. 

“Y/N,” you correct, swallowing thickly. “My name is Y/N.”

“Seungcheol,” the stoic cop says, introducing himself. “How’ve you been?”

“Better than that night,” you admit, feeling a little off that they’re so interested in you.

“You’d be surprised how often we pull over girls for speeding after rough breakups,” Mingyu tells you, easing your anxiety a bit. “It must have been a pretty shitty split to have been driving the way you were.”

“It was bad,” you admit with a frown. “In fact… I still don’t think I’m fully over it.”

You’re not sure what’s come over you, what’s bewitched you to the point where you’re divulging your personal secrets to two strangers, and cops no less-

“Fuck your ex,” Seungcheol grunts, taking a sip of his beer.

Mingyu nods. “Fuck your ex.”

You swallow thickly, lifting your drink. “Fuck my ex.” 

You wish your voice sounded more confident, but Mingyu flashes you a smile regardless, clinking his beer to your cocktail. 

Your shoulders relax a little as you sip on your drink, and Mingyu begins asking you very surface-level questions. It’s clear he’s doing his best to make you feel welcome while you wait for your friends, who arrive after about fifteen minutes of chat.

“Well, my girls are here,” you announce.

“Shame, we were enjoying your company,” Seungcheol muses, and his words make your skin heat. He’s quiet, or at least, not as much of a talker as Mingyu is- 

“Hey listen,” Mingyu distracts you, pulling out a pen and paper, where he begins to scribble a few numbers, “you know what they say, the best cure to get over someone is to get under someone else. If you ever need one of us, or both, shoot us a text or something.”

You’re in complete shock as he hands you the slip of paper, wherein two phone numbers and names are written. 

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, looking between the men, “is this kind of behavior allowed from cops?”

Mingyu flashes you a wink. “We’re off duty.” 

Two

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, opening the door to your apartment, allowing Mingyu inside.

He only chuckles, pulling you into a hug. You let out a breath, relaxing against his chest. Once you feel a little more settled he releases you, pinching your cheek gently, in a shockingly affectionate way. “You’re getting over your ex,” Mingyu says softly. “Everyone needs to take that step sometime, I’m just glad you reached out to me instead of some tinder dick head.”

“Yeah, cuz a cop is so much better than some online random,” you roll your eyes.

“I’m definitely better than some online random,” he agrees. 

“This isn’t very cop like of you,” you point out, watching Mingyu remove his jacket.

“I’m not just my profession,” Mingyu says smoothly. “I’m a hot blooded male, and you’re a cute girl who needs some rescuing.”

You cock a brow, amused. “Rescuing?” 

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re going to rescue me with what? Your cock?” You’re giggling already, and Mingyu joins in.

“Cuddles don’t hurt either,” Mingyu muses, pulling you to his chest. “If we get to your bedroom and you decide you just want someone to be with, I’m not going to pressure you. I know I said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but, skin to skin contact - even if it’s not sexual - can be an amazing way to get over an ex too.”

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, going on your tiptoes to press your lips to Mingyu’s. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your cheek with one large hand. It’s a gentle kiss, the kind of kiss that tells you you’re safe, and you realize how right Mingyu is- maybe you just needed a companion, someone to distract you from how lonely single nights can be.

Even so, the two of you make your way to your bedroom, and you find yourself shockingly shy as you invite Mingyu into your bed.

You’re in comfy clothes, but Mingyu isn’t, and he toys with the hem of his shirt as you get under your covers. “Should I take this off?” he asks.

“Whatever you want,” you agree, watching him carefully.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explains.

“It won’t,” you tell him, in fact, you’re curious as to what he looks like under his shirt.

A minute later, you’re rewarded by getting a full view of Mingyu’s beautiful body. He’s all muscle, but it’s not the kind of muscle you gain just in a gym. No, Mingyu has a work hardened physique, what some might identify as practical muscle, and it’s clear he doesn’t skimp on food either. He’s perfectly built, you decide, as he gets into bed next to you, immediately pulling you to his broad chest.

You release a deep breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding.

A large hand strokes along your back, and Mingyu gives you space to just be quiet and enjoy his presence. 

Finally, though, you get to the point where you can’t contain yourself any longer. You look up at him, and Mingyu mirrors the motion. It’s like he can already read you, and you wonder if that’s due to him having a lot of experience with girls, or psychological cue reading as a cop. Either way, he leans down to kiss you, and you melt into it, letting out a pleased groan.

Mingyu returns the sound with one of his own, his tongue gliding across your lip. You open up for him, shifting so you’re half on his chest while the kiss deepens. Mingyu’s hands find your waist, and he pulls you fully on top of him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips.

It’s been so long since you kissed someone, but your body easily picks up the natural instinct again. Mingyu is just so sexy- in no time at all, you’re wriggling on top of him, eager for stimulus against your already aching core. 

You find yourself completely relaxed, but completely on edge at the same time. It’s an odd contrast. Mingyu makes you feel comfortable, without fear, and yet- he also sets you on fire in the best of ways. Each touch is like electric shivers across your body, and you can’t help the way you’re moaning from just a bit of kissing and dry humping.

“Wait,” Mingyu’s voice makes you stop, and you pull away, looking down at him with confusion. “I think- before we fuck or anything, I think you should let me eat you out. I bet you’re tired of toys and fingers, and I want tonight to be about making you feel good.”

He’s literally prince charming. Like- how did you ever find this sexy giver. 

You swallow thickly. “We can do that.”

Mingyu kisses you again, and then he rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You love the way his hands skim across your body, teasing across your waist and ribcage. 

“Can I take your clothes off?” he asks.

“Maybe… uh… maybe just my pants for now?” You’re not sure why you want to leave your shirt on, but that’s the boundary you’re comfortable with right now, and Mingyu doesn’t question it. He presses another kiss to your lips before sliding down you form, hooking his fingers in your sweatpants to drag them down your body.

The large man adjusts between your legs, peppering your newly exposed skin in soft kisses.

Your core is throbbing in your panties, and you bite your lip when his breath fans across your pussy.

“These off next?” he asks, looking up at you.

“Yeah.” The word comes out a whisper, your body tight with suspense.

Mingyu pulls your panties down slowly, and the cool air of the room on your exposed core  makes you twitch.

Large hands smooth up your calves and thighs, and Mingyu’s eyes meet yours as he closes the distance to your pussy. You hold your breath, waiting-

The first lick of your clit makes your toes curl, and you moan deeply, earning a smile from the man who’s clearly intent on devouring you.

“I kind of like being told what to do,” Mingyu explains, kissing your inner thigh. “So if you have anything you want me to do, just say something.”

“I will,” you promise, shifting your hips to get your core closer to his face again.

Mingyu takes the motion as a direction in and of itself, and he immediately puts his mouth back on you, but this time, it’s not a kitten lick. There’s no hesitation now, it’s clear you want this, and Mingyu dives in, pressing his tongue into your core.

You groan, thighs already shaking at how good it feels.

Your hands reach down, tangling in his soft hair, and Mingyu releases a moan of his own. The vibration from it goes straight to your clit, and you whimper. 

“You’re good at this,” you tell him, doing your best to be verbal, as it’s pretty clear Mingyu’s a verbal sex kind of guy.

He rewards your words by sucking his lips around your clit, flicking at it with his tongue.

“Can you…” you shift slightly, “your fingers-”

Mingyu adjusts, focusing on your clit with his mouth while a finger strokes between your pussy lips. He eases it into your wet core slowly, being gentle with you while ravaging your sensitive bud.

Your eyes close at the feeling, your head thrown back against your pillows. “That’s good-” you tell him, groaning when he slips a second digit into your pussy.

You can feel him smile against your clit, working his fingers up toward your gspot with each calculated thrust.

You’re supposed to be using Mingyu to get over your ex, but you can’t help the way you compare them- how had you ever thought sex with your ex was good? He’d never eaten you out like this- never prioritized your pleasure- fuck, you haven’t even had sex with Mingyu yet, and you’re already convinced it’s going to be mind blowing.

Releasing a breath, you focus on Mingyu, focus on the feeling building deep in your core. 

One thrust has Mingyu’s fingers hitting the exact right spot, and you let out a squeal of delight. “Right there- fuck- right there!”

Mingyu does as he’s told, repeatedly hitting the spot that draws you closer to your orgasm with record speed. His mouth on your clit is also pure pleasure, and before you even know it, you’re releasing a groan. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- don’t stop, please-”

Your words break off as your high slams into you, moans of ecstasy escaping as your body surges with pleasure. Your pussy is pulsing deliciously around Mingyu’s fingers and he works you through your orgasm like an absolute champ. He’s unrelenting, fully focused on drawing out your pleasure until you’re practically shaking.

Mingyu pulls away, and you let out a shaky gasp, opening your eyes to look down at the gorgeous man. His expression is one of pure lust, and you watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his palm. 

“You taste like peaches, baby,” he tells you, straightening onto his knees at the foot of your bed.

You don’t say anything, you only motion for Mingyu to come closer, and you grab the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He moans into the kiss, and you writhe beneath him, hooking your leg over his hip.

Mingyu begins to grind down against you, and you can feel how hard he is in his jeans. You love that eating you out had that kind of effect on him, and you find yourself reaching down to cup his cock.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, pressing his forehead against yours. “Are we going to do this? You can still back out-”

“We’re doing this,” you confirm.

“Okay, give me a sec.” Mingyu pulls away from you and you whimper at the loss. “Wanna take your shirt off now, while I take off my pants?”

“Yeah,” you agree, immediately working on the remainder of your clothing.

You’re naked in seconds, and you watch Mingyu step out of his jeans next to the bed. He’s produced a condom from his pants, and you watch with bated breath while he rolls it onto one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen in person- in fact, it might be the biggest cock, and your core throbs at the mere thought of it. 

“I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,” you find yourself saying softly, toying with the fact of unprotected sex.

“Me too,” Mingyu breathes. “But, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Leave it to the cop to be safe, you guess that’s a good thing, but part of you sinks at the idea of not being filled with his cum.

Mingyu gets on top of you again, kissing you deeply. 

Your legs wrap tight around his body, and with pressure, you prompt him to grind down against your core again.

The feeling of his cock gliding between your soaked pussy lips is amazing- and you do your best to ignore the sensation of the condom. 

He kisses you for a long time, until you’re aching for him from the grinding, and finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Please,” you whimper, looking up at him. “I need you.”

“Anything you want, baby,” he says, pressing his lips to yours again while he adjusts ever so slightly, pushing his hand between your bodies so he can grab the base of his cock and line it up with your core.

He starts by rubbing it between your pussy lips, lubricating himself before pushing just the tip inside of you.

You moan against his mouth, shocked at the stretch. It’s clear from Mingyu’s gentle, controlled motions, that he’s used to giving grace for his size, and he slowly works you open more and more, sinking inch after inch of himself into your core.

His kisses are a wonderful distraction, and you focus on relaxing, allowing your body to open up for the large cock. 

When his front is flush to your own, his cock completely buried inside of you, you both release groans of pleasure.

The kiss breaks, and you pant against each others lips, opening your eyes to look at each other.

“You good?” he asks.

“Good,” you nod. “You can move.”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, and after a moment, he begins to fuck you. 

Each thrust is euphoria, his cock dragging against your inner walls deliciously. Mingyu begins to kiss you again, and you grab at his strong shoulders, clutching him desperately while he fucks you into your mattress. 

“You’re so tight,” Mingyu groans, lips moving to your neck. He licks at your sweet spot, and you shiver, wrapping your legs around him even tighter.

“You’re just so big-” you counter.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits with a chuckle.

You don’t mind that you’re in missionary, don’t mind that he fucks you stupid this way- it’s a very intimate position, and once again, the thought of your ex pops back into your mind. 

You realize, as the two of you get closer and closer to your highs, that maybe you weren’t ready for this- you don’t regret it, but you’re clearly not over your ex in the way you’d wished you would be at this point.

Maybe Mingyu’s just too soft, too gentle, too domestic- 

It’s not his fault, he’s being sweet to you, but maybe sweet isn’t what you needed, not really. It just makes you miss being in a relationship.

The two of you cum together, and you hate that you’re still distracted. You wish you could give all your focus to Mingyu, after all, it’s clear he’s completely zoned in on you, but it is what it is.

If nothing else, he’d distracted you for a little, given you perhaps the best dick and pussy eating of your life- and as the two of you cuddle up to fall asleep, it’s a small blessing at least that you’re not sleeping alone.

Three

You’re at a bar waiting for your takeout when you run into the most unlikely person.

Seungcheol is dressed in work out clothes, a loose shirt, sweatpants, and a baseball cap, but he still looks downright lickable. His strong shoulders- the handsome face only partially hidden by his cap- he’s so recougnizable, and it’s clear he knows who you are too, because he walks over.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you retort, playing with the straw of your cocktail. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either,” he admits with a laugh, and you’re delighted at how his smile lights up his face. “You waiting on food?”

“Yeah, just a dinner order, figured I’d get one drink while waiting.”

He nods. “I’m waiting for food too. Just came from the gym, didn’t feel like cooking.”

“I get that,” you agree, looking down at your drink.

“You eating alone tonight?” he asks. “We could always just ask the kitchen to switch our orders, you know, get a table, eat here.”

“Are you asking me to have dinner with you?” you grin.

“If you’re up for that sort of thing,” he shrugs.

“You know what?” You let out a sigh. “Let’s do it.”

Seungcheol grins, and after talking with the bartender, you find him leading you over to a booth, having sorted everything out.

He’s got a beer now, and you’re enthralled with the way he looks while taking a sip.

He’s just so masculine- you’re extremely attracted to Seungcheol. He’d been kind of scary while dressed in work attire, but this gym outfit is much more your style. 

“So,” he starts, releasing a breath. “Heard you saw Mingyu last week.”

Your skin heats with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah.”

“Don’t be shy,” Seungcheol grins, reaching across the table to nudge your hand. “I don’t judge. He’s my best friend, and we talk, so of course he mentioned it.”

“And now… you’re having dinner with me,” you point out. 

Seungcheol shrugs. “Mingyu’s not the jealous type.”

“Are you?”

Seungcheol leans back against the booth, cocking his head to the side. He grins, and it’s one of the sexiest expressions you’ve ever seen. “I can be,” he admits. “It depends on the situation.”

You swallow thickly, reaching for your drink, in need of some sort of reprieve for the way your throat has gotten dry. “Do you and Mingyu do this a lot?” you find yourself asking.

“Do what a lot?”

“Go after the same girl?” you clarify.

Seungcheol takes a moment, and you can tell he’s deep in thought about how to approach this line of questioning. “It’s happened once before,” he admits. “Definitely not a regular thing.”

“Tell me about last time,” you suggest, interested in the story now.

“Not much to say,” Seungcheol shrugs. “He and I have been friends forever. In university there was this one girl, she wanted us both so we figured it would be interesting.”

“Was it? Interesting?”

Seungcheol flashes you a dark look, the kind of look that says ‘are you serious?’

“It was fun,” he says finally. “But, the conditions have to be perfect for sharing to work.”

You’re about to ask for more details, but your waitress comes over with your food, so you put your questions on the back burner.

Seungcheol had ordered a salad with four extra chicken breasts, and you stare at him in shock for a while.

“What?” he asks, taking a bite.

“I’ve just never seen someone order greens and four orders of chicken,” you admit.

“It’s good for you,” Seungcheol insists. “Protein.”

You look down at your rice bowl, letting out a sigh. 

“Bet you’re wishing you’d got what I got,” Seungcheol teases. 

“Never,” you laugh.

“Anyways, I bet you’re wondering about the conditions that make threesomes work,” Seungcheol sighs, returning to the topic at hand.

“I’ll admit, I’m curious. When you and Mingyu gave me your numbers, you did say I could have both of you if I wanted.”

“You still can, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you wanted to stick it with Mingyu. It wouldn’t offend me. He’s better with girls than I am.” You love how direct Seungcheol is about this, and it shows a good sense of self for him to be able to admit he’s not as much of a lady killer as his friend.

“Why do you think he’s better with girls?” you inquire.

“Most girls like that whole puppy dog thing. He’s a giver, and I respect that.”

“And you’re not a giver?” you toy, cocking a brow.

“More of a taker really,” Seungcheol admits, flashing you a grin. “If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the booth. “That might be just what I need right now.”

Four

Seungcheol’s mouth is hot on yours before you’re even inside your apartment. He’s all teeth and tongue and grabby, greedy hands. But there’s something so exciting about him as he pushes your front door closed with his foot, wrapping you up in his strong arms and lifting you off the floor, prompting your legs around his hips.

There’s no talking, no assuring you that you don’t have to fuck-

You know you’re both here to fuck each other’s brains out, and it makes things simple as he carries you to your room.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take you to your bed. “Where’s your shower?” he asks, breaking the kiss to look around.

“Through there,” you point to the door to your ensuite, and Seungcheol follows your directions. Once in the bathroom, he sets you on the sink, and you flash him a questioning look.

“I showered at the gym, but still,” Seungcheol says, tearing his shirt off from the back of the neck. “I feel like shower sex is a good way to go about this.”

“I don’t usually like shower sex,” you point out.

“Well, you will with me, baby, trust me on that.” Seungcheol slips out of his sweatpants and briefs, his cock rising to attention. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you off the sink.

His lips are feverish on your own, and he undresses you as quickly as he’d undressed himself. His hands grope your breasts, and he leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth while you thread your fingers through his hair.

“Now turn the shower on,” he commands.

You step toward the shower, following through- and you feel Seungcheol’s hulking, built body behind your own. His chest presses to your back, and his hands begin to explore your form while the water heats.

You tilt your head to give him access to your throat while one hand massages your breast, and the other slips down to your core, teasing through your pussy lips.

“Wet already,” he muses with a grin. “Mingyu said you’re a sensitive one.”

A tingle of sinful delight rushes through you.

You wonder how many details Mingyu shared- you wonder if Seungcheol’s been eager to get a taste of you for himself.

The water begins to steam, and with a nudge, Seungcheol prompts you inside. He joins you quickly, pinning you to the wall while his lips devour your own.

He breaks the kiss a short time later, looking up at your detachable shower head, then a grin spreads across his face. “Guess I can be a giver today, but don’t tell anyone,” he teases, taking the shower head off.

You’re not even shocked when he brings it between your thighs, wet pressure surging up against your clit while you squeal in shock.

Seungcheol bends down, capturing your nipple between his lips again.

“Fuck, this feels good-” you groan, gasping and grinding down against the shower head.

“I’ll let you cum first, because when it’s my turn, it’s my turn,” he warns. 

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, enjoying the way his mouth returns to your breasts.

He’s so rough, but it feels so good as the pressure from the shower continues on your clit. The dual feeling of his lips around your nipple, and the pressure on your sensitive bud has you getting close to the edge shockingly fast.

Seungcheol - like Mingyu - seems able to read you, and he adjusts, bringing a hand between your thighs. Two fingers slip into your wet core, and he focuses on applying the water to your clit while he begins to finger fuck you.

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wall, trying to stay standing while he works you closer and closer-

“Want to see you cum,” he says. “Want to see you come undone on this fucking shower head and my fingers before I take what’s mine.”

Your stomach flip flops at the possessive tone, your breath coming out in a shocked gasp.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?” Seungcheol asks. “Tonight, you’re mine. Don’t want you thinking about Mingyu, or that stupid fucking ex of yours. It’s just you and me, and if I see you drifting, I’ll bring you right back here, with me, got it?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Such a good girl for me, grinding against my hand-” he groans. “I can see how close you are.” He leans forward, his lips ghosting past your ear. “I’ll admit though, I’m not a very patient man.”

Your skin tingles at his words, and you find yourself reaching for his cock, using the water as lubrication as you begin to stroke him off.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol says, voice low. “I be good to you, you be good to me, that’s the way this should be, don’t you think?”

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing your eyes as your abdominal muscles tense, warning you of your oncoming orgasm.

“Squeezing me so good, come on, baby, cum on my fingers.”

Seungcheol’s hand works even harder, digits stroking your sweet spot- and that’s all you need to be thrown over the edge.

You let out a strangled gasp, your orgasm slamming into you.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol groans, pressing his forehead against yours while he works you through your high. “Keep cumming for me, baby.”

You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to- your entire body is Seungcheol’s to control, and he prolongs your orgasm until you’re a shaking mess. 

You can hardly stand, but that doesn’t matter, Seungcheol puts the shower head back and simply picks you up. “I don’t have a condom on me,” he explains, sinking you onto his cock and releasing a hissing sound of pleasure, “so I’m just going to have to pull out and paint your chest.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, drawing his lips to your own as he begins to fuck you against the wall of your shower.

His fingers dig into your thighs, and he uses you to his own pleasure, fucking you like a mad man. He’s so strong- and you feel like some weightless doll in his grip. His lips are hot against your own, and his moans are some of the sexiest sounds you’ve ever heard.

There aren’t any thoughts in your head as he uses you in an animalistic, almost primal way, and you love every second of it, your sensitive pussy clenching tight around his aching cock.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groans. “You’re pussy’s too good, gonna cum.” He pulls out of you abruptly, and you sink to your knees on your shower floor, looking up at him. “That’s a good girl,” he tells you, wrapping his hand around his cock and beginning to roughly stroke it. “Push those pretty tits up for me.”

You do as you’re told, watching Seungcheol- the way his bicep and abdominal muscles flex with each strained stroke of his rock hard cock.

He’s a fucking vision, and you don’t mind him using the sight of you to his own end- in fact, when he releases a strangled groan, throwing his head back as his hot seed shoots out across your tits, you kind of realize you love this. 

His large thighs flex, his entire muscular body alive as his orgasm washes over him.

He works himself through it, and finally stops, hand falling to his side while the other reaches out to press to the wall. He looks down at you, offering you that sexy smile. “Good girl.”

Five

You’d given it a week of thought, and now here you are, looking at both Mingyu and Seungcheol as they stand in your kitchen.

“Are you sure you want this?” Mingyu asks, ever the softie of the two.

“She wants this,” Seungcheol confirms, looking you up and down. “She’s probably wanted this since the moment you said she could have us both.”

“It’s a big step,” Mingyu points out.

“It’s the ultimate distraction,” Seungcheol counters.

You let out a sigh, opening your robe to reveal the lingerie underneath. “Let’s do this.”

Seungcheol moves first, stepping forward and grabbing you by the back of the neck, drawing your lips to his. You kiss him desperately, cognizant of Mingyu watching. It feels amazing to have the attention of two gorgeous men, and you feel downright elated as Seungcheol lifts you off the ground and begins to carry you to your room.

You watch Mingyu over Seungcheol’s shoulder, and he follows closely.

“How do you want to do this?” the taller one asks as you make it to your bed, where Seungcheol tosses you down.

“No condoms,” you respond.

Both men laugh, exchanging glances. “Baby wants to be full, huh?” Seungcheol asks.

“So full,” you agree.

“I think we can deal with that,” Mingyu grins. “Any other requests?”

You swallow thickly. “Whatever you want.”

Mingyu and Seungcheol look at each other again, and the taller one shrugs. “I’ll go first,” Seungcheol decides. 

“Sounds good to me,” Mingyu agrees.

The two nod at each other, and then they both begin to strip. They get down to their boxers quickly, and Seungcheol joins you on the bed first, making you face him on your knees as he captures your lips with his own. His hands are everywhere, massaging and groping-

A second set of hands joins the first as the bed dips, signaling Mingyu’s arrival behind you. His soft lips find your throat, and you moan at the sensation of two sets of mouths on you.

Their touch is everywhere now, but it’s clearly Seungcheol who pulls your panties down, rubbing your wet pussy while Mingyu works on your bra. 

“So wet for us,” Seungcheol groans. “She’s been wanting this for ages, Gyu- haven’t you, baby?”

“For too long,” you agree with a whimper, looking up at him.

Now it’s Mingyu’s turn to moan a sound of appreciation, and he pushes your bra off your body, hands immediately cupping your breasts. His fingers pinch at your nipples and you moan desperately, pushing your ass back against him-

Fuck, Mingyu’s already hard, his cock straining against your butt-

Seungcheol captures your attention again, kissing you as his fingers push into your core, crooking up to hit your sweet spot. 

You’re so wet- with each stroke, you can hear your juices on Seungcheol’s fingers, and it sets your entire body on fire.

It feels like nothing else you’ve ever experienced to be captured between these two gorgeous men- there are absolutely zero thoughts in your head, you’re so overtaken by this wordless need-

“Fuck this,” Seungcheol says. “I’m not huge on foreplay, need to fuck you.”

Mingyu snickers behind you, it’s clear which of the two men is better at patience, and you suppose that’s why the taller of the two men gets to go second. You can’t imagine making Seungcheol wait his turn, but that’s part of what’s so endearing about him.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Seungcheol sighs. “I’ll fuck you doggy, Mingyu can be under you, and as soon as I’m done, he can get his turn, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you admit.

Seungcheol leans close, his lips ghosting over your own when he says, “Then be a good girl and get into position for me.”

All three of you stip the last bit of clothing from your bodies, and you’re quick to get on top of Mingyu. He immediately kisses you, cupping your cheek as you grind down against his cock- you’re trying to be patient for Seungcheol, but patience, it would seem, is a strong suit that neither of you have. 

“If you put his cock inside of you, I’m going to prep your ass,” Seungcheol warns, and you pause your writhing on top of Mingyu. “That’s what I thought.”

Two hands roughly grip your hips, and Seungcheol pulls you up, off of Mingyu. A cock glides between your pussy lips, and Seungcheol smooths his palm along your back. “Be good for us,” he warns before slipping into your wet core.

You let out a moan, resting your head against Mingyu’s chest while he strokes you, holding you close. He nuzzles at the crown of your head, a gentle contrast to the man who begins fucking into you.

You’re kind of obsessed with the duality- the dichotomy of the two men is enough to keep you satisfied and on edge, enraptured with the act of making love in this way. 

It’s clear already that you’re kind of in love with threesomes- there’s just something about this, or maybe- there’s just something about Mingyu and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol’s hands are rough on your hips, pulling you back to every thrust, and you finally relax enough to be able to kiss Mingyu again. His lips are desperate against your own, and his cock presses up between your bodies- you can’t help but grab at it, stroking him off in time with Seungcheol’s thrusts.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, rutting up to meet you.

“You’re being too nice on him,” Seungcheol muses, and you can hear his smile.

Neither you nor Mingyu respond, too busy kissing to care.

It’s clear, after a few seconds, that Seungcheol doesn’t enjoy being ignored, because one of his hands snakes around your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Shit-” you whimper, breaking your kiss as pleasure surges through you.

“Knew that would get your attention,” Seungcheol says smugly, rubbing you even harder.

“You gonna cum for us?” Mingyu asks, lips attaching to your neck, one hand groping your breast while you continue to stroke him off.

“Yeah, I’m close-” you gasp, pussy tensing, clenching tight around Seungcheol, who groans deeply at the feeling.

You feel so perfectly taken care of, two men working your body closer and closer to the edge until your orgasm takes over. You release a strangled whimper, body surging with white hot energy that pulses through you like an electric shock.

Seungcheol lets out his own sound of pleasure, and his thrusts falter ever so slightly- then he goes as hard as he’s ever gone before. Each rut is skin on skin as his hips hit your ass, and you can tell from his rough panting that he’s just about to tip over the edge too-

He cums with a deep groan, and the sound makes your pussy flutter even harder as ropes of cum coat your insides, filling you perfectly.

You’re fucked practically stupid, reduced to animal instinct as you stay captured between two large bodies. All you can do is stay on shaking thighs, crouched over Mingyu, as Seungcheol finishes up and pulls out of you with a “Fuck.”

 “My turn?” Mingyu asks, stroking your cheek to get your attention.

“Yeah, fuck- fill me up even more,” you whimper.

“You got it, baby,” Mingyu grins, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he reaches between your bodies, grabbing his cock to line it up with your pussy. He helps you down onto him, and you moan.

You’re still tight from your orgasm, but it’s substantially easier to take Mingyu after having just enjoyed Seungcheol’s girth- and the cum inside of you helps with the lubrication. You’re fully seated on Mingyu’s cock not a moment later, and you both moan from the sensation.

His lips attack your own, and you thread your fingers through his hair as he begins to thrust up into you.

You’re too weak to ride him, but from the way Mingyu bucks with the energy of a stallion, you doubt he cares.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans against your mouth. “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good too,” you tell him, words shaky as they escape you.

“She’s cock drunk already,” Seungcheol muses, and you hear him heading to the bathroom to clean up while Mingyu has his way with you.

“Are you cock drunk, baby?” Mingyu asks, pausing to look up at you with lust filled eyes.

“So good,” you whimper.

Mingyu grins. “Definitely cock drunk.” He cups your cheek, drawing your lips back to his own. He rolls you over so you’re now on your back, and then he sits up onto his knees. “Can you get onto your side for me, gonna push your leg up to your chest and fuck you like that.”

You do as you’re told, shifting into the position. Mingyu grabs your thigh, anchoring himself as he begins to rail into you. He has more maneuverability in this position than when you’d been on top, and he hits as deep as anyone has ever hit before, making you whimper and claw at the sheets. 

“You look so good like this,” Mingyu tells you. “Being so good for us.”

“Mingyu-” you whimper.

“I know, I’m close too,” he promises.

Each thrust is hitting a spot that has your toes curling, and you’re quickly working your way to another high, pussy still sensitive from Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, digging his fingers into your thigh as he holds you open for himself. “Can’t cum till you do- fuck, wanna feel you squeezing my cock-”

“Gonna fill me up,” you whimper.

“Gonna fill you to the fucking brim, baby,” Mingyu agrees.

You close your eyes, so overwhelmed by pleasure-

“Let me fill you, come on, cum with me baby,” Mingyu urges, and that’s all it takes for you to explode on his cock.

He releases a grunt, fingers gripping you tight as he falls over the edge with you, fucking you roughly through your dual highs. You love how you can just relax as pleasure like you’ve never felt before surges through you- both men take care of you in their own ways, and this is what heaven must feel like.

But all good things must come to an end, and slowly, Mingyu’s motions begin to falter. He collapses half on top of you, breathing heavily as his lips eagerly seek yours out.

“Well aren’t you two cute,” Seungcheol’s voice makes you both laugh, pulling away from each other.

“Is that jealousy in your tone, Seungcheol?” you tease.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t work if you’re planning to do threesomes with the same three people more than once.”

“Oh, are we doing this again?” you ask.

Seungcheol grins. “Baby, what do you think?”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Gyucheol is low key one of my most favourite pairings

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “Bet you’re happy with yourself,” Seungcheol muses, bringing his hot mouth to your throat. “Making him cum untouched like that.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, pussy eating, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, slight cum kink, slight exhibitionistic foreplay, inklings of roleplay, groping, size kink, cumming early and in his pants, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

You’re standing at the bartop waiting for your drink when hands grab at your hips. You’re pulled back to a broad chest, and lips press to your throat, prompting you to tilt your head and grin. “Cheol,” you breathe, “what are you doing?”

“Keeping track of my prisoner,” he muses, grabbing at the orange jumper you’re wearing. “Can’t let my dirty little prison escapee out of my sight.”

It had been his idea to dress as cops and a prisoner for Halloween- and you think there must be some sort of rule against Seungcheol and Mingyu wearing their actual uniforms as costumes on a night like this- but fuck, they look so good in their navy blue.

You know you look good too, the orange jumper isn’t revealing per se, but it’s tight in the right places, and Seungcheol is feral for you regardless of what you’re wearing… or not wearing. 

☀️to read the full 2.5k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

@xcynthiaaa

Thanks to those who interacted with the teaser :)

@sourkimchi - @icedearlgreytea - @binnyluvcoups

@ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken - @gyuguys -

@nejiiiiiiii - @okiedokrie-main - @clownprincehoeshi

@gyuminusone - @ne0mile - @drinkingrumandcocacola

---

— big boy ! | k.mg

⋆ pairings; mingyu x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut ⋆ w.c; 1.2k+ ⋆ warnings; dom! reader, sub! mingyu, jealousy, slight toxicity from both of them, possessiveness, oral (f. receiving), reader is mentioned to be smaller than mingyu, size kink, reverse size kink, mingyu is a slut ⋆ a/n; yes, and is this reverse (?) size kink. no clue lol

now, this goes two ways...

either him getting so turned on by the size difference. his cock twitching in need when he sees how deep his huge cock would be buried in your cunt. and, him casually using his strength to pick you up and continue rutting his hips into you. or,

mingyu's breath hitches with each step you take towards him, and he swallows thickly, having been cornered. he looks down at you, getting lost in your lust-swollen eyes.

his cock twitches inside his pants when you press your body against his. you’re comparatively smaller than him, but you have so much fucking power over him. so much that he forgets this is a company party, and he could probably get fired if someone caught you both in the restroom like this.

“had fun? hmm?” you poke your cheek with your tongue, progressively getting annoyed as he continues to stay silent.

“of course, you did. I mean all those girls were practically throwing themselves at you. liked the attention?”

you can only adjust for so long. and, you couldn't care less if someone would label you as toxic. ever since he stepped in, his so-called coworkers had been flirting with and touching him. you were right there beside him. if it's this bad with you around, how bad is it without you?

your blood boils, and your dress feels too tight, rendering you breathless. your patience runs thin with every passing second. but to mingyu, this whole situation is hot.

who knew you were this possessive? and that fucking dress hugging your body isn't doing him any good. his back presses against the cold tile of the basin, and you place your hands on either side of his body, looking up at him.

he could easily overpower you, pin you to the wall, and have his way with you. but he can't even move his fingers for the life of him, and there's a voice inside his head, screaming at him to submit to you.

and he does. you pull him down by grabbing his collars and trace his jaw with your nose. the faint flowery perfume you don't use taints his scent, and your nose scrunches up in distaste.

“tch,”

you roughly pull yourself away from him. mingyu whines at the loss of contact, his hands itching to grab your waist. but you stop him by pinning his hands together at the front.

a pout forms on his pretty lips, and he stares at you with wide “innocent” eyes. if you lacked some self-control, you would've roughly kissed him and fucked him for everyone else to hear.

pressing a small kiss to his lips, you roughly grab his hard cock. his hip bucks into your hand, dick twitching beneath the layer of clothes. whines echo in the restroom, but you shoot him a warning glare, and he promptly shuts up.

after a few gropes and squeezes, you remove your hand, satisfied with how riled up he is now. he doesn't move but simply whimpers and whines. again, he knows he can overpower you. but there's a difference between knowing and wanting. mingyu wants you to ruin him.

“ugh, i want to fuck you so bad.” he whimpers, pulling you flush against him. with a roll to your eyes, you pull away from him and sit on the sink tile.

mingyu doesn't need to be told twice when you spread your legs, inviting him. he kneels on the floor and bunches up your skirt to your waist. his hands rest on the side of your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

a curse falls from his lips, observing the wet patch on your panty. you sigh and relax as he kisses your cunt through the cotton material. carding your finger through his hair, you tug on it, promptly receiving a groan from him.

he removes the cloth, and you shiver as the cold air licks your sensitive skin. he pockets the panty and quickly nestles himself between your legs again.

he leans forward, wrapping your clit between his soft lips. he sucks on the bundle of nerves, tongue flicking at the bud softly. then, he lays his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up your arousal. he hums, savoring the taste of you in his mouth.

you try your best to control all the filthy noises you want to let out. just the sound of mingyu's mouth on your cunt is enough to drive you insane and breathless. wet noises fill the restroom, along with your muffled moans and sighs.

he slurps and sucks on your hole, tongue prodding inside now and then. his soft lips molds with your pussy, and his hair tickles your inner thigh. he whines against your cunt, whispering praises in between.

you close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. his nose brushing against your clit sends shivers down your spine, and you struggle to contain your moans. your hips buck up into his face, and you lock your legs around his face.

he doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen. he slurps and sucks on your hole like a starved man. you can imagine his boner pressing against the fabric of his boxers and slacks. his twitching cock, leaking with precum, is painfully restricted, but mingyu doesn't do anything about it. he neglects himself to please you.

and he doesn't even mind being denied orgasms. as much as you'd like to ruin him tonight, you won't. payback for flirting with all those girls right in front of you. (you know he intended to make you jealous… and well, two can play the game.)

you gasp for breath as the warmth pools in your stomach. mingyu senses the shift in your breathing and laps his tongue on your cunt faster. an unbridled moan escapes your lips as he pushes you off your edge.

you cum on his tongue, still holding his head in place with your thighs. your legs tremble as you loosen your lock around him. he pulls back, gasping for breath and looking dazed.

you think he looks prettier like this, kneeling between your thighs with sweat glistening on his face and lips coated with your arousal. a little out of breath and his eyes practically begging you to fuck him.

but you won't.

your breathing turns even after a few minutes, and you slip off the sink. mingyu follows you and stands up from the floor. you fix your dress and makeup while mingyu watches, dumbfoundedly.

his cock presses painfully against his slacks. you're tempted to take him into your mouth, but you resist it. you don't even offer him a glance as you refix your makeup.

mingyu doesn't protest. he stands with a painful erection, watching you get dolled up again. he doesn't try to touch himself and get you to touch him. he waits. though his eyes scream a different story, he contains himself.

you cast him a smile when you're done, and he mirrors it. he leans down, slotting his lips against yours, and whispers a praise. he melts into the kiss. into you. though he's the taller, bigger one, you never fail to make him feel so small. not in a bad way. in a good way. in this way, mingyu isn't afraid to be himself with you.

yes, even as you are actively denying him any sort of pleasure.

you strut away from him, towards the party. and he follows suit, happily (and with a painful boner). he trembles with excitement, knowing what's about to unfold when you both reach home.

---

Arrangement Crossed | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: arrange engagement au

Summary: Mingyu started to enjoy the arrangement between him and you. What should he do?

Why do birds suddenly appear everytime that you near? Just like me i long to be close to you. - Close To You by Carpenters

Mingyu sprinted from his car, heart pounding, as he rushed toward the scene. One of the doctors at the hospital had mentioned that a fire had broken out in a Gangnam district building—your building. His breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Paramedics and firefighters swarmed the area, the flames now subdued, but the remnants of the fire still smoked in the air. A police officer stopped him from moving closer.

"My fiancée lives there," Mingyu gasped, his voice tight with anxiety.

Just as the officer held him back, he spotted you in the distance. You were casually walking, still in your pajamas, holding a half-eaten ice cream cone. Mingyu's eyes widened, watching as your expression changed the moment you took in the sight of your charred apartment building.

"My apartment!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration as Mingyu hurried over to you.

Mingyu quickly examined you, scanning for any signs of injury. A wave of relief washed over him when he realized you had been safely outside while the fire ravaged your home. His tense shoulders relaxed for the first time since hearing the news.

"Where were you?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you seemed so unfazed by the chaos around you.

You blinked, a bit dazed by everything. "I was out for a meal..."

Mingyu glanced at his watch—half and an hour left before his surgery. "I'm glad you're alright. I’ll drive you to my place for now. I’ve got surgery in an hour."

The procedure went smoothly, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he sat in his office afterward. All he wanted was to go home and collapse into bed. But he hesitated, remembering that you were now at his apartment. The two of you had never really shared a space before, and the thought made him uneasy. After all, this wasn’t a typical engagement.

A year ago, your families had arranged for you two to be engaged. It was strictly business—a merger of two powerful legacies. Your family owned the hospital where Mingyu worked, while his family operated a successful medical and paramedical equipment company. It made sense for the families to align themselves, and though the proposal had taken him by surprise, Mingyu agreed to the engagement. What really caught him off guard was that you agreed too.

From what Mingyu knew, you ran a small homemade Korean restaurant near Seoul University. It wasn’t a huge enterprise, but it had a loyal customer base thanks to its affordable prices and excellent food. When news of the engagement broke, everyone speculated that your family needed Mingyu to step in and continue running the hospital, especially since you showed no interest in taking it over yourself. Mingyu knew he benefited a lot from this arrangement—more than he was willing to admit sometimes.

It was nearly morning when Mingyu finally arrived home, expecting you to be fast asleep. He took a quick shower, hoping to unwind before getting some rest. But when he stepped into the living room, he nearly jumped out of his skin. You were sitting on the couch, staring into the darkness.

"You scared me!" Mingyu muttered, his heart still racing. "Why aren’t you sleeping?"

You shot him a sharp look, your voice dry. "My house just burned down. How could I possibly sleep soundly?"

Ah, right. He had forgotten that small but important detail.

"Right... of course." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, make yourself at home. Feel free to use the kitchen if you want breakfast. I’ll head to bed."

Mingyu retreated to his room, hoping for some much-needed rest. But as he lay there, he found sleep impossible. His mind kept drifting back to the strange reality that the two of you were now sharing a roof. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you—far from it. You were smart, independent, and capable. But the idea of being engaged, living together, and yet still feeling like you were strangers unnerved him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"Yeah, she's fine. She's alright. She's with me. I'll handle things with the building owner about her place. You don’t have to worry, sir." Mingyu reassured your father over the phone as he finished getting ready for work.

Despite having only gotten three hours of sleep, Mingyu needed to be at the hospital for an early morning meeting as the branch director. He had already filled your father in on last night’s fire, assuring him that you were safe and staying with him for the time being. Ending the call, he stepped out of the closet and made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted by the sight of you preparing breakfast.

You were wearing one of his shirts.

"I’ll call you later, sir," Mingyu said quickly before hanging up, his eyes immediately locking with yours as he entered the kitchen.

You glanced at him briefly, then gestured for him to sit down as you placed the plates on the table. Mingyu couldn’t help but stare for a moment. You must have noticed because you spoke up.

"I didn’t have any clothes with me," you explained, a hint of self-consciousness in your voice. "I borrowed your shirt, if you don’t mind."

Mingyu nodded. "It's fine."

An awkward silence lingered for a moment before he asked, "Is there anything you need to do today?"

You thought for a second. "I definitely need to get some clothes first. And maybe check on the restaurant."

Mingyu thanked you for the food as you joined him at the table. He picked up his spoon, and as soon as he took a bite, his eyes widened in surprise. The breakfast was incredible. He had visited your restaurant a couple of times and knew you were the mastermind behind the recipes, having graduated with a degree in culinary arts. But still, he hadn’t expected his simple morning meal to taste this good.

"How about your belongings?" he asked between bites. "Anything important you need to check, like documents or valuables?"

"Luckily, I left all my important documents at my parents' place," you said, relieved. "But I do need to talk to the building owner about the fire and the damage."

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. "I’ll go with you."

You both finished breakfast in comfortable silence, and as Mingyu got up to leave for work, he thanked you again for the meal. Before heading out, he made a few calls, one to the aunt who cleaned his house regularly, asking her to pick up some women’s clothes for you, and another to the building manager to arrange an extra parking space for your car.

As he drove to the hospital, he reflected on the morning. He hadn’t expected starting the day with you to feel so... easy. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if your engagement weren’t just a business arrangement. The thought lingered in the back of his mind as he went on with his day.

"Doctor Kim, thank you for the meal!" the nurses chimed in as Mingyu passed by the emergency room station during his daily rounds.

He blinked in confusion, unsure of what they were referring to. Then, he spotted the neatly packed meals from your restaurant sitting on the counter. You had sent food to his staff. It was thoughtful—something he hadn't expected but appreciated. Mingyu smiled and waved to the nurses, telling them to enjoy the meal before heading to his office, where he found a meal from your restaurant waiting for him as well.

Mingyu quickly shot you a text: Thanks for the meal, everyone’s enjoying it.

You didn’t respond, and Mingyu wasn’t surprised. He rarely texted you, and from what he had observed, you were just as busy as he was. He could understand if you weren’t glued to your phone all the time. Besides, it’s not like he was your priority when it came to messaging.

Over the past week of living together, Mingyu had noticed that the two of you had fallen into a quiet, predictable routine. You would both wake up early, have breakfast together, head off to work, return late in the evening, and go straight to bed. The cycle repeated itself day after day, with only a few short exchanges of "How was work?" or "Did you sleep well?" in between. It was strange to be living under the same roof, sharing meals, and yet feeling like you were still strangers in many ways.

That morning, you casually mentioned that you had signed the lease on a new apartment, not far from your restaurant.

"Do you want to go furniture shopping with me?" you asked over breakfast.

"Sure" Mingyu agreed without hesitation.

And now, here he was, sitting on his couch in a casual outfit, waiting to go furniture shopping with you. It felt like an odd thing to be doing with someone who was supposed to be his fiancée, yet didn’t quite feel like one. Still, Mingyu couldn’t shake the curiosity growing inside him—the thought of spending more time with you, learning more about you beyond the polite small talk and daily routine. He wasn't sure if it would change anything between you, but part of him wanted to try.

"This couch looks good. It fits a lot of people," Mingyu said, running his hand over the fabric as you continued to browse.

You shook your head, clearly unimpressed. "I don't get visitors."

Mingyu chuckled, leaning in a little closer. "What about friends? Boyfriend, maybe?" he teased with a playful grin.

You scoffed and held up your left hand, flashing the engagement ring in front of him. "In case you forgot, I’m engaged."

Mingyu’s eyes flickered to the ring, and he was momentarily struck by the sight of it. You always wore the ring, even though the engagement had been arranged. He, on the other hand, rarely wore his—only during major events or family meetings where it was expected. His profession didn’t really allow for accessories, so he often went without it. But seeing you wear it regularly was a subtle reminder of the commitment hanging between you both.

"Right, how could I forget?" he replied, smoothly continuing the conversation as if the ring hadn’t stirred something unspoken inside him.

Despite the casual banter, the moment felt a little heavier than it should have. He couldn't quite shake the realization that the ring—a symbol of their engagement—was more present in your life than his. It was a quiet declaration, whether intentional or not, that you were his fiancée.

When it came time to pay, Mingyu insisted on covering everything, even after your countless protests. He waved off your refusals, casually brushing them aside as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to take care of it.

"A rib for dinner?" Mingyu requested once he done paying. How dare you to refused.

*

After ten days of living together, Mingyu realized how quiet and empty his place felt without you around. He found himself looking for any excuse to see you, whether it was a quick text, a call, or even dropping by your restaurant. Without fully realizing it, the relationship between the two of you had begun to shift into something he hadn’t expected.

At this point, almost all of your staff knew him. They had even started referring to him as "the boss's handsome fiancé" every time he walked through the door. This month alone, he had visited your restaurant 8 times—sometimes for a meal, sometimes just to drive you home. And he was relieved that you didn’t seem uncomfortable with his presence. In fact, you appeared to be getting used to it, just as he was.

One afternoon, as Mingyu made his rounds at the hospital, he overheard a group of nurses whispering as he passed by, his name mentioned in their conversation.

"If she's the daughter of the owner, then she must be Doctor Kim’s fiancée, right?"

Mingyu, always the friendly type, chimed in with a grin. "I heard my name."

The nurses looked a bit startled but quickly filled him in. "Doctor Kim, the owner's daughter was brought into the emergency room after being assaulted. Isn't she your fiancée?"

What?

Mingyu’s stomach dropped. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his phone and immediately dialed your number. It rang, but someone else picked up.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

"Ah, Mr. Kim? She left her phone behind. She's at the hospital right now. A crazy person caused a scene and she got hurt."

Mingyu didn’t wait for more details. He bolted to the emergency room, his mind racing. When he got there, he hurried to the nurses’ station and asked for your whereabouts.

They directed him to a bed where he finally saw you—sitting up, your arm and head wrapped in bandages, while a doctor carefully tended to your injuries. Relief washed over him, but it was mixed with a surge of worry and anger at what had happened.

He approached you cautiously, his heart still pounding in his chest.

You looked up at Mingyu and smiled, a wave of relief washing over you as soon as you saw him by your side. As the doctor finished tending to your wounds, he greeted Mingyu and explained that you would need to wait for the results of the X-ray, as you had hit your head during the incident.

Once the doctor left, Mingyu turned his full attention to you, his eyes scanning over your injuries with a mixture of concern and relief. Without saying a word, he gently pulled you into an embrace, holding you close as if making sure you were really okay.

"I'm so glad it wasn't worse," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly to look at you. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lingering tension from the day. "There was this drunk guy, making a scene in the restaurant. He was about to hit one of my staff, so I stepped in. I got pushed and my head hit the table. This," you pointed to your bandaged arm, "is from some shattered glass."

Mingyu sighed, his jaw tightening in frustration. "I'm calling the police," he said firmly, standing up as if ready to take action immediately.

But you reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him. "It's already been reported. My staff handled it."

Mingyu paused, looking down at you, the worry still clear in his eyes. Though the situation had already been dealt with, his protective instincts were hard to turn off. He sat back down next to you, still holding your hand, as if to reassure himself you were safe now.

Your mother, the vice president, appeared in the emergency room, her presence commanding attention as she quickly made her way toward you. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, though you could see the worry etched in her expression.

"My heart dropped when I heard my daughter was in the emergency room. Are you okay, honey?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she reached out to touch your arm.

"I'm fine, Mom," you reassured her with a small smile, trying to ease her worry.

Mingyu stood quietly to the side, observing the exchange with a sense of relief. He was glad to see how close you were with your family, something he hadn’t really gotten to witness much before.

Then your mother turned her attention to Mingyu, who stood respectfully behind her. Her gaze softened as she acknowledged him.

"Thank you, Mingyu. I heard you’ve been taking care of my daughter, especially after she lost her apartment in the fire. And now you're here again," she said, her gratitude clear.

Mingyu bowed slightly, feeling the weight of her words. "It's my pleasure, ma'am," he responded with sincerity.

Your mother waved off the formality with a warm smile. "No need for 'ma'am.' Call me Mother. After all, you're part of the family now—my daughter's fiancé."

The words caught Mingyu a little off guard, though he masked it with a polite nod. He glanced at you, noticing the subtle shift in the room. The formality of your engagement suddenly felt a bit more personal, more real.

After spending some more time talking with your mother and assuring her you were okay, the X-ray results came back clear. The doctor recommended rest and monitoring for the next few days to ensure there were no lingering effects from the head injury. With that, Mingyu insisted on taking you home.

As you left the hospital, Mingyu walked by your side, his hand resting gently on your lower back as he guided you to the car. The day had been exhausting, but knowing that Mingyu was there gave you a strange sense of comfort. It was a feeling that was becoming more familiar lately.

The drive home was quiet, with Mingyu occasionally glancing over to check on you. You stared out the window, your mind still processing everything that had happened, from the fire at your apartment to the incident today. You felt the weight of it all, but at the same time, there was a sense of relief that you weren’t alone in dealing with it.

When Mingyu pulled into his apartment complex, he parked the car and quickly came around to your side to help you out. You couldn’t help but smile at how attentive he was.

As you sat on the couch, trying to unwind from the long day, Mingyu hovered nearby, clearly still worried. You noticed his eyes flicking over to you every few minutes, as if checking to make sure you were really okay.

"You really should rest," he said, standing up and grabbing a blanket from the nearby chair. "I can see you're exhausted."

"I’m fine, Mingyu," you protested softly, though you knew you needed the rest.

He walked over, gently draping the blanket over you, his hands lingering for a moment as he looked down at you. “Just lie down, please. Doctor's orders,” he added with a small, teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood.

You sighed, giving in. The exhaustion was catching up with you, and the couch felt more comfortable with the blanket wrapped around you. As you shifted to lie down, Mingyu crouched down beside you, his expression softening as he watched you settle.

"Better?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, pulling the blanket closer. “Yeah, better.”

He lingered for a moment before standing up again, running a hand through his hair. "I think I’ll stay out here with you, just in case you need anything.”

"You don’t have to—" you started to protest, but Mingyu was already grabbing a pillow for himself and setting it on the other end of the couch.

"I know, but I want to," he said simply, lying down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. “We both need to rest anyway. This way, I’ll be right here if anything happens.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, noticing how comfortable and natural he seemed lying next to you. The tension that had been hanging in the air for weeks felt like it was slowly fading, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease.

"Alright," you murmured, closing your eyes.

Mingyu lay there quietly, the soft rise and fall of his breathing the only sound in the room. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence was steady, reassuring in a way that made you feel safe. After a few moments, he shifted slightly closer, his hand brushing against yours under the blanket. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let the quiet warmth between the two of you settle in, realizing that maybe this arrangement between you wasn’t so bad after all.

As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel Mingyu relax beside you. The weight of the day slowly lifted, and with him lying there next to you, it felt easier to rest.

As evening approached, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light over the room. You and Mingyu had both woken up from your nap, feeling more rested but still shaken from the day's events. Mingyu sat up, glancing over at you with a gentle smile.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice still soft but with a hint of concern.

You shook your head, feeling more at ease now. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for staying with me.”

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, I should probably check and clean your wound properly. Just to make sure it’s healing well.”

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded, realizing it would be reassuring to have him take care of you. Mingyu moved to get a first aid kit from the bathroom, then returned and sat next to you on the couch. As he began to carefully clean the wound on your head, his concentration was palpable.

The proximity brought an unexpected intimacy. Mingyu’s breath lightly brushed against your skin, and you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. You glanced up at him, and for the first time, you noticed how dangerously close his face was to yours. The closeness made both of you acutely aware of each other, and suddenly, your cheeks flushed a soft pink.

There was a moment of shared awkwardness where neither of you knew quite what to say. Mingyu’s fingers brushed lightly against your forehead, and a nervous laugh escaped both of you simultaneously. The sound was light and shy, a clear indicator of the tension and the new feelings stirring between you.

Mingyu’s hands paused as he looked at you, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions. He seemed to be gauging your reaction, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

Without breaking eye contact, Mingyu leaned in slowly, and you felt a rush of anticipation. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. Then, ever so gently, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and soft, a simple yet profound gesture that spoke volumes.

You responded instinctively, your lips moving against his in a hesitant, exploring dance. The kiss deepened just slightly, filled with a mutual tenderness that neither of you had expected but both seemed to crave. When Mingyu finally pulled back, his expression was a mix of relief and uncertainty.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, a slight blush still visible on his cheeks. “I just... I needed to do that.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to gently touch his face. “It’s okay. I think I needed it too.”

Mingyu’s smile was more relaxed now, a genuine warmth in his eyes. He resumed cleaning the wound with a renewed calm, the previous tension replaced by a new, comforting closeness. As he finished, you both settled back into the couch, the space between you now filled with a quiet, shared understanding.

Mingyu set aside the first aid kit and took a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. “I... I know this might sound sudden, but I think we need to talk about where we go from here.”

You looked at him with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, waiting for him to continue.

He shifted slightly, his expression earnest. “I know our relationship started out as a business arrangement, and things between us have been... different from what I expected. But after spending time with you, especially today, I’ve realized something.”

You watched him closely, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest.

“Mingyu, what is it?” you asked softly.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About how we’ve been living together, how you’ve been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And honestly, I’ve come to realize that I really like you. More than just as my fiancée. I want to be with you, not just because of our families or the arrangement, but because I genuinely care about you.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity behind them. Mingyu reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I want to start over,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want us to settle everything that’s happened and move forward. I want to take you out on dates, to spend time with you as someone I truly treasure. Not just because it’s what’s expected, but because it’s what I genuinely want.”

Your heart raced as you listened, his confession a mix of relief and excitement. It was clear that Mingyu wasn’t just fulfilling a duty anymore—he was speaking from the heart.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you admitted, squeezing his hand. “I never expected this arrangement to lead to something real, but it has. I’ve come to care about you a lot, and I’d like to see where this could go, too.”

Mingyu’s face brightened with a hopeful smile. “So, are we starting over then? Taking a chance on something that’s more than just an arrangement?”

You nodded, a smile of your own spreading across your face. “Yes, let’s start over. I’d like that.”

With a sense of newfound clarity and excitement, Mingyu leaned in and kissed you again, this time with a deeper sense of commitment. It was a kiss that promised not just the continuation of an engagement but the beginning of something much more meaningful.

As the evening drew on, you and Mingyu talked more about your hopes and plans for the future, feeling a sense of anticipation and warmth. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but now it was a journey you were both eager to take together, as partners who truly cared for each other.

*

“Because you’re handsome?” Mingyu chuckled softly, clearly amused by your answer. He had asked you why you accepted the engagement in the first place, and he hadn’t expected your candid response.

“Of course, you’re very handsome and attractive,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “But beyond that, I didn’t have anyone special, and I didn’t want to go against my parents’ kind intentions, especially when it didn’t harm me.”

“You didn’t go against it?” Mingyu asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You paused to think before shaking your head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t planning to get married. I was just focused on my business.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. “How about now?”

“What do you mean now?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Get married,” he clarified. “Do you want to get married?”

It had been three years since the engagement, and throughout that time, you and Mingyu had maintained your commitment to each other. Even though your parents had pushed for a wedding, you both had insisted on getting to know each other better. It was only after a year of engagement that you truly began to enjoy each other’s presence.

“With you?” you asked innocently, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t with me. Do you want to get married to me?”

A scowl formed on your face as you stared at him, your emotions a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Are you proposing?”

Mingyu laughed, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Why? You don’t like it, baby?”

The scowl melted away, replaced by a warm and genuine smile. “I’d love to. I’ve been happy these two years with you. Why not be happy forever?”

Mingyu’s expression softened as he cupped your cheeks gently. “You’re really happy?”

You nodded, your eyes shining with sincerity.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “Then I’m happy too.”

In that moment, it felt as if everything had come full circle. The uncertainty of the past had given way to a future filled with promise, and both of you were ready to embrace it together.

---

IN EARNEST; J.WW

―PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader, yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ―GENRE: regency au, romance, fluff, angst, love triangle, childhood friends to lovers ―WORD COUNT: 13k ―WARNINGS: rigid gender roles, historical setting, angst & family in-fighting

―AUTHOR'S NOTE: this fic was rewritten from one on my old blog. it was majorly overhauled and i added around 1k worth of words. its one of my favourites, so i would appreciate hearing any thoughts you might have on it. please enjoy

The long, warm rays of the sun stretch over the fields of your childhood as you sit on the stone fence at the edge of your family’s estate, legs swinging in a manner unbefitting a young woman soon to be engaged. A gentle spring breeze stirs at your hair, blowing over you as it moves westward across the countryside on its journey as you sit, book in hand, wrapped in the warmth of the afternoon light. Words dance on the page before your eyes as you try and focus on the story, pulling your attention into the narrative only to have it drawn back out towards the horizon over the golden fields of wheat and rye. With a sigh, you snap the book shut and slip from atop the rock wall, landing on the soft earth below. 

Skirts dragging against the long grass as you walk, you make your way through the field--wheat stalks brush against your bare arms, parting for you as you stride forward past the cows and sheep and towards an old grove of trees tucked back at the edge of the property by the meandering creek where you spent so many of your days in childlike rapture and leisure. Amongst the flurry of balls, social gatherings, and visits expected of you these days, you’ve hardly had a spare moment to come and sit among the trees for the past few years. Social propriety and demands have all but replaced the imagination of your youth and yet the trees welcome you in as an old friend–beckoning you forth into their shade and kissing your cheeks with the morning dew. 

One old tree, of gnarled roots and rough bark, sits chief among them in the center of the grove. Images of your sister and you swinging from its long branches and knotted limbs spring to mind as you stride closer. Days long past spent nestled amongst its jutting roots for a midday picnic without a care for the mud on the hems of your dresses. With a smile you walk towards the tree, hand outstretched in greeting, and feel your way across the trunk. The knots and rough bark ripple under your fingers--a map of the tree's life spread out under your touch, and you move around it until you meet a familiar dip in the bark. A carving of a memory long forgotten.

Your fingers trace the loops of the heart, the curves of the letters, and a face swims into your vision to join your childhood self as she runs through the fields and trees. A boy of honey brown hair and an even sweeter voice with whom the days seemed to stretch onwards into infinity. A boy you had made promise you at 11 years old that he would marry you when you were both older so that you could live together until eternity. A boy with the spark of love buried in the dark browns of his eyes, obscured by the frames of his wire glasses, waiting for age and maturity to bring it to the forefront. A boy who just smiled, laughed, and chased you through the dawn soaked fields until you both collapsed from exhaustion by the river. A boy who leaned over with a soft smile some long hours later and whispered “I promise.” 

The promises of youth are delicate. They are made in the heat of summer, under the swell of the sun and the naive feelings that blossom in the hearts of every young person as they grow and change with daily discoveries. They are a glass vase, thin and ready to be broken–or simply tucked away on a high shelf to be left forgotten and collecting dust as time obscures them. 

Now, standing in the dawning of  your adulthood in the place of your youth, that promise is but a lingering nudge at the edge of your mind–a loose thread dangling free in the wind, waiting to be tugged on and unraveled. The boy stands with it, a denizen of the memory of a time when the sun shone down on you in smiles and in hope, lighting up your world with the wide-eyed exhilaration of young love.

You smile down at the carved imprint of a heart, transported back for a moment to that time, before someone clears their throat behind you, “what are you doing out here?” You spin on your heels, body moving unconsciously to shield the glyph from prying eyes, and see Jeonghan standing at the edge of the grove–sunlight filtering down through the tree tops and sprinkling him in flecks of golden light. He stands with a wry grin, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you regain your composure after the sudden interruption of your daydreams. 

“Nothing,” you reply after a moment with a light laugh, returning his smile–closing the lid on your memories as you take a step towards him. “Just out for a walk.” 

“Well, don’t wander too far,” he extends his arms for you to take and you accept, looping your arm through his and walking side by side out of the shade of the tree grove and  into the sunlight. “You might not be able to find your way back.” 

“I think I know my own family’s grounds, thank you,” you counter, peeking up at him as he stares ahead towards the estate in the distance, sprawling out over the field in a mass of grey stone. The wry smile has softened slightly, but still remains pulling gently at the corners of his lips. 

You hadn’t known what to make of Jeonghan the first time he stood off to the side of the village ball. New to the community by way of both work and friends, he was a source of fascination and aversion in equal measure by everyone in town. A community where everyone had known everyone and everyone was in everyone’s business made a newcomer stick out like the sorest of thumbs. You watched as he stood, making polite yet stiff conversation with the men of the village and keeping largely to himself  until your mother, not one to ever waste an opportunity, strong-armed your father into introducing the entire family to him. 

He seemed to sense in you a kindred spirit–someone there in a similar situation, bemused but disconnected from the gossip and frivolity of the ball. Placed at the center of it all regardless by mere social expectation and family ties. You spoke for a while, easing minute by minute from fateful acquaintances to fast friends, until you both succumbed to decorum and he asked  for a dance; after which your mother adopted him immediately as a friend of the family and he has not known a moment of peace since. 

A fact which you love to tease him about at any given opportunity. 

“What are you doing out here today, Jeonghan?” You ask as you walk past the cows grazing in the field, arm still tucked securely into the crook of his elbow. 

“Your father asked me round to discuss the merger of the mill in town,” he shakes his head and you laugh at what you can only imagine was an incredibly dry conversation. “Dreadfully boring. Then your mother noticed you wander off into the woods and sent me to fetch you.” 

“Scandalous,”  you tease, nudging your elbow into his side and eliciting a brief laugh. “A young man and woman out to pasture together? Unchaperoned and unmarried? My mother must really trust you.” 

“Yes, well if only she knew that the only reason I agree to come and talk to your father about all of this nonsense is to have the chance to speak with you,” the teasing lilt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed; you can tell it’s meant as a joke, but there is an air of truth to it as well and the comment sinks under your skin, stilling the air around you. Suddenly, his arm against yours feels too real, too solid. You feel altogether too close to him and yet not close enough. You glance up and see his gaze still fixated forward towards your home, the sunlight gleaming over him and bathing him in the golden light of its rays. 

“When do you return to town?” you shift the conversation, eager for a reprieve from the constricting of your heart in your chest. 

“In three days time,” he replies, releasing your arm to step through the gate into the gardens–holding it open for you to pass through behind him. 

“So soon?” you glance at him in surprise. In the month he had been here, visiting in the afternoons and attending dinner parties, he had not made mention of the date of his inevitable return to town, so hearing the answer now was a slight shock. 

Jeonghan nods, and you loop your arm through his once more as you ascend the stone pathway towards the front of the house. “Unfortunately,” he sighs, “it was meant to be next month but I’ve been called away sooner than I had planned.” 

“I see.” Your voice trails off and you slip your arm free from his as you step through the doorway. A strange sense of melancholy takes over, sweeping the sunshine away from your thoughts and replacing them with the grey clouds that precipitate a sky before a storm. In barely two months time, you’ve come to enjoy Jeonghan’s company and his consistent appearances in your daily life. They became a comfort to you in a way you hadn’t felt from anyone’s company in a long time. Not since you were young, running wild and free without thought of propriety or the looming threat of your future. 

“I was hoping, actually, to talk with you before I left,” he starts, breaking through the clouds in your mind. You can hear the hesitation clear in his voice as he talks, a small shy smile painting his handsome features. 

“About what?” The heat of curiosity builds in your mind, swirling thoughts joining the fray. A buzzing excitement building as you watch him formulate the words–the wheels in his mind turning into place behind his soft brown eyes. He’s building to something, grasping onto a thread of courage and you silently pray that he manages to keep hold as you feel your heart rise into your throat. His fingers twitch at his side, as if fighting the urge to reach for your hand and you feel your skin prickle at the thought. 

“I was hoping–” Jeonghan starts but is cut off just as quickly as your sister, Lydia, comes crashing through the parlour shouting your name, skirts billowing behind her. She skids to an abrupt halt as she sees you and Jeonghan both staring back at her. 

“H-hello, Mr. Yoon, I didn’t–umm,” she thumbs the letter clutched in her hand, nerves plain on her face as she tries to regain some sense of calm after her frantic entrance, “I didn’t realise you were still here.” She offers an awkward curtsy in his direction and you can hear the stifled laughter as he bows back. 

“Hello Ms. Lydia, I trust you are well?” 

“Very, thank you,” she nods, swallowing, and you have to stifle your own laugh at the awkwardness seeping out of her and infecting the room. She turns towards you, eyes pleading, “may I speak with you a moment?” 

You glance at Jeonghan and he smiles, “I should be going.” All hints of what he had been planning on saying before the interruption are wiped clear from his expression and you can’t help the slight bitterness towards your sister that rises in your stomach like bile as he turns to leave. 

“Your mother invited me for dinner tomorrow evening before I take my leave,” he adds, hand on the brass knob of the door, “I hope we can finish talking then.” With a final nod and smile he closes the door behind him–you watch through the window as he walks down the stone pathway towards his horse before your sister calls your attention back to her with a pointed cough. 

“Did he ask you?” she asks, eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“Ask me what?” you move away from the entrance and flop down onto the plush cream settee at the side of the room–legs grateful for the relief after an afternoon spent traipsing through the fields outside. 

“Don’t be daft, I know that you know full well he is planning on proposing to you,” she sits down next to you in a huff, splaying her skirts out below her and knocking you on the shoulder with a closed fist–envelope still clutched tight in her hand, but evidently forgotten for the moment.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were in his confidence regarding the matter,” you tease, drawing a flustered expression from her as she pouts at you. 

“I don’t need to be to know,” she grumbles, “everyone says. Especially Mama.” 

The rumours had been circulating since that first ball and you were not oblivious to them. It would be impossible to be oblivious when the gossip that roamed through the village was as subtle as a bull. But rumours were just that: rumours. Unsubstantiated whisperings passed around by bored mamas and nosy servants at parties and in parlours, and you preferred to keep your hopes out of their baseless grasp as long as you were able to. You couldn’t deny, however, that the hope was there. That it had wound its way into your heart, filling your mind and soul with a buoyancy you hadn’t anticipated to feel. 

The thought of Jeonghan in front of you, extending his hand for yours, and asking to keep it forever is a thought that you couldn’t deny having had more than once. 

But you were not going to give your prying sister the satisfaction of knowing this. Instead you stare deadpan at her as she sits with a pout on her face, waiting for a reaction. The standoff continues for a moment in silence before she resigns and sighs, thrusting the letter she had been clutching in her hand towards you, “here, it’s for you.” 

You pluck the paper from and examine the envelope–torn open already by prying fingertips and eyes. “You opened it?” The accusation is more tired than biting, but she cowers under it anyway–crossing her arms in defence. 

“No,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in a decidedly unladylike manner–a habit of which your mother had tried to scold out of her for years now. “Mama opened it.” 

“And then you read it,” you sigh, running your eyes over the script of the envelope. Handwriting both familiar and unfamiliar. A name you haven’t seen in years scrawled in the top left corner in looping cursive–Jeon Wonwoo. Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight, your sister's protestations fading into background noise, as you focus on the name written on the sheet of white before you–transfixed by memory and recognition. 

“Are you listening to me?” Lydia’s voice bleeds through the swell in your mind as you slip the letter out of the envelope–delicately, as if it might crumble to dust at the barest whisper of a breath–and unfold it in your hands. You brush aside her attempts at getting your attention and fix your gaze on the words unfolding on the page. 

Dearest ______,

Firstly, I hope you receive this letter in good health, and that your family is well. I am sorry we never kept up correspondence as we had promised when I first left for the city. I have so much to tell you and yet I feel that most of it is entirely pointless, so it might be better left unsaid for now; at least until we are able to speak in person. 

I’m not sure when this letter will arrive, but my intention is for it to precede my own arrival by at least a day or so. I had been planning on visiting for quite some time, but it was a thought always pushed to the back of my mind as life and present matters took over, but receiving your letter resurfaced the desire to return. 

I must say your letter was a slight shock, but certainly not an unwelcome one. Truthfully, there hasn’t been a day that has passed that I have not thought of you or of the time we spent together as children and adolescents. I hadn’t dared to hope that you remembered, or even returned the feelings that I had held close to my heart since those days, but reading your words brought that hope back to life. 

I look forward to seeing you again at last, 

Yours Truly, 

Wonwoo

You sit in silence for a moment, staring blank faced down at the letter as your sister leans over your shoulder trying desperately to read the lines of ink scrawled delicately over the page. “Well,” she whines, giving up on the task, “what does it say?” 

Without a glance spared in her direction, you stand up and race out of the parlour–brushing past your confused mother as you dart up the staircase towards your bedroom. 

“Oh, did you get the letter?” your mother calls after you as you run, leaning over the bannister, but you staunchly ignore her as you careen into your room to tear into the trunk at the foot of your bed. No mind paid for the mess you’re creating as you pull out ribbons, books, and trinkets from the large, ornately carved wooden box. Buried at the bottom of the trunk lies a small box of letters, hidden from the prying eyes of your family–or at least you had thought it was hidden from the prying eyes of your family. Looking now, as you sit splayed out on the floor of your bedroom amongst a haphazard pile of items, it’s clear that it has been rifled through since the last time you had bothered to check it. 

From amongst the pile of letters hidden away amongst your treasures and belongings, only one is missing. One tear-stained, hastily written piece of parchment snatched from the stack of otherwise inconsequential papers by the fingers of someone who was incapable of minding their own business or of leaving well enough alone. 

“Don’t be mad,” your sister’s voice pleads from behind you as she stands in the doorway playing with her fingers, watching your back as you begin to gather up your things with a sigh–tossing them back into the trunk and closing the lid with a snap before turning to face her. 

A slow seeping mixture of anger and embarrassment has overcome your thoughts and swells near to bursting as you glare at her through a fog of red. She opens her mouth to speak, fear dancing in her eyes as she scrambles for some words that might placate you. Tries to form some meagre explanation for her actions. You take advantage of her immobility and move towards her with a fury you didn’t know you possessed. A moment before you can catch her sleeves she turns and races down the hallway, leaping down the staircase, and hiding behind your bewildered mama–a desperate shield from your wrath. 

A sliver of clarity leeches through the haze surrounding you, sounding out like a bell through your angered mind, and instead of reaching for her with clawing hands like you’re itching to, you push past them and stalk straight through the front door and out into the gardens. A light drizzle of rain has begun to fall in the time between your walk through the fields and now, but you pay it no mind–only too grateful for the company of the raindrops alongside the tears that begin to fall from your eyes. 

You can hear the door open and close behind you, footsteps crunching along the dirt and gravel of the path you are currently trodding on towards no destination, but you don’t give them the satisfaction of turning. Instead you pick up your pace, hastening your already brisk gait until you’re nearly running towards the creek at the edge of the estate–searching for some escape, some reprieve, from the suffocating presence of your family to gather the frayed edges of your tormented mind. 

Missing the hint as usual, they persist. Voices call out from behind you, entreating you to turn and face them but the pleas and demands only serve to heighten the flush of rage through your veins.

By the time you reach the edge of the water your body is shaking. Whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions you’re not sure. You stand, staring out over the water as it rushes downstream, blinking away the tears stinging at your eyes. “Oh, will you stop being so dramatic,” your mother finally catches up with you–her curls and skirts soaked in water and mud, a fact of which you know you will never hear the end of. “Apologise to your sister.” 

You baulk at her, mouth gaping with shock and horror, “me? Apologise to her?” 

“Yes, you scared her,” she nods, arms crossed and eyes set in a determined stare, “besides, you shouldn’t be racing down the stairs like a child at your age. Not when you are so close to being engaged, just think; what would your fiance say about this behaviour?” 

“I don’t have a fiance,” you shoot back, mirroring her stance, “and if I did, and if he were a man of any brains at all, he would say I have every right to wring her neck for what she’s done.” 

“Mama,” Lydia whines, still hiding behind the impenetrable figure standing before you in rain-soaked linens. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I just sent out a letter.” 

“A letter that was never yours to send,” you shout, earning yourself a withering glare from your mother. Thunder rumbles in the far distance and you sigh, feeling the rain as it falls against your tired limbs and a tired mind. The idyl of the morning feels so far away now. Jeonghan’s easy smile, the light filtering through the grove, the feeling of the rough bark under your fingertips. A morning of reminiscence scrubbed away so easily by the foolishness of one insolent sister. All the hope that had lifted in your chest now falling away from you with each raindrop and disappearing into the ground below. 

You open your eyes to watch your mother standing in defence of the sister that might have ruined both your past and future. All life, all fight drains from your body, and you’re left now with the only question that matters hanging in the damp, cool air between you. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer. She stares back at you, an expression of haughty defiance painting her face, and after a minute of silence–a cold standoff at the edge of the river–you brush past them once more and stride back towards the house. Resigning yourself to never knowing; to life never being that same as it was mere hours ago when you were standing peacefully in the midday sun, unaware of the storm brewing for you in the shadows of the day. 

Your mother hurries to catch up with you, “you’ll forgive her. She is your sister, after all, you’ve only got each other.” 

You feel the urge to shout again, to admonish her for always taking the side of your younger sibling even when it was clear she was in the wrong, but the feeling dies in your throat before you can even think to act on it. You’re too tired. Instead you halt in your step and turn to face her, another question pressing at the forefront of your mind, “you read the letter?” 

“I suppose we’ll be having two guests for dinner tomorrow night,” she muses, managing at least to look somewhat apologetic for your current state of affairs despite the obvious delight swimming behind her eyes. Two potential love matches for her daughter, and all the drama that a bored mama could possibly dream up, had finally planted itself in her lap and she was enjoying every second of it. 

“Don’t you have any shame at all?” you ask, knowing how fruitless the question was but unable to refrain from voicing it. Enough anger was still lingering at the edges of your mind to give voice to the words. 

“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re not excited to see the Jeon boy,” she says, trailing after you as you resume your brisk pace towards the house. “I always thought you two might get engaged when you were older, but then he left and well, Mr. Yoon seems an excellent second choice.” 

You pointedly ignore her as she continues to monologue her fantasies for life, following behind you as you head up to your room in search of dry clothing and some reprieve from her aimless talking. “Mama,” you spin towards her, stopping her at the threshold of your bedroom, “I can tell you are gleaning some great joy from this situation, but please for once in your life have some pity and leave me alone.” 

She opens her mouth to speak again but you close the door before she gets the chance, blocking out her protestations as you sink down onto the oak floor in a puddle of linen skirts and despair. 

.

.

.

Dinner is suffocating. Your father relishes in the rare silence at the table while you coldly pass bowls of potatoes and vegetables to your sister, avoiding eye contact even as she nudges you under the table with her foot. You know your behaviour is childish–unbecoming of someone your age, as your mother would say, despite her own childish actions–but you can’t bring yourself to come to a place of peace and forgiveness quite yet. The letter still looms in your mind like a parchment monolith, a cloud hanging over all of your thoughts even as you try to distract yourself after dinner with a book by the fireplace. Even as your mother tries to entice you into friendly gossip about how you think Wonwoo might have changed over the years, how he might measure up to Jeonghan as a potential match. 

The evening drags on into night, darkness swallowing the estate, and your sister sits staring at you over her untouched needlework from the other side of the parlour. You raise your eyes to meet hers for a moment before turning back to your novel, resuming the standoff and sinking back into the staunch silence you’re treating her with. 

In truth it has been this way since childhood. The moment she was ushered into this world, the weight of responsibility settled onto your shoulders. The expectation of being the eldest sibling; of acting mature and setting an example for her to follow as she chased you through the fields, inserting herself in every possible situation with the carelessness of one who knows that they can get away with anything, should they so choose. 

Your only reprieve from the insistent pressure of responsibility was when cousins and family would visit, capturing her wandering attention for long enough that you were able to slip out unnoticed and find solace outside, in a book, or with Wonwoo. Peace from her endless questioning and imitations–from following you around like a lost, unceasingly precocious child. 

The heat of her unwavering gaze burns into the top of your head as you try to follow the narrative of your story in the dim light of the fire. Eventually you give up, slipping the book back into its place on the shelf, and dismissing yourself with a good night to your father–absorbed in his own book and entirely uninterested in the dramatics brewing within his home. Your sister scrambles up after you, following in your footsteps and rushing to say her own goodnights before chasing behind you up the stairs. 

“Stop following me,” you spin around in the doorway to your room, arms crossed in defence–levelling her with a glare that you can only hope she takes seriously for once in her life. 

“You have to forgive me eventually,” Lydia says, matching your posture and meeting your gaze with her own determined stare. “You can’t be upset about it forever.” It’s clear the silent treatment you’ve been giving her has wormed its way under her skin–plucking at the exact nerves that she tries so hard to ignore. Her disdain for being ignored–for being disliked, even momentarily–working against her now in the safety of her own home. 

“Yes, I can,” you state flatly, half-turning away from her towards and moving to close the door before she stops you with a hand on your arm. 

“That’s not fair,” she whines, “what are you so upset about anyway? That you have two men in love with you?” The truth seeps through her words and you find the answer to your question from earlier finally in the subtext of her complaints. “You’re jealous?” 

“I’m not jealous,” she bites back, but the pout that accompanies the statement indicates the exact opposite. “I just think it’s unfair that you’re marrying someone without telling them that you’re in love with someone else.” 

“I’m not marrying anyone,” you grit your teeth to keep from shouting and rousing your parent’s attention. The last thing you needed at this moment was the less than helpful advice of your mother. “I’m not even engaged. No one has asked me to marry them–no one.” You turn away from her, eager to shut her out for the night and sink into the comfort of sleep, “and I’m not in love with Wonwoo.” 

She snorts, unconvinced, “that letter said otherwise.” 

“That letter was written when I was fifteen and he was leaving,” you reply with a glare, “things have changed.” 

“If you’re not still in love with him,” a small smile quirks up the corner of her lip, bringing another wave of rage crashing through you at the sight of it. Her smug expression lit low by the lanterns burning on the walls, “then why are you so mad?” 

With a huff you close the door, blocking out any further comments she might deem necessary to add–anything further to provoke you to anger. You pause a moment, staring at the dark wood of the door, and breathe. The urge to scream floods your thoughts and you move to lie flat on your bed before it bursts free completely. 

Sleep comes in fits and starts. Your dreams chase you through the labyrinth of night cloaked in signs and symbols–always beginning and ending in that grove of trees on your family's estate. Each time you stand at the entrance to the greenery, hopeful anticipation bubbling up in your chest, and take a step forward. Everything is silent–still. No chirping of birds, no rush of the wind, no sound at all save your own footsteps over the trodden soil as you walk towards the gnarled oak at the centre of the grove–your hand outstretched towards the bark. 

The carved heart greets your fingers, initials swimming before your eyes. Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Lydia's, your own. They all traverse and coalesce on the expanse of broken brown wood, mingling with each other and transforming endlessly in front of your eyes. Before they have a chance to settle, a branch snaps behind you and you turn in anticipation to see who it is; a glimpse of muted fabric, a vaguely formed face, flashes in front of your vision before you are transported back to the field outside the trees–feet itching to carry you forward once again. 

You repeat this process, over and over, until the light breaking through the window above your bed stirs you to consciousness. You sigh and squirm deeper into the blankets, desperate to sink back into the embrace of dreams and avoid the inevitable disaster of the day waiting for you outside your room. 

A sharp knock on the door cuts off any hope that you had of delay. “Mama says to come down for breakfast," Lydia warns and you listen as her footsteps disappear down the staircase before slipping out of bed and preparing for the day. 

.

.

.

The scent of eggs and ham greets you as you stumble down the stairs some time later; dressed in a simple frock belying the anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach in anticipation of the day. Your mother greets you with a cheerful “good morning”, the tone ignorant of the tension that underlay your last interactions with her. You offer her a tired smile in response–content with staying in silence for as long as possible this morning and avoiding any further bursts of anger she might provoke. It takes you a moment to notice the extra figure sitting at the table, one at the same time so familiar and unfamiliar. Wonwoo’s eyes, obscured as they are behind the glass of his spectacles, betray a similar mixture of delight and wariness at your presence. He offers you a hesitant smile over his plate of food and you feel your heart leap into your throat, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. 

“Wonwoo,” you exclaim, earning an admonishing tsk from your mother at the noise. He stands, bowing slightly in greeting–smile broadening marginally as he does so. 

“Hello,” he replies. You can hear a million different restrained thoughts and questions in the greeting. So many unspoken words it makes your stomach knot. You remain, mouth agape, standing feet away while the force of it hits you while your sister, on the other hand, laughs aloud at the look of pure alarm on your face. 

“Oh, sit down before you fall down,” she says, rolling her eyes and reaching for another roll from the centre of the table. “It’s only Wonwoo, you knew he was coming.” 

You resist the temptation to openly glare at her and instead gather yourself into the seat across from Wonwoo–returning his smile, finally, with your own. “You’re here much sooner than expected,” you say, offering it as the only excuse for your astonishment at his presence during your family breakfast. 

“I arrived rather early this morning,” he explains. The tension held in his shoulders ebbs away slowly, hesitation diminishing now that you’ve settled across from him. “Thankfully your father was awake and willing to sit down over a cup of tea.” You nod in acknowledgement. He and your father had always gotten along rather well, being of similar disposition. You would often find them sitting in silence together while your mama chased you around with her many complaints. “You look well,” he adds after a moment, a soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

He’s older now than the last time you saw him–his jaw defined by the sharpness that comes with age, the loss of the soft roundness of youth–but he still looks exactly as you remember him. His brown eyes still hold that same kindness and quiet humour that you were so fond of. His smile, though grown hesitant with years of distance, is still as bright as it always was; a warm smile, both welcoming and genuine. A smile that makes you wish you had sent that letter out years ago. Maybe it would have kept him here, with you, at this table. Maybe you could have watched these transformations occur instead of seeing them all now. Maybe you would have had time to accustom yourself to the new angle of his jaw, to the mature slant of his cheekbone. Maybe…

“I am well, thank you,” you reply, cutting off your wandering thoughts and into your breakfast. Turning away from the warmth of his gaze for a moment’s reprieve. “And you? Have you been–” Hesitation stops you in your tracks as you form the question. Keen awareness of the curious eyes at the table fixed firmly on you, intruding on this reunion with their unceasing attention. The knowledge that both your mother and sister are highly aware of the undercurrent of feelings–whether present or past–running between you stalls your speech. “Are you well?” you finish lamely, clearing your throat and gathering yourself into a state of stoicism.

“Very well, thank you,” he replies with a nod, similarly reserved. Knowing your family as he does, you’re sure he senses the shift in the atmosphere. Sure he’s adjusting himself accordingly. 

“Well,” your mother leans forward, towards Wonwoo, a conspiratorial glint in her eye as she begins speaking, “we are so glad to have you back with us after such a long time away. I can’t imagine why you didn’t visit sooner, but no matter. How long will you be staying?” 

“Only a week,” he replies, “I return to town next Sunday.” 

“And what brings you here so suddenly?” The brazenness of her question in light of everything she knows would shock you if you weren’t so used to her meddling. You bite your tongue, woefully resigned to allowing her to play out her machinations while you suffer under the brunt of them. A mere tool in her game of matchmaking and gossip-mongering. Lydia stifles a laugh next to you with a cough, drawing Wonwoo’s attention. 

“Ah,” he starts, watching you closely for any hint of caution but you remain as neutral as possible. “I had been meaning to return for years now, I’ve been too long overdue for a visit. It has been years, even, since I’ve seen my own family’s estate.” 

“I see,” your mother sighs, correcting her posture and sitting upright, disappointed by the lack of spectacle. Her desire for a dramatic breakfast proposal being thwarted, she changes topic and shifts to Wonwoo’s current business practices. How is he getting along as a barrister in town during these troubled times? He answers her inquiries, offering up tidbits of gossip from town that might interest her, and you feel a rush of gratitude towards him for so easily flowing with her changing moods and temperament. A feat not easily undertaken. 

Conversation continues late into the morning, with even your father chiming in here and there; forgoing his usual habit of staying entirely silent until reproached by your mother and instead offering up comments entirely unprovoked to the surprise and delight of the same woman who is usually provoking him. You pick at the food on your plate, watching Wonwoo from across the table even as your sister silently teases you for it from her own seat. Finally, the plates are all cleared away and you stand, ready to stretch your stiff muscles outside of the house.

“Why don’t you three kids take a walk,” your mother prompts–taking notice of your fidgeting. “I have to make preparations for dinner tonight.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to go to such trouble on my account,” Wonwoo holds his hands up as if to ward off the worst of your mother’s efforts. 

“It’s not just for you,” Lydia sighs, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “it’s for Mr. Yoon.” 

“Who–” Wonwoo starts, glancing at you, a ripple of confusion passing over his face before your mother cuts him off. 

“Don’t be rude, Lydia,” she admonishes her, “it’s for both of you, Mr. Jeon. Mr. Yoon has become a very welcome part of our family gatherings since he arrived not two months ago.” She moves behind you, hustling the three of you out of the dining room and towards the front door in a manner befitting a sheepdog rather than a mother. “The girls will tell you all about him, I’m sure.” 

The door is closed on you before you have the chance to protest and you turn towards Wonwoo with a heavy sigh, “I guess we are taking a walk, then.” 

“Your mother certainly has not changed over all these years,” he laughs, more relaxed now that you’re away from the presence of your parents. He offers his arm for you to take as you descend down the stone path leading through the gardens and out into the fields.  The rain of the previous day is all but gone, leaving nothing but the odd puddle dotting the path as you walk along at an easy pace--grateful for the warm, golden sun as it streams down on you. 

You slip your arm through Wonwoo’s and marvel at the naturalness of the gesture. Though it’s been years since your last exchange of letters, and even longer since you last saw each other in person, the ease with which you slip back into old comforts in his presence is nothing short of remarkable. You spend the first half of the walk catching up–exchanging stories of the goings-on around the village and in town since you last spoke. Lydia walks a ways ahead of you, constantly looking back as if desperate to invite herself into the conversation before inevitably thinking better of it and turning around to resume her striding. 

The silence emanating from her is a worrisome gnat that wheedles its way into the back of your mind, but you brush it aside and focus on the feeling of your old friend back at your side. The feeling of his arm against yours, his voice no longer a mere echo in your mind, but a real sound to be heard and listened to. It feels as if he had never left; that despite the growth in each of you as a person, both physically and mentally, there had merely been a pause put on your relationship. A brief interlude that served only to bring you to this exact moment in time where you could be together again. 

The comfort is at once welcome and disconcerting. The thought of Wonwoo’s letter, the implication of his feelings, presses at the forefront of your mind alongside the image of Jeonghan with his hand outstretched towards you in the sun of the grove. As much as you want to ignore these worries, they sit there staring at you, tugging at your attention as you try and focus on what should be a joyous reunion. And as Wonwoo talks, regaling you with tales from his time at college and in his current employment, you can see those same worries brewing behind his eyes. The same hesitation keeping him from broaching either topic. You’re each waiting, hearts held on the blade of a sword. Enjoying each other's company while expecting someone to slice into it and spill the blood at any moment. 

“So,” your sister struts over to you as you sit in the grass by the river, knees tucked tight to your chest. She sits down in front of you, her skirts pooling around her in a puddle of blue and white. You brace yourself for whatever she had been planning during her extended silence on your walk. The tension built up from yesterday had still not eased and if you knew your sister as well as you thought you did, you knew she would not allow herself to be the first one to heal the rift. 

You fix her with an even stare. Careful neutrality painted on your expression in an attempt to dissuade the worst of her plotting. “Yes, Lydia?” 

“Did she tell you about Jeonghan yet?” she asks with a mirthful grin, and you feel the question jolt through your body. Wonwoo glances up at her, dropping the blade of grass he had been idly running between his fingers, and lifting a hand to adjust his glasses. 

“Ah, no,” he admits. His eyes flicker to you briefly before returning to Lydia–so quickly you might not have noticed had your own eyes not been watching him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t believe so.”

“And you’ve never met him before?” Her grin widens slightly, glee shining bright in the depths of her coal dark eyes. She was truly her mother’s daughter. 

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, no,” he says, tolerating the leading questions with more patience than you would have ever been able to muster. But then, he always was more patient than you. 

“So you don’t know?” she asks, smile widening even further. 

“Lydia,” you warn, using every ounce of strength and resilience in your body to resist leaping forward and tackling her to the ground before she can spoil anything further. 

The warning in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo. You can feel him stiffen next to you; the fear of whatever is being left unsaid creeping under his skin and nestling there like a slumbering bear at the cusp of spring.

“Know what?” he asks, curiosity overwhelming the fear. He plucks up the thread your sister has laid bare and you know there’s no going back once she’s said what she wants to say. You want to grab him by the hand and race away–towards the trees, to a place used as solace from her nearly everyday in your youth. To hide from her and from the realities of the situation you find yourself currently stranded in. To stay in this moment in between forever. 

Lydia smiles again, pleased to command everyone’s attention so completely. You wait, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightening, and watch Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. Waiting to see the regret over his return show itself plain on his face. 

“They’re engaged,” she says finally, pulling the pin and leaning back on her arms to watch Wonwoo’s face fall. His mouth pulls to a thin line and you feel a cavern open up in the hollow of your chest, ready to swallow you whole. 

“Lydia,” you all but shout her name, startling a bird resting on a nearby bush and sending it flying into the air with an alarmed chirp. “We are not engaged.” 

“You might as well be,” she shouts back, balling her fists up in her skirts and fixing you with a glare, “I know that’s why he’s coming for dinner tonight.” 

“You don’t know anything,” the cold anger seething in your voice surprises you, but the buttons have been pressed and you can do nothing now except ride the wave. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, Lydia–whether you’re bored or just jealous or what–and frankly, I don’t care. It’s not funny. Leave me alone.” 

Whatever outcome she had hoped to garner from engineering this confrontation, this was not it. You watch as she picks herself up off the ground in a huff and stalks back towards the house–no doubt seeking the solace of your mother’s ever-forgiving arms. The rage subsides as she disappears from view, leaving in its wake a hollow in the pit of your stomach as you’re left staring out over the meandering creek as it carves its path through the fields. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, glancing sideways at Wonwoo. He sits still, in a state of mild shock at the outburst, and makes no indication of either moving or speaking. Birds fly overhead, singing their soprano songs as they make their way towards some unknown destination–wings disturbing the otherwise still air surrounding you. Silence stretches onwards, and you sit with your head resting on your arms, wishing you could travel back in time to prevent this from ever happening. 

But what time would you travel back to? To prevent Lydia from ever finding the letter in the first place, would you not have written it? Would you have instead bottled up those feelings that, at the time, were so overwhelming they demanded a two-page long letter to express? 

Would you go back and refuse to meet Jeonghan at the ball? Spend your time against the wall and accepting dances from the unwed sons of families you rarely associated with? 

Or would you travel back the span of a day and make peace with your sister. Approach her not from a well of anger but from a space of understanding and diplomacy–if only to smooth her ruffled feathers and prevent the fight that had been brewing in the pot of tension between you. 

The answer never comes. All of the possibilities–of what could have been or what might have been–dangle before you, but you know there is no going back; you are left now simply to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of what is. 

Wonwoo breaks the tense silence himself after a few minutes. “Is it true?” he asks, the potent mixture of hope and fear in his voice sends a pang of guilt through your heart–piercing the already bruised organ further at the sound. 

“We’re not engaged,” you say, unsure of how else to phrase the inbetween state of being that exists between you and Jeonghan. That period of time when both of you know what the next step is but still have not moved a muscle to take it. 

“Why did you send the letter?” He asks, twisting the knife of guilt and shame further and deeper into you with the tone of despair leaking out over every word. You turn to look at him, meeting his gaze head on to see the heartbreak glistening in his warm, brown eyes. 

The threat of tears prick behind your own as you look at him, desperately searching your brain for an answer that will make all of this go away–but none surface. Instead you are left with nothing but a confused tangle of emotions churning inside of you, clouding your thoughts with the force of them. You brace yourself for his possible reaction to the truth, averting your eyes back towards the blue river, “I didn’t send it.” The confession rolls out of your mouth like a prayer for peace and you can hear Wonwoo’s sharp intake of air as he takes a steadying breath beside you. 

“Do you love him?” The question hangs in the air between you, bringing you at once closer together with the weight of it and thrusting you further apart in the implication. 

“I don’t know,” you had never been able to lie around Wonwoo. Not since you were children, forcing him to steal bread and cheese from the kitchens with you for your own tea parties in the garden. Not since you were youths of twelve telling each other your deepest secrets as you laid next to each other in the field watching the clouds pass overhead. The truth, however painful it may be, was always the only route you were ever able to take when held under the weight of his gaze–transfixed by the warmth in his honeydark eyes. 

“Could you love him?” 

“Yes,” you sigh, nodding. “I could.” 

His next question comes out as a whisper, barely heard of the sound of the water below and the birds overhead--almost as if he was too afraid to ask it, “do you love me?” 

What could you say? What answer was there to give? ‘Of course, Wonwoo, you’re my best friend.’ While it remains true, you know that it isn’t what he’s asking you; you can read the deeper meaning hidden in the question, you know the significance of the words he is choosing. You turn towards him, twisting the knife in your heart one final time, severing completely the hope he had sent by letter. “I don’t know.” 

Another moment of silence passes. You stare unblinking over the horizon, waiting for the rain clouds to form in the blue expanse overhead–to match your mood with their dreary presence–but the sky remains unashamedly clear. 

Wonwoo lets out a long sigh beside you. You keep your gaze forward as you feel him stand up until he reaches a hand out to help you up. You glance from his hand to his face in surprise at the gesture after your confession, but he just smiles down at you sadly. “Come on,” he prompts and you slip your hand into his hand. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, unclear as to his intentions now that everything has been laid bare under the afternoon sun. 

“I’m walking you home,” he says simply, before pulling you to your feet and heading back down the path away from the running water and golden fields of wheat. 

.

.

.

The afternoon drags on, spent in the midst of an uncomfortable silence in the parlour with your sister and mother. Wonwoo excused himself to his family home shortly after returning back under the guise of getting ready for dinner. A part of you had been expecting him to feign illness and retire for the entirety of the evening, but no doubt the pressure of social graces–as well as his own unwavering politeness–entreated him to keep the engagement. 

The book open between your hands may as well be blank for all the attention you’re paying it; your mind swims with thoughts of your fight with your sister, and of the subsequent conversation with Wonwoo–replaying it over and over relentlessly. His face, crestfallen and sad, lingers in the forefront of your mind–a portrait reminder of the sharp ache in the centre of your chest. Lydia sits across from you, puncturing the fabric of her needlework aimlessly as she switches between pouting and glaring in your direction while your mother pointedly ignores you both in favour of hemming the dress her own sister recently passed down to her. 

Your father, attuned as usual to the shifting moods of the house, avoids the parlour entirely. 

The silent contemplation brings you no sense of reprieve by the time Jeonghan arrives for the evening. Hours spent pondering your options–alternating back and forth between him and Wonwoo and your confused feelings for both men–have brought no clear conclusion forward. In the wake of the afternoon, you prepare yourself for what was sure to be a bizarre dinner party, begging your mother not to sit you next to Lydia at the table for everyone’s sake. 

Thankfully she obliges, seating you instead between Wonwoo and Jeonghan for her own amusement–the latter of which being entirely unaware of the state of affairs he is about to enter into with this dinner. The table is set, the people are seated, and your mother begins with an overwhelmingly passionate monologue of gratitude towards the two young gentlemen joining your family that evening. 

“Mr. Jeon,” she smiles, passing a bowl of potatoes towards him, “how happy we are to see you at long last back home, as I already said this morning.” You roll your eyes at the emphatic speech, catching the gaze of your sister in a similar state of reproach and almost laughing with her before you correct yourself and turn back towards your plate of food. “I do so hope you will be back to visit much more in the future.”

“Of course,” Wonwoo nods his gratitude towards her, a placating smile stretching over his lips as he passes the bowl towards his aunt who had invited herself over as soon as she heard about the occasion. 

“I’ve already admonished him, Gloria,” she laughs, scooping a healthy serving of the starchy vegetable onto her own plate before handing it off down the line. “It has been far too long since I have seen my nephew and what does he do when he arrives? He comes to your estate for breakfast without even first saying hello to anyone in his own family.” She shakes her head and shares another laugh with your mother. They are, as always, two birds of a feather when in the company of each other–delighting in gossip and unwarranted comments as often as they can catch a breath to share them. 

“Now, Mr. Yoon,” your mother shifts her attention towards the man at your right side, smiling at him as if he were a newborn baby, “I am saddened to hear that you have to leave us so soon, but we have very much enjoyed your company these past few months and do so hope you will be back again soon.” 

“Of course,” he returns her smile with his own. You can feel the heat of his thigh next to your own under the table, the closeness of him on your one side and Wonwoo on the other nearly suffocating you in your seat. “There is a lot to come back for.” 

The comment doesn’t go unnoticed by either your sister, who has to feign a brief coughing fit to cover her laughter, or Wonwoo whose hand tenses around the fork in his grasp even as his expression remains impassive. The conversation is dissolved and dispersed amongst the table throughout the meal; your father catches Jeonghan’s attention and, unusually talkative, entreats him with a renewed discussion of the progress on the new mill’s construction. Both family matriarchs trade local gossip, as well as any anecdotes they can remember from the most recent ball, to keep each other entertained while you and Wonwoo sit in abject silence next to each other–eyes focused on the food on your plates in front of you. 

Everyone retires to the parlour after dinner, mingling in small groups with you and your sister sitting in silence at the edge of room–watching as your mother’s laugh grows louder with the heat of wine and your father’s passionate discussions about the price of rye take on a life of their own, while Jeonghan just nods patiently and listens. Gravity and familiarity pull the two of you closer together, seeking some solace in each other as the only two outsiders in your own home. 

“You were right,” she heaves a sigh, turning to you with a brief glance. 

“What was I right about?” You keep your eyes trained towards the room, watching as Wonwoo and Jeonghan strike up a conversation with each other and desperately wishing you were close enough to be able to hear what they were discussing. Lydia calls your attention back to her with a dramatic sigh. 

“I was jealous,” she admits and you look at her in surprise at the frank confession. “It was stupid, and I’m sorry. In my defence I didn’t know it was going to be so–” she pauses, waving a hand in a dramatic gesture towards the rest of the room, “dramatic.” 

You choke back a bark of astonished laughter, completely at odds with how you had been feeling for the first portion of the evening; all fight had been entirely drained out of you and despite the desire to continue dragging her over the coals for her sin, you give in to the shared bond that exists between you as sisters. “Me either,” you say simply.

“Do you forgive me?” she asks, a spark of hope lighting up her voice at your acceptance of her excuse and you laugh. 

“No,” you reply, grinning at her, “but I will.” 

“I suppose I can accept that,” she nods once, smiling back at you before drifting towards your mother and inserting herself into a conversation around pregnancy rumours in the village–a topic that is sure to keep all three of them enraptured for the remainder of the evening, as nothing is more exciting than the threat of children to women who have none to worry over anymore.

Left alone, you wander towards Wonwoo and Jeonghan; buoyed by the reconciliation with your sister and resigned to swallowing the rest of your fate as it stands before you. “Are we still discussing mills and rye?” you ask, nodding towards your father who has taken it upon himself to sink into silence with a book in front of the fire, having exhausted all avenues of conversation that he is even remotely invested in. 

Jeonghan laughs, shaking his head with a mock grimace, “no, actually. As it turns out, once you’ve already talked about the price of grain for well over an hour, there isn’t much left to be said.” 

Wonwoo nods, laughing–all hint of earlier heartbreak has washed clean from his expression for the moment and you can see that he and Jeonghan are getting along despite themselves. The confusion returns anew, revitalised in your mind, and you can’t be sure whether this development is good or bad even as you stand by to watch it unfold. 

“No,” Wonwoo says, “I was just asking him about his time in London.” 

“A truly horrible place,” Jeonghan shudders at the thought of the city, drawing another laugh forward from Wonwoo and plucking another thread of nerves inside your throat. “No, I am quite happy to be away from there for the time being. The peace and quiet of the countryside suits me, I think.” 

“It is certainly quiet,” Wonwoo nods just as a loud bout of laughter sounds out from the group of women on the settee near the fireplace, a wry smile dancing on his lips. 

“And you are from here originally?” Jeonghan asks, glancing over at Wonwoo’s aunt as she stands to deliver her well practised imitation of one of the other mamas from the village. 

“Yes, we grew up together,” he nods, gesturing towards you with the reply. Jeonghan glances between you, the new knowledge clicking into place in the wheels of his mind. 

“You must have a lot of stories from that time,” he says, following the thought. You watch it spin behind the firelit brown of his eyes. 

“Many, yes. We spent a lot of our time together,” Wonwoo affirms, and the truth of the statement sinks into you as he says it. Your past is filled with memories of him–painted with images of him splayed out in the fields, or leaping into the water, or simply falling asleep at the breakfast table after a sleepless night spent reading by candlelight. “If you want,” Wonwoo muses, lifting a hand to his chin with a sly grin, “I can tell you about the time she lost her shoe in the–”

“Stop,” you reach a hand out in panic, yanked unceremoniously out of your memories by the suggestion, and grab onto Wonwoo’s arm to cut off the story before it can begin. “No one wants to hear that story,” you let out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind hearing it,” Jeonghan says, glancing down where your hand sits lingering on Wonwoo’s arm; you pull it back to your side and resign yourself to the embarrassment that is sure to follow. He turns his attention back towards Wonwoo as he begins the story–more than happy to offer up your pain as an anecdote for the evening. 

“We were having a foot race through the fields after a particularly intense summer storm,” he begins with and you groan inwardly, already dreading the narrative that you know will follow, “of course her skirts were at least an inch deep in the mud and were weighing her down rather heavily,” the story continues and Jeonghan stands as a ready audience as Wonwoo weaves the image together for him. You can picture that day so clearly in your mind, the feeling of the mud sucking you down into the field, Wonwoo nearly tearing your sleeve off while trying to pull you out, and then diving in to rescue the shoe that you were sure your mother would kill you for if she knew you had lost it. 

The rain beating down on you as Wonwoo carried you on his back towards the house–tears streaming down your face and the both of you covered head to toe in mud which earned you an, admittedly deserved, verbal lashing from your parents as soon as you tracked it inside. 

“I must say,” Jeonghan looks towards you when the story comes to its conclusion, laughing softly at the thought, “I can’t quite picture it.”

“Why not?” you ask, curious as to the reason behind his statement. 

“I suppose,” he pauses for a moment in thought, “you seem much more put together now. I can’t picture you as a wild child.” 

Wonwoo snorts, as if some inside joke has been shared, and shoots you a conspiratorial glance, “she’s definitely much more put together now.”

“Well, I’m glad you two have had fun bonding over my embarrassment,” you sigh. The clock on the wall chimes the hour and you see from the corner of your eye your father yawning wide over his book. Even the laughter and chatter from the other women in the room has died down–everyone now sporting a tired, weary expression in the lateness of the evening. 

Wonwoo’s aunt stands, thanking your parents profusely for the meal and the bed, before retiring upstairs to the guest rooms. Your mother and sister follow her in short order, with your father not too far behind, ushering the three of you towards bed as well. The wooden floors of the stairs creak under the weight as everyone files up towards their respective rooms for the evening; the house has not seen this many guests since the last time your cousins stayed with you, and despite the bizarre circumstances you were grateful for the company as a welcome change of pace from the everyday routine. 

You slip into bed after saying your goodnights and feel the weight of the day sinking into you. Left in solitude finally after hours of entertaining company, your thoughts return to the circular confusion that had been clouding your mind before dinner. They flicker back and forth between faces–Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Jeonghan–both men swimming up to eclipse all your thoughts once again. You remember Jeonghan as he was the day you met him, cheerful and witty in the presence of a room full of strangers. The best company you had kept in months–more than willing to converse and joke with the ease of someone you could have known for years. 

And you remember Wonwoo, as he was when you were children–bright, kind, and willing to go along with every place you could cook up despite his own shyness and reserve. And you remember him as he was today, beside the creek in the fields; bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, face fallen in the wake of your confession. He had come all this way on the wings of hope towards you after years of separation, and you had to be the one to ground him with reality. Not once, in all your years of knowing him had you seen that expression on his face until today. 

Sleep consumes you after you exhaust your cyclical thoughts; you pray for a dreamless slumber–only too ready to sink into the relief of darkness–and for once, your prayers are granted. 

.

.

.

The house is abuzz with activity in the morning. Everyone wakes for breakfast early, eager to continue last night’s conversations or to strike up new ones, and you feel renewed after a blessedly restful sleep. The weight of indecision still rests heavy on your heart, but it isn’t as cloying and suffocating as it had been the night before–trapped between Wonwoo and Jeonghan at the table all while wrestling with your own thoughts. Instead you find yourself smiling more easily, even laughing openly at your sister’s jokes over breakfast. Relief washes through you at the reprieve from your tortured feelings until the meal once again comes to an end and Jeonghan stands, turning towards you with a question. “If I may,” he begins, capturing the attention of everyone still seated despite the attempt at keeping his voice to a low volume. “Could I request the privilege of an audience with you,” uncharacteristic nervousness shimmers in his voice and you feel it similarly ripple through your body, “alone?” 

In a rush your mother stands, abandoning her half-cut slice of ham and ushering everyone out of the dining room with glee and answers for you. “Of course, of course,” you sit paralyzed, your own nerves tying a knot inside your throat as you watch them leave the room. Wonwoo looks back at you, meeting your eyes with his own worried gaze before the door is closed and you are left in silence as Jeonghan gathers his thoughts to speak. 

“It should come as no surprise,” he begins, and you stand to face him–eyes slightly averted from his own to avoid the intensity of the moment, “that I–” he pauses, hesitating. The nerves that were in his voice before have built to a fine point and you watch his hands as they clench and unclench into fists at his side. 

“Jeonghan,” you start, hoping to offer some words to ease the palpable tension in the air but coming up entirely speechless. 

“I return to town soon, and I was hoping you would also–” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration before giving up on whatever speech he had half-planned. “I love you,” he says, plainly, brown eyes seeking yours for any confirmation of the feelings he wishes to be returned, “quite a lot, actually, and I had to ask before I left if you feel the same, if–” he inhales, breath shaking with the force of his confession–with the fear of rejection or acceptance or both. “If you would do me the honour of marrying me?” 

The question hangs between you–caught in limbo as you ponder it. You had expected it, as much as you had tried to ignore that expectancy, it was there. Standing here, in the centre of your family’s dining room facing him now–the buzzing excitement, the sweeping sense of anticipation, and warmth that you felt before–it’s all miles away. The hope you had previously held for this exact moment is racing away through the fields, running free and far from you. The feelings that bore the hope exist still, they sit nestled in your heart, but they aren’t attached to Jeonghan; here in the light of day you finally come to the realisation that you have known all along where your heart belongs. 

It belongs in the fields of your childhood, running through the mud with your hand clasped tight in Wonwoo’s firm grip. It belongs at the feet of the boy who promised you at thirteen years old that he would never let you go. It belongs to someone on the other side of the door from you–whose heart you shattered only a day prior. 

Jeonghan stands silent–waiting for your response–and you wish in this moment you could give him something other than the truth that has formed on your lips, but it has broken free into the air between you before you can catch it. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I wish I could. I really do, but–”

He smiles, the expression not quite meeting his eyes as he nods in understanding, “I know.” The resignation in his voice catches you off guard and he laughs at your surprise, “I knew last night that this was a losing game for me, but still,” he sighs, “I had to ask.” 

“So,” you start, at a loss for what social decorum expects of you in this situation. Sinking into the relief of his acceptance of your rejection. “What will you do now?” 

He pauses a moment in thought, fixing his gaze on the ceiling before turning back to you with a slight grin, “maybe I will invest in the new mill.” 

Laughter cuts through the tension, dissolving the atmosphere of the room back into one of calm camaraderie, “I really am sorry, Jeonghan. For what it’s worth, if you had asked me five days ago I would have said yes.” 

“Missed my chance, then,” he smiles sadly, turning towards the door only to have it swing open under the weight of your mother and sister pressing against it. “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” he bows towards your mother and, before she has a chance to inquire, leaves through the front door and heads off into the morning sun. 

“You rejected him?” your mother asks, surprise and astonishment colouring her voice. She glances between you and the door as it closes behind Jeonghan, mouth agape. 

“Where’s Wonwoo?” you ask, taking note of the absence of him from the small group gathered at the door to the dining room. They all glance around at each other, matching bewildered expressions, until, with a roll of your eyes, you push through them and head out the front door–propriety be damned. 

For a moment you hesitate; you have no idea where he might have gone in the span of time you spent talking to Jeonghan but a voice in the back of your mind directs you across the golden fields towards that old familiar grove of trees. Your mother and sister, accompanied by Wonwoo’s aunt, hover at the front step of the house, watching as you stride through the tall grass, through the stalks of wheat, past the cows and sheep, and towards the greenery beyond. 

You pause at the entrance to the grove, framed by old willow trees and inhale a steadying breath. Your feet sink into the soft earth as you step into the shade of the trees and you see Wonwoo standing, as you half-expected he would be, next to the gnarled oak tree in the centre of the clearing. A small smile plays at the corners of your lips as you approach him in silence, startling him when you come to a stop beside him–eyes trained on the carved heart in the rough, brown bark. 

“Do you remember when we did this?” he asks, tracing a finger over the old memory. You nod, waiting for him to continue the story, “a month before I left for town.”

“I remember.” 

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to leave without first promising to come back when we were older,” he laughs–a light, breathless laugh. “Do you remember that?” 

“I do,” you nod, turning towards him. “I remember you saying you would always come back for me.” 

“Right,” he nods, removing his hand from the wood of the tree and straightening his posture. You stand for a moment, in the silence of the morning broken only by the chirping of nesting birds in the treetops above. The shared memory lingers between you–wrapping you together in a knot of knowing. A knowing of each other, unlike anyone else–shared history, shared memories, shared feelings. 

“Are you going to marry him?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence first and glancing at you–fear of your unspoken answer, of what he imagines it might be, dancing in his brown eyes as he stands in the sun-dappled wood. You can’t help but feel strange in this moment, standing with the boy you’ve stood with so many times surrounded by these same trees. He looks the same–older, yes–but the same. The same brown eyes alight with hope and love, the same golden skin glistening in the light of the sun, the same tremor in his voice as he gives voice to a question that he fears the answer to. 

You pause a moment in thought. “Jeonghan would make an excellent husband,” you say, consdiering the possibility out loud. Wonwoo's face falls; a subtle almost imperceptible shift in his expression. Fear of an unknown solidifying into fear of an almost certainty in his mind.

He clears his throat, nodding, "he would." The tremor in his voice remains even as he tries to hide it, speaking softly and trying to steel his gaze. "You would be," he stammers, averting his eyes back towards the bark of the tree, “you would be an excellent match."

"We would, but Wonwoo," you say, catching his attention again with the mention of his name. You capture his gaze once more as you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. Your fingers itch to reach out and take his hand in yours; standing here alone in the middle of a copse of trees you're already laughing in the face of all decency. All it would take is one of you to reach out–skin to skin–as you had when you were children. Without care, without worry. No thought to anything save the moment. Save the feeling that trembles in the space between you. 

"Wonwoo," you begin again, steadying your hands at your side, "how could I marry him when I'm still in love with you?"

The dawn of realisation breaks over his face–clearing away the storm clouds that had been brewing behind his eyes–and his mouth falls open in silent shock. You stand there, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun as it filters through the tops of the trees overhead. Trees that have witnessed your growth together through life; running wild as children, escaping your parents as youths, and sharing your first, fumbling kiss at fourteen years old after racing each other through the rain to the solace of the grove. Trees that now stand witness as Wonwoo finally speaks, breaking the silence that had stretched taut between you for a moment–a silence filled with so many unspoken memories and words. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice a mere breath in the air; if you hadn’t been standing so close already you might not have heard him. 

You reach forward, allowing your itching fingers to finally grasp onto his–the shock of his warm hands in your own sending a chill over your body. Slowly, you raise his hand to your lips and press a chaste kiss to the knuckles, murmuring a soft “yes,” into his skin there. 

All the awkwardness of youth is gone; the stiff hands, the hesitation, all of it melts into the past as Wonwoo raises a gentle hand to your cheek, bringing you towards him. A sharp inhale in the wake of anticipation, and then your lips meet. His warmth sinks into you as you press forward into the kiss, deepening it as you feel the flood of feelings held back for years pour forth.

Wonwoo pulls back with a smile that lights up the browns of his irises as he looks at you. “What would your mother think of this?” he teases, entwining his fingers with yours. 

“Don’t ruin this please,” you grimace, and he laughs–bright and clear before pulling you back to him. You feel his smile against your lips and sink into the warmth of it, wrapping your arms around him and allowing the world outside to melt away. No thoughts of your family, no thoughts of your past, no thoughts of the future–just here and now, in the arms of the one you’ve loved and waited for. 

And it’s in this moment, as Wonwoo encircles you in his arms, that you know you’ve made the right choice. 

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and letting me know. its what keeps me writing

---

die with a smile - kim mingyu

member | husband!mingyu x reader

genre | dystopian!au, apocalypse!au, angst, fluff

word count | 1.7k

synopsis | if the world was ending, mingyu would want to be next to you

warnings | mentions of death, blood, doom’s day?, reader has a smaller build than mingyu, you can guess the ending..

notes | yes, this was based off the legendary collab between lady gaga and bruno mars’ and the song ‘die with a smile’ pls check it out if you haven't this is literally one of the best songs ive ever listened to in the year of our lord 2024

‘Come on, slowpoke! Catch up!’ 

You were running in a green meadow and the tall, swaying grass that reached right below Mingyu’s hip tickled his knees with every step he took in your direction. The view in front of him was the definition of a living dream. The meadow went past the horizon for as long as the eye could see and the bright blue sky seemed large and vast as it loomed over him. The big, round clouds seemed to sway with the wind that blew gently past him, scattering his bangs that were swept across his forehead. Up ahead, you continued to run and skip through the boundless field, a bright giggle leaving your lips as you continued to taunt Mingyu.

‘Last one is the rotten egg!’

A part of Mingyu thought that he would be okay with dying like this.

‘Wait up!’ He picked up his pace and jogged towards you. ‘Baby-'

A loud rumble interrupted his next words as the bright and clear sky turned dark and murky. It was a gradual change, like storm clouds rolling on a sunny day. The rich, healthy grass under his feet began to shrivel up and dry as the dirt ground began to crack and shake. 

‘Babe? Mingyu-!’ And right in front of him, the ground gave away and swallowed up the love of his life whole.

‘NO! [NAME] NO-‘ Mingyu reached for you, his outstretched hand too far away to grab your flailing limbs. ‘[NAME]! NO!’

“NO!” Mingyu jackknifed awake, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and with a hand still outstretched for someone who could never be saved.

“Another nightmare?” Your voice seemed to snap Mingyu back in reality. He cleared his throat and climbed out of his tattered sleeping bag to sit by you at the entrance of the cave. The sky was similar to his dreams; dark and murky but now, there was also red. Everywhere. Mingyu gave up trying to differentiate what the different reds were: blood, lava, fire. It didn’t matter. All of it was going to kill him in some way or another.

He settled down next to you and rested his head on your shoulder. “It was the meadow one again.” Mingyu mumbled quietly. Although the sky was permanently the same kind of color all hours of the day, you and your husband tried your best to stick to some kind of circadian rhythm to try and keep yourselves alive for as long as possible. Right now, according to our bodies, it was the middle of the night and you were on guard duty. 

“What do you think it means?” You asked quietly as you reached up to run your fingers through Mingyu’s matted hair. Neither of you bothered to care about the blood on your fingers or the grime in his hair. You were far too deep into this to care about hygiene anymore.

“We’re all going to die,” Mingyu mumbled. “But I refuse to watch you die in front of me like that dream. I want to be next to you until our very last moment.”

You pressed your nose into your husband’s temple and breathed in a deep breath. It was random love confessions like these that reminded you of how much you loved Mingyu’s spontaneity before The Incident happened.

Before the first asteroid hit, you and Mingyu were a normal couple. You each had your respective jobs; Mingyu as the head of his own architecture firm and you as a research analyst at a biomedical tech company, and both jobs was more than enough to financially support your little party of two. The two of you spent your days together exploring the city and traveling the world together. On random Friday evenings, he would show up to your office 20 minutes before you got off with a bouquet of flowers and sheepish smile. Although he understood nothing about your work, he would ask questions and listen to your responses with a loving look in his eyes. He would hold your hand in the hallways, your matching rings glinting under the fluorescent lights as you clocked out. 

That childhood, innocent side of Mingyu disappeared after the world turned upside down. He became more dark and serious, almost never cracking jokes and fixated on keeping both of you alive. He also had a rotation of nightmares that visited him every night. They were different variations of the same vision; losing you first as the world ended.

“Guess what,” You whispered. “I got us some food. Real food.” 

Mingyu’s ears perked up at that. “Food?” 

The past 48 hours were full of rationing Haribo gummies, water, and granola bars. Although it was a difficult switch for you to get accustomed to, it was even harder for your husband, who was much bigger and needed more nutrients than the ones he received from gummies, water, and granola bars. It pained you to see the man you loved constantly struggle with hunger but didn’t even let out a single peep of complaint to you.

“They were really desperate for first aid so I did an emergency medical procedure in exchange for some instant camping food.” So that explained the new blood stains on your fingers. Mingyu kept his eyes trained on your trembling, bloody hands as you tried to open a package of camping food. The label read ‘Instant Lasagna. 2 Servings’.

Mingyu could already feel his mouth watering at the thought of real food. And lasagna? That was a total luxury that almost nobody could afford right now.

“Baby, can you start up a fire and boil some water? We need hot water for this.”

Fifteen minutes later, and the food was ready. Your eyes glistened with a newfound joy as you opened the seal and held out the first spoonful of lasagna towards Mingyu. “Take a bite and let me know how it tastes.”

He shook his head. “No, you first.”

“Mingyu, I know how much you’ve been struggling because of our rations. If you don’t eat first, I’m going to get mad.” 

And he definitely didn’t want that. He took the first bite.

“Oh god, that’s heavenly.” Mingyu’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he groaned. As a head of a thriving architecture firm, Mingyu’s had his fair share of luxury dinners and fine dining in his 13 years of working, but this single spoon of instant lasagna cooked in a dark cave while the world was reaching its expiration date was better than anything he had ever tasted in his entire life. 

You beamed. “Really? That’s great. Have another bite-“

Mingyu held up his hand to stop you. “Your turn. I refuse to take another bite until you do.”

“Touche.”

This was your favorite position. Your back pressed against the front of Mingyu’s chest with his strong arms wrapped around you. It had always been your ultimate favorite way to cuddle, especially because Mingyu liked to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck at random intervals and deep in a deep breath that tickled the hairs on the back of your neck. The current temperature (read: fire, lava, the basically non-existent ozone) would usually have you push Mingyu and complain that it was too hot, but now, every second counted.  

Another asteroid shower had started not too long ago. Usually, this meant packing up everything and moving further east, but both you and Mingyu came to a silent mutual agreement that you were too tired to continue. The two of you were beginning to come to terms with the fact that the world was ending and your time together was also coming to a close. 

With every distant thud you heard in the distance, you felt Mingyu take in a shaky breath and nuzzle his face further into your neck. “Gyu…”

“Shhh… I just wanna hold you right now.”

“Gyu, it’s getting closer,” You felt his arms tighten around you. He also knew what that meant. “Lie down with me.”

Mingyu spread his sleeping bag across the stone floor of the cave and gently lowered your head onto the floor, treating you so gently, like you were a piece of glass bound to shatter at any moment. He made himself comfortable next to you, letting you use his arm as a pillow as you buried your face into his chest. “Can you hold me like this?”

“Of course. Today, tomorrow, and every other day you ask me to.” Mingyu kissed the top of your head and sighed.

The two of you remained in silence like that for a while, your sweaty skins slick against each other from the heat, but you didn’t care. You were being held by the man you loved the most. The resounding thuds of the falling asteroids served as a constant reminder for the impending doom waiting for the two of you at the end of this as it drew closer and closer to the cave you were in.

“Look at me, my love,” Mingyu’s voice was ever so gentle and loving. He gently tipped your chin upwards to face him and his eyes roamed your face, as if he was committing every bit of it to memory. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for allowing me to love you and be loved back.”

You smiled. “I’m going to find you in my next life. I promise.”

“That, I won’t doubt for a single moment, my love.” Mingyu dipped his neck lower to capture your lips with his. Soft and gentle. Like Mingyu. A kiss that represented every kiss the two of you ever shared and the ones you will never be able to have anymore. “I love you so much.”

Through your bleary eyes, you tried to commit every part of Mingyu to memory. Under all the grime, sweat, and blood, was the Mingyu you first fell in love with during your freshman year of college. The boy who sheepishly asked for your number after the lecture only to lose to you horribly on your first date at your campus’ bowling alley. 

“I love you too.” You whispered.

Mingyu smiled. “Good night, [Name]. Thank you for being mine.”

“Good night, Mingyu. I love you.” Your lips tugged up into a bright smile. 

“I’ll love you in every universe. Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^-^

---