Tell Me That You Love Me | Joshua Hong {part Two}

tell me that you love me | joshua hong {part two}

SYNOPSIS. in which you and joshua are simply different in more ways than one, yet only seem to find a common ground in struggling to chase your dreams. so why does life keep throwing you two at each other, despite your different worlds, and why does it feel so terrifyingly right? PAIRING. musician!joshua hong x deaf-artist!reader (ft. cafe owner!jeonghan, musician!seokmin, best friend!seungkwan, best friend!wheein, producer!jihoon) GENRE. fluff, slice of life, kdrama romance-esque, mild angst, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn WARNINGS/TAGS. cursing, shua and reader has some self-doubt issues :(, someone makes insensitive comments about reader, mention of alcohol (beer), mention of cigarettes, everyone ships them, kissing, terms of endearment, Softie Domestic Joshua™, it conveniently rains when they're together, this is 85% fluff and 15% plot and the brainrot was giving me an existential crisis, honestly there's not much warnings it's just a love story <3 WORD COUNT (FOR PART TWO). 17k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). 37k

notes: for some reason even tho this whole part is almost as long as the first part it still feels rushed asf lmao. there are a bit of time skips between most sections, and prob a noticeable decline in quality the more u read HAHA. idk what else to say other than i hope you all enjoy and thank you for joining me on this journey <3 your feedback and reblogs mean the world to me !!

part one | part two

The taste of the salty breeze is sharp on your tongue. Sand raids onto your sandals and crawls playfully up to your ankles as you step foot on the expansive beach. 

“Ahh, it’s been a long time since we’ve gone to the beach!” Wheein exclaims proudly while running up to you and locking arms with yours, her hair tied back in two french braids, the carefree grin to her face infectious as ever. “No sad thoughts today. We’re here to have fun, ‘kay?”

She grabs you by the shoulders and eagerly shakes your body before you have the chance to respond. Wheein is right𑁋no sad thoughts today, it is. Seungkwan dashes up from behind as well, carrying with him two plastic bags full of drinks and snacks when the three of you stopped by the convenience store earlier. You carry a large blanket in your grasp as you all make your way to a spot a good distance away from the water. Ah, and you’ve brought your camera along too. 

It turns out that Wheein and Seungkwan had planned a surprise trip to the beach solely to celebrate your art being selected for the museum. But even though that didn’t happen, they still wanted to cheer you up and lift your spirits (meaning, they stood by your front door for nearly half an hour and constantly shone their phone flashlights to get your attention inside, practically dragging you out of bed. You still love them either way). 

The beach isn’t that busy at this time in the late afternoon during a weekday, so finding a quiet spot is easy. You lay out the blanket on a patch of smooth sand, making sure it's free of any debris. Seungkwan sets down the bags of snacks and drinks, and Wheein helps arrange everything neatly.

The water laps calmly up the coast, stretching for miles under the soft glow of the sun. As you settle yourself on the blanket, you catch sight of a trio of seagulls flying peacefully overhead while feeling the warmth of the sand below you and the cool breeze hitting your skin. 

It’s hard not to look at the picturesque scene right before your eyes. A sun, sunrise, or sunset on the beach is something you’ve painted many times before, but you probably wouldn’t tire of it. There’s a variety of colours that the sky contains𑁋from fiery oranges and bright blues to soft pinks and purples𑁋and many people would say it’s the easiest background to capture on a canvas. But you know better. 

Taking a hold of the camera around your neck, you adjust the lens and frame the seemingly endless skies right within the small viewfinder. The shutter clicks a few times as you capture the vibrant hues of the sunset slowly but surely beginning to take its course, freezing a moment of beauty in time. 

After taking a moment to review the photos, you bring the camera back up to your eye again and whip your head around with the intent of taking some candid shots. However, you certainly don’t expect to capture the face of Joshua mid-laugh. He's not looking at you, or the camera, but at Wheein and Seungkwan who seemed to have quickly dropped their belongings in order to greet him. There’s two other boys behind him too𑁋Jeonghan was one of them, the other one you weren’t able to put a name on, but the wide grin on his face was enough to tell you all that you needed to know. All of them are too far for you to be able to read what they’re talking about.

Happiness looks good on them, You think. 

Zooming out just slightly, a singular click is all you need to capture. It’s like everything that you need in a small, rectangular frame𑁋an encapsulation of pure joy. You lower the camera and take a few seconds to admire the candid show, the way the sun casts a golden glow on their faces, and the unguarded expressions of happiness that make the photo more than just perfect. 

Bringing your camera back around your neck, you stand up from the blanket and slowly approach the group. Joshua is the first to notice you come up, as he always is, and his face doesn’t shy away from seemingly brightening up. He’s wearing a plaid button down shirt with a few of its buttons undone, a seashell necklace around his neck, and a pair of black shorts. You also notice his guitar case slinging on his shoulder. 

You muster up a surprised look towards Wheein and Seungkwan about the guests you weren’t aware that were invited𑁋not that you’re complaining at all. 

Wheein waves a hand in front of your face, directing your attention towards her. 

“They’re here to sing!” she tells you, signing animatedly to you.

You lift a brow, letting your hands move in the air as if you’re conducting. “Sing?”

“I thought it would be a fun touch!” Wheein exclaims, then she steps closely right in front of you, seemingly lowering her voice and signing briskly so the others wouldn’t see, “I’m doing you a favour here.” 

“Y/N! This is Seokmin,” Seungkwan gestures to the boy who finally has a name standing right next to Joshua, spelling out the letters of Seokmin’s name with his hands.

Immediately, Seokmin switches whatever he was holding in his right hand𑁋a microphone stand?𑁋to his other hand before extending it out to you for a handshake in perhaps the most humourously, gentlemanly way possible. The goofy grin on his face is enough to make you giggle as you shake his hand firmly. 

“Nice to meet you,” You sign to him, and Seokmin’s eyes light up in awe at the way your hands move. He turns towards the others with a questionable look, and when they tell him what you signed, his grin widens even more. 

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Seokmin exclaims, the enthusiasm bouncing off him. Then he briefly glances between you and Joshua, wiggling his brows and adding, “I’ve been told a lot about you.” 

Glancing over at Joshua, you notice the way he brings his head down to his feet for a moment, but then he lifts himself back up and meets your gaze with a fond smile.

“Okay, you guys can go set your things up. Seungkwan and I will set up the snacks and drinks,” Wheein says. “I say we go in the water after the performance. Who’s in?” 

Right away, the remaining five of you come to a simultaneous agreement. Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Joshua begin to move towards a spot a little further down the beach where they can set up their equipment. Wheein and Seungkwan grab the bags with the food and drinks to set them up near the blanket, leaving you behind to soak in the sight of the beach once more. 

“Right here is good.” Joshua motions to a spot on the ground where Jeonghan sets up the speaker for the microphone. “Did you bring the extension cord?”

Jeonghan pleasantly rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he whips out the extension cord and connects it to the speaker with ease. “You really don’t believe in me, don’t you?” Then he glances past Joshua’s shoulders, smirking faintly to himself. “Target incoming. Six o'clock.”

Joshua turns his body around, wiping away the sand from his hands, and his eyes land straight on you approaching up to him. The corners of his mouth turn upward at the sight of you, dazed eyes lingering on the way you carry yourself quietly toward him. The sunlight catches in your hair, and the backdrop of the ocean makes you appear like a painting that had come to life. He quickly clears his throat.

When you come up to him, you hold out your phone towards him.

Didn’t expect to see you here today

Joshua stifles a half-hearted laugh, plucking the phone from your grasp to type right below your line. 

Is that a bad thing? 

As you read the message, you could only scowl playfully, before taking your phone back.

How did you even know about this anyway?

After scanning your message, Joshua glances around before pointing at something behind you𑁋to Wheein and Seungkwan, who were both dashing away from a wave that was washing onto the shore. 

“Your friends are really adamant about cheering you up,” he remarks teasingly. “I couldn’t just say no.” 

You could visibly see the utter panic in Wheein’s face from afar when Seungkwan nearly stumbles into the wet sand, her hands coming to grab the younger boy’s arm to pull him up. Then their faces shift into a fit of laughter. You really don’t know what you would do without them, honestly. 

“Thank you,” You sign to Joshua when you turn back to him. 

Joshua’s eyes roam over your face with a soft, contemplative expression. Then he motions down to your phone that was in your grasp, and you hand it to him, your fingers briefly brushing against each other.

A thoughtful look spreads across his features, before he types a response on your phone, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and you read his message:

You look beautiful today.

The words on the screen seem to glow brighter than usual, and you feel a rush of affection flood into you like the waves at high tide. Your hand nearly goes limp, almost dropping your phone into the sands below, your heart stuttering in your chest as you regain your composure. For once, even communicating with your hands feels clumsy, inadequate. 

But before you can say anything, a damp hand lands at your shoulder, and you whip your head around to see Wheein standing there, hair dripping wet and chest heaving with exhaustion. 

“If we don’t start, I’m going to kill Seungkwan,” Wheein says while exaggeratedly signing, face scrunched up in annoyance. 

You scratch the back of your neck bashfully before turning off your phone and averting your eyes away from Joshua. You drag Wheein away to help her dry off while the others set up the rest of the equipment. 

By the time everything is set up, there’s a small gathering of curious beachgoers nearby who seem to be drawn by the preparation going on. Some were sitting on blankets spread out on the sand, while others stood in small groups at a respectful distance. 

You find yourself sitting on a blanket with Wheein and Seungkwan right next to you. The two of them were conversing with each other, and all you could do was watch Joshua. He takes out his guitar from the case before sitting on a folded up plastic chair. He runs a hand through his hair and seems to strum a few notes, probably checking the sound levels𑁋Jeonghan sends him a thumbs-up from the side. Seokmin also sits down in a chair right next to him, adjusting the microphone to his mouth and tapping a few times on its head. 

“Hello, everyone!” Joshua announces into the microphone. He’s too far away for you to read his lips properly, but he’s still signing for you, for you to understand even when you’re not directly in front of him. Did he practice all of this beforehand? “Thank you all for stopping by to listen.” 

It’s hard to fully catch what he signs next. He might be nervous, you think, but that’s still endearing in itself. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the beach, as Joshua begins to strum his guitar. Seokmin fixes himself up to the microphone, fingers tapping beats against his thigh. His face shifts into focus, eyes closing to the music taking over that you can feel reverberate through the fresh air. 

Joshua's fingers dance across the strings, then Seokmin's voice joins in. You watch their performance unfold, catching glimpses of their expressions𑁋Joshua's focused yet occasionally glancing your way with a reassuring smile, Seokmin's eyes closed in immersion with the music.

At the corner of your eye, you see Wheein and Seungkwan swaying to the music. When Wheein turns towards you, she reaches down to grab your hand into hers and lifts it up into the air with a grin, swaying your hands together from left to right. She also does the same with Seungkwan, and it’s just the three of you moving your bodies enthusiastically to the music as it swarms throughout the lively atmosphere of the beach. The small gathered audience around seem caught in the moment too. 

When the first song ends, you clap along with the others, feeling the exhilaration of the performance blossom within your chest. Joshua lets his eyes roam around, briefly settling in your gaze for a moment, and the sight of your genuine joy only encourages him even more. He nods to Seokmin, who flashes him a thumbs-up, and then they dive into the next song.

It’s an emotional one this time. You could tell from the pensive looks on everyone's faces𑁋Seungkwan seems like he’s even about to cry𑁋and it only makes you think what they’re singing about. But you don’t let it bother you; instead, you still slowly sway your body, closing your eyes and letting yourself immerse in the moment. 

Grains of sand slip through the cracks of your fingers. The sun has almost fully set at this point, merely just a golden half-circle sinking into the horizon. Water drips down your hair and skin onto the towel below you, goosebumps crawling its way up your arms from the night breeze that was beginning to settle in. You have no idea what time it is right now𑁋the beach is probably going to close soon, you think. 

The others are still wading in the water, except for Jeonghan who might be passed out on another blanket not that far away from you. The events from the past few hours have started to rain down on you, a small yawn leaving you as you use the towel below to dab at your legs. 

However, you feel something encase around you suddenly, and you perk up to the warm feeling of a towel being draped over your shoulders. Looking up, you see Joshua standing right above you, a towel of his own in his hands. He places himself down right next to you as if it was the most natural thing to do, and you let him. You like… being close with him like this. 

Joshua dries off his hair with the towel, and you have to take your gaze away from the fact that his arms are exposed because of the sleeveless black top he was wearing. His hair comes out in a loose mess, wet strands sticking to his forehead. He glances over at you for a second, sending you a brief smile, and again, you avert your eyes away, moving your neck around to ignore the heat creeping up your body. 

You don’t suppress the smile passing over your own face, though.

A light nudge at your side blinks you back to reality, making you turn to see an illuminated phone screen right in front of you.

Tired? 

That was all to make another yawn leave you once again. Joshua just chuckles at the way you angle your face away from the phone screen, trying to hide your weariness. He brings the phone back to type something else before showing it to you. 

Feeling happy though? 

You almost want to scoff at that, but you don’t. It’s hard to not notice the way you feel happy right now. Maybe you’re glowing or something, maybe the pain that you feel in your cheeks is from all the smiles that was plastered on your face throughout the day. Whatever it is, you can’t deny it𑁋yes, you feel happy. 

Joshua sees it too. There was probably no use in asking. The answer blooms on your features, perhaps brighter than the first stars beginning to twinkle above. 

And so, you simply nod. 

When Joshua retrieves his phone back, there’s a subtle shift in his face that was noticeable in the light. His fingers start typing across the screen, but then it stops, starts again, and stops. 

He turns to you, expression turning serious. “Is it okay if I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” 

You huddle more into the towel and meet his gaze with a curious tilt of your head. His eyes flicker between you and his phone. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, he hesitantly shows you the screen.

Have you ever wished that you could hear again?

For some reason, Joshua expects for you to be taken aback by the question, maybe even awkward or offended. But, instead, a relaxed look graces your features, a subtle curve at your lips, and you shake your head. Then you take the phone, typing out: 

Not really. When I lost my hearing at 7, I used to cry to sleep knowing I won’t be able to hear my parent’s voices again. But over time, I didn’t let it bother me. It’s a part of who I am. It doesn’t make me any less than anyone else. It doesn’t make the world any less beautiful than it is now. There will always be challenges, like missing out on a joke or an important announcement. But I’ve learned to find beauty in the little things. Like feeling music through vibrations, or how sunlight hits my skin and tells me that the day is beautiful. I could read people’s faces and feel their excitement or their sadness. These are sounds in their own ways. So no, I don’t really wish I could hear again. I’ve found my own way to listen and be heard. 

You even feel out of breath after typing all that out, but you feel lighter. Your heart feels completely vulnerable right now, all the thoughts swirling around you seem easy to catch in another’s hands. But Joshua is gentle with those thoughts, as if he’s placing them back down on the ground for you to navigate them together. You notice a flicker of something akin to awe wash over his features as he quietly reads your words to himself, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows. Then, he starts to type. 

For me, I’ve been surrounded by sound all my life. Voices, instruments, the noise of the city. It’s kind of hard to imagine going through life without it. I’ve learned to grow up analyzing tones, pitches, chords, and notes. And because of that I get afraid of being the one off-key. But I like being quiet with you. And I like talking to you. And I like getting to know you. There’s a part of me that thinks I wouldn’t get tired of looking at you. I don’t know if it’s the silence that helps me focus, but I just know it helps me focus on you. 

You swear you don’t even blink when you read over his words, once, twice, five times over. There’s a tugging at the strings of your heart, a sweet ache spreading through your chest, a sensation much to the pull of the ocean’s tide. When you draw your eyes away from the phone and to Joshua, his gaze meets yours in the middle, a hesitant question lingering painted over his features. 

He brings his hands once more. He points to himself first, then faces his hand towards his chest, putting his thumb and index finger close to his chest with the other fingers extended out. Next, he slowly moves his hand forward, bringing his thumb and index finger closer together. And finally, he points to you, like you’re the last piece of the puzzle.

“I like you.” 

A lump forms in your throat, and that familiar flutter of butterflies takes flight in your stomach, but it’s demanding this time and impossible to ignore. Letting your eyes drift over his face𑁋from his somewhat damp, tousled hair and down to the curve of his lips𑁋you know exactly how you feel.

Without hesitation; without doubt, you kiss him the next moment. It’s a tentative touch at first, making Joshua’s eyes widen in surprise and you pull away with uncertainty. For a second, he could only gaze at you, but then an adoring smile blooms across his face, an admiring sparkle in his pupils. Then he tilts his head just slightly, almost in a teasing manner, and leans back in to capture your lips against his once more. 

Even when your eyes flutter to a close, you still feel his smile against your skin, matching the warmth that spreads through you like strokes of paint on a canvas, like music that fills a silent space. Something comes to cover over your hand on the towel𑁋Joshua’s hand rest over yours, warm and securely, thumb coming to reassuringly rub over the skin there. 

When you pull away, you have the urge to bury yourself in the towel wrapped around you or run away in a fit of panic. You end up doing the former, burying your face further in the soft cotton. But Joshua doesn’t let you completely disappear, a shy chuckle of his own leaving his lips as he reaches out to gingerly tug the towel down just enough to reveal your eyes.

“Hi there,” he says softly, before some worry stretches across his face. “Are you okay?” 

You loosely release yourself a bit more from the towel’s grasp around you and meet his eyes with a small, reassuring smile. 

“I meant what I said,” Joshua continues. His hand still rests on yours while he lifts the other one to sign again, “I like you. I really do.” 

Glancing down at your laced hands, you absentmindedly brush away a few grains of sand that stuck to his knuckles. His skin is warm to the touch, and the intimate gesture makes you take a shallow breath. You lift your gaze back to this, and he follows the way you bring your hand up. 

You stick out your pinky finger, almost like a promise, and extend out your thumb as well, before moving your hand back and forth to sign,

“Me too.” You continue to run the tips of your fingers over his hand. I like you too.

“Did Seokmin tell you about Jihoon?”

Joshua sprays a bottle of disinfectant on a table before grabbing the rag that was hanging loosely on his shoulder. “Who?”

“The producer guy.”

The smell of the chemicals sends an unpleasant crinkle to Joshua’s nose. He pauses his cleaning for a moment. “Haven’t heard of him.”

“Well, he’s a producer apparently. A fairly new one. I think Seokmin mentioned that he went to high school and university with him𑁋wasn’t entirely close to him, though. Just a name that was sort of tossed around.” Jeonghan stops to take a loud bite out of a bag of chips. “But I’ve heard he’s got a studio opened now somewhere. So maybe…”

Joshua lightly chuckles. “You know I’ve gotten scammed from this type of stuff, right?”

“I’ve done my research.” Jeonghan promptly sits up in the chair (yes, he’s not helping with cleaning at all). “No heinous crimes have been committed. If anything, the only thing I could find on him is𑁋”

“Yo, Jeonghan! Where do you want this box of shit?” 

Jeonghan turns somewhat annoyedly towards the source of the voice: this guy named Wonsik that he had hired recently since having Joshua as the only other worker around was proving to be insufficient. Joshua can’t say he’s exactly a fan of him though. His attitude is a bit… brash, to say the least. 

“Just leave it in the storage room,” Jeonghan says, pointing in the direction with a chip in his hand. 

After wiping off the final corner of the table, Joshua feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. As he takes it out and catches a glimpse of the notification, he can’t help but smile to himself.

Joshua takes off the apron he’s been wearing, neatly hanging it up on a hook by the door that was designated for staff.

Jeonghan catches him mid-chew. “Curfew time?” 

“Yep.”

“Gross,” Jeonghan mumbles sarcastically while crumpling up his bag of chips. “You know, just because you’re in a relationship now doesn’t mean you get to slack off on closing duties.”

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully. “Whatever, I’ll make it up tomorrow.”

Wonsik emerges from the storage room, catching Joshua’s attention with his loud, assertive footsteps and nearly running into him, the scent of cigarette smoke trailing behind him. He mumbles something about finally finishing taking in all the boxes, carrying the last one labeled with supplies, his expression a mix of boredom and disdain as he spots Joshua preparing to leave.

“Finally taking off, huh?" Wonsik sneers, eyeing Joshua up and down. “Off to be the hero for your little deaf partner?”

Whatever politeness Joshua had to his features had faded away in an instant, his jaw clenching tightly to the words. He adjusts the strap of his guitar case on his shoulder and meets Wonsik's arrogant gaze evenly.

“Watch your mouth,” Joshua says sharply, a warning edge to his voice that cuts through the room like a knife. 

“What? I’m just saying it must be hard to deal with them, that’s all. Like how do you even communicate? Doing your little hand stuff? Must be an ass to handle all that shit.” 

Joshua's nostrils flare at that, sensing his patience wearing thin at Wonsik's blatant insensitivity. His fists clench at his side momentarily, but he keeps in his anger, knowing that losing his cool most definitely won't help the situation at all. Taking a deep breath, he meets Wonsik's eyes with a steely glare.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Joshua replies firmly. “Don’t you have some human decency and respect in you?” 

Wonsik just scoffs haughtily. That dumb, conceited smirk on his face widens even more as he leans casually against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "Hey, I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. It's not like I'm wrong, right? You could do so much better, man. You’re just pitying them because you feel bad.”

Just at that, his words strike a nerve in Joshua. “Y/N is more than capable of handling themself. They don’t need anyone else’s pity, least of all mine. So why don’t you mind your own business? Learn some respect while you’re at it, asshole.”

Wonsik shoots Joshua a final contemptuous glance before turning on his heel, shoving past Joshua, and disappearing back into the storage room, muttering something under his breath that Joshua isn’t bothered to decipher. 

Heading back into the main area of the café, Joshua stops right before the door to turn towards Jeonghan. “Do me a favour and𑁋”

“Don’t worry,” Jeonghan interjects, waving him off dismissively. “He won’t come back tomorrow.”

Joshua’s shoulders visibly relax at that. “Thanks,” And when his hand lands on the door handle, he stops again. “I’ll do that thing, by the way.”

“That thing?”

“Mhm.” Joshua just nods. “I’ll ask Seokmin about Jihoon.”

Joshua hums quietly after every pluck of his guitar string, twisting the tuning pegs at the head of the guitar with every note deemed off-key. The sounds leaving his guitar bounce off the walls of your apartment and blend with the smell of leftover ramen that lingers in the room. 

You sit across from him with two steaming cups of tea in your hand, carefully placing them on the coffee table in front of him. He glances up from tuning his guitar, eyes softening as they meet yours. Resting the guitar against the arm of the couch, he gratefully takes the mug that was waiting for him on the table, taking a quick sip of the jasmine tea you had prepared.

You peer at him worriedly, forming a claw shape with your hand and moving it downward to sign, “Hot?”

Joshua shakes his head, sipping once more and setting it back on the table. 

“It’s perfect,” he tells you reassuringly. 

Placing the guitar back on his lap, he positions his arms comfortably over it as if preparing to play something. Yet he catches the way your eyes watch his fingers glide over the strings. Joshua fixes his posture and presses his back against the couch behind. 

“Do you want to try?” he asks. His fingers rest lightly on the strings, demonstrating a chord before letting them hover, waiting for your response.

The hesitation within you is shunned aside from the subtle hope of his invitation. Warily, you shift closer to him, settling between his legs as he positions the guitar in your grasp. His hands cover over yours, guiding your fingers over the frets and showing you how to press down on the strings. The wood of the guitar is smooth under your touch, vibrating weakly as you pluck the strings a few times tentatively.

His breath fans over your skin as he leans closer to help adjust your grip on the guitar neck. You have to turn your head in order to see if he’s saying anything to you. His face is so close to yours now that you can see the fine details in his expression. There’s a slight tiredness in there too, but you don’t comment about it. 

Joshua's fingers move dexterously as he shows you another chord. This time, you press down with more confidence, and the sound resonates more clearly. He watches your face light up, and you can feel the vibrations of the strings through your fingertips. It’s a bit ticklish and you can’t help but giggle softly at the sensation. His hands still hover over yours for a few moments, but then he pulls back to give you a bit more space.

The chords you're playing aren't perfect𑁋they come out off-pitch and you aren’t able to tell, or the strumming patterns are a bit uneven𑁋but Joshua doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the mistakes. 

After some time, you cautiously set the guitar on the floor, letting it lean back against the couch. By the time you finish taking another sip of your tea, Joshua is already holding out his phone to you.

If I wanted to get your attention without accidentally scaring you, how could I do that?

A feeling of déjà vu slithers down your body at the question, and you could tell Joshua feels it too. Briefly, you think about the first time the two of you met. It’s quite surreal how far you’ve come already. 

You grab his phone to type:

I wouldn’t worry about scaring me like before, since I know that it’s you. I’m familiar with you. A small tap on the shoulder is okay, or you can flash your phone light. Wheein and Seungkwan do that to get my attention if they’re outside the door

Joshua reads your response, then shoots an understanding look, a thoughtful curve to his lips. The next thing that you catch is a yawn leaving him, which he tries to cover up with a sheepish smile.

“Tired?” You sign to him. 

“A little bit,” he replies meekly. “Just some things on my mind.” 

You tilt your head slightly, curiosity piqued at that. 

Joshua practically melts into the couch, the exhaustion in his posture evident as he stretches out his legs and lets out a soft sigh. 

“Work has been picking up a bit, people are ridiculous sometimes,” he starts, a twinge of frustration to his features. “I haven’t been able to go busking recently either, but… I think an opportunity came up. For music.”

Your eyes widen with interest, and you lean forward slightly, encouraging him to continue.

But he only hesitates. “I just don’t know if it’s worth pursuing. There are so many people out there who make big promises, but not all of them deliver. I don’t want to get involved in something that could turn out to be another dead end.”

A frown crosses its way across your lips. You can sense his apprehension and understand the reason behind it, but you also recognise the glimmer of hope in his eyes. Slipping out your own phone, you type:

You should go with what your heart is telling you to do. I’ll be there to support you either way :)

Your words drip of care and affection, feeling the uncertainty in his heart soften when he pinpoints the sincerity in your eyes. For a brief second, his gaze flickers down to your mouth before returning back up to your gaze. Without another word, he leans in, letting his lips brush against yours in a fleeting kiss. 

Even in the few weeks the two of you have been together, moments like these will take some time to get used to. It’s both intimidating and exhilarating, comforting and thrilling all in one. But it’s undeniable that it feels… right, natural. 

As cheesy as it sounds, that is what his heart told him to do at that moment𑁋to kiss you as a way to say thank you. A shy, boyish grin tugs at the corners of Joshua’s mouth when he pulls away. He takes a visible deep breath, as if drawing strength from your closeness, attentive eyes roaming over your face for any discomfort, but he finds none. The tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire, if anything. 

“Cute.” He lightly taps the bud of your nose, causing you to scrunch up your face in response. “Thank you. I mean it.” 

You only smile and nod under his gaze, signing with a simple, “I know.”

You lose track of time in front of the canvas when a yawn of your own leaves your mouth. Admittedly, it’s been hard motivating yourself to paint lately ever since your rejection at the exhibition, but somehow this time around, the colours on the canvas look more… livelier. 

You glance between the unfinished canvas and to the candid picture that you took that day at the beach of your friends’ smiling faces. If this is how you’re going to encourage yourself to get back into painting, then so be it: painting a moment that you could simply define as happiness. 

When another yawn leaves you, you swirl your paintbrush in a murky cup of water to clean it off before setting it aside. You stand from the chair and stretch, feeling the stiffness in your muscles from sitting in one position for too long. When you shift your gaze behind you, the sight that appears before you sends a leap of surprise through you.

Your eyes land on a sleeping Joshua, whose head rests against the arm of the couch, relaxed body slumped against the cushions, and one of his arms dangling off the edge. Tiptoeing over to him, you grab a blanket that Wheein had crocheted for your birthday from a nearby armchair and drape it over him. He shifts slightly at the movement but doesn’t wake, instead settling more deeply into the couch with a soft, contented sigh. 

You don’t have it in to wake him up, because this feels right𑁋him at your place, falling asleep, and a sense of peace floating through the air. 

If Seokmin didn’t come along, Joshua would probably have turned around on his heels by now and declined the offer. 

Apparently Jihoon’s studio was located in a somewhat sketchy part of the city, and it took only one tumultuous month later to finally set a date to meet up. Joshua glances around the area, taking in a few worn-down buildings and graffiti-covered walls, wondering if this is really the right place.

“This place better not be a dump,” Seokmin mutters under his breath, scanning around nervously. “I swear, Jihoon has always been a bit of a mystery, but he’s got talent for sure. He was practically the maestro of the entire music program back then.”

“And you reunited with him… how?”

“At the gym,” Seokmin answers, but it’s more under his breath as if he was a bit embarrassed by it. The sly laugh that leaves Joshua makes him jut out his bottom lip. “I wanted to know his workout routine! I didn’t even recognise him after all these years.”

Joshua just rolls his eyes, the lighthearted banter lessening some of his nerves. 

It would be his first time to walk into an actual studio. Somehow, Jihoon’s place was a good size to accommodate a variety of sound equipment and a living space at the same time. Compared to the gritty exterior, the inside certainly had more of a calming ambience. Neon lighting illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over the sleek equipment and musical instruments. Records lined the shelves and posters of artists decorated the walls, all bringing more character to the place. 

Jihoon himself was the epitome of calm and collected, bringing an aura of meticulous confidence that caressed every inch of the studio. He’s been working independently this entire time, and according to Seokmin, he's been steadily putting a name for himself in the underground music scene right after graduating from university. 

“So,” Jihoon starts, spinning around in the chair he was sitting on. Even when he was wearing a simple pair of sweatpants and a black tee, he still appeared effortlessly cool. “you’re a singer?” 

Joshua looks down at himself for a moment as if questioning his own presence here, fingertips gliding steadily over the strings of his guitar. “Yeah. Been busking for the past year or so. Played guitar for my entire life. I’ve written some of my own songs, too.”

Surprisingly, this is enough to convince Jihoon. “Alright, then. Show me what you got.” 

In its entirety, it was a surreal experience, and there’s just this inkling, this pinch of hope in the space between the tips of Joshua’s fingers whispering to him that he’s finally on the path to accomplishing his dreams. He’s never heard the sound of his voice so clearly before. Unlike the studio, there are no walls surrounding him when he busks𑁋only the open air, the street sounds blending with his music. But in the studio, the environment is different. 

It’s as if his music is finally being given the space it deserves to breathe and thrive, just like he had always wanted for it to do. 

The excitement is even evident in the way he’s gripping your hand as the two of you are walking back to your place together later that same night. Walking together has always been routine between the two of you, yet now there’s a certain lightness in the air knowing you both share the same love for these moments together. 

Joshua feels the way you squeeze his hand, and when he looks at you, you’re holding out your phone for him to read.

So are you planning on seeing him again next week?

A contemplative look crosses his face, but it doesn’t take long for the corners of his lips to curve up. 

“I think so,” he answers, eyes lighting up with optimism. “I think I might be getting to where I want to be, you know?” 

The excitement that trickles down his body flows through your interlaced hands, and you find yourself smiling alongside him. You love knowing you get to be a witness of this pivotal moment for him. You love seeing him happy just as much as you love being happy around him. 

When you reach the entrance of your apartment building, your hand still hasn’t left his. Joshua gazes past your shoulder towards the door, and then back to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asks, a teasing tilt to his head. “Even for just an hour?” 

You wiggle your eyebrows at him, only giving him a simple shake of your head. 

“Hm, am I that much of a distraction?” he muses, stepping just a tad bit more closer to you, and you know you’re digging yourself more into the ground at this point. “I love watching you paint though.” 

You attempt to power through the way his words send a jolt through you, stubbornly standing your ground with the most serious expression you could muster. It’s not that you don’t want him to stay with you a little longer𑁋because you might quite possibly set everything aside for him without a doubt𑁋but you’ve made it a goal to get back into painting on your own terms and slowly but surely regain your confidence. 

After putting on a small pout, Joshua’s gaze just softens. “Promise me you won’t stay up late?” 

You nod, feeling the warmth of his concern and signing, “Promise.”

He still doesn’t let go of your hand, his thumb coming to caress tenderly over your knuckles. Joshua’s eyes flicker to your lips, and he leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you don’t. Then he leans in and pauses once more, nose briefly brushing against yours, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Goodnight,” he signs when he pulls away, running a hand down your arm before reluctantly stepping back.

You could never get over the satisfying wave of relief that hits you whenever you complete a painting. 

The first time you finished a painting was when you were eight years old. It was a simple watercolour painting of your family house, distinctively placed on a large hill instead of being surrounded by your neighbouring homes. Your mother had stuck it on the refrigerator for as long as you could remember alongside other family photos until it got too worn out from being taken down and put back up so many times, even being forgotten at some points when other mementos covered it. The fridge seemed so empty without it.

Seeing that painting every day reminded you of the joy of creating something with your own hands𑁋filling a space with something beautiful and meaningful, just like you had envisioned it in your mind. It’s not just about copying the photograph you used as reference; it’s about translating those fleeting, joyful moments into something real. You want people to look at your painting and feel the same happiness, the same warmth that you felt in that moment. It’s about capturing a moment in time and making it last forever. This is what art means to you. 

“This is stunning, Y/N!” Wheein exclaims when you stand right next to her. “You made the sand look so real! And you used such a gorgeous gradient for the sky. You gotta give me some tips later! Have you thought about showing this to your teacher?”

You frown a little at that. You haven’t exactly been putting in the effort to show up at all. The sting of that rejection at the exhibition still lingers, making you hesitate to put yourself out there again. You’d rather put on a show for yourself before determining whether or not it’s worth sharing with others. 

“I don’t know,” You answer.

“That’s okay!” Wheein says brightly. “But whenever you’re ready, let me know. We can make a killer portfolio together.”

You let out a laugh at that, mentally taking note of her offer for the future. Wheein just nudges you lightly on the hip with her own.

“You seem so much happier lately,” she acknowledges teasingly, a sly smirk crossing her face. “probably because of a certain someone…”

You feel a light flush creeping up your cheeks, and you glance away with a smile that you can’t quite hide. It hasn’t even been that long since you and Joshua have been together. Yet even though you can call him your boyfriend, he still gives you the space to grow, to dream, and to be yourself, just as you do with him. And in those times you two are together, reveling in the quiet language of your hands, letting your guard down has never felt this easy. You could share a simple smile with each other and the world seems a little brighter, a little more colourful, and a little more hopeful and meaningful. 

“Oh my gosh, you’re smitten!” Wheein exclaims amusedly. “If that’s not love in your eyes, I don’t know what is.” 

Love. What a silly, little word𑁋so small, yet carries so much in between its letters. 

You just chuckle to yourself, savouring the way the word swirls around you.

[07:15 PM | y/n] are you nearing the place? I’m waiting by the front 

You turn your phone off and bring it down, searching around for any sight of Joshua. Passerbys fill up your field of vision, all of them rushing past or casually walking by with their own different lives, but you don’t see him among the crowd. You check the time again, noting that he’s already fifteen minutes late, but you remind yourself that he’s been at Jihoon’s studio for the majority of the day and has probably been busy. 

As you continue waiting, the slight chill of the evening air runs through your bones. It’s getting noticeably colder outside as winter is approaching closer and closer. You glance at your phone again, but the screen remains dark. Another ten minutes pass, and you could feel the worry creeping up your spine. It’s not like him to be this late without a reason.

The vibrant evening around you slowly begins to lose its charm, the excitement within you boiling down into a pit of disappointment, and the thought of standing alone any longer becomes unbearable. So, with a heavy sigh, you decide to walk away, pushing away the disappointment with every step that you take.

[07:28 PM | y/n] I’ll be heading home. let me know when you’re finished at jihoon’s 

You slip your phone into your pocket, feeling a twinge of sadness as you start walking towards the nearest crosswalk. Above you, the streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement below and swallow the lively colours of the evening. 

Approaching the crosswalk, the signal light shines a deep red, instructing you to stop and wait. A crowd of people all stop behind you as you wait for the light to change, and you become acutely aware of their presence surrounding you. 

Your eyes wander across the street, where the traffic light turns red, and cars begin to slow down. Anticipating for the light to signal for you to cross, a sudden flash catches your attention from across the street. It looks like a flashlight, and it was flickering in a deliberate pattern.

The moment the signal light turns green, the flashing stops, unraveling Joshua standing on the other side. People brush past you in order to cross the street, yet you can only find yourself frozen. There’s a flash of urgency you catch to Joshua’s features, and your focus narrows on him as he dashes across the street toward you. 

He’s breathless the second he reaches you, and his face is flushed with relief and desperation. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologises, signing frantically to you. “I lost track of time. I tried getting on the bus to get here faster but the traffic was bad. I…” His shoulders sink in dismay. “I’m sorry.”

You just shake your head dismissively, but it’s not hard to miss the subtle hurt in your face and the way you sign back to him. “It’s okay. I know your music is important to you.”

“You’re my top priority,” Joshua says quickly, eyes intense with sincerity. “Let me make it up to you, okay?” 

His words send a flutter that makes your heart ache in your chest. Joshua reaches down and takes ahold of your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You feel a warmth spread through you as he intertwines your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner back at my place?” Joshua offers, his lips curling up in a hopeful smile. “Jeonghan is staying at a friend’s place tonight, so it’ll just be us.” 

You look up at Joshua, your heart racing at the thought of spending the evening with him. 

“Okay,” You sign to him. 

It’s been years since the last time you saw a record player. Your parents used to have one in the corner of the living room. It was a vintage piece, and you remember how your father used to meticulously handle the vinyl records, placing them carefully on the turntable before lowering the needle. You didn’t hear the music that came from it𑁋the music that they played before you lost your hearing was vague to memory𑁋but you loved watching the way the needle danced across the grooves of the records.

Joshua has an entire vinyl collection, and you look through each one curiously. You see names like Amy Winehouse, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, Elton John, Frank Sinatra, Nirvana, The Beatles, and even some contemporary artists like Billie Eilish, Boys Like Girls, and Lana Del Rey. The covers of each one are like pieces of art themselves, with their vintage charm and intricate designs. 

When Joshua turns away from the stove, he looks at you, where you’re already peering at him.

“Do you want to play something?” You sign to him, thinking that he might want to listen to something while you’re here together. 

Joshua’s eyes only soften as he takes in your question. “You don’t have to play anything.”

You smile bashfully. “I want to.” 

He feels a tug at his heart at the pleading expression to your face. He briefly checks the food cooking on the stove before walking to where you’re sitting on the floor, his vinyls scattered in front of you. 

“Okay,” he tells you. “Pick whichever one you want.” 

Joshua watches as you carefully pick a vinyl𑁋you end up picking The Beatles, a classic𑁋and with practiced hands, he helps you place the record on the turntable and lowers the needle. You watch as the record starts to spin and the needle settles within the grooves.

You turn toward Joshua, signing, “Is it playing?” 

The sound that comes off the record player is a bit distorted at first, but after some time, it manages to smooth out. Joshua just nods, his face lighting up with a smile at the way you appear so engrossed by the spinning record. 

Dinner comes by in a jiffy. The singular kitchen light hangs above the small table that you both are sitting at, the aroma of Joshua’s cooking wafting through the air. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but the simplicity of the meal𑁋steamed vegetables, grilled chicken, and fluffy rice𑁋makes it all the more comforting. You definitely would have preferred this over restaurant food. 

You eat slowly, savouring the flavours of each bite. You can feel Joshua's eyes on you, and you can't help but smile.

“Good?” he asks. 

You give a few enthusiastic nods, and the sight lights up Joshua’s face even further. 

The record player was still faintly playing music in the background, yet the quietness that he gets to share with you is what he cherishes the most. It’s not awkward or forced; it’s a comfortable silence that pleasantly wraps around you both. The occasional pop or crackle from the record player blends in with the sounds of your contented chewing and the soft clinking of utensils.

Afterwards, you find yourself settling on the couch in Joshua’s living room as you wait for him to come back to the bathroom, and you take the time to peer around his space.

You already know that he’s living with Jeonghan too, so you love how you’re able to easily distinguish the small snippets that belong to Joshua. Apart from the collection of vinyl records, you also see a few microphone stands and a keyboard set up in one corner, as well as an empty guitar stand where you know his guitar belongs. 

Letting your eyes drift, the coffee table in front of you catches your attention. There’s a couple of coasters, the remote for the TV, a cute succulent in the middle. But then your eyes land on something else. 

On it, you spot a book laying flat on the table. Curiosity piqued, you reach over to examine it. The book is a sign language dictionary. You open it to find that it’s filled with detailed illustrations of hand signs, and throughout the pages you see Joshua’s handwriting scattered throughout. Some of the pages are marked with sticky notes, others you spot silly doodles of smiley faces in the corners. 

You hardly ever thought about the amount of effort he put into learning how to talk to you, to understand you. A small part of you feels bad that he has to go through all this trouble to learn sign language. But then you remember that he chose to do this, that this was his decision, not yours.

The spot on the couch right next to you dips down slightly as Joshua sits down. He glances at the sign language dictionary in your hands and glances at you with a soft, curious look, and it makes you look away sheepishly.

Dropping the book in your lap, you fumble for your phone, typing out:

You did all of this for me?

When Joshua reads the message, a small chuckle leaves him. 

“I wanted to get to know you better,” he tells you, your eyes flickering between his hands and his lips. “I don’t regret it at all.” 

As his words wash over you, you feel your fingers struggle to put together how much this is affecting you. You type after a few thoughtful moments. 

It must have been hard. I’m sorry

Joshua only shakes his head. “It was worth it. I promise.” He pauses for a moment, gears turning in his head. “Do you want to know the first word I wanted to learn?” 

You watch as he picks up his right hand, opening it up so that his fingers pointed up and his thumb toward his cheek. Then he fans his fingers across his face, and closes his hand in a relaxed fist to sign the word beautiful. 

“You’re beautiful,” he finishes, his fingers gracefully forming the sign again. “I happened to have thought that the first second you walked into the café.”

You could only stare at him incredulously. Even though it isn’t the first time he’s expressed this kind of affection in your few months of being together, it still takes you by surprise, still sends those surges of flutters shooting down your limbs, still makes your mind go blank and your hands go limp.

Cowering behind a hand of your own, you motion a shy finger at him, before rolling your hand over your face, then forming a Y-shape with your hand, and shaking it slightly.

“You’re beautiful, too.” 

Joshua purses his lip together at that, suppressing the giddiness threatening to stretch across his features.

“Well,” he starts, cocking his head to the side endearingly. He won’t ever get over how adorable you are when you’re flustered. “I say we compliment each other quite well then.”

From there, the two of you let out some shared, heartfelt laughter, and it sounds like absolute music to Joshua’s ears. He shows you the pages he’s gone through in the book𑁋from the alphabet and grammar, to basic common phrases, and to more, nuanced, complex sentences𑁋and it looks like he’s more than halfway done with reading and annotating through it. He eagerly points out the words and phrases he's already mastered, and the ones he's still struggling with. It's cute seeing the little doodles and notes he's written in the margins.

When he places the book back on the table and turns to you, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“I can teach you,” You sign to him, a willing passion in your hands. 

Joshua lifts a brow, copying your movement. “Teach me?” 

When you nod, his face morphs into a pensive look. After a few moments, he brightens back up.

“How about the seasons?” he suggests. “We can start with those.”

You begin with spring. Your hands move as if they’re opening up to new life, the gesture mimicking the blossoming of flowers. Joshua watches intently, his eyes following your movements carefully, before mimicking the motion a few times. 

Next, you move on to summer. You form a fist with your palms down at your forehead, before taking your index finger and drawing it across your brow a few times, almost as if you’re wiping away a drip of sweat. 

For autumn, you use your hands to mimic falling leaves from a tree off your non-dominant elbow, making a gentle fluttering motion. 

Finally, you teach him winter. You simply make a shivering motion, as if you’re cold, and Joshua chuckles as he imitates the sign. You watch in awe as he successfully goes through the signs a few times without a hitch. Giving him a few rounds of claps, he gives a shy, pleased smile, clearly proud of his progress.

“I hope we…” Joshua starts, some unsureness flowing through his hands, but he signs the seasons so easily (unbeknownst to you, he already knew them). “...we get to see spring, summer, autumn, and winter together.” 

Perhaps he could feel the way your heart swells in his hands, because he’s cradling it so preciously as he speaks, and he looks at you with such hopeful eyes.

You want to spend every single season with him. 

Later that night, you find yourself standing in front of the sink in Joshua’s kitchen, washing the dishes because you lost him to a game of rock-paper-scissors. 

As you’re rinsing off the final dish, a light tap lands on your shoulder, making you wince for a second before quickly relaxing. A pair of arms then sneaks around your waist, pulling you close and causing you to nearly lose your grip on the plate. 

Joshua gently rests his chin on your shoulder from behind. His breath hits your neck as he wraps his arms around you. He stays like this for a few moments, simply savouring the closeness of your presence against him. Then, with a mischievous smile that you don't see, he brings a finger up and slowly begins to trace your back lightly with the tip, almost like a whisper against your skin.

I…

Curious and slightly ticklish, you crane your neck slightly to look back at him over your shoulder, scrunching your face up as you try to focus on deciphering what he’s trying to write.

… l… o… v… e…

Joshua pauses momentarily, sneaking a glance at the way you’re standing so still in his hold, before tracing the final letters.

…y… o… u.

Eyes widening, you shift around in order to face him, and Joshua rests his arms on either side of you, hands gripping onto the counter behind and practically enclosing you in. 

He leans in, and the world seems to narrow altogether. His half-lidded eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, as if asking for permission, and you could only anticipate what’s coming next as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Chuckling softly, Joshua inches even closer to you, and you feel his nose lightly brush against yours. But instead of pressing his lips against yours, he first kisses your forehead softly, making you shoot your eyes open in a bit of a confused daze. 

But before you can fully process everything, he’s leaning in once again, and this time, his lips gently meet against the tip of your nose. You crinkle it back as a pout runs across your mouth, and Joshua’s grin widens even more. 

“What’s with the face?” he teases, feigning a hurt look. “Is it because I haven’t kissed you properly yet?” 

You answer with him a shy, petty tug at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Give me a smile then,” Joshua insists impishly. “Please?”

Just from that alone, a shy curve sprouts at your lips, and Joshua just watches with a satisfied look. 

“Hmm,” he hums skeptically, but is leaning in closer anyway. “I’ll take it.” 

Then he finally kisses you, mouth moving with an ardent sweetness against yours that renders you breathless. He playfully chases after you as you manage to escape out of his grasp. But he’s quick to catch up to you anyway, the sounds of your giggles mingling with the soft crackling of the record player as you both collapse on top of the couch. 

You tentatively trace I love you on his back when you’re both settled on the couch together, legs intertwined and your head perched at the crook of his neck. He’s asleep, you consider𑁋you can tell by the way you feel his chest rising and falling against yours. 

Yet after you write those words, a shaky, relieved exhale leaves him that you don’t hear.

“All you have to do,” Jihoon starts, offering a seemingly heavyweight set of headphones in his other hand towards Joshua. “is press play right here, and tell me what you think.”

Joshua takes hold of the headphones as Jihoon scoots a bit of his chair away to give him some room. He places it carefully over his ears, feeling the soft cushions envelop them. Then after taking a deep breath, he reaches over to press the play button on the keyboard, and Joshua can feel his heart racing in anticipation. 

Upon playing, he’s greeted with the familiar sounds of his guitar filling his ears, and then his voice comes in. Hearing himself in such a professionally produced track and not just as raw vocals bouncing off the walls of his room is absolutely unbelievable. He could also pinpoint the subtle layers Jihoon has added to the track𑁋a faint drumbeat and soft vocal harmonies. 

It was a song that was once simple lyrics in a dusty journal and a few rough guitar chords. It wasn’t meant to be anything grand; it was originally a personal project made on a whim in the middle of the night just to channel his feelings and his dreams into something palpable. 

But now, hearing it with such rich yet attenuated production for the first time, it feels as if the song has taken on a life of its own. 

“Holy𑁋wow,” Joshua says the moment he takes off the headphones, staring at Jihoon with disbelief. “Are you sure this is my song?” 

Jihoon chuckles at that. “Positive, man.”

Joshua’s eyes remain wide. He holds the headphones in his hands, turning them over and inspecting them closely as if trying to decipher the magic hidden within. 

“I never imagined it could sound like this,” he admits meekly. “I mean, I’ve always dreamed about this, but... to actually hear it like this? It’s incredible.”

Jihoon nods encouragingly. “You had the foundation; I just built on it. I’m telling you, with the right push, it could really connect with people.”

Joshua leans back in his chair, still holding the headphones in his grasp like it's a sacred bar of gold, and lets out a deep breath. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“The recording will be on this USB drive,” Jihoon shows off a tiny, ruby red drive in his hand. “I’ll work on polishing it up a bit more, but this is essentially it. You could also gain some attention from your busking gigs. What do you say?”

Well, it’s not like he can say no to that. 

“I’m in,” Joshua replies with a grin.

The minute that he steps out of the studio later that day, a breeze of cold air suddenly nips at his cheek. Joshua brings his head up to see the sky thick with clouds, and to his amazement, delicate snowflakes begin to fall, gently drifting down and settling on his hair and shoulders. It’s the first snowfall of the season.

There’s something almost magical about the way the snow falls, he thinks. As he continues to walk through the streets, there’s a sense of renewal that washes over him, a fresh start, just like the song he’s worked so hard on and the dreams he's held at the tips of his fingers. He takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs, and pulls out his phone to text you. 

[05:39PM | joshua hong] Still have time to meet up later? 

Your reply comes in almost instantaneously. 

[05:41PM | y/n] just left the museum :) it’s snowing outside!!!

[05:42PM | joshua hong] Dress warmly ❤️ I’ll meet you at your place?

[05:42PM | y/n] I will. see you soon ❤️

Chuckling to himself, Joshua pulls the jacket tighter around his body and stuffs his hands inside his pockets, quickening his pace at the thought of seeing you.

When the season of spring rolls over, trees are budding with beautiful, bright green leaves and flowers are blooming in a vibrant array of colours. Spring has always been one of your favourite seasons, and this year is no different𑁋especially if you get to see it with the people close to you.

You’ve been coming back to attend your art class at the museum, and you’ve decided to pick up a small side role as a teacher’s aide to earn some extra money since more people have been enrolling into the art programs. So far, it’s been very rewarding and fulfilling, and meeting new people who share your same passions has been a joy. 

Plus, you could proudly say the spark for painting has been getting stronger and stronger each passing day. 

Wheein greets you with enthusiasm when you walk out of the classroom, explaining with annoyance about how one of the girls in her classroom was someone she heavily despised back in high school. Seungkwan shows up when you both step out of the museum, and you have to remind them that you can’t sacrifice your plans with Joshua to hang out with them at the arcade that just opened down the street. 

“They’re in their honeymoon phase,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes teasingly. 

“They’ve been in their honeymoon phase for, like, half the year now,” Wheein grumbles, though her irritation is more playful than serious. “It’s not like they’re going to stop anytime soon.”

“And Y/N is practically dating a celebrity at this point. Have you seen the way people are talking about his music online?” 

Your best friends are boasting about your relationship right in front of you, making you roll your eyes. But you can’t help the way your cheeks colour with a tad bit of embarrassment and… a hint of proudness too, because they’re right. 

Joshua has had a few more songs released under his name, and performing at the busking centre has become a regular part of his schedule, his days working at the café lessening as he’s been focusing more on his music. His performances have been slowly drawing more attention, both locally and online, and it’s clear that his passion is shining through. You’re incredibly proud of him𑁋you’ve always had been.

Your footsteps are as light as a feather by the time you reach the busking centre. There’s already a good size crowd gathered around, and you can see Joshua sitting in the middle, propped on a stool with his guitar. Seokmin is there too, sitting on a stool of his own with a microphone in front of him, and there’s one more person. Judging by the small details that Joshua alludes to𑁋with the man’s distinctive button nose and laid-back stature𑁋you could only assume it’s Jihoon sitting behind the keyboard with a calm and focused expression. 

As you, Seungkwan, and Wheein find a spot at the edge of the crowd, he seems to spot you almost immediately in the midst of singing a song, his eyes lighting up the moment they meet yours. He gives you a small smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth spread through your chest. Joshua looks completely at ease as he tunes his guitar, his fingers moving cleverly over the strings.

He looks really, really pretty. The sun seemed to be shining down on him in all the right ways, the sleeves of the white collared shirt that he was wearing pulled up to reveal his forearms, and a dainty pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The subtle spring breeze rumples his hair just enough to make him look effortlessly handsome. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

The entire crowd is captivated, yet it's as if he's singing directly to you, and in a way, he is. The vibrations fly through the air and hit every inch of your skin and into your chest, each note reverberating in your heart. You watch the way his lips move, the way his eyes light up, and the way the crowd responds𑁋it all tells you just how special this moment is.

As the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts in applause once again, and you find yourself brightly clapping along with everyone else. He looks over at you, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still. Then he stands up with Seokmin and Jihoon following, the three of them taking a bow together, before he sets his guitar down and makes his way toward you. 

Seungkwan and Wheein give you knowing looks before stepping aside to give you two some space, leaving to approach Seokmin and Jihoon. 

“Did you like it?” he asks while signing to you. 

You purse your lips together, shooting a musing glance up at the sky, before signing, “You already know what I think of it.” 

“In fact, I do not,” Joshua responds playfully, stepping a bit closer to you. “That’s why I’m asking you, love.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, feigning mock suspicion, and he seems to already know what you’re trying to point out. 

“Of course I’m fishing for compliments,” he adds on with a cheeky grin, endearingly wrinkling his nose that his glasses slide down just a bit. “Your opinion matters the most to me. Winning your approval means that I’ve accomplished the world, you know.” 

You can't help but laugh faintly at his words, though his earnestness warms your heart. Tentatively, you reach out to adjust his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose. His gaze follows your movements as you pull away from him slightly, the corners of his lips twitching up even further.

“It was wonderful,” You sign back bashfully. A blush creeps up your cheeks as you realise how cheesy it sounds, but Joshua’s features only soften as he reads your hands and catches a glimpse of a twinkle in your eyes when you look at him. 

He reaches down and takes one of your hands into his. “That was all that I needed to know.” Then he glances at the time displayed on his phone and looks back at you. “The aquarium is still open, right?” 

Your eyes widen at that𑁋that’s right, you were too caught in the moment that you nearly forgot about your plans𑁋and you give an eager nod.

“Perfect,” Joshua chips eagerly, his hand squeezing yours encouragingly. “The painting you did the other week reminded me of the jellyfish exhibit.”

“This awfully feels like a break-up.”

Joshua furrows his brows at that while folding one of his shirts and placing it inside a box. “What are you even talking about?”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Jeonghan retaliates jokingly, fauxing a sulky pout. “and moving out. I thought we had something special going on here.”

“You were the one who wanted me to move out in the first place.”

Jeonghan sighs dramatically, slumping his body against the doorframe of Joshua's now half-empty room. “That was before I realised how lonely it would be without you here. And now you’re spreading your wings and flying off.”

As sarcastic as that sounds, the corners of Joshua’s lips turn up fondly. If it weren’t for Jeonghan taking him in as his roommate from the very beginning ever since moving away, he wouldn’t lie about feeling a little sentimental. 

After packing up the remains of his clothes, Joshua stands up from sitting on his ass on the floor for two hours straight, crossing his arms together and shooting Jeonghan a pointed look. “You know I’m only going to be living like… fifteen minutes away, right? And I’ll still be working at the café.”

“I’m officially putting you as full-time then.” Jeonghan’s lips quirk up in a smirk.

“Screw that,” Joshua huffs with a laugh. “I’ve already got enough on my plate.”

“Right, because you’re so famous,” Jeonghan remarks exaggeratingly. “Heard you signed a napkin for someone the other day.” 

Joshua snorts at that in response. Okay, he’s certainly not as famous as Jeonghan depicts him to be, but apparently famous enough for someone to approach him and ask for his autograph on a napkin. Apart from the gigs in the busking centre, he also has a few social media accounts set up where he can post song covers on occasion and drop updates about his music. 

All he has is his presence, a guitar, and a dream that’s slowly taking shape right before him. He knows it’s a long road ahead, but even with the small progress that’s been made so far, he’s hopeful, determined.

The new apartment is small but cozy. It’s not much, but it’s a place to call his own𑁋his own little corner of the world. He decides it’s not worth the energy right now to unpack everything and instead settles on top of the lone mattress that’s currently on the middle of the floor, feeling both exhausted and oddly content. 

He stretches his body on top of the soft surface and lets out a sigh of relief as he sinks into the mattress, gazing aimlessly at the barren ceiling above him. The remnants of packing are scattered about the place, with boxes sitting in corners and unopened bags lying around. His guitar sits on its stand right next to the window. There are still many things to figure out𑁋how to decorate the place, where to put everything, what this all means for his future. 

But for now, he allows himself this moment of stillness; this brief, quiet pause before turning the page to the next chapter.

After nearly nodding off, a few knocks at the door jolt him awake. He blinks in surprise, pushing himself up from the mattress. Stretching out his tired limbs, he makes his way to the door, opening it to find you standing on the other side. 

You stand there with a bag clutched at your side, suspended under the singular hallway light that highlights the fondness in your eyes. You shake the bag lightly.

“Food?” You sign to him.

Joshua swears his heart drops down to his knees just from that alone, his exhaustion melting away from your simple offer. Then his stomach rumbles, as if in agreement, reminding him that he hasn’t exactly had a proper meal the majority of the day from how busy he was with moving in. The nod he gives you makes you chuckle.

As you step inside his new place for the first time, you take a moment to gaze around at the barren walls and scattered boxes. Like any new, fresh canvas, the space holds so much potential and possibilities. If it’s home for Joshua, then it’s also… home for you too. 

The two of you sit down cross-legged on the mattress while unpacking the bag of its contents. The aroma of takeout food travels through the air. You spread out the food between you, and Joshua seems to light up upon seeing the familiar, comforting dishes.

Sharing a meal together feels a bit different now. You don’t exactly know why, but there’s a subtle shift in the air you haven’t noticed until this very moment. There’s a sense of beginning, of making this place feel like home, and it’s oddly intimate. It's a blank slate waiting to be filled with new memories. New memories that you can’t wait to make with him. 

Joshua feels a nudge at his knee while chewing on a sushi roll, seeing that you’re holding out your phone for him to read. 

Can I show you something? 

He swallows his bite of sushi and looks up at you with curiosity, taking a second to clear his mouth while giving a nod.

Shrugging off the nerves, you set your plate of food down to reach into the bag. You pull out a small canvas, and when you turn it over to show him, it shows a beautifully painted scene of a sunset casting over the horizon. The vibrant hues of yellow and orange blend seamlessly with soft blues and purples. Along with that, the silhouette of a couple sitting together𑁋with one leaning their head on the other’s shoulder𑁋under a tree completes the picture. 

Joshua reaches out to touch the canvas, letting a fingertip caress over its coarse surface.

“This is beautiful,” he tells you. “Did you make this for me?”

You nod, and he watches closely as you type on your phone.

I wanted to give you your first piece of decoration for your new place

Joshua’s eyes soften as he reads your message, the warmth in his chest spreading to his entire body.

“It’s perfect, honey,” he says. “I’ll be sure to hang it somewhere special.”

In your eyes, you can already imagine it hung on the empty wall beside the window, where the morning light will cast a gentle glow on it and bring the colours to life. In your eyes, you can imagine your easel sitting right below it, with Joshua’s guitar propped right beside it…

“I should have the stuff to hang it in one of the boxes. I’m not sure which one though.” Joshua’s eyes flicker between the unopened boxes standing intimidatingly in the corner of the room, letting out a small, airy laugh. “But I’ll find it soon, I promise.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile, as if conveying that there wasn’t any rush in finding it right now. 

When you both finish eating and cleaning up, you find yourself sitting on the mattress, body turned so that you are staring out the window of Joshua’s apartment, reveling in the stillness of the summer night and the way moonlight filters on the wall. Your silhouette is quickly joined by another one as Joshua settles closely beside you, your shoulders brushing lightly. 

At the corner of your eye, a glowing phone screen catches your attention, on it displayed a message from Joshua. 

What are you thinking about? 

The question almost seems silly somehow, yet you ponder for a few moments, before taking the phone to type back: 

I made a big decision today

Joshua lifts up an intrigued brow, and he tilts his head inquisitively at you, the soft brown tones of his eyes glistening like honey. It makes you lose your train of thought briefly as your fingers drift clumsily across the screen.

I’m going to participate in the upcoming exhibition at the museum. I’ve been thinking of trying again for a while now

“You are?” Joshua’s eyes widen. “When is it going to be?” 

“During fall,” You sign in response.

Fall isn’t that far away. The reminder seems to gnaw uneasily at your nerves, and Joshua notices it right away. 

“Feeling nervous about it?” he asks. 

You nod slowly, the weight of your decision settling heavily in your chest.

“It’s okay to be nervous. I know it didn’t go well last time,” Joshua continues. “But, well𑁋you already know what I’m going to say, right?” 

Now, the nod you give is a bit more confident. You bring your hands up to sign, “I believe in you.” You wonder if it’s his favourite phrase, since he’s said it to you so many times before. It holds a special place in your quiet conversations. 

“Exactly.” He wiggles a playful finger in front of your face, the moonlight makes his eyes twinkle with reassurance. “I believe in you. I’ve seen the way you pour your heart into your art. No matter what, you’re going to shine, love. And you have to believe in yourself too, okay? That’s the most important step.”

Joshua reaches over to grab your hand into his, squeezing firmly, before bringing it up to his lips to place a kiss right at your knuckles. You melt at that𑁋probably into the mattress at this point𑁋and hang your head down bashfully. 

When the silence rolls over again, you lean your head on Joshua’s shoulder, your silhouettes intertwining together on the wall.

Maybe this is where you belong, after all. 

There’s a quiet comfort you find in the palette of fall: the colours of leaves changing to warm oranges, reds, and yellows, the subtle crispness of the air that reminds you of the sweet taste of cinnamon rolls, and the way the sunlight feels a little softer on your skin.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your head. This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading and anticipating for weeks. You toy anxiously with the sleeves of your cardigan as you walk into the museum, the grand hall stretching out before your eyes. 

It’s all familiar just like last year𑁋the same setup, some familiar and new faces. More people are probably participating than last time since the art program has grown exponentially, and the thought fills you up with trepidation, if anything. Wheein is also here too engaging in the exhibition, Seungkwan was going to come later, and Joshua had already texted you that he's on his way after ending his performance at the busking centre early (though you insisted he didn’t have to… yet he did anyway) though you’re unsure when he’s going to arrive.

Along with the other artists in the room, you take a seat as you wait for the exhibition to finally begin. Then you feel a tap on your shoulder, and you perk up to see Wheein quickly engulfing you in a hug before pulling away.

“Jeez, there you are! You’re sitting like a wallflower and I couldn’t find you anywhere,” she rambles quickly that you don’t entirely catch what she’s saying, but you could tell she’s nervous too. She takes a visible breath, and brings her hands up. “How are you feeling? Heard there’s more competition this time.” 

You offer her a small, reassuring smile. “Nervous, but excited. I feel more prepared.”

Wheein nods, her eyes lighting up at that. “Good. You've got this.” She glances around the room before turning back to you. “See you on the other side?”

“Definitely,” You assure her, feeling a surge of confidence flow through you. 

Wheein squeezes your hand with a firm look one last time before moving off to find her own spot. A short while later, the exhibition officially begins with a long speech by the museum director once more. There’s still no sign of Joshua anywhere, but you tell yourself that you got this. 

Ignoring your sweaty palms, you spot your artwork hanging on the wall. It feels like a small part of you is now on display. And for the first time, there’s a feeling of pride that wraps around you comfortably. You feel more prepared than last time; with the help of Wheein, you wrote down some written statements you could present to the critics and the visitors who come by if they ever ask about your piece. 

A few minutes later, an interpreter approaches you𑁋one who isn't late this time, thankfully𑁋and you greet her with a friendly nod. She offers a kind smile to you, and you feel a bit more at ease, knowing that you’ll be able to communicate effectively with any critics and curators. 

As people start to crowd around the extravagant hall, you find yourself observing their reactions from a distance. Some pause to study your piece closely while reading the written statements you prepared. Others seem to take in the scene with thoughtful silence and then move on to the next artist after you. However, before you know it, time seems to slip away fairly quickly, and you’re surrounded by a sea of curious faces willing to engage in discussions about your painting. 

It’s a bit overwhelming having to explain and answer to so many people at once where you can feel their eyes practically boring into you, but you’ve rehearsed this part so many times that you feel yourself becoming more comfortable, more natural in the way you’re confiding in your work. 

As much as art can be interpreted, reinterpreted, and misinterpreted, you know that in the end, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Your work is supposed to continue conversations, not end them. And you hope that yours does just that.

After talking to a sweet-looking old couple, you take a moment to catch your breath. You can’t tell if the stars have possibly aligned for you or if it’s just the magic of the night that’s making everything feel so right.

Just as you're starting to relax a bit, a familiar, comforting sight at the corner of your eye captures your attention. And when you bring your head back up to welcome the next visitor, you find Joshua right in front of you, coming up with his arms behind his back and a playful look on his face. He’s dressed in a comfortable navy blue sweater and a pair of beige jeans, appearing effortlessly handsome and soft as always. 

“Hello,” he greets warmly before stopping in front of you, letting his eyes trail past you in order to roam over the large painting that sat behind. So this is what you’ve been keeping a surprise all this time. “Your painting is beautiful. Can you tell me more about it?” 

You blink in surprise at his sudden performance on being a visitor, biting back a smile creeping up your lips and the affectionate flutters bursting in your stomach. 

Gesturing to the painting, you start to explain as your interpreter steps in to translate to Joshua. You start with the basics of your piece: the inspiration, the styles and techniques you used, and what you hoped to convey, and Joshua listens attentively, though he seems to be more focused on you than anything else. For some reason, him being the only one standing here is making you more nervous than the group of people you talked to earlier. 

“I could see the passion you put into your piece,” Joshua says softly. “It’s admirable. It was the first thing that caught my eye when I walked in here and I could tell that there’s something truly special about it𑁋that there’s a lot of heart in it. So thank you for sharing this part of you to the world. You have a gift, honestly.”

You find every ounce of wanting to thank him shy away as a blush rises to your cheeks. Instead, you give a small nod, head hanging down as if the floor was the most interesting sight in the world, feeling overwhelmed by his words. If you look at him, you’d feel like you would melt into a puddle on the floor.

Joshua chuckles quietly at your reaction before giving you one last lingering look. You watch as his shoes walk out of your line of sight, his presence leaving behind a comforting feeling to settle in your chest, right by your heart. You feel like you can conquer the world right now. 

When you finally bring your head back up, you don't spot him anywhere. For a moment, you scan the large room, looking for the familiar navy blue sweater, but you assume he’s already moved on to another part of the exhibition. 

You let out a breath you hardly noticed you were holding until now. 

As the evening winds down and time is getting closer to the dreaded announcement of results, the atmosphere in the museum starts to shift from the excitement of the exhibition to a more anticipatory hush as everyone returns back to their seats. The tremble in your hands returns back once more as you peer around anxiously, hoping to see some sight of a familiar face𑁋of Joshua, of your best friends, of anything. 

Minutes later, Wheein and Seungkwan run up to you with wide, beaming grins. Joshua isn’t with them, though. Your shoulders deflate slightly.

“They’re about to announce the results!” Wheein exclaims, signing to you with more enthusiasm than you can ever have right now. “How do you feel?”

“I swear I saw so many people gathered at your painting earlier,” Seungkwan adds in. “That’s got to be a good sign, right?”

“Not all the time,” Wheein reassures him with a disappointed tone, but she keeps a light-hearted smile. “Usually it just means people were interested, but hey, it’s definitely a good sign! You should be proud of yourself, no matter what happens, Y/N, okay?”

You force a smile at that, trying to hide the nervousness that’s crawling up your spine. You're not sure if you're ready to hear the results, yet at the same time, there’s a pang of excitement that’s hard to not acknowledge too.

The museum director steps up to the podium once everyone scrambles to return to their seats. You shoot glances around the room, spotting familiar faces, some looking calm and composed, others nervously tapping their feet or fidgeting with their clothes. You can hardly catch up with the way your heart is racing like it's running on overdrive, but you attempt to readjust your focus to the director. 

“Now, I would like to formally express congratulations to all who have claimed a place in this year’s annual exhibition. We had an outstanding number of participants and submissions this year. It was a very challenging time for the judges…”

The director’s voice is steady, yet each word that you watch leave his mouth seems to stretch on as your nerves make the second feel like minutes then to hours. Your palms have become clammy, and you grip your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into the skin of your palm. 

“…the judges have taken into consideration to select the works that stood out in originality, technique, and emotional impact. And now, for the results…”

Your breath catches as the director begins to announce the winners slowly but surely, one by one, heartbeat thumping stronger with each one. The names come and go, each following with a few moments of applause erupting around the room that you echo along with as the artists hop onto the stage to retrieve their certification from the director. It’s like a momentary pause of time before the next. 

The moments that pass feel as if a small weight is being lifted from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a heavier, more pressing sense of anticipation, of dread, of doubt. Déjà vu starts to seep into your thoughts as you bite at your bottom lip and bring your eyes down from the stage, feeling your chest tightening with hopelessness. There’s no point. 

And it’s because you’ve become so attuned to your thoughts that you don’t notice the collective murmur of excitement that ripples through the crowd right before you. You pick up to clap your hands for the name was just called, only to be met with quite literally everyone’s faces on you. Nothing but confusion clouds your mind. 

Are they… clapping for you?

The realisation hits you hard, and for a few long seconds, you’re caught between disbelief and elation. Your body feels absolutely frozen in place; everyone’s mouth is moving too fast for you to fully process; the world around you feels like it’s spinning. The moment seems to stretch into an endless void, and you can barely believe what’s happening. The crowd’s faces blur into a sea of smiles and congratulations… for you. 

Your name𑁋your artwork𑁋had been recognised.

You nearly tumble on the way to the front at the way your legs feel numb underneath you, each step feeling as if you’re floating on air. Perhaps this is really just one, long, tortuous dream, but the way your trembling hands clutch the certificate as you receive it from the director feels startlingly real. 

The director offers you a handshake and an acknowledging smile, but you hardly register it all in your mind. In those short moments, you take the opportunity to swiftly scan the room, catching sight of Wheein and Seungkwan clapping happily for you, and Joshua standing right next to them. He’s clapping along too𑁋is that a bouquet of flowers in his hands?𑁋with a warm, proud smile painted across his features. You consider it more important than any of the applause around the room; more important than the award itself, ironically.

You make your way back to your seat, the certificate feeling both heavy and light in your hands. Every congratulatory smile that the other artists send to you is like a burst of warmth against the cool autumn night.

As the last of the names are called, you find yourself drifting among the crowd, eyes in search of your friends. But it isn’t long for your body to be engulfed by the arms of Wheein and Seungkwan who have managed to squeeze their way through the crowd to find you, their faces glowing with uncontainable excitement.

“Y/N, you did it!” Wheein exclaims, her eyes glistening with joy as she shakes you by the shoulders. “I knew you could! I’m so proud of you!”

“I told you it was a good sign!” Seungkwan remarks to Wheein before facing you with a wide grin. “Shit, I’m about to cry again𑁋I’m so happy for you, Y/N!”

As their words sink in, an overwhelming bubble of triumph grows within you. A shaky laugh leaves you as they continue to shower you with their happiness, heat beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes from how much your heart feels so fully right now. 

Wheein drags Seungkwan by the wrist to greet the other artists, and you’re left standing at the very side of the museum, gazing wandering around through all the faces within your vicinity. You don’t see any sign of Joshua anywhere. Did he get lost? 

With that, you pull your phone out to text him, before your eyes widen in surprise at the way you missed a message from him sent five minutes ago. You were a bit too distracted by everything else that you didn’t feel the notification of his text.

[09:03PM | joshua hong] I’ll meet you outside ❤️

Without any hesitation, you slip your phone back into your pocket and make your way toward the exit of the museum, leaving behind the lively inside and into the peaceful night. The cool autumn air greets you with a refreshing embrace as you step outside, the sky painted with the soft hues of dusk.

Joshua isn’t standing that much farther away from you, spotting him waiting idly by the small gate at the entrance of the museum, a singular spotlight shining down on him from above. As you start to approach him, he seems to notice and turns his body toward you, a smile spreading across his lips. 

“What are you doing out here?” You sign to him curiously.

Joshua’s lips form a thin line in thought, signing back expressively while answering, “Too noisy in there, and I thought you deserved some fresh air. Plus, I wanted to give you something.”

After that, he pulls out the bouquet of flowers from behind his back and extends it toward you with a sheepish look.

“I know you probably already saw them, but I couldn’t hide it any longer,” he tells you. “Congratulations, my love.”

The pleasant fragrance of the flowers float to your nostrils as you take them into your grasp. The flowers themselves are a perfect assortment of colours you find dear to your heart, like each one was personally handpicked for you. The thought and everything else has heat prickling at the corners of your eyes. It’s all too much and just enough at the same time.

Joshua grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you close to him so that one of your arms is wrapped around his waist. He places a small kiss on the top of your head before leaning down to look into your eyes.

“Look at you,” he coos softly, perhaps a pinch of tease behind his words you detect. “You’re glowing.” 

You nearly laugh at that, coming out as a shaky and probably ugly snort instead that makes you bury your face into Joshua’s shoulder. Maybe you are glowing, maybe it’s just the spotlight hanging over, or maybe you’re just too happy to even care. You feel his chest lifting and receding from the laughs of his own as you cling to him. For a moment, everything else fades away𑁋the museum, the crowd, the nerves.

When you pull away slightly, he’s still looking at you, taking the chance to let a finger slowly caress the skin of your cheek. There’s stars in his eyes that you could pinpoint, ones that seem to shine brighter than even the largest of constellations. You feel like you could get lost in them, in him, and for a moment, you do. Your breath hitches in your throat. 

A gentle breeze carries the scent of fallen leaves, the soft rustling of leaves surrounding the two of you. It's as if the world has paused, giving you a moment to simply be with each other.

You bring the arm that was around his waist back to your side. He still holds you by the hips as you bring a hand up to sign.

“I know that I can’t hear,” You start to sign slowly, his gaze flickering down to your hands curiously. “but I can feel your voice when you hold me.”

Joshua nods thoughtfully. He seems to contemplate something for a moment, before bringing his hands from your hips and up to sign. 

“How does it make you feel?” 

You purse your lips in thought, trying to find the right signs to express what you're feeling. It's hard to put into words, or even signs, the way you feel when you're with him.

“Safe… loved…” You draw your fingers graciously through the air, and Joshua’s eyes soften with affection as he watches. “...heard… understood…”

The words fly off your hands and swirl around like a planet orbiting its sun. As you peer into Joshua's eyes, you know he understands. He's always understood.

“I want…” You begin hesitantly, somewhat feeling silly at what you’re about to ask from him. “...to feel you say something to me.” 

Joshua’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head intriguingly, waiting patiently for you to continue. 

You start with taking the fingertip of your hand touching your chin, before drawing it away in the form of a small arc. Next, you point to yourself, then you point towards him. Taking both arms, you cross your arms over your chest as if you were hugging yourself. And then finally, you point back at yourself. 

“Tell me that you love me.” 

A faint hint of a smirk crosses his features, before it softens into a simple look, a simple smile. Joshua just steps back forward and takes you back into his embrace, letting you press yourself against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close enough that you could possibly even feel his heartbeat. You love feeling that as well.

You swear that if there was one place you could stay in forever, it would be in his arms. And right now, it was only the beginning of something beautiful.

“I love you,” he tells you. For the first time, you don't read his lips to know he said it, yet you feel those three words resonate through your entire being and down to the very core of your heart, just where they belong.

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minghao is for the girlies who never forgive themselves, who were never cared enough, whose desires or dreams are always taken for granted, who always think of running somewhere far, who have nightmares often, who never feel safe around anyone with their secrets, whose father don't know their favourite colour, whose little habits were always made fun of, who doesn't love their nose, who never had anyone for suggestions, who hates themselves because of others.

for you, the world

seungcheol x gn! reader

summary: feeling as though seungcheol's feelings towards you had changed, you confront him.

wc is approx 2.4k

genre: angst and comfort. idol au.

warning/notes: a reference to the feeling of being choked. depression and anxiety from both cheol and the reader. mentions of depression and anxiety. serious discussions of feelings, feeling vulnerable, being honest even though it's scary.

request: how do you think scoups reacts when the love of his life asks him to love her more than she loves him

author: i realized you wanted a reaction and not a oneshot too late!!! but here's the requested reaction

You were twisting your hands, wringing your fingers and scraping your nails against your skin. You refused to look at Seungcheol, staring at his feet where he still wore the sneakers he had hurriedly put on before going to practice that day, having had no time to do much else after waking up late.

It wasn't hard to see the weariness on your face, not when you held your body away from him, as if he was a stranger you were about to bare your heart to and not the man you've been dating for four years.

You were wearing mismatched socks. Your sweats were uneven, one leg having rolled up to your knee and the other bunched loosely around your ankle. The hoodie was his, and Seungcheol knew that if he were to press closer he would be able to smell his cologne.

"Baby," Seungcheol began, hesitant.

You shook your head roughly, cutting him off. "Wait. Let me get all this out first. I'm trying, Cheol, it's just -- it's hard."

He nodded. Seungcheol smoothed his hands over his pants, trying to rub off the sweat that had begun to collect there. He would be lying if he ever tried to say he wasn't an anxious person, but concerning your relationship? Seungcheol always thought navigating your relationship was like sailing a under the brilliant sun, using its brightness as a guide.

But all of a sudden he felt as if the sun had given to darkness and rain, thunderclouds cracking overhead and stirring the sea; he was in uncharted territory, and he felt as if time was beginning to work against him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, composing yourself. "I'm just -- it's hard. Being honest. Not in the way that people think. If someone asks me my opinion on something I'll give it, but this. Being honest like this is hard."

That's what Seungcheol liked about you. You were honest. It dripped off of you just like your sweetness did, just as thick as honey. You were honest with your words, but with your expressions moreso. More than once, when Seungcheol pointed out a certain look or expression you got, you would explain that your face was your weakness; even if you had ever managed to tell a lie, your face would give it away.

But this honesty, the honesty you were trying to give to Seungcheol, was different. It wasn't telling Minghao that his brightly colored outfit wasn't coordinated, no matter how Minghao would try to convince you otherwise. It wasn't your look of disgust when Mingyu tells a joke that doesn't land.

It was the honesty of taking your soul out of your chest and revealing it. It was showing someone the deepest, darkest thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind, in hidden corners that no sunshine could ever reach.

It was, Seungcheol knew, the same honesty that had him calling you at three in the morning, sobbing, as he felt his depression grip him around the throat and squeeze to the point of no return.

So he was still and silent, observing you. Letting you speak.

"I think --" you tried once, twice, voice and heart rebelling against one another. "I feel. I feel, wrongly, horribly, that -- that you don't love me anymore."

For a moment Seungcheol didn't understand what you were saying. It was like when someone suddenly speaks about something that happened long ago, a veil of fog over the memory before it was revealed.

But then the accusation filtered through his ears, through the fog. It pierced through his brain and landed in his heart, digging into it, puncturing.

He opened his mouth immediately to protest. Seungcheol loved you. He loved you.

When he was younger and still bright-eyed, when he sang about first loves and flower paths, when it felt like it was him and his members against the world, Seungcheol hadn't really taken much stock in the words he sang. They were words that Jihoon so eloquently wrote, each holding the considerable weight of their future success and whether it was worth it -- whether Seventeen was worth it. But they were words.

But then he met you, dated you, fell in love with you. And he understood what it meant when they sang about feeling clumsiness around a crush, when he had the irresistible urge to tell you about his adoration for you. Every single word he ever rapped or sang seemed to have made sense. Every single word, from the first ever song to now, was for you. It was all for you, even if he didn't know it at the time.

And now --

Now you were saying --

"I know -- I know what you'll say," you rushed on, having seen his bewildered look. "I know it. Seungcheol, I know you love me. I know it. I know, I know, I know.

"But at the same time --" Your voice cracked, and you turned your head sharply. Your arms moved to cradle yourself, squeezing your shoulders. "At the same time I have this voice. This thought. And of course I was able to ignore it, for the longest time I did. But now --"

Seungcheol watched as you took one deep breath, lungs filling. You held it for three seconds; released. You did this twice more, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders rising and lowering.

He immediately recognized it as something he taught you. He had researched ways to soothe oneself and had stumbled upon this breathing technique. Seungcheol remembered your wide eyes as you looked up at him, awed with how well it worked.

"Now," you said, voice calmer. You still didn't look at him. "Now it's like you don't even want to be around. Around me. You get home late from practice, getting stuff to eat with the guys after. And that's fine! Of course it's fine for you to hang out with them, of course it's fine for you to hang out with your friends. I'm not saying that. I'm not.

"But you come home late, past the time I can stay up because of work. And then I wake up and you're still asleep. And on the weekends you wake late, because you're exhausted, of course. But you wake up late and have no time for anything other than a shower and a meal before you go running off to practice. And it repeats."

You reached up, rubbing at your nose. You had been crying, Seungcheol realized. "Or you go and hang out at Hybe with the boys. And I can't go there. You know that. Or hang out with them and their friends, their expensive and shiny friends, and you know how I am with strangers. You know what it's like to be the only dull thing in a room of shining people."

And he did. Fuck, he did.

"You don't even text me," you cried, your voice finally giving out. Your hands went to your cheeks, furiously rubbing. Seungcheol wanted to cross the room to you in that instant, to take you into his arms and press kisses to your forehead and tell you to save it, that surely this conversation could wait for another day.

But he knew it couldn't.

Not when you were crying over it, not when it was so obviously driving you to exhaustion worrying about it.

"I text you all the time. I text you about every single fucking thing that makes me laugh or smile because I think it'll make you happy. I tell you about whatever dog I see, about whatever kid I see running about. And you just -- you don't even respond.

"And I know the messages usually aren't about anything important. But I just -- you can't even acknowledge it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. But it was no use. You were sobbing. You were sobbing like your heart was breaking, and Seungcheol knew his was.

"It's like you won't even acknowledge me," you sobbed, chest heaving. "You won't even look at me, it feels like!

"Seungcheol," you slapped a hand over your mouth. You weren't even stopping your tears now, not even wiping them away. It was just as bad as seeing you trying to hide them, Seungcheol thought.

It was like you were giving up.

"Seungcheol," you began again, voice thick, "why can you love me like I love you? Why can't you love me just even a fraction more than I love you?"

It was like you had been preparing him for the plunge. You put him in lukewarm weather, then cold. Each and every word of yours was preparing Seungcheol, was giving way to some horrible truth that was clawing out of the back of your mind, leaving its dark corner. But then you picked him up out of that cold water and plunged him into Arctic water, the temperature shocking him and electrifying his body.

Because nothing, nothing, could ever prepare him for that.

There were a few things Seungcheol couldn't imagine you ever saying. He couldn't imagine you ever saying that apple juice was better than orange; that football was better than basketball. Just like he never, ever, could have imagined you saying that you doubted his love for you.

It was like you and Seungcheol were standing in the rain. It was soaking your clothes, making your hair cling to your head. There was no sun, it being hidden by thick dark rain clouds. Both of you could hear the rain smacking against the pavement.

But, nonetheless, you were turning to him and saying how you liked bright and sunny days like this one.

Then, Seungcheol realized, the two of you weren't just standing in the rain. He was being pelted with it, his love so obvious for you that it seeped into his clothes and in his very being. But, even though you were standing beside him, you were holding an umbrella, protected from the rain.

You were quiet in front of him, shrinking back into yourself. You were turning your shoulders from him, clutching at your elbows as you hugged yourself. Still you were hiding your eyes from his. "I'm sorry, Cheol. I know it's ridic --"

Unable to help himself, Seungcheol was shooting off the couch. Your body was in his arms before he really realized what he was doing. He was pressing your body into his, feeling your elbows awkwardly dig into his chest, your face dig into his collar. Almost instantly your tears were soaking his shirt.

"Listen," he started, voice thick and stern. "Listen to me, baby. I have spent every day of the past three and a half years loving you. I have loved you through some of the worst fucking days of my life."

Seungcheol pulled away, his hands going to your cheeks. He wiped at your tears, your eyes shining from them. You sniffled; he echoed it.

When had he stared crying?'

"You listen to me," he said, feeling his jaw clench. He didn't let you look away, turning your face to keep his eyes trained on yours. "I have loved you even when I hated myself. Even when I didn't know how I could love anyone or anything, I loved you.

"I loved you when you showed up for our sixth month anniversary wearing that cute smile and the little cherry earrings. Remember them? I loved you when you took me to meet your grandparents, loved you when I brought you to mine and my grandpa couldn't believe how I managed to find someone as sweet and kind and clever as you to call my own.

"I loved you when you got Josh to teach you how to make bracelets so you could make one for me. I loved you when you sat with Jeonghan and made me that silly Lego flower set. I loved you when you stayed up far-too-fucking-late to FaceTime me on tour. I loved you when you got me that silly little fucking bear at the Airport Giftshop for way to much money just because you said it reminded you of me.

"I loved you when I did nothing but sit in the dark. When you would show up with food and love and just hold me.

"That doesn't just go away," Seungcheol breathed, blinking to try and see you through his tears. "I've always loved you. Always. Nothing can change that."

You burrowed into him, your hands clinging to his shirt. Seungcheol squashed you against him, feeling as if even a centimeter of space between the two of you was too much.

"I'm sorry." He licked his lips, pressing his eyes shut and laying his head on top of yours. "I'm so fucking sorry. You should never, ever, feel as if I don't love you. As if I won't fucking climb Mount Everest naked for you. As if I wouldn't give everything I am to be the one privileged enough to spend the rest of my life beside you.

"You are so important," he said. "You are so important. To me, to the members, to your family. To my family. To every single fucking person you've ever met. You are worth so much more than I could ever give. But I will spend the rest of my life giving, giving you my love and adoration."

You nodded against his chest. The two of you stood there in the dim light of your living room, arms wrapped around one another. Seungcheol sighed, squeezing you.

"I will send you texts every fucking minute of every hour," he vowed, as if such a thing could mend your broken heart and erase the past hour of tears. "I'll send every bird, dog, cat, mouse -- everything. I'll make you show up to every after-practice dinner. I'll drag you out of the apartment in pajamas if I have to. I'll wake up bright and early and make you a gourmet breakfast."

"No, you won't."

Seungcheol laughed weakly. "You're right. I can try, though." "I'll appreciate whatever you give me," you murmured into his clothes, voice still small and weak from crying. "Even a bowl of cereal."

But you didn't deserve a bowl of cereal, Seungcheol thought. You didn't deserve a text every minute, didn't deserve a picture of every fucking animal on Earth. You didn't deserve dinners after midnight, didn't deserve omelets or bacon or sausage.

You deserved the world.

And Seungcheol would spend the rest of his life giving it to you.

APRIL 12TH, 3:36PM

XU MINGHAO X YANDERE READER

WC: 2.7K

Minghao is hiding something from you.

You're hiding something from Minghao.

WARNINGS: MURDER, GORE, VIOLENCE, GUNS, WEAPONS, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, MANIPULATION, YANDERE, unprotected sex, public sex, sex with a corpse in the room (yes this happened again idk how we got here), scary dirty talk?, this is just Y/N being insane.

Minghao is the light of your life. From the moment you first saw him on April 12th, at 3:36pm you were mesmerized. His all black attire, mullet, nails, everything; it did it for you. Of course he didn’t notice you, only because you didn’t want him to. Being able to blend in was a gift; you preferred to play in the shadows anyways. From that moment you tried to learn everything you could about him. The instagram and twitter searches oddly led to nothing and linkedin was a no go.  Hmmm, either he has no social media presence or doesn’t want to be found. Even after hours of digging you still find nothing. 

You decide to revisit the cafe you saw him at, maybe he’ll reappear. You can’t say you’re too shocked when he doesn’t. All you know is you need another taste of him, a sight of him, you need something, anything. 

“Excuse me.” you say to the worker behind the counter.

“Yes?” he says with an awful attitude, taking you aback.

“I think I lost my phone here a few days ago. Can I check the security cameras to see if someone stole it?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I can’t show you them, lady.”

“Please.” you say batting your eyelashes at him and as always it works like a charm

“Maybe if you do me a favor, I’ll let you see.”

Gross. “Sounds like a plan” you smirk, trying not to throw up.

You follow him to the back to which he promptly pulls down his pants. You can’t help but laugh, his dick is so small. “What?” he says, sounding offended. “Nothing” you say and walk towards him. You pull out your trusty pistol and press it to his head. 

“Show me the tape.”

“You crazy bitch.”

That word always pisses you off. You’re not fucking crazy. You’re just passionate. 

“Shut the fuck up and show me the tape before I blow your fucking brains out.”

He immediately goes to the camera files and shows you the evening of April 12th. There he is. Your love. He somehow seems even more attractive. You sigh dreamily and the man next to you rudely interrupts to which you side eye him making him shut it. You take a copy of the file and erase the files from today in case this perv tries to go to the cops.

“Lovely doing business with you.”

You leave the cafe feeling like a teenager in love. He’s just so dreamy and you’re certain he’s sweet. As you rewatch the video on your phone you get an idea. Your friend Namjoon owes you one… hmm. If this is what it takes to find the man of your dreams so be it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You read the file left on your doorstep. Xu Minghao, 25, born on November 7, 1997, Chinese, 5’10, likes frogs? You fucking hate frogs, but If he likes them you like them. No occupation? He doesn’t look like someone who's broke. Maybe his parents are rich or something. Besides the basic information there's no current address, phone number, or information about school. This guy is basically a ghost.  How did they find out he liked frogs but not where he lives? You give Namjoon a call.

“Y/N.”

“Namjoon, why is there nothing about this dude?”

“He doesn’t want to be found for a reason.”

“Stop with the cryptic shit just tell me what his issue is.”

“Y/N I don’t think you want to know.”

“I swear to god.”

“He’s in the mafia. SVT. You don’t want to get involved with him.”

Oh. This does to deter you, if anything it makes you like him more. A dangerous man is a sexy man. You don’t want him if he can’t kill someone for you. 

“You gotta introduce us.” 

“No.”

“Why.”

“I did you your favor already. Plus I don’t approve of this.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to meet someone in the mafia on my own accord.”

“Y/N don’t act like you're not a criminal. You just pretend to be a good girl but we both know you’re not. I’m sure you’ll figure it you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He really likes tea. This is the third pack of tea he’s bought this week. Why not just buy more than one at a time? He walks through the aisles of the store like he always does, pretending to browse but knowing he’s just going to buy frog gummy bears. It’s the same thing every time. You pass by him and take a deep breath. He smells so good. You’re not sure how he hasn't noticed you yet. You’ve been a bit sloppy, trying to get as close to him as possible. He’s seen you walking around his apartment complex, at his favorite stores, at the park he meditates at, but he hasn’t seen you. You decide you’ve learned enough about him to finally approach him. As he’s about to leave the tea aisle you take this as your opportunity. 

“Excuse me” you say sweetly.

He turns around, seemingly shocked someone is speaking to him. 

“Yes?”

“Is that tea good?” you smile sweetly.

“Oh this? Yea it’s my favorite.”

“Hmm, maybe I should try it. I don’t really know much about tea.”

“I like to think of myself as a tea connoisseur,” he says with a kind smile. Perfect, he’s letting his guard down.

“Well lucky me, huh?”

“You’re blessed to be in the presence of an expert so yes, lucky you.”

He begins to go on and on about different types of teas, benefits, and a whole lot of other crap you’re not listening to. You just can't believe he’s speaking to you, looking at you, perceiving you. This must be heaven. 

“Can I ask your name?” you say as you two near the checkout.

He clearly weighs his options, deciding you seem innocent enough. 

“Hao.” he says, making you smile.

“Hi, Hao. I’m Y/N.”

From there you two “coincidentally” bumped into each other often. The interactions become friendlier and more comfortable. The smiles turned into longing eyes, small touches. You’ve eliminated any threats, any woman or man who looked his way too long had to go. You couldn't let anyone take you from him now that you had him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Baby, I need to go to work.” Hao whispers, trying not to disturb you too much. He knows you need your sleep, he has to leave at such weird times he feels bad. You’d think after a year of dating he’d have the balls to confess to you but he can’t. How are you supposed to tell your sweet, innocent, loving girlfriend you kill people for a living? He feels awful lying to you about his work, his life. You’ve been begging to meet his friends and family but he keeps denying you. He doesn't want to involve you in this lifestyle. You give him a tired smile and nod. “Ok, I’ll see you later.” you say and give him a kiss.

Minghao leaves your apartment and drives to the base. He has a few things to do today and then he can get back to you. He misses you already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For someone in the mafia Hao is way too trusting and honestly kind of stupid. Did he not think sharing his location with you would be an issue? Of course the kind innocent girlfriend would never be watching his every move, checking street security cameras to watch what he does, who he talks to, what he looks at. You see he’s meeting a woman at a restaurant. The fuck? Does she want to die? They go into the restaurant and you lose sight of them. Without thinking you head to the restaurant. Just the thought of him talking to another woman infuriates you. He would never cheat on you, he’s too much of an angel and you’re sure if he did it wouldn’t be his fault. He was probably coerced or blackmailed, he would never do that. You speed to the restaurant and park a few blocks away. By now the sun has gone down and the streetlights have turned on. You wait for them to leave in the alley near the restaurant. They bid their goodbyes and Hao walks away after confirming his lady friend has a rise coming, always such a gentleman. Once he drives off the woman starts walking away; she must've lied. Unfortunate for her, great for you. You start crying in order to gain her attention. As she walks by you emerge.

“Excuse me.” you sob.

She looks at you bewildered. “Oh my goodness, are you alright?” she walks into the alley to get closer to you.

“Some girl tried to mug me and I’m waiting for the police. Can you come and wait with me, I want to make sure she doesnt leave.”

She immediately agrees and follows you deeper in. So gullible…

When she’s a little ahead of you, you reach into your back pocket and pull out the hammer you brought with you. 

“You think you can talk to my boyfriend and get away with it?”

She turns to look at you. “What? Minghao?”

“Yeup.”

“He’s dating you?” She says in disgust.

You just stare at her. She’s becoming increasingly uncomfortable and as she goes to walk past you, you swing the hammer into her face making her fall to the ground. You straddle her and beat her face in, hitting her over and over and over until the ground is covered in her skull and brain. You don’t stop until you hear movement behind you.

“Y/N?”

You freeze. He wasn’t supposed to see this. You stand up looking down at your pretty pink dress now stained red. You drop the hammer, ready to start crying. You’re searching for a story to tell him. Self defense always works right? 

He just starts laughing. You look up at him confused. 

“Baby, baby, baby. I didn’t know you had it in you.” he says as he begins walking towards you. He takes his chin in your hand and looks into your eyes. “Why did you kill her?”

You just pout, too embarrassed to answer. “Was it because I spoke to her? Were you jealous.”

You just nod, ashamed but not apologetic. “She had it coming. She didn't think I deserved you.”

“Do you deserve me?”

Your face falls. “I just killed someone for you and you’re asking if I deserve you?” you spit, letting the sweet persona drop.

“Y/N. Do you think I have not known what you really were this whole time? I’m not stupid. I know you're a psycho stalker. I saw you all those times before we started dating, I know you looked into me, I know you follow me around, track me. I know this is all a facade.”

You feel your world falling apart. This can’t be happening. He backs you into a wall. “Hao I just do it because I love you.”

“And I love you, but you fell for my trap baby. You can’t go around killing people.”

“But you do that all the time.”

He breathes out a laugh. “Well you got me there baby.”

“Wait, what trap?”

“I needed to prove my suspicions; catch you in the act. I was supposed to kill her, but I figured I'd use her as bait. And you're just so predictable. You just killed her with no remorse. You’re just crazy.”

You take a deep breath. You’re not fucking crazy. You look him in the eye. “I’m not crazy.”

“Well clearly I am, because seeing you kill that bitch turned me on.” 

“What?”

“You heard me. Seeing this pretty little dress I bought you covered in blood. God, It’s making me so hard.”

Well this is new. You go to speak only to be cut off by a rough kiss. He grinds his hips into you and he wasn’t lying he’s harder than ever. He begins kissing and biting down your neck, rubbing his hands across your blood soaked body. 

“If I tell you to kill someone else would you do it?”

“Yes” you immediately answer.

“Would you do anything for me?”

“Yes.” your breathing is picking up. He’s so close to you, you can feel his chest rise with every breath, his fingers tighten around your waist, everything. 

“You're just my little lap dog, huh? My every wish is your command?” you nod furiously as he sinks to his knees, hiking your legs on his shoulders. He bunches your dress on your hips and pulls your panties to the side. He dives in, eating you like his favorite food, the vigor and intensity driving you mad. “Hao, please fuck me I want to cum on your dick.” He groans, setting you down gently. 

“You want me to fuck you in this dingy alley? With people passing? What would look worse, them finding the body or them finding us covered in blood, fucking next to a body?”

You honestly dont give a fuck about either, all you want his his dick in you. “Hao please just fuck me.”

“I don’t know, Baby.”

“If you don't put your dick in me right now, I’ll show you how crazy I can be.”

He groans. He unbuttons his slacks and pulls his boxers down enough to pull himself out. He hikes you up the wall and pushes in, bottoming out immediately. “Fuckkk, just the thought that you killed someone just so you can have me is making me want to cum in this sweet pussy right now. But you deserve an award for being so good to me right?”

“Please. I deserve it.” you moan.

He begins thrusting into you, hard and deep, trying to make you cum. The feeling of his arms holding you, his body heat on yours, and the adrenaline running through your body, it’s all driving you crazy. He angles his hips upward, searching for the spot that drives you crazy. 

“Tell me, what was it about me that made me want you so much?” he whispers in your ear.

“You just- y-you looked so hot, and you sm- smelled so good and ughh.” Every word you say he thrust into you harder making you unable to get a full sentence out. He’s taunting you. “Do you not love me?” he says slowing down. “Is that what it is? You don’t want me?” 

“No, no I do! I want you so bad Hao.”

“I don’t think so.” he says as he puts you back on the floor. “I don’t think you love me as much as you say you do. You just want me because I’m pretty? You don’t really love me.”

“What do I need to do to show you? I’ll do anything Baby.”

“I want you to kill someone else for me. Get more blood on your hands.”

“Right now? Just tell me who, I’ll do it.” you start walking back towards the street to which he pulls you back.

“God, Baby. You don’t know what seeing you like this does to me. So obsessed with me that you’ll blindly follow what I say. This power is going to my head.”

You groan, feeling delirious. You just want to cum at this point and these games he’s playing is pissing you off. You reach into his suit pocket and pull out his gun pointing it to  his head.

“I may love you but I love cumming more. Get to it.”

“Yes Ma’am”

He presses your hands against the wall and slides back into you from behind. He starts pounding into you ruthlessly, you feel every ridge and vein of his cock. You want to scream, cry, laugh, anything. You feel like you’re genuinely losing your mind, so overwhelmed by everything you're feeling. You start crying only making him fuck you harder. 

“Cry for me baby, let me see all those pretty tears.” he groans in your ear.

His feral groan makes you cum, squeezing him so tight he slips out. He jerks himself off, cumming onto your ass with a quiet moan. You try to catch your breath. That was so intense, you still feel like you’re on a different planet. He turns you around and pulls you into his chest. His warm embrace grounds you like it always has. 

“I love you. You’re so good to me, Baby.” he says as he hugs you harder.

“I love you too, Hao. So much.”

You both step over the body, leaving the alley hand in hand.You look at him under the moonlight. As beautiful as the day you saw him but even more beautiful now that he’s yours. 

don't let him out tonight - lsm

Falling for a mafia captain could cost your career as a university instructor and future criminal lawyer. But you couldn't resist Lee Seokmin, especially when he's on his knees, ready to worship you. Yet, some truths keep you two apart, secrets to uncover amidst a tangled web. You have no choice but to plead with him, hoping he won't do something that could shatter both your worlds.

• mafia!lee seokmin x f reader

• angst & smut (mdni!)

• words: 10k

general tags: mafia!seokmin, law student & university instructor!reader, heavy angst, smut, harassment, unwanted advances by a stranger, mommy and daddy issues, kidnapping, blood, betrayal, situationship, bad reputation, reader is shorter than seokmin, short skirts and dresses, nightclubs, violence, guns, gangs, alcohol, intoxication, poison, face slapping, implied ptsd, framed convicts, scams, tending to bruises, pet names like babe and baby (smut warnings below the cut)

smut warnings: dom!seokmin, pussy drunk!seokmin, cock drunk!reader, reader is mentioned to have tits, big dick seokmin because that man is big everywhere, drunk sex, grinding, thigh riding, voyeurism, public oral sex, blowjob, cum swallowing, clit stimulation, fingering, p in v sex, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe pls), orgasm denial, lots and lots of begging

[a/n] inspired by sabrina's please please please. read all the tags before proceeding! send an ask for hard thoughts!<33

Everyone warned you about him. Your mother, your friends, even the neighborhood pastor. Even if his face wasn't in the news, people could tell something wasn't right as soon as they saw him. If there was a list of people you should never be involved with, his name was on top, underlined, and written in blood. The caporegimes, the mafia captain in your district, Lee Seokmin.

Cold air brushed against your legs as you waited in the university parking lot. It was already getting dark so you had to squint, trying to spot your boyfriend's car. You almost regretted wearing a short skirt, but you wanted to see his reaction more than anything. Your conversation almost half an hour ago kept repeating in your head like a broken record.

"I don't care about what people say, y/n," Seokmin said through the phone.

"I do. I'm fine with waiting outside."

"But it's cold."

"I said I'm fine. You know I don't like repeating myself," you argued with him.

It had only been a month since you started dating and you were already subject to looks of concern and gossip amongst your coworkers and students. Having Seokmin pick you up at the entrance would only make things worse, so you insisted on meeting him in the parking lot.

He had arrived moments later in his car. The man stepped out, the chains around his neck catching the lights from the lamppost. His broad shoulders were clad in a black leather jacket. His hair was styled up. He looked ravishing.

"I told you to wait inside." Seokmin was clenching his jaw, disappointment lacing his tone. He walked towards you, removing his jacket to wrap around your shoulders. You kissed his cheek as he did so.

"I'm not that cold, I promise."

"I don't believe you, baby." He looked down on you and toyed with the hem of your short skirt. Before you could say anything, he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

He was dangerous. His eyes were dark, layered with years of experience in the underground scene, filled with the knowledge of the inner workings of organized crimes. You knew he had blood in his hands, yet some sick monster inside you took pride in the idea that it was you he called baby. It was you he took out on dates.

The inside of Seokmin's car smelled like him. Rich cedarwood, giving a sensual woodsy scent. As soon as you settled in the passenger seat, he placed a long coat on your lap, keeping your legs and feet warm. Who knew the cold, brutal Lee Seokmin would be such a gentleman?

.     ♰   .   ❦   .   ♰     .

Several months ago, your friend Gyuri had dragged you out to celebrate surviving finals. It was your third year at law school and you both needed a little breather. Gyuri was an expert at it. She knew how to get wasted even under so much pressure. You couldn't afford her lifestyle though, because you had to balance studying law and teaching at a different university. But that night, you had let her choose a short dress for you before she dragged you into an infamous nightclub.

“Come on, it's not like your grandmother will see you shaking ass here.” Gyuri teased with a laugh, merging with the crowd.

Ten minutes under the bright lights and she was nowhere to be found. Gyuri was right; your grandma wasn't on the dance floor. It was a crowd of students. And—just because fate decided to fuck with you tonight—it was your students.

You accidentally made eye contact with one of them. She was a freshman. Her mouth formed a comical letter o, looking at you up and down. She nudged her friend, more familiar young faces turned to you in horror.

'What the hell were they doing here?'

They grimaced as if they were caught by their parents. The awkward encounter had you backing up into the deepest corner of the nightclub, hiding from sight. You sat alone by the bar, praying you wouldn't see another one of your students. 

You let your eyes roam around the dancing crowd in search of Gyuri. Your gaze landed on the table across from you. It was surrounded by heavy-muscled men deep in conversation. But it was the man in a black suit that got your attention. He was looking straight at you as the others talked animatedly. Everything about his features was sharp: his nose, his jawline, his cheekbones, and his gaze.

At that moment you become hyper-aware of the conversations of the other people around you. The staff and clubgoers were talking about the man. A bartender had referred to him as "the captain," and this captain sounded like a really big deal. He owned the nightclub, the gambling dens around the district, and several hotels.

‘Better not mess around with a guy like that,’ you thought, more amused than scared.

A few hours into the night and a mix of alcohol in your system, you still couldn't see your friend. When you tried to order another drink, an old man suddenly offered some amber liquid in a crystal glass. He was old enough to be someone's grandfather. His voice was already hoarse from drinking. The sirens in your head went off in an instant. You had kindly refused but he had insisted again and again.

"I said no." You shifted in your seat, ready to stand and run away if you needed to.

"Just take the gla—" He faltered, swayed, and collapsed on the floor with a thud.

The drink in his hand arced into the air before landing on your feet in a splash. It pooled on the floor. You stood up in shock, hissing at the chill of the drink on your skin. You looked down at the old man. Was he dead? The brutes who sat at the table across from you dragged him out and disappeared in the shadows.

Unbeknownst to you, the captain had raised his left eyebrow to the bartender, a sign to spike the creepy man's drink with poison. The bartender obeyed and played dumb as soon as the old guy hit the ground.

Heading for the back exit, you winced in each step. You could almost hear the squelch and squeak in your soles if it wasn't for the loud bass. The liquor that splashed onto your feet was a sensory nightmare. Clutching your phone, you tried to call Gyuri. You had reached the parking lot when you felt a presence behind you.

"I'm sorry for your shoes."

It was the captain in the black suit. He walked towards you, his chiseled face becoming more prominent as he moved closer.

He continued, "I should have considered his distance before giving the signal."

"Who are you and what are you talking about?"

He stopped in front of you, looking down at your face, examining your features. Your knees grew weaker at the proximity but you didn't miss the movement of his arm. He reached inside his suit jacket. You took three steps back, thinking he was going to pull out a gun.

He chuckled at your reaction and brought out a white handkerchief instead. "Relax, I'm not here to hurt you. Come here."

He went down on his knees and your heart lodged in your throat. Why the hell was this man kneeling in a nightclub's parking lot? He looked up at you, and God, he looked like heaven on Earth. His eyelashes were long, fluttering so sweetly.

"I'm Seokmin."

You gasped when he brought the handkerchief to your ankle, right where the alcohol had splashed. He wiped it gently, running the fabric across your shoes and moving to the other one. You stared at him, the captain—Seokmin—wiped every single drop of liquor from your feet like a devoted servant.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. He looked at you now and then, waiting for a reaction. You gave him your name and urged him to continue. His hands dragged towards the back of your knees, wiping the last stray drops. He looked so perfect kneeling underneath you that you could already feel the wetness between your legs.

"May I offer you a ride home?"

"What happened to that old man? Is he dead?"

Seokmin stood up. "What happens to assholes who cause trouble in my club shouldn't concern you," he says, flattening the crease in his suit. He continued, "You didn't answer my question. May I offer you a ride?"

It was at that moment when the gears in your head stopped turning. The drive to your apartment was a blur of city lights and a cold night breeze. You've never been with a guy this shady, this hot, and this good at manhandling you.

The clash of teeth and tongue turned your brain into a puddle. As soon as the lock of your bedroom door clicked, he had you against the wall, veiny hands gripping your thighs as he explored your mouth with his tongue. The sensation was entirely new and yet his body felt so perfect against you.  

“Is this okay?” Seokmin asked as he raked his hand up and down your legs.

“God, yes,” you said, already out of breath.

He nudged your legs apart, putting his thigh in between. Moans escaped your mouth when the fabric of his trousers made contact with your soaked underwear. He grunted against your lips every time you let out a squeal. Your arousal pooled even more when he ran his lips on the side of your neck, drinking in your scent.

Seokmin held your hips as you grind on his thigh. His fingers were steady and demanding. He knew what he wanted. You wrapped your arms around his neck, words coiling at your throat. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. "That's it, go on, fuck yourself on my thigh."

And you did. You bucked your hips faster, the delicious drag of fabric against your clit pushed you to the edge and you came with a loud whine. Your breaths came in short gasps as he guided you through your orgasm. Before you tried to hide your face, he was already kissing you again, wet and sinful.

He chuckled. "I haven't even started having my way with you."

He dragged you to the bed and undressed you with ease. You laid on your back, completely at his mercy. There was something so beautiful being underneath, powerless, ready to take what he decided to give you. Seokmin was the epitome of control, you can see it in his eyes as he looked down on you. He trailed his lips on the inside of your legs, gently nipping at the skin. He moved up to your torso, sucking on your tits, the sounds were so wet and lewd it made your cheeks flush. Seokmin squeezed and pulled your nipple with his fingers, coaxing moans from you. His hands were warm. Everything about him was steady, a direct opposite to your sensitive, shaking body.

After making sure every single part of you was trembling with need, he pulled out his thick, veiny cock and rolled a condom on it. He teased your dripping pussy, rubbing his length along your folds but not fucking you where you needed him to.

"God just put it in already. Fuck me," you whined. You couldn't recognize your voice with how needy it sounded.

He tuts and grinned, his eyes were dark. Evil. "That's not how you beg." He dragged his dick on your clit and rubbed faster.

"Please! Please fuck me. Ah— I need you. I wanna feel your cock in me." Tears welled up and escaped from your eyes. Your throat was straining from agony. A loud moan escaped from you when he pushed into your hole with a grunt.

The stretch was not like anything you've ever felt before. Each vein and every delicious inch made you gasp like a dirty slut. Once he had bottomed out, you gave him the signal, liking the sting of pain. He wasted no time and fucked you so hard, drilling into you like a madman. He pulled your legs onto his shoulders, folding you in half as he rammed his dick inside you harder. It was harsh and brutal. He whispered dirty names into your ear and licked the side of your neck, making you come two more times that night.

The next morning, he was already gone. The reality of his absence hit you hard. His warmth was still present in the air around you. There was still an ache between your thighs. The bruises he had left still stung deliciously. The smell of cedarwood still lingered in your room and on your skin. His moans were still ringing in your ear. He was everywhere.

When you got out to head for work, you noticed a box on your doorstep. It was a new pair of shoes, similar to the ones you wore last night but fancier. There was a note with a number and the initials: L.S.M. You'd never saved a number that quickly.

Texting the number, you thanked him for the shoes, saying he didn't have to. It took him less than a minute to reply and insist that you keep it. He had also apologized for leaving too early. You sighed, thanking the universe that the hot man who fucked your brains out didn't ghost you.

You had learned that his full name was Lee Seokmin. One conversation on the phone led to another until you were talking day and night. You found yourself smiling often at his words. You were already longing for the warm trace of his lips on your skin.

It was probably the law student in you or just an instinct of a girl, but you couldn't help but search his name online. You tried searching for Lee Seokmin, Seokmin, and other forms of his names, but you found nothing. No social media accounts, no public government information, and not even relatives. He was an enigma. 

Your suspicions grew bigger until he admitted one night that he was part of the mafia. It clicked then, the way people called him captain, the shady businesses he owned, and the schedule of his work. Of course, it made so much sense. Not only was he a part of it, but he was related to the boss by blood. 

Everyone around you was concerned because you hid your situationship like it was some sort of crime. It probably was. People started gossiping and making assumptions. Words even reached your mother in the suburbs. She had called you, warning you not to get into trouble with gangsters and criminals. 

'Oh, mother dearest, too late.'

You were falling for him. Your heart and soul were falling for every part of him, hard. You didn't know when and how it started. How your simple longing for his touch became a need to see his smile and hear his laugh. How you wanted him to stay and embrace you after sex. How nothing but lust turned into love. Pure, irreversible, dangerous love.

For months, you were spread out on his sheets at night and woke up alone. You never got to eat with him in a crowded restaurant, never held hands, never hugged in public. It was hard being casual. Whenever your head rested on his bare chest, you could hear his heartbeat, rising and falling with every breath. It was the safest place on earth. You hated how the lines were so blurry between you and Seokmin. You hated not knowing what you meant to him.

One night, after a whole session of hard sex where he denied your orgasm again and again only to give it to you in an intense wave, he asked under his breath, "Can we be official? Can I call you my girlfriend? I know it's going to be difficult for both of us, but I promise I'll take care of you."

"Yes. I'd love to. I've always wanted to."

You lifted your head just to have a good look at his wide smile, the smile that reached his eyes and made his cheeks red. He was so pretty. However, you weren't stupid, so you made him agree to a simple rule.

“But you're not allowed to kill people in front of me.”

“Capos rarely have to hurt anyone. My soldiers do the dirty work for me.”

"Don't try to find a loophole around it. No exceptions," you said in your most authoritative voice.

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted, getting a laugh out of you.

Seokmin had never broken the rule since then. He was sweet, sending you gifts often. He would show up at your place without reason, saying, "I just wanna cuddle with my future lawyer."

You weren't completely oblivious to the dangers that came with dating him. You had recently done a case study and analysis on organized crimes after all. But none of your friends were prepared for the pair of you: a future criminal lawyer and an actual criminal. It was laughable, really, considering how you had always warned your students not to get involved with shady shit, what a hypocrite you had become.

But who could resist anyone as sexy and caring as Lee Seokmin?

And who else could handle the devil inside him during nights like this?

.     ♰   .   ❦   .   ♰     .

That was how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Seokmin's car, the fear of being caught was long gone as he kneeled on the floor. It was disgusting and arousing, all you could see was his eyes and how completely needy he looked. He was fucked out and thirsty for you.

His nose bumped on your clit as he licked your folds. But every time your high was close, he kept pulling out. He's been edging you for almost half an hour. It was torture.

"Seokmin, please let me cum."

"No." He kissed your inner thigh.

"Seokmin…please."

You could feel his smirk on your skin. "What did you tell me on the phone? You don't like repeating yourself? Now you're begging for me over and over again."

God, he really knew how to put you in your place.

"I'm sorry. Please let me cum."

He pushed two slender fingers inside you along with his tongue and started fucking you in earnest. You rolled your hips in time with his thrust, gripping the car seat with one hand and pulling his hair with the other.

"Fuck, I'm so close."

He rubbed your clit with his thumb and pushed you to the edge, making you cream on his face. He kept on going, milking you dry. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. Seokmin was drunk to your taste.

He was only getting started.

The capo went back to his seat and drove to his place. It was a different kind of pleasure, watching him concentrate while driving as you palmed his hard-on. He kept glancing at you, warning you not to tease him. It only took twenty minutes before he was stripping you off of your clothes in his living room.

In the university, you were a level-headed instructor, the kind that students respected without question. At the law school, you were the diligent debater, the person people couldn’t argue with. No bullshits, no lies. You never had to ask for anything. But with him, you were always begging.

"Please don't hurt people in front of me."

"Please don't scare the delivery guy away."

"Please don't leave without saying goodbye.”

And tonight, it was a good kind of begging. "Please fuck my mouth. Use me all you want."

Seokmin raised his eyebrow. "On your knees."

You complied, your knees hitting his carpet and you're face-to-face with the hard-on you'd been toying with all night. You looked up at him for permission.

"Go on, make me cum."

You unzip his trousers with so much eagerness, making him chuckle. Your fingers were shaking with anticipation as you pulled his pants down with his boxers. God, the sight of his cock was mouth-watering. His muscles tensed when you wrapped your fingers around him and dragged your tongue on the prominent vein. You quickly worked him up, stroking his shaft as you licked the pre-cum from his tip.

He hissed as you lapped at the underside of his dick before sucking him fully. His grunts and moans egged you on, hollowing your cheeks to give him more pleasure. The drag of his dick on your tongue was so good, you could feel your arousal between your legs. 

You sucked him off, hungry for his taste. It took a few moments before he grabbed your hair and pulled you off of his cock.

"Do you want me to fuck your pretty mouth?" He traced his thumb on your lip.

"Yes, please, I beg you."

"Just tap three times if we need to stop, hm?"

"Yes."

He slammed his dick into your mouth and hit the back of your throat with ease. He set an animalistic pace, fucking in and out of your mouth like you were nothing but a toy. His dick was so big and veiny, your nose bumped into his hip each time. You couldn't do anything but grab onto his huge thighs for dear life. Each part of your body shook with his thrusts.

"You're so good for me, so fucking perfect."

He took off his dress shirt, his torso now in full view for you to worship. His broad shoulders were tense, moving up and down each time he panted. Nights like this when he lets his need get the better of him was your favorite. His controlled, calm aura fell apart as he didn’t hold back. 

“Look at you, baby. So fucking hot,”

The nails against the back of your neck stung and his grip was harsher than normal. His pace became more erratic in each thrust. Praise spilled from his tongue as he fucked your throat in earnest.  

“Shit.” He was panting, voice laced with desperation.

He continued hitting the back of your throat until he spilled his seed inside, painting your mouth white. His thrusts were deep and slow. “Swallow it, baby. That’s it, you’re such a good girl for me.”

You stick your tongue out, proudly showing your devotion. He cursed and lifted you to your feet, guiding you to the sofa. He laid your head on the armrest and kissed you. Even under so much want, Seokmin knew how to take his time, every movement of his lips against yours was full of passion. His breath was warm against your face, and his hands roamed all over your body, igniting flames of need on your skin.

Seokmin rolled his hips into yours, his cock was rock-hard again, teasing your pussy. You let out a loud whimper, his gaze immediately shot down into you. Your cheeks flushed, heat spreading on your face. He kissed your cheek and dragged his lips to your ear.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.” He whispered before nipping your earlobe.

You did as told and Seokmin slammed his dick inside you. Your back arched at the sudden penetration. 

“You good, baby? Want me to stop?”

“No, please, I need you.”

Your walls clenched around him as he fucked you. He pistoned his hips at a brutal pace, ramming as if it was his last day on Earth. His mouth was on yours again, kissing you roughly. His breaths were ragged and his grunts were gravelly, you’ve never heard of anything sexier. Your pussy was so wet around his cock, it squelched with each thrust, making him crazier.

He pounded into your cunt, his fingers rubbing your clit as you moaned and whined. He brought down a harsh slap against your bundle of nerves. You wailed in pleasure. He slapped your clit again, coaxing profanities out of your mouth.

It didn’t take long before your breath hitched, your walls clamping down around him as he fucked you. Seokmin rubbed your clit faster, keeping his brutal pace as you came with a scream. He spilled inside you, praising you again and again. Your legs were drenched in your cum, making a mess on the sofa. He kissed you gently.

“You did so well. You’re so perfect.”

Seokmin stood up to get a warm towel and wiped it gently on your skin. He cleaned you up while muttering soft praises about how lucky he was to have you and how beautiful you were when you came. It was all too much for your heart. He wrapped his big arms around your body and carried you to the bed in bridal style. There was a grin on his face as he looked down at you. By the time he put you under the covers, you both were giggling like foolish lovebirds. 

He cuddled with you under the warm blankets, his hand playing with your hair as you lay your head against his chest. Your muscles were sore and you could already feel your mind being dragged to sleep.

"Why'd you study law, anyway?" Seokmin asked suddenly.

You chose your default reason. "Because it is so easy to make money from the law.” Silence fell before you continued. “The system is so rigged. If you know how to bend it, things will go your way. The politicians do it, so why can't I?"

He hummed, impressed. But he also knew you weren't telling the whole truth. He didn't push it further, though, and you were grateful for it.

You couldn't tell Seokmin the real reason. At least not yet. Your father had been wrongfully convicted a long time ago, and it had ruined your family. Though he was released from prison, he wasn't the same man anymore. You had made a promise to yourself that no one else would have to endure what your family had gone through.

The fear of having your loved ones trapped behind bars gnawed on you. It was hell. So whenever Seokmin left for work, you couldn't help but worry for him. Your brain kept creating visions of him gambling, drinking, torturing, or probably killing people. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t his fault he was born into his family, but it was difficult.

You'd often beg Seokmin to avoid risky behaviors and public outings, worried that any misstep could lead to your exposure and end your career when it had barely started. It would be a slap in the face to all those restless nights you spent studying and teaching. 

Seokmin was scared to let his circle know too much about you as well. Another capo in their organization instigated a turf war. The infighting was brutal and he couldn't risk your safety. It hurt him, not being able to take you out and dine with you in fancy restaurants. He couldn’t introduce you to his family and tell the whole world you were his and he was yours.

That was when he introduced Wonwoo as a bodyguard. He was in charge of driving you from law school to the institution you were teaching at, then back to your apartment. He was quiet, but he knew how to listen to your every word. Wonwoo was a man of schedule, always on time, and always correct. One day, he argued with you about the morality of organized crimes and started citing specific articles and past cases. 

You stared at Wonwoo who had his eyes on the road. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?" you asked, still in shock.

Wonwoo admitted he was a consigliere working under the boss. Seokmin was the one who endorsed him to such a high position so he didn't hesitate to become your bodyguard. Your insides turned warm at the thought of your boyfriend who couldn't leave you with a typical bodyguard, making his closest friend look out for you. 

No one knew the whole truth about your relationship with Seokmin except for Wonwoo and your friend Gyuri. You’ve barely seen her nowadays, but you tried to make time to eat with her every other week. Your favorite place was a ramen shop near the law school. You ate together, laughing over the stupid times your boyfriends made you embarrassed.

"Outside, he's a cold guy, but inside, he's the biggest baby." You smiled, telling her about Seokmin.

"Oh, I feel that with my Jin-Goo as well." She said, talking about her new boyfriend.

You stopped hanging out with her though, because the infighting within Seokmin's organization escalated. His boss was calling him and making him do errands almost every day. You wished he just told you all the details because your imagination wouldn’t let you sleep at night. But when he visited your place with someone’s blood on the cuffs of his shirt, you knew the reality was much worse than you could imagine. 

It was getting frustrating. You couldn't risk going outside without Wonwoo to drive you. When you asked Seokmin if you could at least go out for some air, he said "The other capos could hurt you and use you to get to me."

"How do you know they're gonna do that?"

"Because it's what I did to the others. That's how I acquired the businesses in the district."

A shiver ran down your spine. You didn't push any further.

Seokmin had told you to lay low. But it was your last year in law school and you still had a lot of requirements to pass. After Wonwoo drove you to the entrance, you got a text from Gyuri, asking to meet her for lunch.

You went to the same ramen shop, but something was off the moment you stepped inside. Gyuri was the type to yell out your name and wave to you immediately, but all you heard was silence. 

The shop was nearly empty, its usual bustling energy replaced by stillness. A man in a mask stood by the entrance. He was staring at you. 

Listening to your instinct, you turned immediately. But it was too late. Before you could open the door, he was behind you, pressing a handkerchief against your mouth. Your nostrils were flooded with an overly sweet smell and your vision faded to black.

⋆₊ ♱

You awake with a jolt. Restraints kept you from standing up. Your hands were tied at the back of the seat and your feet were shackled. It was dark, with only a faint light bulb over your head to illuminate the space. You were trapped in a dingy cellar. Each breath echoed against the dark walls. 

Right beside the door crouched a familiar figure. Her entire body shook as she sobbed quietly.

“Gyuri!” You struggled against your bonds, the metal chair screeching against the concrete floor.

“Shh!” She looked up, panic and distress in her eyes. “Shut your mouth or he’ll gag you.”

Her eyes were bloodshot from crying. Your heart sank at the sight of her. You wanted to ask where you were, who she was referring to, or why she was on the floor, but you knew you had no time to lose. Your temple was about to explode with the painful throbbing.

“Help me out. Untie me. Come on!” The chair kept screeching with your movements, the chains around your ankles clinking against each other.

“I can’t, y/n.” 

The cellar door opened and a man of the same age entered. He was clad in black clothes and he wore a distant expression. He looked bored.

 

“Gyuri, babe, is our visitor awake yet?” He yawned as if this was a normal occurrence.

Babe?

The man turned to you. “Hi. I’m Jin-Goo, Gyuri’s boyfriend.”

You look at your friend. She couldn't meet your eyes. Gyuri, the sweet friend who liked to crack jokes, the friend who dragged you to the place where you first met Seokmin, the friend who laughed with you over bowls of ramen after a stressful day. Gyuri betrayed you. The realization shot straight through your heart, your ribs tightening with the pain. 

Fury almost got the best of you before the man continued. “It’s a shame we had to meet in such unfortunate…circumstances.”

“Where the fuck am I? Let me out.” You tried your best to sound demanding and controlled, but it came out as a broken plea.

“Hush now, we haven't even reached a bargain.”

“What the fuck? Is this what it's all about? Money?”

“Of course it is, prettyface. Money, power, soldiers, a few businesses in Gangnam, with a side of seeing Seokmin getting humiliated in front of the boss.”

You shivered at the mention of Seokmin. The thought of him getting hurt made you struggle against your bonds.

“Stop that, it's annoying.” He tsked at the sound of the chair screeching.

“Why me?”

“Shut your mouth. I am the one in charge and you must listen very carefully. You know, it started with a bet…” Jin-Goo moved closer, his face was now under the faint light. Your gaze fell on Gyuri who was still frozen by the door.

He continued. “I told Seokmin that us capos should focus on narcotics, but he invested in gambling dens and nightclubs instead. The boss said whoever gets the most profit by the end of the year will receive his new properties overseas. A simple challenge, nothing special.

“But Seokmin was never a clean player. Can you guess what he did? He tortured the families of the other captains and forced them to hand over an insane amount of shares. He snuffed them off, one by one, destroying our ranks.

“He thought that just because he's related to the boss by blood, he could get away with it. He didn't have much to lose because that fucker never loved anyone to begin with. Until you showed up.” Jin-Goo dragged a finger against your jaw and gripped hard, forcing you to look at him.

“That’s bullshit.” You spat, making him grin. There was something sinister in his demeanor.

“That’s funny coming from you, y/n, daughter of a felon.”

“That’s not—”

"Shh, I know. I know about your dad, pretty face. Everyone in the gang does. Especially Seokmin." He smirked as he saw your breath hitch. "Ten years ago, the boss set up a huge mortgage property scam with your dad's company. A bunch of buildings were bought and sold just to mess with loans and make quick cash. Your dad had no clue, but it was all in his name. That's why he ended up in prison. I heard he got out two years ago."

You said nothing, trying not to listen to him. He was messing with your mind. He was bluffing. Seokmin couldn't have known about your father.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

“Guess who did the paperwork for that. The boss’s favorite captain, Lee Seokmin. He’s been the boss’s favorite dog ever since, but recently he’s been messing it up; attacking other capos and now fucking the scapegoat’s daughter.” He laughed. He laughed at your face, at your pain.

“Your precious boyfriend is a monster, y/n. See that camera over there?” He moved your head towards the left corner, right into the lens of the CCTV.

“I've been collecting evidence of his shit to send to the boss. If he ends up getting to you, if he lays a hand on any of my soldiers, the boss will know he’s behind the bankruptcy of the other captains. He’s a traitor. The boss never liked traitors.

“Now, while we wait for our Seokminnie, let's have some fun, shall we? Gyuri, babe, would you like to play with her? Some cuts and bruises will do. Ruin her face before he gets here.”

She walked towards you, her eyes still trained on the floor. You struggled to move away. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Get me out of here!”

She raised her hand.

“Don't you fucking dare,” you warned.

“I'm sorry,” she sniffled before her hand came down on your face in one blow. The sound reverberated against the walls. It stung. Your eyes welled up.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You looked up at her through your hazy vision. 

“I'm sorry.” Another slap came.

The torture seemed endless. Your face was so numb it felt like it wasn't even there anymore. The couple would leave you alone in the cellar, only to return and taunt you with cruel words and gestures. Jin-Goo ordered Gyuri to slap you again, but the hit was weak. Either she was losing her strength, or you were beyond feeling any pain.

“Jesus, Gyuri, why are you so soft today? Did you forget everything I taught you?”

“Jin-Goo, this isn't right.” She was sobbing now. Your throat tightened and your insides burned in anger. You were the one bound with your face stinging, and she was the one crying.

The man sighed, clearly disappointed. “You’re no fun. Go and fetch one of the guards for me."

Gyuri scrambled towards the door. As soon as the metal opened, a rancid smell filled your nostrils. Blood. 

Gyuri took a few steps outside before you heard her voice. "Babe…"

"What?" Jin-Goo asked, irritated.

The girl came back in, the barrel of a gun on her temple. She slowly backed into the cellar, clearly being pushed. The owner of the gun came into view. Seokmin.

The rapid beating of your heart was deafening now.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her." He growled.

Jin-Goo already had his gun drawn. "Too late. Kill Gyuri and I'll shoot your bitch."

"Try me. You won't get out of here alive." He was terrifying, his eyes were murderous, his grip on the gun steady and practiced. Seokmin was taking the reign of his demons tonight. Even the devil would bow to him.

“No member should lay hands on another member without the higher-up's permission,” Jin-Goo said as if citing some sacred book.

This could backfire on Seokmin horribly. You called him, your throat dry. "Seokmin, there’s a camera."

Jin-Goo chuckled. "She's smart."

Two loud bangs and a crash of glass rang in your ear, echoing in the cellar. Seokmin just shot the camera. In the half-second that Jin-Goo flinched at the sound, Seokmin shot his hand, disarming him.

You almost bit your tongue at the sound, your hands were bound and you had no way to cover your ears. You grit your teeth and shut your eyes tight. Seokmin was already kneeling in front of you. 

“Are you hurt? I’m so sorry it took so long. I'll get you out of here.” He checked for signs of injury, caressing your numb face. You could barely see him through your tears, could barely hear him from the ringing in your ears and your pounding heart. Your head was about to burst.

Jin-Goo advanced to Seokmin with a scream, his hand covered in blood. Seokmin had anticipated his move and he tackled the man to the ground. Restraining his torso with a knee, Seokmin brought down his fist onto Jin-Goo's face. A loud crack of bone made you wince. Seokmin held his collar and struck him again.

You couldn't watch the sight so your eyes trained at the door that hung open. Gyuri was nowhere to be found. Wonwoo came in with a gun in his hand. His eyes fell on Seokmin getting his knuckles bloody then in your bound, trembling state. 

The consigliere released the shackles from your feet and the restraints from your wrists. He pulled you up. “Can you walk?”

You couldn't answer him. You wanted to look at Seokmin, to see if he was coming, but the sound of his fists on the other man's flesh made you shiver.

“Y/n, do you want me to carry you out?” Wonwoo asked. 

You still couldn't answer, but you took a step towards the door, anyway. Before you and Wonwoo got out, you heard Jin-Goo's weak voice. 

“The boss will get you and your bitch killed once you kill me, you fool.”

“No. I met the boss, he gave me the green light. Said he wanted me to deal with you however I want. I make more money than you anyway. You're just a liability… like the others.”

Like the others. So it was true then, that Seokmin had attacked the other capos. You wondered what else was true about the things your abductor told you.

Wonwoo dragged you before you could hear the last note of Jin-Goo’s agonized scream.

There were bodies on the floor, unmoving and covered in blood. You knew they were Seokmin's doing. You closed your eyes as you put one foot in front of the other.

It was a long minute of walking up different sets of stairs and dark corridors before finally seeing an open door into the night. Just as you got closer, a girl yelled.

"Y/n, wait!”

Wonwoo was already blocking you from her, gun trained to her head.

Gyuri didn't falter. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He made me do it. I had no choice, he was going to kill my sister. I had no choice. Let me escape with you.”

She betrayed you. She ignored your pleas. She hurt you. You couldn’t meet her eyes. It was your turn to ignore her.

A loud crack from behind Gyuri echoed and she collapsed on the floor. Seokmin was there, face lined with murder. He dug the barrel of his gun into the underside of her chin, ready to kill her.

The deaths would cost him his status and his power, if not his life. Gyuri had betrayed you and hurt you, but you couldn't stomach the image of her helpless and face-to-face with death.

“Stop! Seokmin, please. I beg you.” Your throat strained, your voice broken and weak. “Just stop, let's go. It—It'll be difficult for you to plead innocent in court.”

“But I'm far from innocent, baby. Now close your eyes.”

“No! Please, don't be stupid. you don't have to do this.”

Wonwoo grabbed you away and into the cold night air, dragging you towards the car before you heard the gunshot. Your knees faltered and gave up when you heard it. It was a pain unlike any other. Wonwoo lifted you up and into the backseat. 

Before Seokmin left the building, the consigliere climbed behind the wheel. He waited for him even though a part of you was terrified and hoped he wouldn't get in the car. 

Seokmin settled into the front seat. As he checked on you in the mirror, you covered your face and pretended to be asleep. It was stifling. It hurt even more than the strikes you'd had.

There was nothing more painful than realizing Lee Seokmin really was a monster. And what hurt more was you realized just how scared you were. You were terrified of the person you loved the most.

It was a long drive, the night was pitch black and your ears were still ringing. You were sure that they could both hear your quiet sobs.

“I don't wanna go back to my apartment,” you whispered into the silence.

“It's okay, we can go to my place.” Seokmin looked back at you but you couldn't meet his eyes, afraid that you'd see the murderous glare in them.

“No.” You managed to utter. 

You gave Wonwoo your parents’ address.

⋆₊ ♱

The house was just as you left it. Quiet and devoid of lights. The sound of crickets filled the cold night. Seokmin walked you towards the front door, holding an ice pack against your numb cheek. You pulled an old key under a potted plant by the porch and unlocked the door. It creaked.

“Call me if you need anything. I'll be here tomorrow.” He handed you the ice pack. 

“Is it true? Your organization—your family…did you frame my father?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

It was like you were seventeen again, crying to sleep as the victims of the mortgage scam banged on your door, cursing profanities at your father. They were so hurt, so angry that you almost believed your father actually did it.

Seokmin searched for your eyes, saying he was going to fix this. His voice was sweet. So pure, so believable.

It was like you were twenty again, pleading for them to file a retrial for your father. No matter how much you dug into the case, nothing came out. No names, no people to point fingers at.

Seokmin called your name, trying to snap you out of your trance. He called you again. And again.

You were twenty-four again, applying for law school with one goal in mind: make sure no other child will experience what you've experienced. Your father was released then but he was not the same man who told you everything was going to be fine.

Of course, it was just one of the many scams Seokmin's family did. It was just another job for him. He probably didn't even know the names of their scapegoats and other victims.

You stared at him, wanting to ask why he didn't say anything before, why he was pretending nothing happened. But you couldn't form the right words.

“I'll take you to dinner tomorrow and explain everything, okay? Get some rest. Put this on your face and apply an ointment after, hmm? I love you, baby.”

He leaned down to kiss your temple.

You flinched. You didn't mean to, but you flinched. Even under the dark sky, you could tell he was hurt. He swallowed as his eyes became glossy, tears bound to spill before you closed the door on his face. 

Your insides felt like ripping apart. You wanted to throw up, lash out, curse out loud, but you were too tired to do anything, so you moved towards the living room. You knew you looked like a mess. You also knew sneaking into your parent's house in the middle of the night was a bad idea. 

There she was, your mother, stumbling through the living room. She stared dumbfounded at the state of your appearance. 

“Y/n!”

You braced yourself for a slap, a shove, and being called a shameful daughter. You had a whole made-up story ready to tell her. But when she looked at you with genuine concern, you couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst into tears, collapsing onto the sofa, shaking with sobs.

“Shh… there, there, child.” She gently rested your head on her lap. You sobbed harder than ever before, the cries wrenching from your throat painfully, yet somehow, their release felt freeing.

⋆₊ ♱

Seokmin turned away, signaling Wonwoo to start the car. He said nothing as he walked out of your property. Out of your life. He said nothing as he heard you cry—cry because of him.

⋆₊ ♱

“I love him. I love him so much.” You whimpered. “I love him so much, but why does it hurt this bad?”

You were ready to be bombarded with questions. Your mother had no idea what you were talking about. But she felt your pain and that was enough. No context had to be said. Whatever you were feeling in your heart shot through her, as if the umbilical cord was never cut.

That night, you just let your tears flow. The ice pack has melted, dripping onto the carpet, but you didn’t move. You shook and cried your eyes out on her lap. She caressed your hair like you were a child again. She whispered sweet nothings as you sobbed through the night.

Breaking down and being cradled by your mother was an experience you never thought you'd feel again. You drifted to sleep, nightmares already haunting you, but you could feel her fingers on your scalp. 

“I love him. I love him so much.” You exhaled and let your shoulders sag. It was the worst yet the deepest sleep of your life. 

Tomorrow came and Seokmin did not appear as he promised. A part of you was relieved, but you also wanted to know his side of the story. Maybe he was forced to do the paperwork. Maybe he didn't have a choice.

Or maybe you were wrong about him all this time and he didn’t care about you and your father. 

When the sun finally rose, you walked upstairs into your old room. The warm rays filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your childhood bed. You spent the entire day sleeping, wrapped in the familiar comfort of your old sheets. The scent of aged books filled your nostrils, their musty fragrance mingling with memories of late nights spent reading under the covers.

Dinner with your parents was hell. You loved your mother’s cooking and you were grateful for her, but the second your father walked down the stairs, your heart sank. His face was lined with age, gray hair sticking out of his roots, his mind was somewhere else. It took him a few seconds to stare at your face before he acknowledged your presence. It was like he forgot he had a child. 

“Who did that to you?” He ran his gaze around, looking for the perpetrator, as if someone was going to come out of the shadows. He was hypervigilant yet quite not there.

“No one. It’s just allergies.”

Your mother shot you with a look, clearly not impressed with your lying. You were a law student, for God’s sake, you could have thought of some good reason to cover it up. But your father bought it, anyway. He flinched at the slightest sounds. Even the clink of utensils made him jump. With every second you spent with them, more and more guilt crept up your spine to eat you from the inside.

After dinner, you stayed in your room, digging up the old cases you studied when your father was still in jail. It consisted of similar court documents, files of other victims, framed suspects, and newspaper clippings. They were all swept under the rug like your father. But all of them aligned with Jin-Goo’s information. Someone powerful and rich enough to pay for people’s silence was behind them. Someone like Seokmin’s boss. 

A chill ran down your spine. Your father was an innocent real estate businessman. The evidence against him made you doubt that back then. He'd been convicted for eight years and spent the last two years scared of everything. Seokmin’s family took away a decade of his life. Seokmin’s family had ruined your life.

You were crying in your bed, head slumped against the sheets as the pale moonlight shone through the windows. Your phone rang, you didn’t even remember Seokmin giving it to you. His name flashed on your screen. With a shaky breath, you reached for the phone, unsure if you were ready to answer.

“I’m sorry, I couldn't be there. I still had a lot to fix. Are you okay? Is your face still swollen? Did they hurt you anywhere else? I’m really sorry about all of this, y/n.” He kept rambling with that sweet, doting voice. The voice of a caring boyfriend, not a liar. Not a murderer.

You ignored his questions. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about your involvement with my father’s case? You could’ve told me at least something, Seokmin.”

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll make this right. I promise I’ll make this right.” 

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Gyuri’s face as she pleaded for her life crossed your mind again. The scream of Jin-Goo as you escaped rang in your ear. The broken bodies on the ground flashed in your sight.

“Y/n?” he called again. “I’ll fix this. I’ll fix this for you.”

You hung up and—before you could think twice—blocked his number.

You filed a week of leave and spent it helping your mother with the chores, trying to pick up the pieces of your life and of yourself back together— slowly. You didn’t check your phone; cutting off from the outside world. You only spoke with your mother and, occasionally, your father. You had tried gaining information on what they remembered about his case, but it was a difficult topic in the household. It was the topic that would make him shift in his seat and walk out.

One night, your mother turned on the television to watch the news. You were about to head upstairs when you saw Gyuri and Jin-Goo’s faces. Mugshots. The headline said they were in jail for drug trafficking. You ran towards the television in shock. 

A clip of them shackled and being dragged by the police was shown. They were alive. Badly beaten, completely unrecognizable, but alive. Seokmin listened to your pleas. Seokmin didn't kill them. 

He did not break your rule.

The faint voice of the reporter mentioned something about life-long sentences in prison. You stared at the television for a long time, even after the news program had ended. The couple was locked up for good. And it repeated in your head again: Seokmin didn’t kill them; he did not break your rule.

That night, Wonwoo called you. You had to ponder if you were going to pick it up, but eventually decided to go for it. You owed Wonwoo a lot for saving you, anyway. 

“Y/n, did you hear the news?”

“Yes. I thought he killed them.”

“Of course he didn’t, y/n. He’s part of the mafia, but he’s not a murderer. He’s not the devil everyone believed him to be.”

“But, the case of my father...”

“That’s not true. I know what happened because I was there during the court proceedings. It wasn’t Seokmin who did it, but the other capos. The moment he learned about your father, Seokmin quickly immobilized their businesses. He also found out that some of them murdered civilians and sided with rival gangs so he ratted their stupidity out to the boss. Jin-Goo knew he was up next so he tried to stop it.”

“Why did he say yes when I asked him?”

“Because he can’t deny that he’s still part of the family. I think that’s what bothers him the most these days.”

Pain shot through your chest. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for Seokmin. He tried everything to please you, to make sure you’re safe and you’re happy. You couldn’t understand why things just don’t go your way. 

Wonwoo’s voice became more quiet. “Tell me when are you coming back. I’ve never seen him like this. He's not just crying, he's grieving. He's been making me do very weird paperwork.”

“Weird how?”

“Whistleblower-kind-of-weird paperwork.”

Your jaw dropped at the mention of the word whistleblower. This wasn’t good. Ratting out his gang—his family—was far from a good idea. Blood would spill and you prayed to the heavens it wasn’t Seokmin’s. 

‘The boss never liked traitors,’ you heard Jin-goo’s voice in your head.

Before you could even think, you were packing your bag, kissing your mother goodbye. You took one last look at your father and drove to Seokmin’s apartment.

You stared at his door, unable to knock. The last time you were here felt like years ago. But you could already smell him. Cedarwood. The smell of home. The door opened and you jumped, hiding behind a huge plant nearby, just out of sight. Seokmin was talking to someone on the phone.

"This isn't a threat." His voice was cold and demanding, far from the sweet tone he had used when talking to you. "I'm going down. And you all go down with me."

Your heart sank at his words. He was putting himself in so much danger, so many people would be angry at him, and many people would attack him, and yet his voice did not waiver.

“I don't care if it's too late, hyung. I want to change. You’re our boss, but you’re also my brother, so either you turn your back on them or me. I’ll wait until midnight.”

This was dangerous. So very dangerous. If he was planning to expose himself as part of the mafia, the last thing you should be doing was being with him, risking other people to see you. So you drank in the sight of him two meters away from you, with his black hair and chiseled face. He was wearing a black suit that reminded you of your first meeting. His hands were lined with so much history, so much experience. You basked in the smell, the glow, the presence of him before turning away. You prayed for the best.

⋆₊ ♱

Lee Seokmin was trained to feel the presence of anyone spying on him. But he didn’t need that training because he could feel you anyway. He could smell your perfume, and could almost hear your breath. He almost smiled when he saw your shadow shuffle behind the plant. A huge part of him waited for you to come out of hiding. He waited because he couldn’t force you to fight this with him. But he also knew it was his battle to win and his mess to fix. He was content with your visit; he knew you were silently wishing him the best, so he swallowed his greed anyway.

As he waited for his boss’s decision, he couldn’t help but cry.

⋆₊ ♱

‘He's not just crying, he's grieving.’ Wonwoo had said.

You couldn’t lie.

You grieved for him too.

And the whistle blew.

Raids, buy-bust operations, one business after another had been shut down. The media was on a roll, broadcasting every time a member was arrested. The crime family was flashed on screen, a terrifying gallery of faces. Mugshots for the history books. 

It was complete except for Seokmin, Wonwoo, and the boss, whom you now knew as Seungcheol. They were the last strands of the wilting web—the reason why the empire was crumbling. The pressure was mounting and you’ve lost sleep worrying about them.

You kept in touch with Wonwoo until he and Seokmin went into a witness protection program. Before he cut you off for good, Wonwoo promised that he would do everything he could to keep Seokmin safe, and if Seokmin ever went to jail, it would be alright. They were all ready.

Seokmin wanted to change.

.     ♰   .   ❦   .   ♰     .

3 Years Later

The sound of clicking keyboards and the quiet hum of the faculty’s air conditioner was broken when the door suddenly opened. A middle-aged woman entered with a wide grin on her face. She ran towards you, making you pause your work.

“Professor y/n! Have you seen the new instructor? He’s so handsome.” She grabbed your arm, forcing you to stand. 

Grabbing your coffee from your desk, you let her take you towards the buzzing hall. It was midterms, and you could feel the stress emanating from the students, a palpable tension in the air. It reminded you of the old days when you spent days and nights studying. Only if you could see yourself now: a bar passer and a full-time professor at the university.

You never would’ve imagined seeing him there, at the same university as a new instructor. It struck you, stirring a mix of aching sorrow and unexpected relief. It felt as though the thorns that had long been embedded in your chest were finally being pulled out. You had buried those feelings so deeply that you hadn’t even realized the pain they caused until the moment they began to fade away.

He had changed his name to Dokyeom. For safety purposes, you assumed. It was a symbol of a new beginning, of another chance. He no longer had that tension in his jaw, his softer features and kind eyes were more prominent. Girls and boys in the hall giggled as they passed by him, yet he didn’t notice. 

He was wearing a more casual attire. He no longer had chains around his neck, no black leather jacket, just a brown suit, a more refreshing aura.

You admired him for a moment, maybe two. It wasn’t until you heard a student profusely apologizing for bumping into you that you noticed you spilled your coffee onto your shoes. Brown liquid seeping into the soles of your feet. You winced and stepped away from the small puddle of drink.

And there he was on his knees.

He had the same black hair, but instead of the sharp, perfect style it once had, he sported his natural curls instead. He still smelled like cedarwood, but now with a hint of lavender and sage. It was a breath of fresh air. He had his handkerchief drawn, wiping the spilled coffee from your shoes.

He looked up with the kindest smile. He had changed. But he was still the same man who kneeled and wiped liquor from your shoes all those years ago. The same man who saved you, made sacrifices for you, and turned his back on his family. He had let go of the only life he’d ever known for another chance with you.

He was the same man who never broke your rule. 

It was at that moment you knew there was no letting go of him this time. You’d do everything to have the privilege to fall in love with him again, no matter how many pleas it would take.

tags: @hipsdofangirl @alyssa19123456 @dokyeomkyeom @intaksfav

[a/n] check my pinned for tracking wips! pls lmk your thoughts, my comments and asks are open^^

smitten

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 0.7k

summary: jeonghan is completely smitten for you and he refuses to admit it.

warnings: noneee

a/n: aaa i hope you guys like this <3 i wasn't gonna post two fics in a row but i whipped this one up in about half an hour so i hope you guys enjoy it! not sure if i should make it a mini series, lmk!

Jeonghan found it hard to breathe with you around. He found it hard to focus, to concentrate. He had always been one to keep his cool, to stay calm and collected but ever since he met you all logical thinking had been thrown out of the window. He wasn’t a type of guy that would get nervous and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy that would get distracted. Jeonghan prided himself in being the stoic and very attractive star student at Seoul National University. 

So why did he find himself completely befuddled in front of you?

You who were so beautiful, so pretty, so gorgeous yet so annoying. He had never met another girl who would claw at his bones more than you. Your tinkling laugh and bright shiny eyes. It all made him go positively crazy and he couldn’t do anything to help that. You had this magnetic pull that would drag Jeonghan along despite his protests. 

His friends had all teased him for it. They had seen the way his cheeks would flush whenever you stared at him or the way he would look at you with the most lovesick eyes. Nevertheless, he continued to deny his affections. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You were too dense to notice how everyone seemed to snicker whenever you went up to Jeonghan or the way everyone would peer over their textbooks whenever you asked to partner up with the infamous student. You, who’s smile was so bright, failed to see how everyone could tell how smitten Yoon Jeonghan was for you even if he denied it. 

“Hannie!” Your voice echoed through the hallway and Jeonghan winced at the loud sound. His expression remained neutral as you came bounding up towards him with the most adorable grin on your face. “Guess who just got full marks on her test? Me!”

The test paper you shoved in his face made Jeonghan go cross eyes as he struggled to decipher your scrawled answers and the red pen the professor had marked with. The biggest thing that caught his eyes was the 100 in the top right hand corner. 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You pouted as you removed the test paper from his face. “I worked so hard for that Hannie, I pulled all nighters and everything! I didn’t even ask you for any help, isn’t that impressive?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan felt the cage of butterflies fly open in his stomach and he gulped. “That’s amazing Y/n but you really shouldn’t stay up revising, it actually decreases the chance of taking information in. You can enter sleep deprivation and it has a really high chance of simply going blank in exams and that’s not good at all you know.”

Your smile remained on your face as Jeonghan continued to rattle off the side effects of lack of sleep. You stepped closer towards him, only inches away. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he stared at your pretty face. His eyes flickered to your lips and then your eyes. The eyes he could stare into forever and not get bored with. 

“Then you help me revise. I could use help from that brain of yours. I actually did go blank in my exam but it wasn’t because of sleep deprivation.”

Jeonghan knew better than to ask what but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was gnawing at his mind like a beast begging to be set free. He stared at you, your bright expression rendering him speechless as he tried to come up with words to say.

“What was it then?” He croaked out, voice trembling at the close proximity. “Why did you get distracted?”

You giggled leaning in closer so that your lips were brushing his ear. “You.”

Jeonghan froze, his whole body stood still like ice and you continued to giggle and he saw the way your smile seemed to grow bigger. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you step back, the test paper still clutched in your hands. He felt his cheeks burst into flames as his jaw hung open in shock at your words. 

“See you later Hannie! I’ll pop over so we can exchange notes.” 

You waved him goodbye before skipping away as if you hadn’t just caused the poor guy to melt in his shoes. Jeonghan gripped his textbooks tightly and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. The beating of his heart could be heard in his ears and he tried desperately to calm himself down.

You were the only one capable of making Yoon Jeonghan grow completely flustered and he hated it.